,,elements ,,of ,,criticism4 ,in ,,three ,,volumes4 ,,volume ,i4 ,,edinburgh3 ,printed for ,a4 ,,millar1 ,london2 ,,and ,a4 ,,kincaid ,j4 ,,bell1 ,edinburgh1 ,,to ,,the ,,king4 ,,sir1 ,the fine arts have ever been encouraged by wise princes1 not singly for private amusement1 but for their beneficial influence in society4 ,by uniting different ranks in the same elegant pleasures1 they promote benevolence3 by cherishing love of order1 they inforce submission to government3 and by inspiring delicacy of feeling1 they make regular government a double blessing4 ,,these considerations embolden me to hope for your ,majesty's patronage in behalf of the following work1 which treats of the fine arts1 and attempts to form a standard of taste by unfolding those principles that ought to govern the taste of every individual4 ,,it is rare to find one born with such delicacy of feeling1 as not to need instruction3 it is equally rare to find one so low in feeling1 as not to be capable of instruction4 ,and yet1 to refine our taste with respect to beauties of art or of nature1 is scarce endeavoured in any seminary of learning2 a lamentable defect1 considering how early in life taste is susceptible of culture1 and how difficult to reform it if unhappily perverted4 ,to furnish materials for supplying that defect1 was an additional motive for the present undertaking4 ,,to promote the fine arts in ,britain1 has become of greater importance than is generally imagined4 ,a flourishing commerce begets opulence2 and opulence1 inflaming our appetite for pleasure1 is commonly vented on luxury and on every sensual gratification3 ,selfishness rears its head2 becomes fashionable2 and infecting all ranks1 extinguishes the amor patri and every spark of public spirit4 ,to prevent or to retard such fatal corruption1 the genius of an ,alfred cannot devise any means more efficacious1 than venting opulence upon the fine arts4 ,riches so employ'd1 instead of encouraging vice1 will excite both public and private virtue4 ,of this happy effect1 ancient ,greece furnishes one shining instance2 and why should we despair of another in ,britain8 ,,in the commencement of an auspicious reign1 and even in that early period of life when pleasure commonly is the sole pursuit1 your ,majesty has uniformly display'd to a delighted people1 the noblest principles1 ripened by early culture2 and for that reason1 you will be the more disposed to favour every rational plan for advancing the art of training up youth4 ,among the many branches of education1 that which tends to make deep impressions of virtue1 ought to be a fundamental measure in a well-regulated government3 for depravity of manners will render ineffectual the most salutary laws2 and in the midst of opulence1 what other means to prevent such depravity but early and virtuous discipline8 ,the ,british discipline is susceptible of great improvements2 and if we can hope for them1 it must be from a young and accomplished ,prince1 eminently sensible of their importance4 ,to establish a complete system of education1 seems reserved by providence for a ,sovereign who commands the hearts of his subjects4 ,success will crown the undertaking1 and endear ,,george ,,the ,,third to our latest posterity4 ,the most elevated and most refined pleasure of human nature1 is enjoy'd by a virtuous prince governing a virtuous people2 and that1 by perfecting the great system of education1 your ,majesty may very long enjoy this pleasure1 is the ardent wish of ,your ,majesty's ,devoted ,subject1 ,,henry ,,home4 ,,contents4 ,vol4 ,pag4 ,introduction1 #a #a ,ch4 #a4 ,perceptions and ideas in a train1 #a #ba ,ch4 #b4 ,emotions and passions1 #a #db ,ch4 #c4 ,beauty1 #a #bda ,ch4 #d4 ,grandeur and sublimity1 #a #bfd ,ch4 #e4 ,motion and force1 #a #cji ,ch4 #f4 ,novelty1 and the unexpected appearance of objects1 #a #cai ,ch4 #g4 ,risible objects1 #a #ccg ,ch4 #h4 ,resemblance and contrast1 #a #cde ,ch4 #i4 ,uniformity and variety1 #a #chj ,ch4 #aj4 ,congruity and propriety1 #b #c ,ch4 #aa4 ,dignity and meanness1 #b #bg ,ch4 #ab4 ,ridicule1 #b #dj ,ch4 #ac4 ,wit1 #b #eh ,ch4 #ad4 ,custom and habit1 #b #hj ,ch4 #ae4 ,external signs of emotions and passions1 #b #aaf ,ch4 #af4 ,sentiments1 #b #adi ,ch4 #ag4 ,language of passion1 #b #bjd ,ch4 #ah4 ,beauty of language1 #b #bcd ,ch4 #ai4 ,comparisons1 #c #c ,ch4 #bj4 ,figures1 #c #ec ,ch4 #ba4 ,narration and description1 #c #afi ,ch4 #bb4 ,epic and dramatic compositions1 #c #bah ,ch4 #bc4 ,the three unities1 #c #bei ,ch4 #bd4 ,gardening and architecture1 #c #bid ,ch4 #be4 ,standard of taste1 #c #cea ,appendix1 #c #cge ,in describing the scale of sounds made in pronouncing the five vowels1 vol4 #b4 p4 #bci4 it ought to have been mentioned1 that the letter i must be pronounced as in the word interest1 and other words beginning with the syllable in2 the letter e as in persuasion2 and the letter u as in number4 ,the reference intended1 vol4 #b4 p4 #dai4 is to p4 #djd4 of the same volume4 ,,introduction4 ,the five senses agree in the following particular1 that nothing external is perceived till it first make an impression upon the organ of sense2 the impression1 for example1 made upon the hand by a stone1 upon the palate by sugar1 and upon the nostrils by a rose4 ,but there is a difference as to our consciousness of that impression4 ,in touching1 tasting1 and smelling1 we are conscious of the impression4 ,not so in seeing and hearing4 ,when ,i behold a tree1 ,i am not sensible of the impression made upon my eye2 nor of the impression made upon my ear1 when ,i listen to a song#a4 ,this difference in the manner of perception1 distinguishes remarkably hearing and seeing from the other senses2 and distinguishes still more remarkably the feelings of the former from those of the latter4 ,a feeling pleasant or painful cannot exist but in the mind2 and yet because in tasting1 touching1 and smelling1 we are conscious of the impression made upon the organ1 we naturally place there also1 the pleasant or painful feeling caused by that impression4 ,and because such feelings seem to be placed externally at the organ of sense1 we1 for that reason1 conceive them to be merely corporeal4 ,we have a different apprehension of the pleasant and painful feelings derived from seeing and hearing4 ,being insensible here of the organic impression1 we are not misled to assign a wrong place to these feelings2 and therefore we naturally place them in the mind1 where they really exist4 ,upon that account1 they are conceived to be more refined and spiritual1 than what are derived from tasting1 touching1 and smelling4 ,the pleasures of the eye and ear being thus elevated above those of the other external senses1 acquire so much dignity as to make them a laudable entertainment4 ,they are not1 however1 set upon a level with those that are purely intellectual2 being not less inferior in dignity to intellectual pleasures1 than superior to the organic or corporeal4 ,they indeed resemble the latter1 being like them produced by external objects3 but they also resemble the former1 being like them produced without any sensible organic impression4 ,their mixt nature and middle place betwixt organic and intellectual pleasures1 qualify them to associate with either4 ,beauty heightens all the organic feelings1 as well as those that are intellectual4 ,harmony1 though it aspires to inflame devotion1 disdains not to improve the relish of a banquet4 ,the pleasures of the eye and ear have other valuable properties beside those of dignity and elevation4 ,being sweet and moderately exhilerating1 they are in their tone equally distant from the turbulence of passion1 and languor of inaction2 and by that tone are perfectly well qualified1 not only to revive the spirits when sunk by sensual gratification1 but also to relax them when overstrained in any violent pursuit4 ,here is a remedy provided for many distresses4 ,and to be convinced of its salutary effects1 it will be sufficient to run over the following particulars4 ,organic pleasures have naturally a short duration3 when continued too long1 or indulged to excess1 they lose their relish1 and beget satiety and disgust4 ,to relieve us from that uneasiness1 nothing can be more happily contrived than the exhilerating pleasures of the eye and ear1 which take place imperceptibly1 without much varying the tone of mind4 ,on the other hand1 any intense exercise of the intellectual powers1 becomes painful by overstraining the mind4 ,cessation from such exercise gives not instant relief3 it is necessary that the void be filled with some amusement1 gently relaxing the spirits#b4 ,organic pleasure1 which hath no relish but while we are in vigour1 is ill qualified for that office3 but the finer pleasures of sense1 which occupy without exhausting the mind1 are excellently well qualified to restore its usual tone after severe application to study or business1 as well as after satiety from sensual gratification4 ,our first perceptions are of external objects1 and our first attachments are to them4 ,organic pleasures take the lead4 ,but the mind1 gradually ripening1 relisheth more and more the pleasures of the eye and ear2 which approach the purely mental1 without exhausting the spirits2 and exceed the purely sensual1 without danger of satiety4 ,the pleasures of the eye and ear have accordingly a natural aptitude to attract us from the immoderate gratification of sensual appetite4 ,for the mind1 once accustomed to enjoy a variety of external objects without being conscious of the organic impression1 is prepared for enjoying internal objects where there cannot be an organic impression4 ,thus the author of nature1 by qualifying the human mind for a succession of enjoyments from the lowest to the highest1 leads it by gentle steps from the most groveling corporeal pleasures1 for which solely it is fitted in the beginning of life1 to those refined and sublime pleasures which are suited to its maturity4 ,this succession1 however1 is not governed by unavoidable necessity4 ,the ,god of nature offers it to us1 in order to advance our happiness2 and it is sufficient1 that he hath enabled us to complete the succession4 ,nor has he made our task disagreeable or difficult4 ,on the contrary1 the transition is sweet and easy1 from corporeal pleasures to the more refined pleasures of sense2 and not less so1 from these to the exalted pleasures of morality and religion4 ,we stand therefore engaged in honour1 as well as interest1 to second the purposes of nature1 by cultivating the pleasures of the eye and ear1 those especially that require extraordinary culture#c1 such as are inspired by poetry1 painting1 sculpture1 music1 gardening1 and architecture4 ,this chiefly is the duty of the opulent1 who have leisure to improve their minds and their feelings4 ,the fine arts are contrived to give pleasure to the eye and the ear1 disregarding the inferior senses4 ,a taste for these arts is a plant that grows naturally in many soils2 but1 without culture1 scarce to perfection in any soil4 ,it is susceptible of much refinement2 and is1 by proper care1 greatly improved4 ,in this respect1 a taste in the fine arts goes hand in hand with the moral sense1 to which indeed it is nearly allied4 ,both of them discover what is right and what is wrong4 ,fashion1 temper1 and education1 have an influence upon both1 to vitiate them1 or to preserve them pure and untainted4 ,neither of them are arbitrary or local4 ,they are rooted in human nature1 and are governed by principles common to all men4 ,the principles of morality belong not to the present undertaking4 ,but as to the principles of the fine arts1 they are evolved1 by studying the sensitive part of human nature1 and by learning what objects are naturally agreeable1 and what are naturally disagreeable4 ,the man who aspires to be a critic in these arts1 must pierce still deeper4 ,he must clearly perceive what objects are lofty1 what low1 what are proper or improper1 what are manly1 and what are mean or trivial4 ,hence a foundation for judging of taste1 and for reasoning upon it4 ,where it is conformable to principles1 we can pronounce with certainty1 that it is correct2 otherwise1 that it is incorrect1 and perhaps whimsical4 ,thus the fine arts1 like morals1 become a rational science2 and1 like morals1 may be cultivated to a high degree of refinement4 ,manifold are the advantages of criticism1 when thus studied as a rational science4 ,in the first place1 a thorough acquaintance with the principles of the fine arts1 redoubles the entertainment these arts afford4 ,to the man who resigns himself entirely to sentiment or feeling1 without interposing any sort of judgment1 poetry1 music1 painting1 are mere pastime4 ,in the prime of life1 indeed1 they are delightful1 being supported by the force of novelty1 and the heat of imagination4 ,but they lose their relish gradually with their novelty2 and are generally neglected in the maturity of life1 which disposes to more serious and more important occupations4 ,to those who deal in criticism as a regular science1 governed by just principles1 and giving scope to judgment as well as to fancy1 the fine arts are a favourite entertainment2 and in old age maintain that relish which they produce in the morning of life#d4 ,in the next place1 a philosophic inquiry into the principles of the fine arts1 inures the reflecting mind to the most enticing sort of logic4 ,reasoning upon subjects so agreeable tends to a habit2 and a habit1 strengthening the reasoning faculties1 prepares the mind for entering into subjects more difficult and abstract4 ,to have1 in this respect1 a just conception of the importance of criticism1 we need but reflect upon the common method of education2 which1 after some years spent in acquiring languages1 hurries us1 without the least preparatory discipline1 into the most profound philosophy4 ,a more effectual method to alienate the tender mind from abstract science1 is beyond the reach of invention4 ,with respect to such speculations1 the bulk of our youth contrast a sort of hobgoblin terror1 which is seldom1 if ever1 subdued4 ,those who apply to the arts1 are trained in a very different manner4 ,they are led1 step by step1 from the easier parts of the operation1 to what are more difficult2 and are not permitted to make a new motion1 till they be perfected in those which regularly precede it4 ,the science of criticism appears then to be an intermediate link1 finely qualified for connecting the different parts of education into a regular chain4 ,this science furnisheth an inviting opportunity to exercise the judgement3 we delight to reason upon subjects that are equally pleasant and familiar3 we proceed gradually from the simpler to the more involved cases3 and in a due course of discipline1 custom1 which improves all our faculties1 bestows acuteness upon those of reason1 sufficient to unravel all the intricacies of philosophy4 ,nor ought it to be overlooked1 that the reasonings employed upon the fine arts are of the same kind with those which regulate our conduct4 ,mathematical and metaphysical reasonings have no tendency to improve social intercourse3 nor are they applicable to the common affairs of life4 ,but a just taste in the fine arts1 derived from rational principles1 is a fine preparation for acting in the social state with dignity and propriety4 ,the science of criticism tends to improve the heart not less than the understanding4 ,i observe1 in the first place1 that it hath a fine effect in moderating the selfish affections4 ,a just taste in the fine arts1 by sweetening and harmonizing the temper1 is a strong antidote to the turbulence of passion and violence of pursuit4 ,elegance of taste procures to a man so much enjoyment at home1 or easily within reach1 that in order to be occupied1 he is1 in youth1 under no temptation to precipitate into hunting1 gaming1 drinking2 nor1 in middle age1 to deliver himself over to ambition2 nor1 in old age1 to avarice4 ,pride1 a disgustful selfish passion1 exerts itself without control1 when accompanied with a bad taste4 ,a man of this stamp1 upon whom the most striking beauty makes but a faint impression1 feels no joy but in gratifying his ruling passion by the discovery of errors and blemishes4 ,pride1 on the other hand1 finds in the constitution no enemy more formidable than a delicate and discerning taste4 ,the man upon whom nature and culture have bestowed this blessing1 feels great delight in the virtuous dispositions and actions of others4 ,he loves to cherish them1 and to publish them to the world4 ,faults and failings1 it is true1 are to him not less obvious3 but these he avoids1 or removes out of sight1 because they give him pain4 ,in a word1 there may be other passions1 which1 for a season1 disturb the peace of society more than pride3 but no other passion is so unwearied an antagonist to the sweets of social intercourse4 ,pride1 tending assiduously to its gratification1 puts a man perpetually in opposition to others2 and disposes him more to relish bad than good qualities1 even in a bosom friend4 ,how different that disposition of mind1 where every virtue in a companion or neighbour1 is1 by refinement of taste1 set in its strongest light2 and defects or blemishes1 natural to all1 are suppressed1 or kept out of view8 ,in the next place1 delicacy of taste tends not less to invigorate the social affections1 than to moderate those that are selfish4 ,to be convinced of this tendency1 we need only reflect1 that delicacy of taste necessarily heightens our sensibility of pain and pleasure1 and of course our sympathy1 which is the capital branch of every social passion4 ,sympathy in particular invites a communication of joys and sorrows1 hopes and fears4 ,such exercise1 soothing and satisfactory in itself1 is productive necessarily of mutual good-will and affection4 ,one other advantage of criticism is reserved to the last place1 being of all the most important1 that it is a great support to morality4 ,i insist on it with entire satisfaction1 that no occupation attaches a man more to his duty than that of cultivating a taste in the fine arts4 ,a just relish of what is beautiful1 proper1 elegant1 and ornamental1 in writing or painting1 in architecture or gardening1 is a fine preparation for discerning what is beautiful1 just1 elegant1 or magnanimous1 in character and behaviour4 ,to the man who has acquired a taste so acute and accomplished1 every action1 wrong or improper1 must be highly disgustful4 ,if1 in any instance1 the overbearing power of passion sway him from his duty1 he returns to it upon the first reflection1 with redoubled resolution never to be swayed a second time4 ,he has now an additional motive to virtue1 a conviction derived from experience1 that happiness depends on regularity and order1 and that a disregard to justice or propriety never fails to be punished with shame and remorse#e4 ,rude ages exhibit the triumph of authority over reason4 ,philosophers anciently were divided into sects3 they were either ,epicureans1 ,platonists1 ,stoics1 ,pythagoreans1 or ,sceptics4 ,men relied no farther upon their own judgement than to chuse a leader1 whom they implicitly followed4 ,in later times1 happily1 reason hath obtained the ascendant4 ,men now assert their native privilege of thinking for themselves1 and disdain to be ranked in any sect1 whatever be the science4 ,i must except criticism1 which1 by what fatality ,i know not1 continues to be not less slavish in its principles1 nor less submissive to authority1 than it was originally4 ,bossu1 a celebrated ,french critic1 gives many rules2 but can discover no better foundation for any of them1 than the practice merely of ,homer and ,virgil1 supported by the authority of ,aristotle4 ,strange1 that in so long a work1 the concordance or discordance of these rules with human nature1 should never once have entered his thoughts6 ,it could not surely be his opinion1 that these poets1 however eminent for genius1 were intitled to give laws to mankind1 and that nothing now remains but blind obedience to their arbitrary will4 ,if in writing they followed no rule1 why should they be imitated8 ,if they studied nature1 and were obsequious to rational principles1 why should these be concealed from us8 ,with respect to the present undertaking1 it is not the author's intention to give a regular treatise upon each of the fine arts in particular2 but only1 in general1 to apply to them some remarks and observations drawn from human nature1 the true source of criticism4 ,the fine arts are calculated for our entertainment1 or for making agreeable impressions2 and1 by that circumstance1 are distinguished from the useful arts4 ,in order then to be a critic in the fine arts1 it is necessary1 as above hinted1 to know what objects are naturally agreeable1 and what naturally disagreeable4 ,a complete treatise on that subject would be a field by far too extensive to be thoroughly cultivated by any one hand4 ,the author pretends only to have entered upon the subject so far as necessary for supporting his critical remarks4 ,and he assumes no merit from his performance1 but that of evincing1 perhaps more distinctly than hitherto has been done1 that the genuine rules of criticism are all of them derived from the human heart4 ,the sensitive part of our nature is a delightful speculation4 ,what the author hath discovered or collected upon that subject1 he chuses to impart in the gay and agreeable form of criticism2 because he imagines1 that this form will be more relished1 and perhaps be not less instructive1 than a regular and laboured disquisition4 ,his plan is1 to ascend gradually to principles1 from facts and experiments1 instead of beginning with the former1 handled abstractly1 and descending to the latter4 ,but though criticism be thus his only declared aim1 he will not disown1 that all along he had it in view1 to explain the nature of man1 considered as a sensitive being1 capable of pleasure and pain4 ,and though he flatters himself with having made some progress in that important science1 he is however too sensible of its extent and difficulty1 to undertake it professedly1 or to avow it as the chief purpose of the present work4 ,to censure works1 not men1 is the just prerogative of criticism2 and accordingly all personal censure is here avoided1 unless where necessary to illustrate some general proposition4 ,no praise is claimed on that account2 because censuring with a view merely to find fault1 is an entertainment that humanity never relishes4 ,writers1 one would imagine1 should1 above all others1 be reserved upon that article1 when they lie so open to retaliation4 ,the author of this treatise1 far from being confident of meriting no censure1 entertains not even the slightest hope of such perfection4 ,amusement was at first the sole aim of his inquiries4 ,proceeding from one particular to another1 the subject grew under his hand2 and he was far advanced before the thought struck him1 that his private meditations might be publicly useful4 ,in public1 however1 he would not appear in a slovenly dress2 and therefore he pretends not otherwise to apologise for his errors1 than by observing1 that1 in a new subject1 not less nice than extensive1 errors are in some measure unavoidable4 ,neither pretends he to justify his taste in every particular4 ,that point must be extremely clear1 which admits not variety of opinion2 and in some matters susceptible of great refinement1 time is perhaps the only infallible touch-stone of taste4 ,to this he appeals1 and to this he chearfully submits4 99 99 99 99 99 ,n4 ,b4 ,,the ,,elements ,,of ,,criticism1 meaning the whole1 is a title too assuming for this work4 ,a number of these elements or principles are here evolved3 but as the author is far from imagining1 that he has completed the list1 a more humble title is proper1 such as may express any undetermined number of parts less than the whole4 ,this he thinks is signified by the title he has chosen1 viz4 ,,elements ,,of ,,criticism4 ,,elements ,,of ,,criticism4 ,,chapter ,i4 ,perceptions and ideas in a train4 ,a man while awake is sensible of a continued train of objects passing in his mind4 ,it requires no activity on his part to carry on the train3 nor has he power to vary it by calling up an object at will#f4 ,at the same time we learn from daily experience1 that a train of thought is not merely casual4 ,and if it depend not upon will1 nor upon chance1 we must try to evolve by what law it is governed4 ,the subject is of importance in the science of human nature2 and ,i promise beforehand1 that it will be found of great importance in the fine arts4 ,it appears that the relations by which things are linked together1 have a great influence in directing the train of thought2 and we find by experience1 that objects are connected in the mind precisely as they are externally4 ,beginning then with things external1 we find that they are not more remarkable by their inherent properties than by their various relations4 ,we cannot any where extend our view without perceiving things connected together by certain relations4 ,one thing perceived to be a cause1 is connected with its several effects2 some things are connected by contiguity in time1 others by contiguity in place2 some are connected by resemblance1 some by contrast2 some go before1 some follow4 ,not a single thing appears solitary1 and altogether devoid of connection4 ,the only difference is1 that some are intimately connected1 some more slightly2 some near1 some at a distance4 ,experience as well as reason may satisfy us1 that the train of mental perceptions is in a great measure regulated by the foregoing relations4 ,where a number of things are linked together1 the idea of any one suggests the rest2 and in this manner is a train of thoughts composed4 ,such is the law of succession2 whether an original law1 or whether directed by some latent principle1 is doubtful2 and probably will for ever remain so4 ,this law1 however1 is not inviolable4 ,it sometimes happens1 though rarely1 that an idea presents itself to the mind without any connection1 so far at least as can be discovered4 ,but though we have not the absolute command of ideas1 yet the ,will hath a considerable influence in directing the order of connected ideas4 ,there are few things but what are connected with many others4 ,by this means1 when any thing becomes an object1 whether in a direct survey1 or ideally only1 it generally suggests many of its connections4 ,among these a choice is afforded4 ,we can insist upon one1 rejecting others2 and we can even insist upon what has the slightest connection4 ,where ideas are left to their natural course1 they are generally continued through the strongest connections4 ,the mind extends its view to a son more readily than to a servant1 and more readily to a neighbour than to one living at a distance4 ,this order may be varied by ,will1 but still within the limits of connected objects4 ,in short1 every train of ideas must be a chain1 in which the particular ideas are linked to each other4 ,we may vary the order of a natural train2 but not so as to dissolve it altogether1 by carrying on our thoughts in a loose manner without any connection4 ,so far doth our power extend2 and that power is sufficient for all useful purposes4 ,to give us more power1 would probably be detrimental instead of being salutary4 ,will is not the only cause that prevents a train of thought from being continued through the strongest connections4 ,much depends on the present tone of mind2 for a subject that accords with this tone is always welcome4 ,thus1 in good spirits1 a chearful subject will be introduced by the slightest connection2 and one that is melancholy1 not less readily in low spirits4 ,again1 an interesting subject is recalled1 from time to time1 by any connection indifferently1 strong or weak4 ,this is finely touched by ,shakespear1 with relation to a rich cargo at sea4 ,my wind1 cooling my broth1 ,would blow me to an ague1 when ,i thought ,what harm a wind too great might do at sea4 ,i should not see the sandy hour-glass run1 ,but ,i should think of shallows and of flats2 ,and see my wealthy ,andrew dock'd in sand1 ,vailing her high top lower than her ribs1 ,to kiss her burial4 ,should ,i go to church1 ,and see the holy edifice of stone1 ,and not bethink me strait of dangerous rocks8 ,which touching but my gentle vessel's side1 ,would scatter all the spices on the stream1 ,enrobe the roaring waters with my silks1 ,and1 in a word1 but now worth this1 ,and now worth nothing4 ,merchant of ,venice1 act #a4 sc4 #a4 ,another cause clearly distinguishable from that now mentioned1 hath also a considerable influence over the train of ideas4 ,in some minds of a singular frame1 thoughts and circumstances crowd upon each other by the slightest connection4 ,i ascribe this to a defect in the faculty of discernment4 ,a person who cannot accurately distinguish betwixt a slight connection and one that is more solid1 is equally affected with both4 ,such a person must necessarily have a great command of ideas1 because they are introduced by any relation indifferently2 and the slighter relations1 being without number1 must furnish ideas without end4 ,this doctrine is1 in a lively manner1 illustrated by ,shakespear4 ,falstaff4 ,what is the gross sum that ,i owe thee8 ,hostess4 ,marry1 if thou wert an honest man1 thyself and thy money too4 ,thou didst swear to me on a parcel-gilt goblet1 sitting in my ,dolphin chamber1 at the round table1 by a sea-coal fire1 on ,wednesday in ,whitsun-week1 when the ,prince broke thy head for likening him to a singing man of ,windsor1 thou didst swear to me then1 as ,i was washing thy wound1 to marry me1 and make me my ,lady thy wife4 ,canst thou deny it8 ,did not ,goodwife ,keech1 the butcher's wife1 come in then1 and call me ,gossip ,quickly8 ,coming in to borrow a mess of vinegar2 telling us she had a good dish of prawns2 whereby thou didst desire to eat some2 whereby ,i told thee they were ill for a green wound8 ,and didst not thou1 when she was gone down stairs1 desire me to be no more so familiarity with such poor people1 saying1 that ere long they should call me ,madam8 ,and didst thou not kiss me1 and bid me fetch thee thirty shillings8 ,i put thee now to thy book-oath1 deny it if thou canst4 ,second part1 ,henry ,,iv4 act #b4 sc4 #b4 ,on the other hand1 a man1 of accurate judgement cannot have a great flow of ideas4 ,the slighter relations making no figure in his mind1 have no power to introduce ideas4 ,and hence it is1 that accurate judgement is not friendly to declamation or copious eloquence4 ,this reasoning is confirmed by experience2 for it is a noted observation1 ,that a great or comprehensive memory is seldom connected with a good judgement4 ,as an additional confirmation1 ,i appeal to another noted observation1 ,that wit and judgement are seldom united4 ,wit consists chiefly in joining things by distant and fanciful relations1 which surprise because they are unexpected4 ,such relations being of the slightest kind1 readily occur to that person only who makes every relation equally welcome4 ,wit1 upon that account1 is1 in a good measure1 incompatible with solid judgement2 which1 neglecting trivial relations1 adheres to what are substantial and permanent4 ,thus memory and wit are often conjoined3 solid judgement seldom with either4 ,the train of thought depends not entirely upon relations3 another cause comes in for a share2 and that is the sense of order and arrangement4 ,to things of equal rank1 where there is no room for a preference1 order cannot be applied2 and it must be indifferent in what manner they be surveyed2 witness the sheep that make a flock1 or the trees in a wood4 ,but in things of unequal rank1 order is a governing principle4 ,thus our tendency is1 to view the principal subject before we descend to its accessories or ornaments1 and the superior before the inferior or dependent4 ,we are equally averse to enter into a minute consideration of constituent parts1 till the thing be first surveyed as a whole4 ,in passing from a part to the whole1 and from an accessory to its principal1 the connection is the same as in the opposite direction4 ,but a sense of order aids the transition in the latter case1 and a sense of disorder obstructs it in the former4 ,it needs scarce be added1 that in thinking or reflecting on any of these particulars1 and in passing from one to another ideally1 we are sensible of easiness or difficulty precisely as when they are set before our eyes4 ,our sense of order is conspicuous with respect to natural operations2 for it always coincides with the order of nature4 ,thinking upon a body in motion1 we follow its natural course4 ,the mind falls with a heavy body1 descends with a river1 and ascends with flame and smoke4 ,in tracing out a family1 we incline to begin at the founder1 and to descend gradually to his latest posterity4 ,on the contrary1 musing on a lofty oak1 we begin at the trunk1 and mount from it to the branches4 ,as to historical facts1 we love to proceed in the order of time2 or1 which comes to the same1 to proceed along the chain of causes and effects4 ,but though1 in following out a historical chain1 our bent is to proceed orderly from causes to their effects1 we find not the same bent in matters of science4 ,there we seem rather disposed to proceed from effects to their causes1 and from particular propositions to those which are more general4 ,why this difference in matters that appear so nearly related8 ,the cases are similar in appearance only1 not in reality4 ,in a historical chain1 every event is particular1 the effect of some former event1 and the cause of others that follow4 ,in such a chain1 there is nothing to bias the mind from the order of nature4 ,widely different is the case of science1 when we endeavour to trace out causes and their effects4 ,many experiments are commonly reduced under one cause2 and again1 many of these under some one still more general and comprehensive4 ,in our progress from particular effects to general causes1 and from particular propositions to the more comprehensive1 we feel a gradual dilatation or expansion of mind1 like what is felt in proceeding along an ascending series1 which is extremely delightful4 ,the pleasure here exceeds what arises from following the course of nature2 and it is this pleasure which regulates our train of thought in the case now mentioned1 and in others that are similar4 ,these observations1 by the way1 furnish materials for instituting a comparison betwixt the synthetic and analytic methods of reasoning4 ,the synthetic method descending regularly from principles to their consequences1 is more agreeable to the strictness of order4 ,but in following the opposite course in the analytic method1 we have a sensible pleasure1 like mounting upward1 which is not felt in the other4 ,the analytic method is more agreeable to the imagination4 ,the other method will be preferred by those only who with rigidity adhere to order1 and give no indulgence to natural emotions#g4 ,it appears then that we are framed by nature to relish order and connection4 ,when an object is introduced by a proper connection1 we are conscious of a certain pleasure arising from that circumstance4 ,among objects of equal rank1 the pleasure is proportioned to the degree of connection2 but among unequal objects1 where we require a certain order1 the pleasure arises chiefly from an orderly arrangement4 ,of this one may be made sensible1 in tracing objects contrary to the course of nature1 or contrary to our sense of order4 ,the mind proceeds with alacrity from a whole to its parts1 and from a principal to its accessories2 but in the contrary direction1 it is sensible of a sort of retrograde motion1 which is unpleasant4 ,and here may be remarked the great influence of order upon the mind of man4 ,grandeur1 which makes a deep impression1 inclines us1 in running over any series1 to proceed from small to great1 rather than from great to small4 ,but order prevails over this tendency2 and in parting from the whole to its parts1 and from a subject to its ornaments1 affords pleasure as well as facility1 which are not felt in the opposite course4 ,elevation touches the mind not less than grandeur doth2 and in raising the mind to elevated objects1 there is a sensible pleasure4 ,but the course of nature hath still a greater influence than elevation2 and therefore the pleasure of falling with rain1 and descending gradually with a river1 prevails over that of mounting upward4 ,hence the agreeableness of smoke ascending in a calm morning4 ,elevation concurs with the course of nature1 to make this object delightful4 ,i am extremely sensible of the disgust men generally have at abstract speculation2 and for that reason ,i would avoid it altogether1 were it possible in a work which professes to draw the rules of criticism from human nature1 their true source4 ,there is indeed no choice1 other than to continue for some time in the same track1 or to abandon the undertaking altogether4 ,candor obliges me to notify this to my readers1 that such of them whose aversion to abstract speculation is invincible1 may stop short here2 for till principles be explained1 ,i can promise no entertainment to those who shun thinking4 ,but ,i flatter myself with a different taste in the bulk of readers4 ,some few1 ,i imagine1 will relish the abstract part for its own sake2 and many for the useful purposes to which it may be applied4 ,for encouraging the latter to proceed with alacrity1 ,i assure them beforehand that the foregoing speculation leads to many important rules of criticism1 which shall be unfolded in the course of this work4 ,in the mean time1 for instant satisfaction in part1 they will be pleased to accept the following specimen4 ,it is required in every work of art1 that1 like an organic system1 the constituent parts be mutually connected1 and bear each of them a relation to the whole1 some more intimate1 some less1 according to their destination4 ,order is not less essential than connection2 and when due regard is paid to these1 we have a sense of just composition1 and so far are pleased with the performance4 ,homer is defective in order and connection2 and ,pindar more remarkably4 ,regularity1 order1 and connection1 are painful restraints on a bold and fertile imagination2 and are not patiently submitted to1 but after much culture and discipline4 ,in ,horace there is no fault more eminent than want of connection4 ,instances are without number4 ,in the first fourteen lines of ode #g4 lib4 #a4 he mentions several towns and districts which by some were relished more than by others4 ,in the remainder of the ode1 ,plancus is exhorted to drown his cares in wine4 ,having narrowly escaped death by the fall of a tree1 this poet#h takes occasion properly to observe1 that while we guard against some dangers1 we are exposed to others we cannot foresee4 ,he ends with displaying the power of music4 ,the parts of ode #af4 lib4 #b4 are so loosely connected as to disfigure a poem otherwise extremely beautiful4 ,the #ast1 #b;d1 #c;d1 #dth1 #aath1 #bdth1 #bgth odes of the #c;d book1 lie open all of them to the same censure4 ,the #ast satire1 book #a4 is so deformed by want of unity and connection of parts1 as upon the whole to be scarce agreeable4 ,it commences with an important question1 ,how it happens that persons who are so much satisfied with themselves1 are generally so little with their condition8 ,after illustrating the observation in a sprightly manner by several examples1 the author1 forgetting his subject1 enters upon a declamation against avarice1 which he pursues till the line #ajh4 ,there he makes an apology for wandering1 and promises to return to his subject4 ,but avarice having got possession of his mind1 he follows out that theme to the end1 and never returns to the question proposed in the beginning4 ,in the ,georgics of ,virgil1 though esteemed the most finished work of that author1 the parts are ill connected1 and the transitions far from being sweet and easy4 ,in the first book#i he deviates from his subject to give a description of the five zones4 ,the want of connection here is remarkable1 as well as in the description of the prodigies that accompanied the death of ,csar1 with which the same book is concluded4 ,a digression upon the praises of ,italy in the second book#aj1 is not more happily introduced4 ,and in the midst of a declamation upon the pleasures of husbandry1 that makes part of the same book#aa1 the author appears personally upon the stage without the slightest connection4 ,the two prefaces of ,sallust look as if they had been prefixed by some blunder to his two histories4 ,they will suit any other history as well1 or any subject as well as history4 ,even the members of these prefaces are but loosely connected4 ,they look more like a number of maxims or observations than a connected discourse4 ,an episode in a narrative poem being in effect an accessory1 demands not that strict union with the principal subject which is requisite betwixt a whole and its constituent parts4 ,the relation however of principal and accessory being pretty intimate1 an episode loosely connected with the principal subject will never be graceful4 ,i give for an example the descent of neas into hell1 which employs the sixth book of the neid4 ,the reader is not prepared for this important event4 ,no cause is assigned1 that can make it appear necessary or even natural1 to suspend1 for so long a time1 the principal action in its most interesting period4 ,to engage neas to wander from his course in search of an adventure so extraordinary1 the poet can find no better pretext1 than the hero's longing to visit the ghost of his father recently dead4 ,in the mean time the story is interrupted1 and the reader loses his ardor4 ,an episode so extremely beautiful is not at any rate to be dispensed with4 ,it is pity however1 that it doth not arise more naturally from the subject4 ,i must observe at the same time1 that full justice is done to this incident1 by considering it to be an episode2 for if it be a constituent part of the principal action1 the connection ought to be still more intimate4 ,the same objection lies against that elaborate description of ,fame in the neid#ab4 ,any other book of that heroic poem1 or of any heroic poem1 has as good a title to that description as the book where it is placed4 ,in a natural landscape1 we every day perceive a multitude of objects connected by contiguity solely4 ,objects of sight make an impression so lively1 as that a relation1 even of the slightest kind1 is relished4 ,this however ought not to be imitated in description4 ,words are so far short of the eye in liveliness of impression1 that in a description the connection of objects ought to be carefully studied1 in order to make the deeper impression4 ,for it is a known fact1 the reason of which is suggested above1 that it is easier by words to introduce into the mind a related object1 than one which is not connected with the preceding train4 ,in the following passage1 different things are brought together without the slightest connection1 if it be not what may be called verbal1 i4 e4 taking the same word in different meanings4 ,surgamus3 solet esse gravis cantantibus umbra4 ,juniperi gravis umbra3 nocent et frugibus umbr4 ,ite domum satur1 venit ,hesperus1 ite capell4 ,virg4 ,buc4 #aj4 #ge4 ,the metaphorical or figurative appearance of an object1 is no good cause for introducing that object in its real and natural appearance4 ,a relation so slight can never be relished4 ,distrust in lovers is too warm a sun2 ,but yet 'tis night in love when that is gone4 ,and in those climes which most his scorching know1 ,he makes the noblest fruits and metals grow4 ,part #b4 ,conquest of ,granada1 act #c4 ,the relations among objects have a considerable influence in the gratification of our passions1 and even in their production4 ,but this subject is reserved to be treated in the chapter of emotions and passions#ac4 ,there is perhaps not another instance of a building so great erected upon a foundation so slight in appearance1 as that which is erected upon the relations of objects and their arrangement4 ,relations make no capital figure in the mind3 the bulk of them are transitory1 and some extremely trivial4 ,they are however the links that1 uniting our perceptions into one connected chain1 produce connection of action1 because perceptions and actions have an intimate correspondence4 ,but it is not sufficient for the conduct of life that our actions be linked together1 however intimately3 it is beside necessary that they proceed in a certain order2 and this also is provided for by an original propensity4 ,thus order and connection1 while they admit sufficient variety1 introduce a method in the management of affairs4 ,without them our conduct would be fluctuating and desultory2 and we would be hurried from thought to thought1 and from action to action1 entirely at the mercy of chance4 ,,chap4 ,,ii4 ,emotions and ,passions4 ,the fine arts1 as observed above#ad1 are all of them calculated to give pleasure to the eye or the ear2 and they never descend to gratify the taste1 touch1 or smell4 ,at the same time1 the feelings of the eye and ear1 are of all the feelings of external sense1 those only which are honoured with the name of emotions or passions4 ,it is also observed above#ae1 that the principles of the fine arts are unfolded by studying the sensitive part of human nature1 in order to know what objects of the eye and ear are agreeable1 what disagreeable4 ,these observations show the use of the present chapter4 ,we evidently must be acquainted with the nature and causes of emotions and passions1 before we can judge with any accuracy how far they are under the power of the fine arts4 ,the critical art is thus set in a fine point of view4 ,the inquisitive mind beginning with criticism the most agreeable of all amusements1 and finding no obstruction in its progress1 advances far into the sensitive part of our nature2 and gains insensibly a thorough knowledge of the human heart1 of its desires1 and of every motive to action2 a science which of all that can be reached by man1 is to him of the greatest importance4 ,upon a subject so extensive1 all that can be expected here1 is a general or slight survey4 ,some emotions indeed more peculiarly connected with the fine arts1 ,i propose to handle in separate chapters2 a method that will shorten the general survey considerably4 ,and yet1 after this circumscription1 so much matter comes under even a general view of the passions and emotions1 that1 to avoid confusion1 ,i find it necessary to divide this chapter into many parts3 in the first of which are handled the causes of those emotions and passions that are the most common and familiar2 for to explain every passion and emotion1 however singular1 would be an endless work4 ,and though ,i could not well take up less ground1 without separating things intimately connected2 yet1 upon examination1 ,i find the causes of our emotions and passions to be so numerous and various1 as to make a subdivision also necessary by splitting this first part into several sections4 ,human nature is a complicated machine1 and must be so to answer all its purposes4 ,there have indeed been published to the world1 many a system of human nature1 that flatter the mind by their simplicity4 ,but these1 unluckily1 deviate far from truth and reality4 ,according to some writers1 man is entirely a selfish being3 according to others1 universal benevolence is his duty4 ,one founds morality upon sympathy solely1 and one upon utility4 ,if any of these systems were of nature's production1 the present subject might be soon discussed4 ,but the variety of nature is not so easily reached2 and for confuting such ,utopian systems without the intricacy of reasoning1 it appears the best method to enter into human nature1 and to set before the eye1 plainly and candidly1 facts as they really exist4 ,,part ,i4 ,causes evolved of the emotions and passions4 ,,sect4 ,i4 ,difference betwixt emotion and passion4---- ,causes that are the most common and the most extensive4---- ,passion considered as productive of action4 ,these branches are so interwoven1 as to make it necessary that they be handled together4 ,it is a fact universally admitted1 that no emotion nor passion ever starts up in the mind1 without a known cause4 ,if ,i love a person1 it is for good qualities or good offices3 if ,i have resentment against a man1 it must be for some injury he has done me2 and ,i cannot pity any one1 who is under no distress of body or of mind4 ,the circumstances now mentioned1 if they cause or occasion a passion1 cannot be entirely indifferent3 if they were1 they could not move us in any degree4 ,and we find upon examination1 that they are not indifferent4 ,looking back upon the foregoing examples1 the good qualities or good offices that attract my love1 are antecedently agreeable4 ,if an injury were not disagreeable1 it would not occasion any resentment against the author2 nor would the passion of pity be raised by an object in distress1 if that object did not give us pain4 ,these feelings antecedent to passion1 and which seem to be the causes of passion1 shall be distinguished by the name of emotions4 ,what is now said about the production of passion1 resolves into a very simple proposition1 ,that we love what is pleasant1 and hate what is painful4 ,and indeed it is evident1 that without antecedent emotions we could not have any passions2 for a thing must be pleasant or painful1 before it can be the object either of love or of hatred4 ,as it appears from this short sketch1 that passions are generated by means of prior emotions1 it will be necessary to take first under consideration emotions and their causes4 ,such is the constitution of our nature1 that upon perceiving certain external objects1 we are instantaneously conscious of pleasure or pain4 ,a flowing river1 a smooth extended plain1 a spreading oak1 a towering hill1 are objects of sight that raise pleasant emotions4 ,a barren heath1 a dirty marsh1 a rotten carcass1 raise painful emotions4 ,of the emotions thus produced1 we inquire for no other cause but merely the presence of the object4 ,it must further be observed1 that the things now mentioned1 raise emotions by means of their properties and qualities4 ,to the emotion raised by a large river1 its size1 its force1 and its fluency1 contribute each a share4 ,the pleasures of regularity1 propriety1 convenience1 compose the emotion raised by a fine building4 ,if external properties make a being or thing agreeable1 we have reason to expect the same effect from those which are internal2 and accordingly power1 discernment1 wit1 mildness1 sympathy1 courage1 benevolence1 render the possessor agreeable in a high degree4 ,so soon as these qualities are perceived in any person1 we instantaneously feel pleasant emotions1 without the slightest act of reflection or of attention to consequences4 ,it is almost unnecessary to add1 that certain qualities opposite to the former1 such as dullness1 peevishness1 inhumanity1 cowardice1 occasion in the same manner painful emotions4 ,sensible beings affect us remarkably by their actions4 ,some actions so soon as perceived1 raise pleasant emotions in the spectator1 without the least reflection2 such as graceful motion and genteel behaviour4 ,but as the intention of the agent is a capital circumstance in the bulk of human actions1 it requires reflection to discover their true character4 ,if ,i see one delivering a purse of money to another1 ,i can make nothing of this action1 till ,i discover with what intention the money is given4 ,if it be given to extinguish a debt1 the action is agreeable in a slight degree4 ,if it be a grateful return1 ,i feel a stronger emotion2 and the pleasurable emotion rises to a great height when it is the intention of the giver to relieve a virtuous family from want4 ,actions are thus qualified by the intention of the agent4 ,but they are not qualified by the event2 for an action well intended is agreeable1 whatever be the consequence4 ,the pleasant or painful emotion that ariseth from contemplating human actions1 is of a peculiar kind4 ,human actions are perceived to be right or wrong2 and this perception qualifies the pleasure or pain that results from them#af4 ,not only are emotions raised in us by the qualities and actions of others1 but also by their feelings4 ,i cannot behold a man in distress1 without partaking of his pain2 nor in joy1 without partaking of his pleasure4 ,the beings or things above described1 occasion emotions in us1 not only in the original survey1 but when they are recalled to the memory in idea4 ,a field laid out with taste1 is pleasant in the recollection1 as well as when under our eye4 ,a generous action described in words or colours1 occasions a sensible emotion1 as well as when we see it performed4 ,and when we reflect upon the distress of any person1 our pain is of the same kind with what we felt when eye-witnesses4 ,in a word1 an agreeable or disagreeable object recalled to the mind in idea1 is the occasion of a pleasant or painful emotion1 of the same kind with that produced when the object was present4 ,the only difference is1 that an idea being fainter than an original perception1 the pleasure or pain produced by the former1 is proportionably fainter than that produced by the latter4 ,having explained the nature of an emotion and mentioned several causes by which it is produced1 we proceed to an observation of considerable importance in the science of human nature1 that some emotions are accompanied with desire1 and that others1 after a short existence1 pass away without producing desire of any sort4 ,the emotion raised by a fine landscape or a magnificent building1 vanisheth generally without attaching our hearts to the object2 which also happens with relation to a number of fine faces in a crowded assembly4 ,but the bulk of emotions are accompanied with desire of one sort or other1 provided only a fit object for desire be suggested4 ,this is remarkably the case of emotions raised by human actions and qualities4 ,a virtuous action raiseth in every spectator a pleasant emotion1 which is generally attended with a desire to do good to the author of the action4 ,a vicious action1 on the other hand1 produceth a painful emotion2 and of consequence a desire to have the author punished4 ,even things inanimate often raise desire4 ,the goods of fortune are objects of desire almost universally2 and the desire1 when more than commonly vigorous1 obtains the name of avarice4 ,the pleasant emotion produced in a spectator by a capital picture in the possession of a prince1 seldom raiseth desire4 ,but if such a picture be exposed to sale1 desire of having or possessing is the natural consequence of the emotion4 ,if now an emotion be sometimes productive of desire1 somtimes not1 it comes to be a material inquiry1 in what respect a passion differs from an emotion4 ,is passion in its nature or feeling distinguishable from emotion8 ,i have been apt to think that there must be a distinction1 when the emotion seems in all cases to precede the passion1 and to be the cause or occasion of it4 ,but after the strictest examination1 ,i cannot perceive any such distinction betwixt emotion and passion4 ,what is love to a mistress1 for example1 but a pleasant emotion raised by a sight or idea of the person beloved1 joined with desire of enjoyment8 ,in what else consists the passion of resentment1 but in a painful emotion occasioned by the injury1 accompanied with desire to chastise the author of the injury8 ,in general1 as to every sort of passion1 we find no more in the composition1 but the particulars now mentioned1 an emotion pleasant or painful accompanied with desire4 ,what then shall we say upon this subject8 ,are passion and emotion synonymous terms8 ,this cannot be averred4 ,no feeling nor agitation of the mind void of desire1 is termed a passion2 and we have discovered that there are many emotions which pass away without raising desire of any kind4 ,how is the difficulty to be solved8 ,there appears to me but one solution1 which ,i relish the more1 as it renders the doctrine of the passions and emotions simple and perspicuous4 ,the solution follows4 ,an internal motion or agitation of the mind1 when it passeth away without raising desire1 is denominated an emotion3 when desire is raised1 the motion or agitation is denominated a passion4 ,a fine face1 for example1 raiseth in me a pleasant feeling4 ,if this feeling vanish without producing any effect1 it is in proper language an emotion4 ,but if such feeling1 by reiterated views of the object1 become sufficiently strong to raise desire1 it is no longer termed an emotion1 but a passion4 ,the same holds in all the other passions4 ,the painful feeling raised in a spectator by a slight injury done to a stranger1 being accompanied with no desire of revenge1 is termed an emotion4 ,but this injury raiseth in the stranger a stronger emotion1 which being accompanied with desire of revenge1 is a passion4 ,again1 external expressions of distress1 produce in the spectator a painful feeling4 ,this feeling is sometimes so slight as to pass away without any effect1 in which case it is an emotion4 ,but if the feeling be so strong as to prompt desire of affording relief1 it is a passion1 and is termed pity4 ,envy is emulation in excess4 ,if the exaltation of a competitor be barely disagreeable1 the painful feeling is reckoned an emotion4 ,if it produce desire to depress him1 it is reckoned a passion4 ,to prevent mistakes1 it must be observed1 that desire here is taken in its proper sense1 viz4 that internal impulse which makes us proceed to action4 ,desire in a lax sense respects also actions and events that depend not on us1 as when ,i desire that my friend may have a son to represent him1 or that my country may flourish in arts and sciences4 ,but such internal act is more properly termed a wish than a desire4 ,having distinguished passion from emotion1 we proceed to consider passion more at large1 with respect especially to its power of producing action4 ,we have daily and constant experience for our authority1 that no man ever proceeds to action but through the impulse of some antecedent desire4 ,so well established is this observation1 and so deeply rooted in the mind1 that we can scarce imagine a different system of action4 ,even a child will say familiarly1 ,what should make me do this or that when ,i have no inclination to it8 ,taking it then for granted1 that the existence of action depends on antecedent desire2 it follows1 that where there is no desire there can be no action4 ,this opens another shining distinction betwixt emotions and passions4 ,the former1 being without desire1 are in their nature quiescent3 the latter1 involving desire1 have a tendency to action1 and always produce action where they meet with no obstruction4 ,hence it follows1 that every passion must have an object1 viz4 that being or thing to which our desire is directed1 and with a view to which every action prompted by that desire is performed4 ,the object of every passion is that being or thing which produced it4 ,this will be evident from induction4 ,a fine woman1 by her beauty1 causes in me the passion of love1 which is directed upon her as its object4 ,a man by injuring me1 raises my resentment2 and becomes thereby the object of my resentment4 ,thus the cause of a passion1 and its object1 are the same in different views4 ,an emotion1 on the other hand1 being in its nature quiescent and merely a passive feeling1 must have a cause2 but cannot be said properly speaking to have an object4 ,as the desire involved in every passion leads to action1 this action is either ultimate1 or it is done as a means to some end4 ,where the action is ultimate1 reason and reflection bear no part4 ,the action is performed blindly by the impulse of passion1 without any view4 ,thus one in extreme hunger snatches at food1 without the slightest reflection whether it be salutary or not3 ,avarice prompts to accumulate wealth without the least view of use2 and thereby absurdly converts means into an end3 ,fear often makes us fly before we reflect whether we really be in danger3 and animal love not less often hurries to fruition1 without a single thought of gratification4 ,but for the most part1 actions are performed as means to some end2 and in these actions reason and reflection always bear a part4 ,the end is that event which is desired2 and the action is deliberately performed in order to bring about that end4 ,thus affection to my friend involves a desire to make him happy2 and the desire to accomplish that end1 prompts me to perform what ,i judge will contribute to it4 ,where the action is ultimate1 it hath a cause1 viz4 the impulse of the passion4 ,but we cannot properly say it hath a motive4 ,this term is appropriated to actions that are performed as means to some end2 and the conviction that the action will tend to bring about the end desired1 is termed a motive4 ,thus passions considered as causes of action1 are distinguished into two kinds2 instinctive1 and deliberative4 ,the first operating blindly and by mere impulse1 depend entirely upon the sensitive part of our nature4 ,the other operating by reflection and by motives1 are connected with the rational part4 ,the foregoing difference among the passions1 is the work of nature4 ,experience brings on some variations4 ,by all actions performed through the impulse of passion1 desire is gratified1 and the gratification is pleasant4 ,this lesson we have from experience4 ,and hence it is1 that after an action has often been performed by the impulse merely of passion1 the pleasure resulting from performance1 considered beforehand1 becomes a motive1 which joins its force with the original impulse in determining us to act4 ,thus a child eats by the mere impulse of hunger3 a young man thinks of the pleasure of gratification1 which is a motive for him to eat3 and a man farther advanced in life1 hath the additional motive that it will contribute to his health4 ,instinctive passions are distinguished into two kinds4 ,where the cause is internal1 they are denominated appetites3 where external1 they retain the common name of passions4 ,thus hunger1 thirst1 animal love1 are termed appetites2 while fear and anger1 even when they operate blindly and by mere impulse1 are termed passions4 ,from the definition of a motive above given1 it is easy to determine1 with the greatest accuracy1 what passions are selfish1 what social4 ,no passion can properly be termed selfish1 but what prompts me to exert actions in order for my own good2 nor social1 but what prompts me to exert actions in order for the good of another4 ,the motive is that which determines a passion to be social or selfish4 ,hence it follows1 that our appetites1 which make us act blindly and by mere impulse1 cannot be reckoned either social or selfish2 and as little the actions they produce4 ,thus eating1 when prompted by an impulse merely of nature1 is neither social nor selfish4 ,but add a motive1 ,that it will contribute to my pleasure or my health1 and it becomes in a measure selfish4 ,on the other hand1 when affection moves me to exert actions to the end solely of advancing my friend's happiness1 without the slightest regard to my own gratification1 such actions are justly denominated social2 and so is the affection1 that is their cause4 ,if another motive be added1 ,that gratifying the affection will contribute to my own happiness1 the actions ,i perform become partly selfish4 ,animal love when exerted into action by natural impulse singly1 is neither social nor selfish3 when exerted with a view to gratification and in order to make me happy1 it is selfish4 ,when the motive of giving pleasure to its object is superadded1 it is partly social1 partly selfish4 ,a just action when prompted by the love of justice solely1 is neither social nor selfish4 ,when ,i perform an act of justice with a view to the pleasure of gratification1 the action is selfish4 ,i pay my debt for my own sake1 not with a view to benefit my creditor4 ,but let me suppose the money has been advanced by a friend without interest1 purely to oblige me4 ,in this case1 together with the inclination to do justice1 there arises a motive of gratitude1 which respects the creditor solely1 and prompts me to act in order to do him good4 ,here the action is partly social1 partly selfish4 ,suppose again ,i meet with a surprising and unexpected act of generosity1 that inspires me with love to my benefactor and the utmost gratitude4 ,i burn to do him good3 he is the sole object of my desire2 and my own pleasure in gratifying the desire1 vanisheth out of sight4 ,in this case1 the action ,i perform is purely social4 ,thus it happens1 that when a social motive becomes strong1 the action is exerted with a view singly to the object of the passion2 and the selfish pleasure arising from gratification is never once considered4 ,the same effect of stifling selfish motives1 is equally remarkable in other passions that are in no view social4 ,ambition1 for example1 when confined to exaltation as its ultimate end1 is neither social nor selfish4 ,let exaltation be considered as a means to make me happy1 and the passion becomes so far selfish4 ,but if the desire of exaltation wax strong and inflame my mind1 the selfish motive now mentioned is no longer felt4 ,a slight degree of resentment1 where my chief view in acting is the pleasure arising to myself from gratifying the passion1 is justly denominated selfish4 ,where revenge flames so high as to have no other aim but the destruction of its object1 it is no longer selfish4 ,in opposition to a social passion1 it maybe termed dissocial#ag4 ,of self1 every one hath a direct perception3 of other things1 we have no knowledge but by means of their attributes4 ,hence it is1 that of self1 the perception is more lively than of any other thing4 ,self is an agreeable object2 and1 for the reason now given1 must be more agreeable than any other object4 ,is not this sufficient to account for the prevalence of self-love8 ,in the foregoing part of this chapter1 it is suggested1 that some circumstances make beings or things fit objects for desire1 others not4 ,this hint must be pursued4 ,it is a truth ascertained by universal experience1 that a thing which in our apprehension is beyond reach1 never is the object of desire4 ,no man1 in his right senses1 desires to walk in the air1 or to descend to the centre of the earth4 ,we may amuse ourselves in a reverie1 with building castles in the air1 and wishing for what can never happen4 ,but such things never move desire4 ,and indeed a desire to act would be altogether absurd1 when we are conscious that the action is beyond our power4 ,in the next place1 though the difficulty of attainment with respect to things within reach1 often inflames desire2 yet where the prospect of attainment is faint and the event extremely uncertain1 the object1 however agreeable1 seldom raiseth any strong desire4 ,thus beauty or other good qualities in a woman of rank1 seldom raises love in any man greatly her inferior4 ,in the third place1 different objects1 equally within reach1 raise emotions in different degrees2 and when desire accompanies any of these emotions1 its strength1 as is natural1 is proportioned to that of its cause4 ,hence the remarkable difference among desires directed upon beings inanimate1 animate1 and rational4 ,the emotion caused by a rational being1 is out of measure stronger than any caused by an animal without reason2 and an emotion raised by such an animal1 is stronger than what is caused by any thing inanimate4 ,there is a separate reason why desire of which a rational being is the object should be the strongest4 ,desire directed upon such a being1 is gratified many ways1 by loving1 serving1 benefiting1 the object2 and it is a well known truth1 that our desires naturally swell by exercise4 ,desire directed upon an inanimate being1 susceptible neither of pleasure nor pain1 is not capable of a higher gratification than that of acquiring the property4 ,hence it is1 that though every feeling which raiseth desire1 is strictly speaking a passion2 yet commonly those feelings only are denominated passions of which sensible beings capable of pleasure and pain are the objects4 ,,sect4 ,,ii4 ,causes of the emotions of joy and sorrow4 ,this subject was purposely reserved for a separate section1 because it could not1 with perspicuity1 be handled under the general head4 ,an emotion involving desire is termed a passion2 and when the desire is fulfilled1 the passion is said to be gratified4 ,the gratification of every passion must be pleasant1 or in other words produce a pleasant emotion2 for nothing can be more natural1 than that the accomplishment of any wish or desire should affect us with joy4 ,i cannot even except the case1 where a man1 through remorse1 is desirous to chastise and punish himself4 ,the joy of gratification is properly called an emotion2 because it makes us happy in our present situation1 and is ultimate in its nature1 not having a tendency to any thing beyond4 ,on the other hand1 sorrow must be the result of an event contrary to what we desire2 for if the accomplishment of desire produce joy1 it is equally natural that disappointment should produce sorrow4 ,an event fortunate or unfortunate1 that falls out by accident without being foreseen or thought of1 and which therefore could not be the object of desire1 raiseth an emotion of the same kind with that now mentioned4 ,but the cause must be different2 for there can be no gratification where there is no desire4 ,we have not however far to seek for a cause4 ,a man cannot be indifferent to an event that affects him or any of his connections4 ,if it be fortunate1 it gives him joy2 if unfortunate1 it gives him sorrow4 ,in no situation doth joy rise to a greater height1 than upon the removal of any violent distress of mind or body2 and in no situation doth sorrow rise to a greater height1 than upon the removal of what makes us happy4 ,the sensibility of our nature serves in part to account for these effects4 ,other causes also concur4 ,we can be under no violent distress without an anxious desire to be free from it2 and therefore its removal is a high gratification4 ,we cannot be possessed of any thing that makes us happy1 without wishing its continuance2 and therefore its removal by crossing our wishes must create sorrow4 ,nor is this all4 ,the principle of contrast comes in for its share4 ,an emotion of joy arising upon the removal of pain1 is increased by contrast when we reflect upon our former distress4 ,an emotion of sorrow upon being deprived of any good1 is increased by contrast when we reflect upon our former happiness4 ,jaffier4 ,there's not a wretch that lives on common charity1 ,but's happier than me4 ,for ,i have known ,the luscious sweets of plenty3 every night ,have slept with soft content about my head1 ,and never wak'd but to a joyful morning4 ,yet now must fall like a full ear of corn1 ,whose blossom 'scap'd1 yet's wither'd in the ripening4 ,venice preserv'd1 act #a4 sc4 #a4 ,it hath always been reckoned difficult to account for the extreme pleasure that follows a cessation of bodily pain2 as when one is relieved from the rack1 or from a violent fit of the stone4 ,what is said1 explains this difficulty in the easiest and simplest manner4 ,cessation of bodily pain is not of itself a pleasure2 for a non-ens or a negative can neither give pleasure nor pain4 ,but man is so framed by nature as to rejoice when he is eased of pain1 as well as to be sorrowful when deprived of any good4 ,this branch of our constitution1 is chiefly the cause of the pleasure4 ,the gratification of desire comes in as an accessory cause2 and contrast joins its force1 by increasing the sense of our present happiness4 ,in the case of an acute pain1 a peculiar circumstance contributes its part4 ,the brisk circulation of the animal spirits occasioned by acute pain1 continues after the pain is vanished1 and produceth a very pleasant feeling4 ,sickness hath not that effect1 because it is always attended with a depression of spirits4 ,hence it is1 that the gradual diminution of acute pain1 occasions a mixt emotion1 partly pleasant1 partly painful4 ,the partial diminution produceth joy in proportion2 but the remaining pain balanceth our joy4 ,this mixt feeling1 however1 hath no long endurance4 ,for the joy that ariseth upon the diminution of pain1 soon vanisheth2 and leaveth in the undisturbed possession1 that degree of pain which remains4 ,what is above observed about bodily pain1 is equally applicable to the distresses of the mind2 and accordingly it is a common artifice1 to prepare us for the reception of good news by alarming our fears4 ,,sect4 ,,iii4 ,sympathetic emotion of virtue1 and its cause4 ,one feeling there is1 that merits a deliberate view1 for its singularity1 as well as utility4 ,whether to call it an emotion or a passion1 seems uncertain4 ,the former it can scarce be1 because it involves desire2 and the latter it can scarce be1 because it has no object4 ,but this feeling and its nature will be best understood from examples4 ,a signal act of gratitude1 produceth in the spectator love or esteem for the author4 ,the spectator hath at the same time a separate feeling2 which1 being mixed with love or esteem1 the capital emotion1 hath not been much adverted to4 ,it is a vague feeling of gratitude1 which hath no object2 but which1 however1 disposes the spectator to acts of gratitude1 more than upon ordinary occasions4 ,let any man attentively consider his own heart when he thinks warmly of any signal act of gratitude1 and he will be conscious of this feeling1 as distinct from the esteem or admiration he has for the grateful person4 ,it merits our utmost attention1 by unfolding a curious piece of mechanism in the nature of man4 ,the feeling is singular in the following respect1 that it involves a desire to perform acts of gratitude1 without having any particular object2 though in this state the mind1 wonderfully disposed toward an object1 neglects no object upon which it can vent itself4 ,any act of kindness or good-will that would not be regarded upon another occasion1 is greedily seized2 and the vague feeling is converted into a real passion of gratitude4 ,in such a state1 favours are returned double4 ,again1 a courageous action produceth in a spectator the passion of admiration directed upon the author4 ,but beside this well-known passion1 a separate feeling is raised in the spectator2 which may be called an emotion of courage1 because while under its influence he is conscious of a boldness and intrepidity beyond ordinary1 and longs for proper objects upon which to exert this emotion4 ,spumantemque dari1 pecora inter inertia1 votis ,optat aprum1 aut fulvum descendere monte leonem4 neid4 iv4 #aeh4 ,non altramente 'il tauro1 oue l' irriti ,geloso amor con stimoli pungenti ,horribilmente mugge1 e co' muggiti ,gli spirti in se risueglia1 e l'ire ardenti3 ,e'l corno aguzza a i tronchi1 e par ch'inuiti ,con vani colpi a' la battaglia i venti4 ,tasso1 canto #g4 st4 #ee4 ,so full of valour that they smote the air ,for breathing in their faces4 ,tempest1 act4 #d4 sc4 #d4 ,for another example1 let us figure some grand and heroic action1 highly agreeable to the spectator4 ,beside a singular veneration for the author1 the spectator feels in himself an unusual dignity of character1 which disposeth him to great and noble actions4 ,and herein principally consists the extreme delight every one hath in the histories of conquerors and heroes4 ,this singular feeling1 which may be termed the sympathetic emotion of virtue1 resembles1 in one respect1 the well-known appetites that lead to the propagation and preservation of the species4 ,the appetites of hunger1 thirst1 and animal love1 arise in the mind without being directed upon any particular object2 and in no case whatever is the mind more solicitous for a proper object1 than when under the influence of any of these appetites4 ,the feeling ,i have endeavoured to evolve1 may well be termed the sympathetic emotion of virtue2 for it is raised in a spectator by virtuous actions of every kind1 and by no other sort4 ,when we contemplate a virtuous action1 which never fails to delight us and to prompt our love for the author1 the mind is warmed and put into a tone similar to what inspired the virtuous action4 ,the propensity we have to such actions is so much enlivened1 as to become for a time an actual emotion4 ,but no man hath a propensity to vice as such4 ,on the contrary1 a wicked deed disgusts him1 and makes him abhor the author4 ,this abhorrence is a strong antidote so long as any impression remains of the wicked action4 ,in a rough road1 a halt to view a fine country is refreshing2 and here a delightful prospect opens upon us4 ,it is indeed wonderful to see what incitements there are to virtue in the human frame4 ,justice is perceived to be our duty1 and it is guarded by natural punishments1 from which the guilty never escape4 ,to perform noble and generous actions1 a warm sense of dignity and superior excellence is a most efficacious incitement#ah4 ,and to leave virtue in no quarter unsupported1 here is unfolded an admirable contrivance1 by which good example commands the heart and adds to virtue the force of habit4 ,did our moral feelings extend no farther than to approve the action and to bestow our affection on the author1 good example would not have great influence4 ,but to give it the utmost force1 nothing can be better contrived than the sympathetic emotion under consideration1 which prompts us to imitate what we admire4 ,this singular emotion will readily find an object to exert itself upon2 and at any rate1 it never exists without producing some effect4 ,virtuous emotions of this sort1 are in some degree an exercise of virtue4 ,they are a mental exercise at least1 if they show not externally4 ,and every exercise of virtue1 internal and external1 leads to habit2 for a disposition or propensity of the mind1 like a limb of the body1 becomes stronger by exercise4 ,proper means1 at the same time1 being ever at hand to raise this sympathetic emotion1 its frequent reiteration may1 in a good measure1 supply the want of a more complete exercise4 ,thus1 by proper discipline1 every person may acquire a settled habit of virtue4 ,intercourse with men of worth1 histories of generous and disinterested actions1 and frequent meditation upon them1 keep the sympathetic emotion in constant exercise1 which by degrees introduceth a habit1 and confirms the authority of virtue4 ,with respect to education in particular1 what a spacious and commodious avenue to the heart of a young person1 is here opened8 ,,sect4 ,,iv4 ,in many instances one emotion is productive of another4 ,the same of passions4 ,in the first chapter it is observed1 that the relations by which things are mutually connected1 have a remarkable influence in regulating the train of our ideas4 ,i here add1 that they have an influence not less remarkable1 in generating emotions and passions4 ,beginning with the former1 it holds in fact1 that an agreeable object makes every thing connected with it appear agreeable4 ,the mind gliding sweetly and easily through related objects1 carries along the beauty of objects that made a figure1 and blends that beauty with the idea of the present object1 which thereby appears more agreeable than when considered apart#ai4 ,this reason may appear obscure and metaphysical1 but it must be relished when we attend to the following examples1 which establish the fact beyond all dispute4 ,no relation is more intimate than that betwixt a being and its qualities2 and accordingly1 the affection ,i bear a man expands itself readily upon all his qualities1 which by that means make a greater figure in my mind than more substantial qualities in others4 ,the talent of speaking in a friend1 is more regarded than that of acting in a person with whom ,i have no connection2 and graceful motion in a mistress1 gives more delight than consummate prudence in any other woman4 ,affection sometimes rises so high1 as to convert defects into properties4 ,the wry neck of ,alexander was imitated by his courtiers as a real beauty1 without intention to flatter4 ,thus ,lady ,piercy1 speaking of her husband ,hotspur1 ---- ,by his light ,did all the chivalry of ,england move1 ,to do brave acts4 ,he was indeed the glass1 ,wherein the noble youth did dress themselves4 ,he had no legs that practis'd not his gait3 ,and speaking thick1 which ,nature made his blemish1 ,became the accents of the valiant3 ,for those who could speak low and tardily1 ,would turn their own perfection to abuse1 ,to seem like him4 ,second part1 ,henry ,,iv4 act #b4 sc4 #f4 ,when the passion of love has ended its course1 its object becomes quite a different creature4---- ,nothing left of that genteel motion1 that gaiety1 that sprightly conversation1 those numberless graces1 that formerly1 in the lover's opinion1 charmed all hearts4 ,the same communication of passion obtains in the relation of principal and accessory4 ,pride1 of which self is the object1 expands itself upon a house1 a garden1 servants1 equipage1 and every thing of that nature4 ,a lover addresseth his mistress's glove in the following terms3 ,sweet ornament that decks a thing divine4 ,a temple is in a proper sense an accessory of the deity to which it is dedicated4 ,diana is chaste1 and not only her temple1 but the very isicle which hangs on it1 must partake of that property3 ,the noble sister of ,poplicola1 ,the moon of ,rome2 chasle as the isicle ,that's curdled by the frost from purest snow1 ,and hangs on ,dian's temple4 ,coriolanus1 act #e4 sc4 #c4 ,thus it is1 that the respect and esteem1 which the great1 the powerful1 the opulent naturally command1 are in some measure communicated to their dress1 to their manners1 and to all their connections4 ,it is this principle1 which in matters left to our own choice prevails over the natural taste of beauty and propriety1 and gives currency to what is called the fashion4 ,by means of the same easiness of transition1 the bad qualities of an object are carried along1 and grafted upon related objects4 ,every good quality in a person is extinguished by hatred2 and every bad quality is spread upon all his connections4 ,a relation more slight and transitory than that of hatred1 may have the same effect4 ,thus the bearer of bad tidings becomes an object of aversion3 ,fellow begone1 ,i cannot brook thy sight1 ,this news hath made thee a most ugly man4 ,king ,john1 act #c4 sc4 #a4 ,yet the first bringer of unwelcome news ,hath but a losing office3 and his tongue ,sounds ever after1 as a sullen bell ,remember'd1 tolling a departing friend4 ,second part1 ,henry ,,iv4 act #a4 sc4 #c4 ,this disposition of the mind to communicate the properties of one object to another1 is not always proportioned to the intimacy of their connection4 ,the order of the transition from object to object1 hath also an influence4 ,the sense of order operates not less powerfully in this case1 than in the succession of ideas#bj4 ,if a thing be agreeable in itself1 all its accessories appear agreeable4 ,but the agreeableness of an accessory1 extends not itself so readily to the principal4 ,any dress upon a fine woman is becoming2 but the most elegant ornaments upon one that is homely1 have scarce any effect to mend her appearance4 ,the reason will be obvious1 from what is said in the chapter above cited4 ,the mind passes more easily from the principal to its accessories1 than in the opposite direction4 ,the emotions produced as above may properly be termed secondary1 being occasioned either by antecedent emotions or antecedent passions1 which in this respect may be termed primary4 ,and to complete the present theory1 ,i must now remark a difference betwixt a primary emotion and a primary passion in the production of secondary emotions4 ,a secondary emotion cannot but be more faint than the primary2 and therefore1 if the chief or principal object have not the power to raise a passion1 the accessory object will have still less power4 ,but if a passion be raised by the principal object1 the secondary emotion may readily swell into a passion for the accessory1 provided the accessory be a proper object for desire4 ,and thus it happens that one passion is often productive of another4 ,examples are without number3 the sole difficulty is a proper choice4 ,i begin with self-love1 and the power it hath to generate other passions4 ,the love which parents bear their children1 is an illustrious example of the foregoing doctrine4 ,every man1 beside making part of a greater system1 like a comet1 a planet1 or satellite only2 hath a less system of his own1 in the centre of which he represents the sun dispersing his fire and heat all around4 ,the connection between a man and his children1 fundamentally that of cause and effect1 becomes1 by the addition of other circumstances1 the completest that can be among individuals2 and therefore1 self-love1 the most vigorous of all passions1 is readily expanded upon children4 ,the secondary emotion they at first produce by means of their connection1 is1 generally speaking1 sufficiently strong to move desire even from the beginning2 and the new passion swells by degrees1 till it rival in some measure self-love1 the primary passion4 ,the following case will demonstrate the truth of this theory4 ,remorse for betraying a friend1 or murdering an enemy in cold blood1 makes a man even hate himself4 ,in this state1 it is a matter of experience1 that he is scarce conscious of any affection to his children1 but rather of disgust or ill-will4 ,what cause can be assigned for this change1 other than the hatred which beginning at himself1 is expanded upon his children8 ,and if so1 may we not with equal reason derive from self-love the affection a man for ordinary has to them8 ,the affection a man bears to his blood-relations1 depends on the same principle4 ,self-love is also expanded upon them2 and the communicated passion1 is more or less vigorous in proportion to the connection4 ,nor doth self-love rest here3 it is1 by the force of connection1 communicated even to things inanimate4 ,and hence the affection a man bears to his property1 and to every thing he calls his own4 ,friendship1 less vigorous than self-love1 is1 for that reason1 less apt to communicate itself to children or other relations4 ,instances however are not wanting1 of such communicated passion arising from friendship when it is strong4 ,friendship may go higher in the matrimonial state than in any other condition3 and ,otway1 in ,venice preserv'd1 shows a fine taste in taking advantage of that circumstance4 ,in the scene where ,belvidera sues to her father for pardon1 she is represented as pleading her mother's merit1 and the resemblance she bore to her mother4 ,priuli4 ,my daughter6 ,belvidera4 ,yes1 your daughter1 by a mother ,virtuous and noble1 faithful to your honour1 ,obedient to your will1 kind to your wishes1 ,dear to your arms4 ,by all the joys she gave you1 ,when in her blooming years she was your treasure1 ,look kindly on me2 in my face behold ,the lineaments of hers y' have kiss'd so often1 ,pleading the cause of your poor cast-off child4 ,and again1 ,belvidera4 ,lay me1 ,i beg you1 lay me ,by the dear ashes of my tender mother4 ,she would have pitied me1 had fate yet spar'd her4 ,act #e4 sc4 #a4 ,this explains why any meritorious action or any illustrious qualification in my son or my friend1 is apt to make me overvalue myself4 ,if ,i value my friend's wife or his son upon account of their connection with him1 it is still more natural that ,i should value myself upon account of my own connection with him4 ,friendship1 or any other social affection1 may produce opposite effects4 ,pity1 by interesting us strongly for the person in distress1 must of consequence inflame our resentment against the author of the distress4 ,for1 in general1 the affection we have for any man1 generates in us good-will to his friends and ill-will to his enemies4 ,shakespear shows great art in the funeral oration pronounced by ,antony over the body of ,csar4 ,he first endeavours to excite grief in the hearers1 by dwelling upon the deplorable loss of so great a man4 ,this passion raised to a pitch1 interesting them strongly in ,csar's fate1 could not fail to produce a lively sense of the treachery and cruelty of the conspirators2 an infallible method to inflame the resentment of the multitude beyond all bounds4 ,antony4 ,if you have tears1 prepare to shed them now4 ,you all do know this mantle2 ,i remember ,the first time ever ,csar put it on1 ',twas on a summer's evening in his tent1 ,that day he overcame the ,nervii---- ,look6 in this place ran ,cassius' dagger through2-- ,see what a rent the envious ,casca made4---- ,through this the well-beloved ,brutus stabb'd2 ,and as he pluck'd his cursed steel away1 ,mark how the blood of ,csar follow'd it6 ,as rushing out of doors1 to be resolv'd1 ,if ,brutus so unkindly knock'd1 or no3 ,for ,brutus1 as you know1 was ,csar's angel4 ,judge1 oh you gods6 how dearly ,csar lov'd him2 ,this1 this1 was the unkindest cut of all2 ,for when the noble ,csar saw him stab1 ,ingratitude1 more strong than traitors' arms1 ,quite vanquish'd him2 then burst his mighty heart3 ,and1 in his mantle muffling up his face1 ,which all the while ran blood1 great ,csar fell1 ,even at the base of ,pompey's statue4 ,o what a fall was there1 my countrymen6 ,then ,i and you1 and all of us fell down1 ,whilst bloody treason flourish'd over us4 ,o1 now you weep2 and ,i perceive you feel ,the dint of pity2 these are gracious drops4 ,kind souls6 what1 weep you when you but behold ,our ,csar's vesture wounded8 look you here6 ,here is himself1 marr'd1 as you see1 by traitors4 ,julius ,csar1 act #c4 sc4 #f4 ,had ,antony directed upon the conspirators the thoughts of his audience1 without paving the way by raising their grief1 his speech perhaps might have failed of success4 ,hatred and other dissocial passions1 produce effects directly opposite to those above mentioned4 ,if ,i hate a man1 his children1 his relations1 nay his property1 become to me objects of aversion4 ,his enemies1 on the other hand1 ,i am disposed to esteem4 ,the more slight and transitory connections1 have generally no power to produce a communicated passion4 ,anger1 when sudden and violent1 is one exception2 for if the person who did the injury be removed out of reach1 this passion will vent itself upon any related object1 however slight the relation be4 ,another exception makes a greater figure4 ,a group of beings or things1 becomes often the object of a communicated passion1 even where the relation of the individuals to the principal object is but faint4 ,thus though ,i put no value upon a single man for living in the same town with myself2 my townsmen however1 considered in a body1 are preferred before others4 ,this is still more remarkable with respect to my countrymen in general4 ,the grandeur of the complex object1 swells the passion of self-love by the relation ,i have to my native country2 and every passion1 when it swells beyond its ordinary bounds1 hath1 in that circumstance1 a peculiar tendency to expand itself along related objects4 ,in fact1 instances are not rare1 of persons1 who1 upon all occasions1 are willing to sacrifice their lives and fortunes for their country4 ,such influence upon the mind of man1 hath a complex object1 or1 more properly speaking1 a general term#ba4 ,the sense of order hath1 in the communication of passion1 an influence not less remarkable than in the communication of emotions4 ,it is a common observation1 that a man's affection to his parents is less vigorous than to his children4 ,the order of nature in descending to children1 aids the transition of the affection4 ,the ascent to a parent1 contrary to this order1 makes the transition more difficult4 ,gratitude to a benefactor is readily extended to his children2 but not so readily to his parents4 ,the difference however betwixt the natural and inverted order1 is not so considerable1 but that it may be balanced by other circumstances4 ,pliny#bb gives an account of a woman of rank condemned to die for a crime2 and1 to avoid public shame1 detained in prison to die of hunger4 ,her life being prolonged beyond expectation1 it was discovered1 that she was nourished by sucking milk from the breasts of her daughter4 ,this instance of filial piety1 which aided the transition and made ascent not less easy than descent is for ordinary1 procured a pardon to the mother1 and a pension to both4 ,the story of ,androcles and the lion#bc may be accounted for in the same manner4 ,the admiration1 of which the lion was the cause1 for his kindness and gratitude to ,androcles1 produced good-will to ,androcles1 and pardon of his crime4 ,and this leads to other observations upon communicated passions4 ,i love my daughter less after she is married1 and my mother less after a second marriage4 ,the marriage of my son or my father diminishes not my affection so remarkably4 ,the same observation holds with respect to friendship1 gratitude1 and other passions4 ,the love ,i bear my friend1 is but faintly extended to his married daughter4 ,the resentment ,i have against a man1 is readily extended against children who make part of his family3 not so readily against children who are forisfamiliated1 especially by marriage4 ,this difference is also more remarkable in daughters than in sons4 ,these are curious facts2 and to evolve the cause we must examine minutely1 that operation of the mind by which a passion is extended to a related object4 ,in considering two things as related1 the mind is not stationary1 but passeth and repasseth from the one to the other1 viewing the relation from each of them perhaps oftener than once4 ,this holds more especially in considering a relation betwixt things of unequal rank1 as betwixt the cause and the effect1 or betwixt a principal and an accessory4 ,in contemplating the relation betwixt a building and its ornaments1 the mind is not satisfied with a single transition from the former to the latter4 ,it must also view the relation1 beginning at the latter1 and passing from it to the former4 ,this vibration of the mind in passing and repassing betwixt things that are related1 explains the facts above mentioned4 ,the mind passeth easily from the father to the daughter2 but where the daughter is married1 this new relation attracts the mind1 and obstructs1 in some measure1 the return from the daughter to the father4 ,any obstruction the mind meets with in passing and repassing betwixt its objects1 occasions a like obstruction in the communication of passion4 ,the marriage of a male obstructs less the easiness of transition2 because a male is less sunk by the relation of marriage than a female4 ,the foregoing instances1 are of passion communicated from one object to another4 ,but one passion may be generated by another1 without change of object4 ,it may in general be observed1 that a passion paves the way to others1 similar in their tone1 whether directed upon the same or upon a different object4 ,for the mind heated by any passion1 is1 in that state1 more susceptible of a new impression in a similar tone1 than when cool and quiescent4 ,it is a common observation1 that pity generally produceth friendship for a person in distress4 ,pity interests us in its object1 and recommends all its virtuous qualities4 ,for this reason1 female beauty shows best in distress2 and is more apt to inspire love1 than upon ordinary occasions4 ,but it is chiefly to be remarked1 that pity1 warming and melting the spectator1 prepares him for the reception of other tender affections2 and pity is readily improved into love or friendship1 by a certain tenderness and concern for the object1 which is the tone of both passions4 ,the aptitude of pity to produce love is beautifully illustrated by ,shakespear4 ,othello4 ,her father lov'd me1 oft invited me2 ,still question'd me the story of my life1 ,from year to year2 the battles1 sieges1 fortunes1 ,that ,i have past4 ,i ran it through1 e'en from my boyish days1 ,to th' very moment that he bad me tell it3 ,wherein ,i spoke of most disast'rous chances1 ,of moving accidents by flood and field2 ,of hair-breadth 'scapes in th' imminent deadly breach2 ,of being taken by the insolent foe1 ,and sold to slavery2 of my redemption thence1 ,and with it1 all my travel's history4 ---- ,all these to hear ,would ,desdemona seriously incline2 ,but still the house-affairs would draw her thence1 ,which ever as she could with haste dispatch1 ,she'd come again1 and with a greedy ear ,devour up my discourse3 which ,i observing1 ,took once a pliant hour1 and found good means ,to draw from her a prayer of earnest heart1 ,that ,i would all my pilgrimage dilate1 ,whereof by parcels she had something heard1 ,but not distinctively4 ,i did consent1 ,and often did beguile her of her tears1 ,when ,i did speak of some distressful stroke ,that my youth suffer'd4 ,my story being done1 ,she gave me for my pains a world of sighs3 ,she swore1 in faith1 'twas strange1 'twas passing strange-- ',twas pitiful1 'twas wondrous pitiful-- ,she wish'd she had not heard it3--yet she wish'd1 ,that heav'n had made her such a man3--she thank'd me1 ,and bad me1 if ,i had a friend that lov'd her1 ,i should but teach him how to tell my story1 ,and that would woo her4 ,on this hint ,i spake1 ,she lov'd me for the dangers ,i had past1 ,and ,i lov'd her1 that she did pity them3 ,this only is the witchcraft ,i have us'd4 ,othello1 act #a4 sc4 #h4 ,in this instance it will be observed that admiration concurred with pity to produce love4 ,,sect4 ,v4 ,causes of the passions of fear and anger4 ,fear and anger1 to answer the purposes of nature1 are happily so contrived as to operate either instinctively or deliberately4 ,so far as they prompt actions considered as means leading to a certain end1 they fall in with the general system1 and require no particular explanation4 ,if any object have a threatening appearance1 reason suggests means to avoid the danger4 ,if ,i am injured1 the first thing ,i think of1 is in what manner ,i shall be revenged1 and what means ,i shall employ4 ,these particulars are not less obvious than natural4 ,but as the passions of fear and anger1 so far as instinctive1 are less familiar to us1 and their nature generally not understood2 ,i thought it would not be unacceptable to the reader to have them accurately delineated4 ,he may also possibly relish the opportunity of this specimen1 to have the nature of instinctive passions more fully explained than there was formerly occasion to do4 ,i begin with fear4 ,self-preservation is to individuals a matter of too great importance to be left entirely under the guardianship of self-love1 which cannot be put in exercise otherwise than by the intervention of reason and reflection4 ,nature hath acted here with her usual precaution and foresight4 ,fear and anger are passions common to all men2 and by operating instinctively1 they frequently afford security when the slower operations of deliberative reason would be too late4 ,we take nourishment commonly1 not by the direction of reason1 but by the incitement of hunger and thirst4 ,in the same manner1 we avoid danger by the incitement of fear1 which often1 before there is time for reflection1 placeth us in safety4 ,this matter then is ordered with consummate wisdom4 ,it is not within the reach of fancy1 to conceive any thing better fitted to answer its purpose1 than this instinctive passion of fear1 which1 upon the first surmise of danger1 operates instantaneously without reflection4 ,so little doth the passion1 in such instances1 depend on reason1 that we often find it exerted even in contradiction to reason1 and when we are conscious that there is no hazard4 ,a man who is not much upon his guard1 cannot avoid shrinking at a blow1 though he knows it to be aimed in sport2 nor closing his eyes at the approach of what may hurt them1 though he is confident it will not come their length4 ,influenced by the same instinctive passion of fear1 infants are much affected with a stern look1 a menacing tone1 or other expression of anger2 though1 being incapable of reflection1 they cannot form the slightest judgement about the import of these signs4 ,this is all that is necessary to be said in general4 ,the natural connection betwixt fear and the external signs of anger1 will be handled in the chapter of the external signs of emotions and passions4 ,fear provides for self-preservation by flying from harm2 anger1 by repelling it4 ,nothing indeed can be better contrived to repel or prevent injury1 than anger or resentment4 ,destitute of this passion1 men1 like defenceless lambs1 would lie constantly open to mischief#bd4 ,deliberate anger caused by a voluntary injury1 is too well known to require any explanation4 ,if my desire be in general to resent an afront1 ,i must use means1 and these means must be discovered by reflection4 ,deliberation is here requisite2 and in this1 which is the ordinary case1 the passion seldom exceeds just bounds4 ,but where anger suddenly inflames me to return a blow1 the passion is instinctive1 and the action ultimate2 and it is chiefly in such cases that the passion is rash and ungovernable1 because it operates blindly1 without affording time for reason or deliberation4 ,instinctive anger is frequently raised by bodily pain1 which1 when sudden and excessive as by a stroke on a tender part1 ruffling the temper and unhinging the mind1 is in its tone similar to anger4 ,bodily pain by this means disposes to anger1 which is as suddenly raised1 provided an object be found to vent it upon4 ,anger commonly is not provoked otherwise than by a voluntary injury4 ,but when a man is thus beforehand disposed to anger1 he is not nice nor scrupulous about an object4 ,the man who gave the stroke1 however accidentally1 is by an inflammable temper held a proper object1 merely because he was the occasion of the pain4 ,it is still a stronger example of the kind1 that a stock or a stone1 by which ,i am hurt1 becomes an object for my resentment4 ,i am violently incited to bray it to atoms4 ,the passion indeed in this case is but momentary4 ,it vanisheth with the first reflection1 being attended with no circumstance that can excuse it in any degree4 ,nor is this irrational effect confined to bodily pain4 ,inward distress1 when excessive1 may be the occasion of effects equally irrational4 ,when a friend is danger and the event uncertain1 the perturbation of mind occasioned thereby1 will1 in a fiery temper1 produce momentary fits of anger against this very friend1 however innocent4 ,thus ,shakespear1 in the ,tempest1 ,alonzo4---- ,sit down and rest4 ,ev'n here ,i will put off my hope1 and keep it ,no longer for my flatterer3 he is drown'd ,whom thus we stray to find1 and the sea mocks ,our frustrate search on land4 ,well1 let him go4 ,act #c4 sc4 #c4 ,the final words1 ,well1 let him go1 are an expression of impatience and anger at ,ferdinand1 whose absence greatly distressed his father1 dreading that he was lost in the storm4 ,this nice operation of the human mind1 is by ,shakespear exhibited upon another occasion1 and finely painted4 ,in the tragedy of ,othello1 ,iago1 by dark hints and suspicious circumstances1 had roused ,othello's jealousy2 which1 however1 appeared too slightly founded to be vented upon ,desdemona1 its proper object4 ,the perturbation and distress of mind thereby occasioned1 produced a momentary resentment against ,iago1 considered as occasioning the jealousy though innocent4 ,othello4 ,villain1 be sure thou prove my love a whore2 ,be sure of it3 give me the ocular proof4 ,or by the wrath of man's eternal soul ,thou hadst been better have been born a dog1 ,than answer my wak'd wrath4 ,iago4 ,is't come to this8 ,othello4 ,make me see't2 or1 at the least1 so prove it1 ,that the probation bear no hinge or loop ,to hang a doubt on3 or woe upon thy life6 ,iago4 ,my ,noble ,lord---- ,othello4 ,if thou dost slander her and torture me1 ,never pray more2 abandon all remorse2 ,on horrors head horrors accumulate2 ,do deeds to make heav'n weep1 all earth amaz'd3 ,for nothing canst thou to damnation add ,greater than that4 ,othello1 act #c4 sc4 #h4 ,this blind and absurd effect of anger1 is more gaily illustrated by ,addison1 in a story1 the dramatis person of which are a cardinal1 and a spy retained in pay for intelligence4 ,the cardinal is represented as minuting down every thing that is told him4 ,the spy begins with a low voice1 8,such an one the advocate whispered to one of his friends within my hearing1 that your ,eminence was a very great poltron20 and after having given his patron time to take it down1 adds1 8,that another called him a mercenary rascal in a public conversation40 ,the cardinal replies1 8,very well10 and bids him go on4 ,the spy proceeds1 and loads him with reports of the same nature1 till the cardinal rises in great wrath1 calls him an impudent scoundrel1 and kicks him out of the room#be4 ,we meet with instances every day of resentment raised by loss at play1 and wreaked on the cards or dice4 ,but anger1 a furious passion1 is satisfied with a connection still slighter than that of cause and effect1 of which ,congreve1 in the ,mourning ,bride1 gives one beautiful example4 ,gonsalez4 ,have comfort4 ,almeria4 ,curs'd be that tongue that bids me be of comfort1 ,curs'd my own tongue that could not move his pity1 ,curs'd these weak hands that could not hold him here1 ,for he is gone to doom ,alphonso's death4 ,act #d4 sc4 #h4 ,i have chosen to exhibit anger in its more rare appearances1 for in these we can best trace its nature and extent4 ,in the examples above given1 it appears to be an absurd passion and altogether irrational4 ,but we ought to consider1 that it is not the intention of nature to subject this passion1 in every instance1 to reason and reflection4 ,it was given us to prevent or to repel injuries2 and1 like fear1 it often operates blindly and instinctively1 without the least view to consequences4 ,the very first sensation of harm1 sets it in motion to repel injury by punishment4 ,were it more cool and deliberate1 it would lose its threatening appearance1 and be insufficient to guard us against violence and mischief4 ,when such is and ought to be the nature of the passion1 it is not wonderful to find it exerted irregularly and capriciously1 as it sometimes is where the mischief is sudden and unforeseen4 ,all the harm that can be done by the passion in this case1 is instantaneous2 for the shortest delay sets all to rights2 and circumstances are seldom so unlucky as to put it in the power of a passionate man to do much harm in an instant4 ,,sect4 ,,vi4 ,emotions caused by fiction4 ,the attentive reader will observe1 that in accounting for passions and emotions1 no cause hitherto has been assigned but what hath a real existence4 ,whether it be a being1 action1 or quality1 that moveth us1 it is supposed to be an object of our knowledge1 or at least of our belief4 ,this observation discovers to us that the subject is not yet exhausted2 because our passions1 as all the world know1 are moved by fiction as well as by truth4 ,in judging beforehand of man1 so remarkably addicted to truth and reality1 one should little dream that fiction could have any effect upon him4 ,but man's intellectual faculties are too imperfect to dive far even into his own nature4 ,i shall take occasion afterward to show1 that this branch of the human constitution1 is contrived with admirable wisdom and is subservient to excellent purposes4 ,in the mean time1 ,i must endeavour to unfold1 by what means fiction hath such influence on the mind4 ,that the objects of our senses really exist in the way and manner we perceive1 is a branch of intuitive knowledge4 ,when ,i see a man walking1 a tree growing1 or cattle grazing1 ,i have a conviction that these things are precisely as they appear4 ,if ,i be a spectator of any transaction or event1 ,i have a conviction of the real existence of the persons engaged1 of their words1 and of their actions4 ,nature determines us to rely on the veracity of our senses4 ,and indeed1 if our senses did not convince us of the reality of their objects1 they could not in any degree answer their end4 ,by the power of memory1 a thing formerly seen may be recalled to the mind with different degrees of accuracy4 ,we commonly are satisfied with a slight recollection of the chief circumstances2 and1 in such recollection1 the thing is not figured as present nor any image formed4 ,i retain the consciousness of my present situation1 and barely remember that formerly ,i was a spectator4 ,but with respect to an interesting object or event which made a strong impression1 the mind sometimes1 not satisfied with a cursory review1 chutes to revolve every circumstance4 ,in this case1 ,i conceive myself to be a spectator as ,i was originally2 and ,i perceive every particular passing in my presence1 in the same manner as when ,i was in reality a spectator4 ,for example1 ,i saw yesterday a beautiful woman in tears for the loss of an only child1 and was greatly moved with her distress4 ,not satisfied with a slight recollection or bare remembrance1 ,i insist on the melancholy scene4 ,conceiving myself to be in the place where ,i was an eye-witness1 every circumstance appears to me as at first4 ,i think ,i see the woman in tears and hear her moans4 ,hence it may be justly said1 that in a complete idea of memory there is no past nor future4 ,a thing recalled to the mind with the accuracy ,i have been describing1 is perceived as in our view1 and consequently as presently existing4 ,past time makes a part of an incomplete idea only3 ,i remember or reflect1 that some years ago ,i was at ,oxford1 and saw the first stone laid of the ,ratcliff library2 and ,i remember that at a still greater distance of time1 ,i heard a debate in the house of ,commons about a standing army4 ,lamentable is the imperfection of language1 almost in every particular that falls not under external sense4 ,i am talking of a matter exceeding clear in itself1 and of which every person must be conscious2 and yet ,i find no small difficulty to express it clearly in words2 for it is not accurate to talk of incidents long past as passing in our sight1 nor of hearing at present what we really heard yesterday or perhaps a year ago4 ,to this necessity ,i am reduced1 by want of proper words to describe ideal presence and to distinguish it from real presence4 ,and thus in the description1 a plain subject becomes obscure and intricate4 ,when ,i recall any thing in the distinctest manner1 so as to form an idea or image of it as present2 ,i have not words to describe this act1 other than that ,i perceive the thing as a spectator1 and as existing in my presence4 ,this means not that ,i am really a spectator2 but only that ,i conceive myself to be a spectator1 and have a consciousness of presence similar to what a real spectator hath4 ,as many rules of criticism depend on ideal presence1 the reader1 it is expected1 will take some pains to form an exact notion of it1 as distinguished on the one hand from real presence1 and on the other from a superficial or reflective remembrance4 ,it is distinguished from the former by the following circumstance4 ,ideal presence arising from an act of memory1 may properly be termed a waking dream2 because1 like a dream1 it vanisheth upon the first reflection of our present situation4 ,real presence1 on the contrary1 vouched by eye-sight1 commands our belief1 not only during the direct perception1 but in reflecting afterward upon the object4 ,and to distinguish ideal presence from the latter1 ,i give the following illustration4 ,two internal acts1 both of them exertions of memory1 are clearly distinguishable4 ,when ,i think of an event as past1 without forming any image1 it is barely reflecting or remembering that ,i was an eye-witness4 ,but when ,i recall the event so distinctly as to form a complete image of it1 ,i perceive it ideally as passing in my presence2 and this ideal perception is an act of intuition1 into which reflection enters not more than into an act of sight4 ,though ideal presence be distinguished from real presence on the one side and from reflective remembrance on the other1 it is however variable without any precise limits2 rising sometimes toward the former1 and often sinking toward the latter4 ,in a vigorous exertion of memory1 ideal presence is extremely distinct4 ,when a man1 as in a reverie1 drops himself out of his thoughts1 he perceives every thing as passing before him1 and hath a consciousness of presence similar to that of a spectator4 ,there is no other difference1 but that in the former the consciousness of presence is less firm and clear than in the latter4 ,but this is seldom the case4 ,ideal presence is often faint1 and the image so obscure as not to differ widely from reflective remembrance4 ,hitherto of an idea of memory4 ,i proceed to consider the idea of a thing ,i never saw1 raised in me by speech1 by writing1 or by painting4 ,this idea1 with respect to the present matter1 is of the same nature with an idea of memory1 being either complete or incomplete4 ,an important event1 by a lively and accurate description1 rouses my attention and insensibly transforms me into a spectator3 ,i perceive ideally every incident as passing in my presence4 ,on the other hand1 a slight or superficial narrative produceth only a faint and incomplete idea1 precisely similar to a reflective recollection of memory4 ,of such idea1 ideal presence makes no part4 ,past time is a circumstance that enters into this idea1 as it doth into a reflective idea of memory4 ,i believe that ,scipio existed about #bjjj years ago1 and that he overcame ,hannibal in the famous battle of ,zama4 ,when ,i revolve in so cursory a manner that memorable event1 ,i consider it as long past4 ,but supposing me to be warmed with the story1 perhaps by a beautiful description1 ,i am insensibly transformed to a spectator4 ,i perceive these two heroes in act to engage2 ,i perceive them brandishing their swords1 and exhorting their troops2 and in this manner ,i attend them through every circumstance of the battle4 ,this event being present to my mind during the whole progress of my thoughts1 admits not any time but the present4 ,i have had occasion to observe#bf1 that ideas both of memory and of speech1 produce emotions of the same kind with what are produced by an immediate view of the object2 only fainter1 in proportion as an idea is fainter than an original perception4 ,the insight we have now got1 unfolds the means by which this effect is produced4 ,ideal presence supplies the want of real presence2 and in idea we perceive persons acting and suffering1 precisely as in an original survey4 ,if our sympathy be engaged by the latter1 it must also in some measure be engaged by the former4 ,the distinctness of ideal presence1 as above mentioned1 approacheth sometimes to the distinctness of real presence2 and the consciousness of presence is the same in both4 ,this is the cause of the pleasure that is felt in a reverie1 where a man1 losing sight of himself1 is totally occupied with the objefts passing in his mind1 which he conceives to be really existing in his presence4 ,the power of speech to raise emotions1 depends entirely on the artifice of raising such lively and distinct images as are here described4 ,the reader's passions are never sensibly moved1 till he be thrown into a kind of reverie2 in which state1 losing the consciousness of self1 and of reading1 his present occupation1 he conceives every incident as passing in his presence1 precisely as if he were an eye-witness4 ,a general or reflective remembrance hath not this effect4 ,it may be agreeable in some slight degree2 but the ideas suggested by it1 are too faint and obscure to raise any thing like a sympathetic emotion4 ,and were they ever so lively1 they pass with too much precipitation to have this effect4 ,our emotions are never instantaneous3 even those that come the soonest to perfection1 have different periods of birth1 growth1 and maturity2 and to give opportunity for these different periods1 it is necessary that the cause of every emotion be present to the mind a due time4 ,the emotion is completed by reiterated impressions4 ,we know this to be the case of objects of sight3 we are scarce sensible of any emotion in a quick succession even of the most beautiful objects4 ,and if this hold in the succession of original perceptions1 how much more in the succession of ideas8 ,though all this while1 ,i have been only describing what passeth in the mind of every one and what every one must be conscious of1 it was necessary to enlarge upon it2 because1 however clear in the internal conception1 it is far from being so when described in words4 ,ideal presence1 though of general importance1 hath scarce ever been touched by any writer2 and at any rate it could not be overlooked in accounting for the effects produced by fiction4 ,upon this point1 the reader ,i guess has prevented me4 ,it already must have occurred to him1 that if1 in reading1 ideal presence be the means by which our passions are moved1 it makes no difference whether the subject be a fable or a reality4 ,when ideal presence is complete1 we perceive every object as in our sight2 and the mind1 totally occupied with an interesting event1 finds no leisure for reflection of any sort4 ,this reasoning1 if any one hesitate1 is confirmed by constant and universal experience4 ,let us take under consideration the meeting of ,hector and ,andromache in the sixth book of the ,iliad1 or some of the passionate scenes in ,king ,lear4 ,these pictures of human life1 when we are sufficiently engaged1 give an impression of reality not less distinct than that given by the death of ,otho in the beautiful description of ,tacitus4 ,we never once reflect whether the story be true or feigned4 ,reflection comes afterward1 when we have the scene no longer before our eyes4 ,this reasoning will appear in a still clearer light1 by opposing ideal presence to ideas raised by a cursory narrative2 which ideas being faint1 obscure1 and imperfect1 occupy the mind so little as to solicit reflection4 ,and accordingly1 a curt narrative of feigned incidents is never relished4 ,any slight pleasure it affords1 is more than counterbalanced by the disgust it inspires for want of truth4 ,in support of the foregoing theory1 ,i add what ,i reckon a decisive argument4 ,upon examination it will be found1 that genuine history commands our passions by means of ideal presence solely2 and therefore that with respect to this effect1 genuine history stands upon the same footing with fable4 ,to me it appears clear1 that our sympathy must vanish so soon as we begin to reflect upon the incidents related in either4 ,the reflection that a story is a pure fiction1 will indeed prevent our sympathy2 but so will equally the reflection that the persons described are no longer existing4 ,it is present distress only that moves my pity4 ,my concern vanishes with the distress2 for ,i cannot pity any person who at present is happy4 ,according to this theory1 founded clearly on human nature1 a man long dead and insensible now of past misfortunes1 cannot move our pity more than if he had never existed4 ,the misfortunes described in a genuine history command our belief3 but then we believe also1 that these misfortunes are at an end1 and that the persons described are at present under no distress4 ,what effect1 for example1 can the belief of the rape of ,lucretia have to raise our sympathy1 when she died above #bjjj years ago1 and hath at present no painful feeling of the injury done her8 ,the effect of history in point of instruction1 depends in some measure upon its veracity4 ,but history cannot reach the heart1 while we indulge any reflection upon the facts4 ,such reflection1 if it engage our belief1 never fails at the same time to poison our pleasure1 by convincing us that our sympathy for those who are dead and gone is absurd4 ,and if reflection be laid aside1 history stands upon the same footing with fable4 ,what effect either of them may have to raise our sympathy1 depends on the vivacity of the ideas they raise2 and with respect to that circumstance1 fable is generally more successful than history4 ,of all the means for making an impression of ideal presence1 theatrical representation is the most powerful4 ,that words independent of action have the same power in a less degree1 every one of sensibility must have felt3 ,a good tragedy will extort tears in private1 though not so forcibly as upon the stage4 ,this power belongs also to painting4 ,a good historical picture makes a deeper impression than can be made by words1 though not equal to what is made by theatrical action4 ,and as ideal presence depends on a lively impression1 painting seems to possess a middle place betwixt reading and acting4 ,in making an impression of ideal presence1 it is not less superior to the former than inferior to the latter4 ,it must not however be thought1 that our passions can be raised by painting to such a height as can be done by words4 ,of all the successive incidents that concur to produce a great event1 a picture has the choice but of one1 because it is confined to a single instant of time4 ,and though the impression it makes1 is the deepest that can be made instantaneously2 yet seldom can a passion be raised to any height in an instant1 or by a single impression4 ,it was observed above1 that our passions1 those especially of the sympathetic kind1 require a succession of impressions2 and for that reason1 reading and still more acting have greatly the advantage1 by the opportunity of reiterating impressions without end4 ,upon the whole1 it is by means of ideal presence that our passions are excited2 and till words produce that charm they avail nothing4 ,even real events intitled to our belief1 must be conceived present and passing in our sight before they can move us4 ,and this theory serves to explain several phenomena otherwise unaccountable4 ,a misfortune happening to a stranger1 makes a less impression than happening to a man we know1 even where we are no way interested in him3 our acquaintance with this man1 however slight1 aids the conception of his suffering in our presence4 ,for the same reason1 we are little moved with any distant event2 because we have more difficulty to conceive it present1 than an event that happened in our neighbourhood4 ,every one is sensible1 that describing a past event as present1 has a fine effect in language4 ,for what other reason than that it aids the conception of ideal presence8 ,take the following example4 ,and now with shouts the shocking armies clos'd1 ,to lances lances1 shields to shields oppos'd2 ,host against host the shadowy legions drew1 ,the sounding darts an iron tempest flew2 ,victors and vanquish'd join promiscuous cries1 ,triumphing shouts and dying groans arise1 ,with streaming blood the slipp'ry field is dy'd1 ,and slaughter'd heroes swell the dreadful tide4 ,in this passage we may observe how the writer inflamed with the subject1 insensibly slips from the past time to the present2 led to this form of narration by conceiving every circumstance as passing in his own sight4 ,and this at the same time has a fine effect upon the reader1 by advancing him to be as it were a spectator4 ,but this change from the past to the present requires some preparation2 and is not graceful in the same sentence where there is no stop in the sense2 witness the following passage4 ,thy fate was next1 ,o ,phstus6 doom'd to feel ,the great ,idomeneus' protended steel2 ,whom ,borus sent his son and only joy ,from fruitful ,tarne to the fields of ,troy4 ,the ,cretan jav'lin reach'd him from afar1 ,and pierc'd his shoulder as he mounts his car4 ,iliad1 v4 #eg4 ,it is still worse to fall back to the past in the same period2 for this is an anticlimax in description3 ,through breaking ranks his furious course he bends1 ,and at the goddess his broad lance extends2 ,through her bright veil the daring weapon drove1 ,th' ambrosial veil1 which all the graces wove3 ,her snowy hand the razing steel profan'd1 ,and the transparent skin with crimson stain'd4 ,iliad1 v4 #dae4 ,again1 describing the shield of ,jupiter1 ,here all the terrors of grim ,war appear1 ,here rages ,force1 here tremble ,flight and ,fear1 ,here storm'd ,contention1 and here ,fury frown'd1 ,and the dire orb portentous ,gorgon crown'd4 ,iliad1 v4 #iad4 ,nor is it pleasant to be carried backward and forward alternately in a rapid succession3 ,then dy'd ,seamandrius1 expert in the chace1 ,in woods and wilds to wound the savage race2 ,diana taught him all her sylvan arts1 ,to bend the bow and aim unerring darts3 ,but vainly here ,diana's arts he tries1 ,the fatal lance arrests him as he flies2 ,from ,menelaus' arm the weapon sent1 ,through his broad back and heaving bosom went3 ,down sinks the warrior with a thund'ring sound1 ,his brazen armor rings against the ground4 ,iliad1 v4 #fe4 ,it is wonderful to observe1 upon what slender foundations nature1 sometimes1 erects her most solid and magnificent works4 ,in appearance at least1 what can be more slight than ideal presence of objects8 ,and yet upon it entirely is superstructed1 that extensive influence which language hath over the heart2 an influence1 which1 more than any other means1 strengthens the bond of society1 and attracts individuals from their private system to exert themselves in acts of generosity and benevolence4 ,matters of fact1 it is true1 and truth in general1 may be inculcated without taking advantage of ideal presence4 ,but without it1 the finest speaker or writer would in vain attempt to move any of our passion3 our sympathy would be confined to objects that are really present3 and language would lose entirely that signal power it possesseth1 of making us sympathize with beings removed at the greatest distance of time as well as of place4 ,nor is the influence of language1 by means of this ideal presence1 confined to the heart4 ,it reaches also in some measure the understanding1 and contributes to belief4 ,when events are related in a lively manner and every circumstance appears as passing before us1 it is with difficulty that we suffer the truth of the facts to be questioned4 ,a historian accordingly who hath a genius for narration1 seldom fails to engage our belief4 ,the same facts related in a manner cold and indistinct1 are not suffered to pass without examination4 ,a thing ill described1 is like an object seen at a distance or through a mist3 we doubt whether it be a reality or a fiction4 ,for this reason1 a poet who can warm and animate his reader1 may employ bolder fictions than ought to be ventured by an inferior genius4 ,the reader1 once thoroughly engaged1 is in that situation susceptible of the strongest impressions3 ,veraque constituunt1 qu bell tangere possunt ,aureis1 et lepido qu sunt fucata sonore4 ,lucretius1 lib4 #a4 l4 #fdd4 ,a masterly painting has the same effect4 ,le ,brun is no small support to ,quintus ,curtius2 and among the vulgar in ,italy1 the belief of scripture-history is perhaps founded as much upon the authority of ,raphael1 ,michael ,angelo1 and other celebrated painters1 as upon that of the sacred writers#bg4 ,in establishing the foregoing theory1 the reader has had the fatigue of much dry reasoning4 ,but his labour will not be fruitless4 ,from this theory are derived many useful rules in criticism1 which shall be mentioned in their proper places4 ,one specimen1 being a fine illustration1 ,i chuse to give at present4 ,in a historical poem representing human actions1 it is a rule1 that no improbable incident ought to be admitted4 ,a circumstance1 an incident1 or an event1 may be singular1 may surprise by being unexpected1 and yet be extremely natural4 ,the improbability ,i talk of1 is that of an irregular fact1 contrary to the order and course of nature1 and therefore unaccountable4 ,a chain of imagined facts linked together according to the order of nature1 find easy entrance into the mind2 and if described with warmth of fancy1 they produce complete images1 including ideal presence4 ,but it is with great difficulty that we admit any irregular fact2 for an irregular fact always puzzles the judgement4 ,doubtful of its reality we immediately enter upon reflection1 and discovering the cheat1 lose all relish and concern4 ,this is an unhappy effect2 for thereafter it requires more than an ordinary effort1 to restore the waking dream1 and to make the reader conceive even the more probable incidents as passing in his presence4 ,i never was an admirer of machinery in an epic poem2 and ,i now find my taste justified by reason2 the foregoing argument concluding still more strongly against imaginary beings1 than against improbable facts4 ,fictions of this nature may amuse by their novelty and singularity3 but they never move the sympathetic passions1 because they cannot impose on the mind any perception of reality4 ,i appeal to the discerning reader1 whether this be not precisely the case of the machinery introduced by ,tasso and by ,voltaire4 ,this machinery is not only in itself cold and uninteresting1 but is remarkably hurtful1 by giving an air of fiction to the whole composition4 ,a burlesque poem1 such as the ,lutrin or the ,dispensary1 may employ machinery with success2 for these poems1 though they assume the air of history1 give entertainment chiefly by their pleasant and ludicrous pictures1 to which machinery contributes in a singular manner4 ,it is not the aim of such a poem1 to raise our sympathy in any considerable degree2 and for that reason1 a strict imitation of nature is not required4 ,a poem professedly ludicrous1 may employ machinery to great advantage2 and the more extravagant the better4 ,a just representation of nature1 would indeed be incongruous in a composition intended to give entertainment by the means chiefly of singularity and surprise4 ,for accomplishing the task undertaken in the beginning of the present section1 what only remains is1 to show the final cause of the power that fiction hath over the mind of man4 ,i have already mentioned1 that language1 by means of fiction1 has the command of our sympathy for the good of others4 ,by the same means1 our sympathy may be also raised for our own good4 ,in the third section it is observed1 that examples both of virtue and of vice raise virtuous emotions2 which becoming stronger by exercise1 tend to make us virtuous by habit as well as by principle4 ,i now further observe1 that examples drawn from real events1 are not so frequent as to contribute much to a habit of virtue4 ,if they be1 they are not recorded by historians4 ,it therefore shows great wisdom1 to form us in such a manner1 as to be susceptible of the same improvement from fable that we receive from genuine history4 ,by this admirable contrivance1 examples to improve us in virtue may be multiplied without end4 ,no other sort of discipline contributes more to make virtue habitual2 and no other sort is so agreeable in the application4 ,i add another final cause with thorough satisfaction2 because it shows1 that the author of our nature is not less kindly provident for the happiness of his creatures1 than for the regularity of their conduct4 ,the power that fiction hath over the mind of man1 is the source of an endless variety of refined amusement1 always ready to employ a vacant hour4 ,such amusement is a fine resource in solitude2 and by sweetening the temper1 improves society4 ,,part ,,ii4 ,emotions and passions as pleasant and painful1 agreeable and disagreeable4 ,modifications of these qualities4 ,it will naturally occur at first view1 that a discourse upon the passions should commence with explaining the qualities now mentioned4 ,but upon trial1 ,i found this could not be done distinctly1 till the difference were ascertained betwixt an emotion and a passion1 and till their causes were evolved4 ,great obscurity may be observed among writers with regard to the present point4 ,no care1 for example1 is taken to distinguish agreeable from pleasant1 disagreeable from painful2 or rather these terms are deemed synonymous4 ,this is an error not at all venial in the science of ethics2 as instances can and shall be given1 of painful passions that are agreeable1 and of pleasant passions that are disagreeable4 ,these terms1 it is true1 are used indifferently in familiar conversations1 and in composition for amusement1 where accuracy is not required4 ,but for those to use them so who profess to explain the passions1 is a capital error4 ,in writing upon the critical art1 ,i would avoid every refinement that may seem more curious than useful4 ,but the proper meaning of the terms under consideration must be ascertained1 in order to understand the passions1 and some of their effects that are intimately connected with criticism4 ,i shall endeavour to explain these terms by familiar examples4 ,viewing a fine garden1 ,i perceive it to be beautiful or agreeable2 and ,i consider the beauty or agreeableness as belonging to the object1 or as one of its qualities4 ,again1 when ,i turn my thoughts from the garden to what passes in my mind1 ,i am conscious of a pleasant emotion of which the garden is the cause4 ,the pleasure here is felt1 not as a quality of the garden1 but of the emotion produced by it4 ,i give an opposite example4 ,a rotten carcass is loathsome and disagreeable1 and raises in the spectator a painful emotion4 ,the disagreeableness is a quality of the object3 the pain is a quality of the emotion produced by it4 ,agreeable and disagreeable1 then1 are qualities of the object we perceive3 pleasant and painful are qualities of the emotions we feel4 ,the former qualities are perceived as adhering to objects2 the latter are felt as existing within us4 ,but a passion or emotion1 beside being felt1 is frequently made an object of thought or reflection3 we examine it2 we inquire into its nature1 its cause1 and its effects4 ,in this view it partakes the nature of other objects3 it is either agreeable or disagreeable4 ,hence clearly appear the different significations of the terms under consideration1 as applied to passion4 ,when a passion is termed pleasant or painful1 we refer to the actual feeling3 when termed agreeable or disagreeable1 it is considered as an object of thought or reflection4 ,a passion is pleasant or painful to the person in whom it exists3 it is agreeable or disagreeable to the person who makes it a subject of contemplation4 ,when the terms thus defined are applied to particular emotions and passions1 they do not always coincide4 ,and in order to make this evident1 we must endeavour to ascertain1 first1 what passions and emotions are pleasant what painful1 and next1 what are agreeable what disagreeable4 ,with respect to both1 there are general rules1 which1 so far as ,i gather from induction1 admit not any exceptions4 ,the nature of an emotion or passion as pleasant or painful1 depends entirely on its cause4 ,an agreeable object produceth always a pleasant emotion2 and a disagreeable object produceth always a painful emotion#bh4 ,thus a lofty oak1 a generous action1 a valuable discovery in art or science1 are agreeable objects that unerringly produce pleasant emotions4 ,a stinking puddle1 a treacherous action1 an irregular ill-contrived edifice1 being disagreeable objects1 produce painful emotions4 ,selfish passions are pleasant2 for they arise from self1 an agreeable object or cause4 ,a social passion directed upon an agreeable object is always pleasant3 directed upon an object in distress1 is painful#bi4 ,lastly1 all dissocial passions1 such as envy1 resentment1 malice1 being caused by disagreeable objects1 cannot fail to be painful4 ,it requires a greater compass to evolve the general rule that concerns the agreeableness or disagreeableness of emotions and passions4 ,an action conformable to the common nature of our species1 is perceived by us to be regular and good#cj2 and consequently every such action appears agreeable to us4 ,the same observation is applicable to passions and emotions4 ,every feeling that is conformable to the common nature of our species1 is perceived by us to be regular and as it ought to be2 and upon that account it must appear agreeable4 ,by this general rule we can ascertain what emotions are agreeable what disagreeable4 ,every emotion that is conformable to the common nature of man1 ought to appear agreeable4 ,and that this holds true with respect to pleasant emotions1 will readily be admitted4 ,but why should painful emotions be an exception1 when they are not less natural than the other8 ,the proportion holds true in both4 ,thus the painful emotion raised by a monstrous birth or brutal action1 is not less agreeable upon reflection1 than the pleasant emotion raised by a flowing river or a lofty dome4 ,with respect to passions as opposed to emotions1 it will be obvious from the foregoing proposition1 that their agreeableness or disagreeableness1 like the actions of which they are productive1 must be regulated entirely by the moral sense4 ,every action vicious or improper is disagreeable to a spectator1 and so is the passion that prompts it4 ,every action virtuous or proper is agreeable to a spectator1 and so is the passion that prompts it4 ,this deduction may be carried a great way farther2 but to avoid intricacy and obscurity1 ,i make but one other step4 ,a passion1 which1 as aforesaid1 becomes an object of thought to a spectator1 may have the effect to produce a passion or emotion in him2 for it is natural that a social being should be affected with the passions of others4 ,passions or emotions thus generated1 submit1 in common with others1 to the general law above mentioned1 viz4 that an agreeable object produces a pleasant emotion1 and a disagreeable object a painful emotion4 ,thus the passion of gratitude1 being to a spectator an agreeable object1 produceth in him the pleasant passion of love to the grateful person4 ,thus malice1 being to a spectator a disagreeable object1 produceth in him the painful passion of hatred to the malicious person4 ,we are now prepared for examples of pleasant passions that are disagreeable1 and of painful passions that are agreeable4 ,self-love1 so long as confined within just bounds1 is a passion both pleasant and agreeable4 ,in excess it is disagreeable1 though it continues to be still pleasant4 ,our appetites are precisely in the same condition4 ,again1 vanity1 though pleasant1 is disagreeable4 ,resentment1 on the other hand1 is1 in every stage of the passion1 painful2 but is not disagreeable unless in excess4 ,pity is always painful1 yet always agreeable4 ,but however distinct these qualities are1 they coincide1 ,i acknowledge1 in one class of passions4 ,all vicious passions tending to the hurt of others1 are equally painful and disagreeable4 ,the foregoing distinctions among passions and emotions1 may serve the common affairs of life1 but they are not sufficient for the critical art4 ,the qualities of pleasant and painful are too familiar to carry us far into human nature1 or to form an accurate judgement in the fine arts4 ,it is further necessary1 that we be made acquainted with the several modifications of these qualities1 with the modifications at least that make the greatest figure4 ,even at first view every one is sensible1 that the pleasure or pain of one passion differs from that of another4 ,how distant the pleasure of revenge from that of love8 ,so distant1 as that we cannot without reluctance admit them to be any way related4 ,that the same quality of pleasure should be so differently modified in different passions1 will not be surprising1 when we reflect on the boundless variety of pleasant sounds1 tastes1 and smells1 daily felt4 ,our discernment reaches differences still more nice1 in objects even of the same sense4 ,we have no difficulty to distinguish different sweets1 different sours1 and different bitters4 ,honey is sweet1 and so is sugar2 and yet they never pass the one for the other4 ,our sense of smelling is sufficiently acute1 to distinguish varieties in sweet-smelling flowers without end4 ,with respect to passions and emotions1 their different feelings have no limits2 for when we attempt the more delicate modifications1 they elude our search1 and are scarce discernible4 ,in this matter1 however1 there is an analogy betwixt our internal and external senses4 ,the latter generally are sufficiently acute for all the useful purposes of life1 and so are the former4 ,some persons indeed1 ,nature's favourites1 have a wonderful acuteness of sense1 which to them unfolds many a delightful scene totally hid from vulgar eyes4 ,but if such refined pleasure be refused to the bulk of mankind1 it is however wisely ordered that they are not sensible of the defect2 and it detracts not from their happiness that others secretly are more happy4 ,with relation to the fine arts only1 this qualification seems essential2 and there it is termed delicacy of taste4 ,should an author of such a taste attempt to describe all those differences and shades of pleasant and painful emotions which he himself feels1 he would soon meet an invincible obstacle in the poverty of language4 ,no known tongue hitherto has reached such perfection1 as to express clearly the more delicate feelings4 ,a people must be thoroughly refined1 before their language become so comprehensive4 ,we must therefore rest satisfied with an explanation of the more obvious modifications4 ,in forming a comparison betwixt pleasant passions of different kinds1 we conceive some of them to be gross some refined4 ,those pleasures of external sense that are felt as at the organ of sense1 are conceived to be corporeal or gross#ca4 ,the pleasures of the eye and ear are felt to be internal2 and for that reason are conceived to be more pure and refined4 ,the social affections are conceived by all to be more refined than the selfish4 ,sympathy and humanity are reckoned the finest temper of mind2 and for that reason1 the prevalence of the social affections in the progress of society1 is held to be a refinement in our nature4 ,a savage is unqualified for any pleasure but what is thoroughly or nearly selfish3 therefore a savage is incapable of comparing selfish and social pleasure4 ,but a man after acquiring a high relish of the latter1 loses not thereby a taste for the former4 ,this man can judge1 and he will give preference to social pleasures as more sweet and refined4 ,in fact they maintain that character1 not only in the direct feeling1 but also when we make them the subject of reflection4 ,the social passions are by far more agreeable than the selfish1 and rise much higher in our esteem4 ,refined manners and polite behaviour1 must not be deemed altogether artificial4 ,men accustomed to the sweets of society1 who cultivate humanity1 find an elegant pleasure in preferring others and making them happy1 of which the proud or selfish scarce have a conception4 ,ridicule1 which chiefly arises from pride1 a selfish passion1 is at best but a gross pleasure4 ,a people1 it is true1 must have emerged out of barbarity before they can have a taste for ridicule4 ,but it is too rough an entertainment for those who are highly polished and refined4 ,ridicule is banished ,france1 and is losing ground daily in ,england4 ,other modifications of pleasant passions will be occasionally mentioned hereafter4 ,particularly the modifications of high and low are handled in the chapter of grandeur and sublimity2 and the modifications of dignified and mean1 in the chapter of dignity and meanness4 ,,part ,,iii4 ,interrupted existence of emotions and passions4---- ,their growth and decay4 ,were emotions of the same nature with colour and figure1 to continue in their present state till varied by some operating cause1 the condition of man would be deplorable4 ,it is ordered wisely1 that emotions should more resemble another attribute of matter1 viz4 motion1 which requires the constant exertion of an operating cause1 and ceases when the cause is withdrawn4 ,an emotion may subsist while its cause is present2 and when its cause is removed1 may subsist by means of an idea1 though in a fainter degree4 ,but the moment another thought breaks in and occupies the mind1 so as to exclude not only this cause1 but also its idea1 the emotion is gone3 it is no longer felt4 ,if it return with its cause or idea1 it again vanisheth with them when other thoughts crowd in4 ,this observation is applicable to emotions and passions of every kind4 ,and these accordingly are connected with perceptions and ideas1 so intimately as not to have any independent existence4 ,a strong passion1 it is true1 hath a mighty influence to detain its object in the mind2 but not so as to detain it for ever4 ,a succession of perceptions or ideas is unavoidable#cb3 the object of the passion may be often recalled2 but however interesting1 it must by intervals yield to other objects4 ,for this reason1 a passion rarely continues long with an equal degree of vigour4 ,it is felt strong and moderate1 in a pretty quick succession4 ,the same object makes not always the same impression2 because the mind1 being of a limited capacity1 cannot1 at the same instant1 give great attention to a plurality of objects4 ,the strength of a passion depends on the impression made by its cause2 and a cause makes its strongest impression1 when happening to be the single interesting object1 it attracts our whole attention#cc4 ,its impression is slighter when our attention is divided betwixt it and other objects2 and at that time the passion is slighter in proportion4 ,when emotions and passions are felt thus by intervals and have not a continued existence1 it may be thought a nice problem1 to ascertain their identity1 and to determine when they are the same when different4 ,in a strict philosophic view1 every single impression made even by the same object1 is distinguishable from what have gone before1 and from what succeed4 ,neither is an emotion raised by an idea the same with what is raised by a sight of the object4 ,but such accuracy is not found in common apprehension1 nor is necessary in common language4 ,the emotions raised by a fine landscape in its successive appearances1 are not distinguished from each other1 nor even from those raised by successive ideas of the object3 all of them are held to be the same4 ,a passion also is always reckoned the same1 so long as it is fixed upon the same object4 ,thus love and hatred may continue the same for life4 ,nay1 so loose are we in this way of thinking1 that many passions are reckoned the same even after a change of object4 ,this is the case of all passions that proceed from some peculiar propensity4 ,envy1 for example1 is considered to be the same passion1 not only while it is directed upon the same person1 but even where it comprehends many persons at once4 ,pride and malice are in the same condition4 ,so much was necessary to be said upon the identity of a passion and emotion1 in order to prepare for examining their growth and decay4 ,the growth and decay of passions and emotions1 is a subject too extensive to be exhausted in an undertaking like the present4 ,i pretend only to give a cursory view of it1 so far as necessary for the purposes of criticism4 ,some emotions are produced in their utmost perfection1 and have a very short endurance4 ,this is the case of surprise1 of wonder1 and sometimes of terror4 ,emotions raised by insensible objects1 such as trees1 rivers1 buildings1 pictures1 arrive at perfection almost instantaneously1 and have a long endurance3 a second view produceth nearly the same pleasure with the first4 ,love1 hatred1 and some other passions1 increase gradually to a certain pitch1 and thereafter decay gradually4 ,envy1 malice1 pride1 scarce ever decay4 ,again1 some passions1 such as gratitude and revenge1 are often exhausted by a single act of gratification4 ,other passions1 such as pride1 malice1 envy1 love1 hatred1 are not so exhausted2 but having a long continuance1 demand frequent gratification4 ,in order to explain these differences1 it would be an endless work to examine every emotion and passion in particular4 ,we must be satisfied at present with some general views4 ,and with respect to emotions1 which are quiescent and not productive of desire1 their growth and decay are easily explained4 ,an emotion caused by an external object1 cannot naturally take longer time to arrive at perfection1 than is necessary for a leisurely survey4 ,such emotion also must continue long stationary1 without any sensible decay2 a second or third view of the object being nearly as agreeable as the first4 ,this is the case of an emotion produced by a fine prospect1 an impetuous river1 or a towering hill4 ,while a man remains the same1 such objects ought to have the same effect upon him4 ,familiarity1 however1 hath an influence here1 as it hath every where4 ,frequency of view1 after short intervals especially1 weans the mind gradually from the object1 which at last loses all relish4 ,the noblest object in the material world1 a clear and serene sky1 is quite disregarded1 unless perhaps after a course of bad weather4 ,an emotion raised by human virtues1 qualities1 or actions1 may grow imperceptibly by reiterated views of the object1 till it become so vigorous as to generate desire4 ,in this condition it must be handled as a passion4 ,as to passion1 ,i observe first1 that when nature requires a passion to be sudden1 it is commonly produced in perfection4 ,this is frequently the case of fear and of anger4 ,wonder and surprise are always produced in perfection4 ,reiterated impressions made by their cause1 exhaust these passions in place of inflaming them4 ,this will be explained afterward#cd4 ,in the next place1 when a passion hath for its foundation an original propensity peculiar to some men1 it generally comes soon to perfection4 ,the propensity1 upon representing a proper object1 is immediately enlivened into a passion4 ,this is the case of pride1 of envy1 and of malice4 ,in the third place1 love and hatred have often a slow growth4 ,the good qualities or kind offices of a person1 raise in me pleasant emotions2 which1 by reiterated views1 are swelled into a passion involving desire of that person's happiness4 ,this desire being often put in exercise1 works gradually a change internally2 and at last produceth in me a settled habit of affection for that person1 now my friend4 ,affection thus produced1 operates precisely like an original propensity4 ,to enliven it into a passion1 no more is required but the real or ideal presence of the object4 ,the habit of aversion or hatred is brought on in the same manner4 ,and here ,i must observe by the way1 that love and hatred signify commonly affection1 not passion4 ,the bulk indeed of our passions1 are these affections inflamed into a passion by different circumstances4 ,the affection of love ,i bear to my son1 is inflamed into the passion of fear1 when he is in danger2 becomes hope1 when he hath a prospect of good fortune2 becomes admiration1 when he performs a laudable action2 and shame1 when he commits any wrong4 ,aversion1 again1 becomes fear when there is a prospect of good fortune to my enemy2 becomes hope when he is in danger2 becomes joy when he is in distress2 and sorrow when a laudable action is performed by him4 ,fourthly1 the growth of some passions depends often on occasional circumstances4 ,obstacles to gratification never fail to augment and inflame a passion4 ,a constant endeavour to remove the obstacle1 preserves the object of the passion ever in view1 which swells the passion by impressions frequently reiterated4 ,thus the restraint of conscience1 when an obstacle to love1 agitates the mind and inflames the passion3 ,quod licet1 ingratum est3 quod non licet1 acrius urit4 ,si nunquam ,danan habuisset ahenea turris1 ,non esset ,dana de ,jove facta parens4 ,ovid4 ,amor4 l4 #b4 ,at the same time1 the mind distressed with the obstacle1 is disposed to indulge its distress by magnifying the pleasure of gratification2 which naturally inflames desire4 ,shakespear expresses this observation finely3 ,all impediments in fancy's course1 ,are motives of more fancy4 ,we need no better example than a lover who hath many rivals4 ,even the caprices of a mistress have the effect to inflame love4 ,these occasioning uncertainty of success1 tend naturally to make the anxious lover overvalue the happiness of fruition4 ,so much upon the growth of passions4 ,their continuance and decay come next under consideration4 ,and first1 it is a general law of nature1 that things sudden in their growth1 are equally sudden in their decay4 ,this is commonly the case of anger2 and with respect to wonder and surprise1 another reason concurs1 that their causes are of short duration4 ,novelty soon degenerates into familiarity2 and the unexpectedness of an object1 is soon sunk in the pleasure which the object affords us4 ,fear1 which is a passion of greater importance as tending to self-preservation1 is often instantaneous1 and yet is of equal duration with its cause4 ,nay it frequently subsists after the cause is removed4 ,in the next place1 a passion founded on a peculiar propensity1 subsists generally for ever4 ,this is the case of pride1 envy1 and malice4 ,objects are never wanting1 to inflame the propensity into a passion4 ,thirdly1 it may be laid down as a general law of nature1 that every passion ceases upon attaining its ultimate end4 ,to explain this law1 we must distinguish betwixt a particular and a general end4 ,i call a particular end what may be accomplished by a single act4 ,a general end1 on the contrary1 admits acts without number2 because it cannot be said that a general end is ever fully accomplished while the object of the passion subsists4 ,gratitude and revenge are examples of the first kind4 ,the ends they aim at may be accomplished by a single act2 and when this act is performed1 the passions are necessarily at an end4 ,love and hatred are examples of the other kind4 ,the desire of doing good or of doing mischief to an individual1 is a general end1 which admits acts without number1 and which seldom is fully accomplished4 ,therefore these passions have frequently the same duration with their objects4 ,lastly1 it will afford us another general view1 to consider the difference betwixt an original propensity and an affection produced by custom4 ,the former adheres too close to the constitution ever to be eradicated2 and for that reason the passions to which it gives birth1 endure during life with no remarkable diminution of strength4 ,the latter1 which owes its birth and increment to time1 owes its decay to the same cause4 ,affection decays gradually as it grew4 ,hence long absence extinguisheth hatred as well as love4 ,affection wears out more gradually betwixt persons1 who1 living together1 are objects to each other of mutual good-will and kindness4 ,but here habit comes in luckily1 to supply decayed affection4 ,it makes these persons necessary to the happiness of each other1 by the pain of separation#ce4 ,affection to children hath a long endurance1 longer perhaps than any other affection4 ,its growth keeps pace with that of its objects4 ,they display new beauties and qualifications daily1 to feed and augment the affection4 ,but whenever the affection becomes stationary1 it must begin to decay2 with a slow pace indeed1 in proportion to its increment4 ,in short1 man with respect to this life1 is a temporary being4 ,he grows1 becomes stationary1 decays2 and so must all his powers and passions4 ,,part ,,iv4 ,coexistent emotions and passions4 ,to have a thorough knowledge of the human passions and emotions1 it is not sufficient that they be examined singly and separately4 ,as a plurality of them are sometimes felt at the same instant1 the manner of their coexistence1 and the effects thereby produced1 ought also to be examined4 ,this subject is extensive1 and it will be difficult to evolve all the laws that govern its endless variety of cases4 ,such an undertaking may be brought to perfection1 but it must be by degrees4 ,the following hints may suffice for a first attempt4 ,we begin with emotions raised by different sounds1 as the simplest case4 ,two sounds that mix1 and are1 as it were1 incorporated before they reach the ear1 are said to be concordant4 ,that each sound produceth an emotion of its own1 must be admitted4 ,but then these emotions1 like the sounds that produce them1 mix so intimately1 as to be rather one complex emotion than two emotions in conjunction4 ,two sounds1 again1 that refuse incorporation or mixture1 are said to be discordant4 ,being however heard at the same instant1 the emotions produced by them are conjoined2 and in that condition are unpleasant1 even where separately they are each of them pleasant4 ,similar to the emotion raised by mixed sounds1 is the emotion that an object of sight raises by means of its several qualities4 ,a tree1 for example1 with its qualities of colour1 figure1 size1 c4 is perceived to be one object2 and the emotion it raises is one1 not different emotions combined4 ,but though the emotion be one1 it is however not simple4 ,the perception of the tree is complex1 and the emotion raised by it must also be complex4 ,with respect to coexistent emotions produced by different causes or objects1 it must be observed1 that there cannot be a concordance among objects of sight like what is perceived in sounds4 ,objects of sight are never mixed or incorporated in the act of vision4 ,each object is perceived as it exists1 separately from others2 and each raiseth its own emotion1 which is felt distinctly however intimately connected the objects may be4 ,this doctrine holds in all the causes of emotion or passion1 sounds only excepted4 ,to explain the manner in which such emotions coexist1 similar emotions must be distinguished from those that are dissimilar4 ,two emotions are said to be similar1 when they tend each of them to produce the same tone of mind4 ,chearful emotions1 however different their causes may be1 are similar2 and so are those which are melancholy4 ,dissimilar emotions are easily explained by their opposition to what are similar4 ,grandeur and littleness1 gaiety and gloominess1 are dissimilar emotions4 ,emotions perfectly similar1 readily combine and unite#cf1 so as in a manner to become one complex emotion2 witness the emotions produced by a number of flowers in a parterre1 or of trees in a wood4 ,emotions again that are opposite or extremely dissimilar1 never combine nor unite4 ,the mind cannot simultaneously take on opposite tones3 it cannot at the same instant be both joyful and sad1 angry and satisfied1 proud and humble4 ,dissimilar emotions may succeed each other with rapidity1 but they cannot exist simultaneously4 ,betwixt these two extremes1 emotions will unite more or less1 in proportion to the degree of their resemblance and the greater or less connection of their causes4 ,the beauty of a landscape and the singing of birds1 produce emotions that are similar in a considerable degree2 and these emotions therefore1 though proceeding from very different causes1 readily combine and unite4 ,on the other hand1 when the causes are intimately connected1 the emotions1 though but slightly resembling each other1 are forced into a sort of union4 ,i give for an example a mistress in distress4 ,when ,i consider her beauty1 ,i feel a pleasant emotion2 and a painful emotion when ,i consider her distress4 ,these two emotions1 proceeding from different views of the object1 have very little resemblance to each other3 and yet their causes are so intimately connected1 as to force them into a sort of complex emotion1 partly pleasant partly painful4 ,this clearly explains some expressions common in poetry1 a sweet distress1 a pleasant pain4 ,we proceed to the effects produced by means of the different manners of coexistence above described2 first1 the effects produced within the mind1 and next1 those that appear externally4 ,i discover two mental effects clearly distinguishable from each other4 ,the one may be represented by addition and subtraction in numbers1 and the other by harmony in sounds4 ,two pleasant emotions that are similar1 readily unite when they are coexistent2 and the pleasure felt in the union1 is the sum of the two pleasures4 ,the combined emotions are like multiplied effects from the co-operation of different powers4 ,the same emotions in succession1 are far from making the same figure2 because the mind at no instant of the succession is conscious of more than a single emotion4 ,this doctrine may aptly be illustrated by a landscape comprehending hills1 vallies1 plains1 rivers1 trees1 c4 ,the emotions produced by these several objects1 being similar in a high degree as falling in easily and sweetly with the same tone of mind1 are in conjunction extremely pleasant4 ,and this multiplied effect is felt from objects even of different senses2 as where a landscape is conjoined with the music of birds and odor of flowers4 ,such multiplied effect1 as above hinted1 depends partly on the resemblance of the emotions and partly on the connection of their causes2 whence it follows1 that the effect must be the greatest1 where the causes are intimately connected and the emotions perfectly similar4 ,the other pleasure arising from coexistent emotions1 which may be termed the pleasure of concord or harmony1 is ascertained by a different rule4 ,it is directly in proportion to the degree of resemblance betwixt the emotions1 and inversely in proportion to the degree of connection betwixt the causes4 ,to feel this pleasure in perfection1 the resemblance cannot be too strong1 nor the connection too slight4 ,where the causes are intimately connected1 the similar emotions they produce are felt like one complex emotion4 ,but the pleasure of harmony1 is not felt from one emotion single or complex4 ,it is felt from various similar emotions1 distinct from each other1 and yet sweetly combining in the mind2 and the less connection the causes have1 the more entire is the emotion of harmony4 ,this matter cannot be better illustrated1 than by the foregoing example of a landscape1 where the sight1 hearing1 and smelling1 are employed4 ,the accumulated pleasure of so many different similar emotions1 is not what delights us the most in this combination of objects4 ,the sense of harmony from these emotions sweetly uniting in the mind1 is still more delightful4 ,we feel this harmony in the different emotions proceeding from the visible objects2 but we feel it still more sensibly in the emotions proceeding from the objects of different senses4 ,this emotion of concord or harmony1 will be more fully illustrated1 when the emotions produced by the sound of words and their meaning are taken under consideration#cg4 ,this emotion of concord from conjoined emotions1 is felt even where the emotions are not perfectly similar4 ,love is a pleasant passion2 but then its sweetness and tenderness make it resemble in a considerable degree the painful passion of pity or grief2 and for that reason1 love accords better with these passions than with what are gay and sprightly4 ,i give the following example from ,catullus1 where the concord betwixt love and grief1 has a fine effect even in so slight a subject as the death of a sparrow4 ,lugete1 ,veneres1 ,cupidinesque1 ,et quantum est hominum venustiorum6 ,passer mortuus est me puell1 ,quem plus illa oculis suis amabat4 ,nam mellitus erat1 suamque norat ,ipsam tam bene1 quam puella matrem3 ,nec sese a gremio illius movebat2 ,sed circumsiliens modo huc1 modo illuc1 ,ad solam dominam usque pipilabat4 ,qui nunc it per iter tenebricosum1 ,illuc1 unde negant redire quemquam4 ,at vobis male sit1 mal tenebr ,orci1 qu omnia bella devoratis2 ,tarn bellum mihi passerem abstulistis4 ,o factum male1 miselle passer1 ,tua nunc opera1 me puell ,flendo turgiduli rubent ocelli4 ,to complete this branch of the subject1 ,i proceed to consider the effects of dissimilar emotions4 ,these effects obviously must be opposite to what are above described2 and in order to explain them with accuracy1 dissimilar emotions proceeding from connected causes1 must be distinguished from what proceed from causes that are unconnected4 ,dissimilar emotions of the former kind1 being forced into a sort of unnatural union1 produce a feeling of discord instead of harmony4 ,it holds also that in computing their force1 subtraction must be used in place of addition1 which will be evident from what follows4 ,dissimilar emotions forced into union1 are felt obscurely and imperfectly2 for each tends to vary the tone of mind that is suited to the other2 and the mind thus distracted betwixt two objects1 is at no instant in a condition to receive a full impression from either4 ,dissimilar emotions proceeding from unconnected causes1 are in a very different condition4 ,dissimilar emotions in general are averse to union2 and as there is nothing to force them into union when their causes are unconnected emotions of this kind are never felt but in succession4 ,by that means1 they are not felt to be discordant1 and each hath an opportunity to make a full impression4 ,this curious theory must be illustrated by examples4 ,in reading the description of the dismal waste1 book #a4 of ,paradise ,lost1 we are sensible of a confused feeling1 arising from dissimilar emotions forced into union1 viz4 the beauty of the description and the horror of the object described4 ,seest thou yon dreary plain1 forlorn and wild1 ,the seat of desolation1 void of light1 ,save what the glimmering of these livid flames ,casts pale and dreadful8 ,many other passages in this justly celebrated poem produce the same effect2 and we always observe1 that if the disagreeableness of the subject be obscured by the beautiful description1 this beauty is not less obscured by its discordant union with the disagreeableness of the subject4 ,for the same reason1 ascending smoke in a calm morning is improper in a picture full of violent action4 ,the emotion of stillness and tranquillity inspired by the former1 accords not with the lively and animated emotion inspired by the latter4 ,a parterre1 partly ornamented partly in disorder1 produces a mixt feeling of the same sort4 ,two great armies in act to engage1 mix the dissimilar emotions of grandeur and of terror4 ,sembra d'alberi densi alta foresta ,l' un campo1 e l' altro2 di tant' aste abbonda4 ,son tesi gli archi1 e son le lance in resta3 ,vibransi i dardi1 e rotasi ogni fionda4 ,ogni cavallo in guerra anco s' appresta3 ,gli odii1 e'l furor del suo signor seconda3 ,raspa1 batte1 nitrisce1 e si raggira1 ,gonfia le nari2 e fumo1 e fuoco spira4 ,bello in s bella vista anco l'orrore3 ,e di mezzo la tema esce il diletto4 ,ne men le trombe orribili1 e canore ,sono a gli orecchi lieto1 e fero oggetto4 ,pur il campo fedel1 bench minore1 ,par di suon pi mirabile1 e d'aspetto4 ,e canta in pi guerriero1 e chiaro carme ,ogni sua tromba1 e maggior luce han l'arme4 ,gerusalemme liberata1 cant4 #bj4 st4 #bi4 #cj4 ,a virtuous man has drawn on himself a great misfortune1 by a fault incident to human nature1 and therefore venial4 ,the remorse he feels aggravates his distress1 and consequently raises our pity to a high pitch4 ,we indeed blame the man2 and the indignation raised by the fault he has committed1 is dissimilar to pity4 ,these two passions however proceeding from different views of the same object1 are forced into a sort of union4 ,but the indignation is so slight as scarce to be felt in the mixture with pity4 ,subjects of this kind1 are of all the fittest for tragedy4 ,but of this afterward#ch4 ,opposite emotions are so dissimilar as not to admit any sort of union1 even where they proceed from causes the most intimately connected4 ,love to a mistress1 and resentment for her infidelity1 are of this nature4 ,they cannot exist otherwise than in succession1 which by the connection of their causes is commonly rapid4 ,and these emotions will govern alternately1 till one of them obtain the ascendent1 or both be obliterated4 ,a succession opens to me by the death of a worthy man1 who was my friend as well as my kinsman4 ,when ,i think of my friend ,i am grieved2 but the succession gives me joy4 ,these two causes are intimately connected1 for the succession is the direct consequence of my friend's death4 ,the emotions however being opposite1 do not mix3 they prevail alternately1 perhaps for a course of time1 till grief for my friend's death be banished by the pleasures of opulence4 ,a virtuous man suffering unjustly1 is an example of the same kind4 ,i pity him1 and ,i have great indignation at the author of the wrong4 ,these emotions proceed from causes nearly connected2 but being directed upon different objects1 they are not forced into union4 ,the opposition preserves them distinct2 and accordingly they are found to govern alternately1 the one sometimes prevailing and sometimes the other4 ,next of dissimilar emotions arising from unconnected causes4 ,good and bad news of equal importance arriving at the same instant from different quarters1 produce opposite emotions1 the discordance of which is not felt because they are not forced into union4 ,they govern alternately1 commonly in a quick succession1 till their force be spent4 ,in the same manner1 good news arriving to a man labouring under distress1 occasions a vibration in his mind from the one to the other4 ,osmyn4 ,by heav'n thou'st rous'd me from my lethargy4 ,the spirit which was deaf to my own wrongs1 ,and the loud cries of my dead father's blood1 ,deaf to revenge--nay1 which refus'd to hear ,the piercing sighs and murmurs of my love ,yet unenjoy'd2 what not ,almeria could ,revive1 or raise1 my people's voice has waken'd4 ,o my ,antonio1 ,i am all on fire1 ,my soul is up in arms1 ready to charge ,and bear amidst the foe with conqu'ring troops4 ,i hear 'em call to lead 'em on to liberty1 ,to victory2 their shouts and clamours rend ,my ears1 and reach the heav'ns3 where is the king8 ,where is ,alphonso8 ha6 where6 where indeed8 ,o ,i could tear and burst the strings of life1 ,to break these chains4 ,off1 off1 ye stains of royalty6 ,off1 slavery6 ,o curse1 that ,i alone ,can beat and flutter in my cage1 when ,i ,would soar and stoop at victory beneath6 ,mourning ,bride1 act #c4 sc4 #b4 ,if the emotions be unequal in force1 the stronger after a conflict will extinguish the weaker4 ,thus the loss of a house by fire or of a sum of money by bankruptcy1 will make no figure in opposition to the birth of a long-expected son1 who is to inherit an opulent fortune4 ,after some slight vibrations1 the mind settles in joy1 and the loss is forgot4 ,the foregoing observations1 will be found of great use in the fine arts4 ,many practical rules are derived from them1 which ,i shall have occasion afterward to mention4 ,for instant satisfaction in part1 ,i propose to show the use of these observations in music1 a theme ,i insist upon at present1 not being certain of another opportunity more favourable4 ,it will be admitted1 that no combination of sounds but what is agreeable to the ear1 is intitled to the name of music4 ,melody and harmony are separately agreeable and in union delightful4 ,the agreeableness of vocal music differs from that of instrumental4 ,the former being intended to accompany words1 ought to be expressive of the sentiment that is conveyed by the words4 ,but the latter having no connection with words1 may be agreeable without expressing any sentiment4 ,harmony properly so called1 though delightful when in perfection1 is not expressive of sentiment2 and we often find good melody without the least tincture of it4 ,these preliminaries being established1 ,i proceed directly to the point4 ,in vocal music1 the intimate connection of sense and sound rejects dissimilar emotions1 those especially that are opposite4 ,similar emotions produced by the sense and sound go naturally into union2 and at the same time are felt to be concordant or harmonious4 ,dissimilar emotions1 on the other hand1 forced into union by causes intimately connected1 not only obscure each other1 but are also unpleasant by discordance4 ,from these principles it is easy to say what sort of poetical compositions are fitted for music4 ,it is evident that no poem expressing the sentiments of any disagreeable passion is proper4 ,the pain a man feels who is actuated with malice or unjust revenge1 disqualifies him for relishing music or any thing that is entertaining4 ,and supposing him disposed1 against nature1 to vent his sentiments in music1 the mixture would be unpleasant2 for these passions raise disgust and aversion in the audience#ci1 a tone of mind opposite to every emotion that music can inspire4 ,a man seized with remorse cannot bear music1 because every sort of it must be discordant with his tone of mind2 and when these by an unskilful artist are forced into union1 the mixture is unpleasant to the audience4 ,in general1 music never can have a good effect in conjunction with any composition expressive of malice1 envy1 peevishness1 or any other dissocial passion4 ,the pleasure of music1 on the other hand1 is similar to all pleasant emotions2 and music is finely qualified for every song where such emotions are expressed4 ,music particularly in a chearful tone1 is concordant in the highest degree with every emotion in the same tone2 and hence our taste for chearful airs expressive of mirth and jollity4 ,music is peculiarly well qualified for accompanying every sympathetic emotion4 ,sympathetic joy associates finely with chearful music1 and sympathetic pain not less finely with music that is tender and melancholy4 ,all the different emotions of love1 viz4 tenderness1 concern1 anxiety1 pain of absence1 hope1 fear1 c4 accord delightfully with music4 ,a person in love1 even when unkindly treated1 is soothed by music4 ,the tenderness of love still prevailing1 accords with a melancholy strain4 ,this is finely exemplified by ,shakespear in the fourth act of ,othello1 where ,desdemona calls for a song expressive of her distress4 ,wonderful is the delicacy of that writer's taste1 which fails him not even in the most refined emotions of human nature4 ,melancholy music again is suitable to slight grief1 which requires or admits consolation4 ,but deep grief1 which refuses all consolation1 rejects for that reason even melancholy music4 ,for a different reason1 music is improper for accompanying pleasant emotions of the more important kind4 ,these totally ingross the mind1 and leave no place for music or any sort of amusement4 ,in a perilous enterprise to dethrone a tyrant1 music would be impertinent1 even where hope prevails1 and the prospect of success is great4 ,alexander attacking the ,indian town and mounting the wall1 had certainly no impulse to exert his prowess in a song4 ,it is true1 that not the least regard is paid to these rules either in the ,french or ,italian opera2 and the attachment we have to these compositions1 may at first sight be considered as a proof that the foregoing doctrine cannot be founded on human nature4 ,but the general taste for operas is at bottom no authority against me4 ,in our operas the passions are so imperfectly expressed1 as to leave the mind free for relishing music of any sort indifferently4 ,it cannot be disguised1 that the pleasure of an opera is derived chiefly from the music1 and scarce at all from the sentiments4 ,a happy coincidence of emotions raised by the song and by the music1 is extremely rare2 and ,i venture to affirm1 that there is no example of it unless where the emotion raised by the former is pleasant as well as that raised by the latter4 ,the subject we have run through1 appears not a little entertaining4 ,it is extremely curious to observe1 in many instances1 a plurality of causes producing in conjunction a great pleasure3 in other instances1 not less frequent1 no conjunction1 but each cause acting in opposition4 ,to enter bluntly upon a subject of such intricacy1 might gravel an acute philosopher2 and yet by taking matters in a train1 the intricacy vanisheth4 ,next in order1 according to the method proposed1 come external effects4 ,and this leads to passions in particular1 which involving desire are the causes of action4 ,two coexistent passions that have the same tendency1 must be similar4 ,they accordingly readily unite1 and in conjunction have double force2 which must hold whether the two passions have the same or different causes4 ,this is verified by experience2 from which we learn1 that different passions having the same end in view1 impel the mind to action with united force4 ,the mind receives not impulses alternately from these passions1 but one strong impulse from the whole in conjunction4 ,and indeed it is not easy to conceive what should bar the union of passions that have all of them the same tendency4 ,two passions having opposite tendencies1 may proceed from the same object or cause considered in different lights4 ,thus a mistress may at once be the object both of love and resentment4 ,her beauty inflames the passion of love3 her cruelty or inconstancy causes resentment4 ,when two such passions coexist in the same breast1 the opposition of their aim prevents any sort of union4 ,they are not felt otherwise than in succession4 ,and the consequence must be one of two things3 the passions will balance each other1 and prevent external action2 or one of them will prevail1 and accomplish its end4 ,guarini1 in his ,pastor ,fido1 describes beautifully the struggle betwixt love and resentment directed upon the same object4 ,corisca4 ,chi vide mai1 chi mai udi pi strana ,e pi folle1 e pi sera1 e pi importuna ,passione amorosa8 amore1 ed odio ,con s mirabil tempre in un cor misti1 ,che l'un per l'altro 7e non so ben dir come7 ,e si strugge1 e s'avanza1 e nasce1 e more4 ,s' i' miro alle bellezze di ,mirtillo ,dal pi leggiadro al grazioso volto1 ,il vago portamento1 il bel sembiante4 ,gli atti1 i costumi1 e le parole1 e 'l guardo2 ,m'assale ,amore con s possente foco ,ch'i' ardo tutta1 e par1 ch' ogn' altro affetto ,da questo sol sia superato1 e vinto3 ,ma se poi penso all' ostinato amore1 ,ch' ei porta ad altra donna1 e che per lei ,di me non cura1 e sprezza 7il vo' pur dire7 ,la mia famosa1 e da mill' alme1 e mille ,inchinata belt1 bramata grazia2 ,l'odio cos1 cos l'aborro1 e schivo1 ,che impossibil mi par1 ch'unqua per lui ,mi s'accendesse al cor siamma amorosa4 ,tallor meco ragiono3 o s'io petessi ,gioir del mio dolcissimo ,mirtillo1 ,sicche fosse mio tutto1 e ch'altra mai ,posseder no 'l potesse1 o pi d' ogn' altra ,beata1 e felicissima ,corisca6 ,ed in quel punto in me sorge un talento ,verso di lui s dolce1 e s gentile1 ,che di seguirlo1 e di pregarlo ancora1 ,e di scoprirgli il cor prendo consiglio4 ,che pi8 cos mi stimola il desio1 ,che se potessi allor l'adorerei4 ,dall' altra parte i' mi risento1 e dico1 ,un ritroso8 uno schifo8 un che non degna8 ,un1 che pu d'altra donna esser amante8 ,un1 ch'ardisce mirarmi1 e non m'adora8 ,e dal mio volto si difende in guisa1 ,che per amor non more8 ed io1 che lui ,dovrei veder1 come molti altri i' veggio ,supplice1 e lagrimosa a' piedi miei1 ,supplice1 e lagrimoso a' piedi suoi ,sosterro di cadere8 ah non fia mai4 ,ed in questo pensier tant' ira accoglio ,contra di lui1 contra di me1 che volsi ,a seguirlo il pensier1 gli occhi a mirarlo1 ,che 'l nome di ,mirtillo1 e l'amor mio ,odio pi che la morte2 e lui vorrei ,veder il pi dolente1 il pi infelice ,pastor1 che viva2 e se potessi allora1 ,con le mie proprie man l'anciderei4 ,cos sdegno1 desire1 odio1 ed amore ,mi fanno guerra1 ed io1 che stata sono ,sempre sin qui di mille cor la fiamma1 ,di mill' alme il tormento1 ardo1 e languisco3 ,e provo nel mio mal le pene altrui4 ,act #a4 sc4 #c4 ,ovid paints in lively colours the vibration of mind betwixt two opposite passions directed upon the same object4 ,althea had two brothers much beloved1 who were unjustly put to death by her son ,meleager in a fit of passion4 ,she was strongly impelled to revenge2 but the criminal was her own son4 ,this ought to have with-held her hand4 ,but the story makes a better figure and is more interesting1 by the violence of the struggle betwixt resentment and maternal love4 ,dona ,deum templis nato victore ferebat2 ,cum videt extinctos fratres ,altha referri4 ,qu plangore dato1 mstis ululatibus urbem ,implet2 et auratis mutavit vestibus atras4 ,at simul est auctor necis editus2 excidit omnis ,luctus3 et a lacrymis in pn versus amorem est4 ,stipes erat1 quem1 cum partus enixa jaceret ,thestias1 in flammam triplices posure sorores2 ,staminaque impresso fatalia pollice nentes1 ,tempora1 dixerunt1 eadem lignoque1 tibique1 ,o modo nate1 damus4 ,quo postquam carmine dicto ,excessere de2 flagrantem mater ab igne ,erripuit torrem3 sparsitque liquentibus undis4 ,ille diu fuerat penetralibus abditus imis2 ,servatusque1 tuos1 juvenis1 servaverat annos4 ,protulit hunc genitrix1 tdasque in fragmina poni ,imperat2 et positis inimicos admovet ignes4 ,tum conata quater flammis imponere ramum ,cpta quater tenuit4 ,pugnat materque1 sororque1 ,et diversa trahunt unum duo nomina pectus4 ,spe metu sceleris pallebant ora futuri3 ,spe suum fervens oculis dabat ira ruborem1 ,et modo nescio quid similis crudele minanti ,vultus erat2 modo quem misereri credere posses3 ,cumque ferus lacrymas animi siccaverat ardor2 ,inveniebantur lacrym tamen4 ,utque carina1 ,quam ventus1 ventoque contrarius stus1 ,vim geminam sentit1 paretque incerta duobus3 ,thestias haud aliter dubiis affectibus errat1 ,inque vices ponit1 positamque resuscitat iram4 ,incipit esse tamem melior germana parente2 ,et1 consanguineas ut sanguine leniat umbras1 ,impietate pia est4 ,nam postqnam pestifer ignis ,convaluit3 ,rogus iste cremet mea viscera1 dixit4 ,utque manu dir lignum fatale tenebat2 ,ante sepulchrales infelix adstitit aras4 ,pnarumque de triplices furialibus1 inquit1 ,eumenides1 sacris vultus advertite vestros4 ,ulciscor1 facioque nefas4 ,mors morte pianda est2 ,in scelus addendum scelus est1 in funera funus3 ,per coacervatos pereat domus impia luctus4 ,an felix ,oeneus nato victore fruetur2 ,thestius orbus erit8 melius lugebitis ambo4 ,vos modo1 fraterni manes1 animque recentes1 ,officium sentite meum2 magnoque paratas ,accipite inferias1 uteri mala pignora nostri4 ,hei mihi6 quo rapior8 fratres ignoscite matri4 ,deficiunt ad cpta manus4 ,meruisse fatemur ,illum1 cur pereat3 mortis mihi displicet auctor4 ,ergo impune feret2 vivusque1 et victor1 et ipso ,successu tumidus regnum ,calydonis habebit8 ,vos cinis exiguus1 gelidque jacebitis umbr8 ,haud equidem patiar4 ,pereat sceleratus2 et ille ,spemque patris1 regnique trahat1 patrique ruinam4 ,mens ubi materna est2 ubi sunt pia jura parentum8 ,et1 quos sustinui1 bis mensm quinque labores8 ,o utinam primis arsisses ignibus infans2 ,idque ego passa forem6 vixisti munere nostro3 ,nunc merito moriere tuo4 ,cape prmia facti2 ,bisque datam1 primum partu1 mox stipite rapto1 ,redde animam2 vel me fraternis adde sepulchris4 ,et cupio1 et nequeo4 ,quid agam8 modo vulnera fratrum ,ante oculos mihi sunt1 et tant cdis imago2 ,nunc animum pietas1 maternaque nomina frangunt4 ,me miseram6 male vincetis1 sed vincite1 fratres3 ,dummodo1 qu dedero vobis solatia1 vosque ,ipsa sequar1 dixit3 dextraque aversa trementi ,funereum torrem medios conjecit in ignes4 ,aut dedit1 aut visus gemitus est ille dedisse1 ,stipes2 et invitis correptus ab ignibus arsit4 ,metamorph4 lib4 #h4 l4 #dde4 ,in cases of this kind1 one circumstance always augments the fluctuation4 ,a resolution to prefer one action before another after balancing betwixt them1 is an inchoated gratification of the prevailing passion1 which softens it in some degree4 ,this circumstance tends to give a superiority to the opposite passion4 ,and another circumstance also concurs1 that this opposite passion has by restraint acquired in the interim some additional force4 ,love and jealousy connected by a common object1 occupy the mind alternately4 ,when the object is considered as beautiful1 love prevails3 when considered as possibly unfaithful1 jealousy prevails4 ,a situation of this kind1 affords great scope for fluctuation of passion1 which is painted to the life by several masterly hands in words as well as in colours4 ,shakespear handles the same subject1 but in a manner uncommon and peculiar to himself4 ,in ,othello's soliloquy before putting his wife to death1 love and jealousy are represented1 each exerting its whole force1 but without any struggle4 ,othello was naturally inflexible2 and the tenderest love could not divert him from a purpose he approved as right1 not even for a moment4 ,but every thing consistent with such a character is done to reconcile the two opposite passions4 ,he is resolved to put her to death1 but he will not shed her blood1 nor so much as ruffle her skin4 ,othello4 ,it is the cause1 it is the cause1 my soul2-- ,let me not name it to you1 you chaste stars6 ,it is the cause4---- ,yet ,i'll not shed her blood1 ,nor scar that whiter skin of hers than snow1 ,and smooth as monumental alabaster4 ,lays down the sword4 ,yet she must die2 else she'll betray more men4 ,put out the light1 and then--,put out the light8-- ,if ,i quench thee1 thou flaming minister1 ,i can again thy former light restore1 ,should ,i repent3 but once put out thy light1 ,thou cunning'st pattern of excelling nature1 ,i know not where is that ,promethean heat ,that can thy light relumine4--,sets down the taper4 ,when ,i have pluck'd thy rose1 ,i cannot give it vital growth again2 ,it needs must wither4--,i'll smell thee on the tree2 ,kissing her4 ,oh balmy breath1 that dost almost persuade ,justice to break her sword6---- ,one more2 one more2 ,be thus when thou art dead1 and ,i will kill thee1 ,and love thee after4---- ,one more1 that's the last2 ,so sweet was ne'er so fatal6 ,i must weep1 ,but they are cruel tears8 this sorrow's heav'nly2 ,it strikes where it doth love4---- ,she wakes---- ,act #e4 sc4 #f4 ,in ,otway's ,orphan1 we have an illustrious example of the address employed to gratify opposite passions directed upon the same object4 ,castalio and ,polydore1 brothers and rivals1 had sworn mutual confidence4 ,castalio broke his faith by a private marriage4 ,by this concealment1 ,polydore was unwarily betrayed into a dismal deed1 that of polluting his brother's bed4 ,thus he had injured his brother1 and was injured by him4 ,justice prompted him to make full atonement by his own death3 resentment against his brother required a full atonement to be made to himself4 ,in coexistent passions so contradictory1 one of them commonly prevails after a struggle4 ,but here happily an expedient occurred to gratify both2 which was1 that ,polydore should provoke his brother to put him to death4 ,polydore's crime in his own opinion merited this punishment2 and justice was satisfied when he fell by the hands of the man he had injured4 ,he wanted at the same time to punish his brother for breach of faith2 and he could not do this more effectually than by betraying his brother to be his executioner4 ,if difference of aim prevent the union of two passions though having the same object1 much more will it prevent their union when their objects are also different4 ,in both cases there is a fluctuation2 but in the latter the fluctuation is slower than in the former4 ,a beautiful situation of this kind is exhibited in the ,cid of ,corneille4 ,don ,diegue1 an old soldier worn out with age1 having received a mortal affront from the ,count father to ,chimene1 employs his son ,don ,rodrigue1 ,chimene's lover1 to demand satisfaction4 ,this situation occasions in the breast of ,don ,rodrigue a cruel struggle4 ,it is a contest betwixt love and honour1 one of which must be sacrificed4 ,the scene is finely conducted1 chiefly by making love in some degree take part with honour1 ,don ,rodrigue reflecting1 that if he lost his honour he could not deserve his mistress4 ,honour triumphs4 ,the ,count1 provoked to a single combat1 falls by the hand of ,don ,rodrigue4 ,this produceth another beautiful situation respecting ,chimene1 which for the sake of connection is placed here1 though it properly belongs to the foregoing head4 ,it became the duty of that lady to demand justice against her lover1 for whose preservation1 in other circumstances1 she chearfully would have sacrificed her own life4 ,the struggle betwixt these opposite passions directed upon the same object1 is finely expressed in the third scene of the third act4 ,elvire4 ,il vous prive d'un pre1 et vous l'aimez encore6 ,chimene4 ,c'est peu de dire aimer1 ,elvire1 je l'adore2 ,ma passion s'oppose mon ressentiment1 ,dedans mon ennemi je trouve mon amant1 ,et je sens qu'en depit de toute ma colre1 ,rodrigue dans mon cur combat encore mon pre4 ,il l'attaque1 il le presse1 il cde1 il se dfend1 ,tantt fort1 tantt foible1 et tantt triomphant2 ,mais en ce dur combat de colre et de flame1 ,il dchire mon cur sans partager mon ame1 ,et quoique mon amour ait sur moi de pouvoir1 ,je ne consulte point pour suivre mon devoir4 ,je cours sans balancer o mon honneur m'oblige2 ,rodrigue m'est bien cher1 son intert m'afflige1 ,mon cur prend son parti2 mais malgr son effort1 ,je sai ce que je suis1 et que mon pre est mort4 ,not less when the objects are different than when the same1 are means sometimes afforded to gratify both passions2 and such means are greedily embraced4 ,in ,tasso's ,gerusalem1 ,edward and ,gildippe1 husband and wife1 are introduced fighting gallantly against the ,saracens4 ,gildippe receives a mortal wound by the hand of ,soliman4 ,edward inflamed with revenge as well as concern for ,gildippe1 is agitated betwixt the two different objects4 ,the poet#dj describes him endeavouring to gratify both at once1 applying his right hand against ,soliman the object of his resentment1 and his left hand to support his wife the object of his love4 ,,part ,v4 ,the power of passion to adjust our opinions and belief to its gratification4 ,there is such a connection among the perceptions passions and actions of the same person1 that it would be wonderful if they should have no mutual influence4 ,that our actions are too much directed by passion1 is a sad truth4 ,it is not less certain1 though not so commonly observed1 that passion hath an irregular influence upon our opinions and belief4 ,the opinions we form of men and things1 are generally directed by affection4 ,an advice given by a man of figure1 hath great weight2 the same advice from one in a low condition1 is utterly neglected4 ,a man of courage under-rates danger2 and to the indolent1 the slightest obstacle appears unsurmountable4 ,our opinions indeed1 the result commonly of various and often opposite views1 are so slight and wavering1 as readily to be susceptible of a bias from passion and prejudice4 ,this subject is of great use in logic2 and of still greater use in criticism1 being intimately connected with many principles of the fine arts that will be unfolded in the course of this work4 ,being too extensive to be treated here at large1 some cursory illustrations must suffice2 leaving the subject to be prosecuted more particularly afterward when occasion shall offer4 ,two principles that make an eminent figure in human nature1 concur to give passion an undue influence upon our opinions and belief4 ,the first and most extensive1 is a strong tendency in the mind to fit objects for the gratification of its passions4 ,we are prone to such opinions of men and things as correspond to our wishes4 ,where the object1 in dignity or importance1 corresponds to the passion bestowed on it1 the gratification is complete and there is no occasion for artifice4 ,but where the object is too mean for the passion so as not to afford a complete gratification1 it is wonderful how apt the mind is to impose upon itself1 and how disposed to proportion the object to its passion4 ,the other principle is a strong tendency in our nature to justify our passions as well as our actions1 not to others only1 but even to ourselves4 ,this tendency is extremely remarkable with respect to disagreeable passions4 ,by its influence1 objects are magnified or lessened1 circumstances supplied or suppressed1 every thing coloured and disguised1 to answer the end of justification4 ,hence the foundation of self-deceit1 where a man imposes upon himself innocently1 and even without suspicion of a bias4 ,beside the influence of the foregoing principles to make us form opinions contrary to truth1 the passions themselves1 by subordinate means1 contribute to the same effect4 ,of these means ,i shall mention two which seem to be capital4 ,first1 ,there was occasion formerly to observe#da1 that though ideas seldom start up in the mind without connection1 yet that ideas which correspond to the present tone of the mind are readily suggested by any slight connection4 ,by this means1 the arguments for a favourite opinion are always at hand1 while we often search in vain for those that cross our inclination4 ,second1 ,the mind taking delight in agreeable circumstances or arguments1 is strongly impressed with them2 while those that are disagreeable are hurried over so as scarce to make any impression4 ,the self-same argument1 accordingly as it is relished or not relished1 weighs so differently1 as in truth to make conviction depend more on passion than on reasoning4 ,this observation is fully justified by experience4 ,to confine myself to a single instance1 the numberless absurd religious tenets that at different times have pestered the world1 would be altogether unaccountable but for this irregular bias of passion4 ,we proceed to a more pleasant task1 which is1 to illustrate the foregoing observations by proper examples4 ,gratitude when warm1 is often exerted upon the children of the benefactor2 especially where he is removed out of reach by death or absence#db4 ,gratitude in this case being exerted for the sake of the benefactor1 requires no peculiar excellence in his children4 ,to find however these children worthy of the benefits intended them1 contributes undoubtedly to the more entire gratification of the passion4 ,and accordingly1 the mind1 prone to gratify its passions1 is apt to conceive a better opinion of these children than possibly they deserve4 ,by this means1 strong connections of affection are often formed among individuals1 upon the slight foundation now mentioned4 ,envy is a passion1 which1 being altogether unjustifiable1 is always disguised under some more plausible name4 ,but no passion is more eager than envy1 to give its object such an appearance as to answer a complete gratification4 ,it magnifies every bad quality1 and fixes on the most humbling circumstances4 ,cassius4 ,i cannot tell what you and other men ,think of this life2 but for my single self1 ,i had as lief not be1 as live to be ,in awe of such a thing as ,i myself4 ,i was born free as ,csar1 so were you2 ,we both have fed as well2 and we can both ,endure the winter's cold as well as he4 ,for once1 upon a raw and gusty day1 ,the troubled ,tyber chasing with his shores1 ,csar says to me1 ,dar'st thou1 ,cassius1 now ,leap in with me into this angry flood1 ,and swim to yonder point8--,upon the word1 ,accoutred as ,i was1 ,i plunged in1 ,and bid him follow2 so indeed he did4 ,the torrent roar'd1 and we did buffet it ,with lusty sinews2 throwing it aside1 ,and stemming it with hearts of controversy4 ,but ere we could arrive the point propos'd1 ,csar cry'd1 ,help me1 ,cassius1 or ,i sink4 ,i1 as neas1 our great ancestor1 ,did from the flames of ,troy upon his shoulder ,the old ,anchises bear2 so from the waves of ,tyber ,did ,i the tired ,csar3 and this man ,is now become a god1 and ,cassius is ,a wretched creature2 and must bend his body1 ,if ,csar carelessly but nod on him4 ,he had a fever when he was in ,spain1 ,and when the fit was on him1 ,i did mark ,how he did shake4 ',tis true1 this god did shake2 ,his coward lips did from their colour fly1 ,and that same eye whose bend doth awe the world1 ,did lose its lustre2 ,i did hear him grone3 ,ay1 and that tongue of his1 that bade the ,romans ,mark him1 and write his speeches in their books1 ,alas6 it cry'd---- ,give me some drink1 ,titinius---- ,as a sick girl4 ,ye gods1 it doth amaze me1 ,a man of such a feeble temper should ,so get the start of the majestic world1 ,and bear the palm alone4 ,julius ,csar1 act ,i4 sc4 #c4 ,glo'ster inflamed with resentment against his son ,edgar1 could even work himself into a momentary conviction that they were not related4 ,o strange fasten'd villain6 ,would he deny his letter8--,i never got him4 ,king ,lear1 act #b4 sc4 #c4 ,when by a great sensibility of heart or other means1 grief swells beyond what the cause can justify1 the mind is prone to magnify the cause1 in order to gratify the passion4 ,and if the real cause admit not of being magnified1 the mind seeks a cause for its grief in imagined future events4 ,bushy4 ,madam1 your ,majesty is much too sad2 ,you promis'd1 when you parted with the ,king1 ,to lay aside self-harming heaviness1 ,and entertain a chearful disposition4 ,queen4 ,to please the ,king1 ,i did2 to please myself1 ,i cannot do it4 ,yet ,i know no cause ,why ,i should welcome such a guest as grief2 ,save bidding farewell to so sweet a guest ,as my sweet ,richard3 yet again1 methinks1 ,some unborn sorrow1 ripe in ,fortune's womb1 ,is coming tow'rd me2 and my inward soul ,with something trembles1 yet at nothing grieves1 ,more than with parting from my ,lord the ,king4 ,richard ,,ii4 act4 #b4 sc4 #e4 ,the foregoing examples depend on the first principle4 ,in the following1 both principles concur4 ,resentment at first is wreaked on the relations of the offender1 in order to punish him4 ,but as resentment when so outrageous is contrary to conscience1 the mind1 to justify its passion as well as to gratify it1 is disposed to paint these relations in the blackest colours2 and it actually comes to be convinced1 that they ought to be punished for their own demerits4 ,anger raised by an accidental stroke upon a tender part1 which gives great and sudden pain1 is sometimes vented upon the undesigning cause4 ,but as the passion in this case is absurd1 and as there can be no solid gratification in punishing the innocent2 the mind1 prone to justify as well as to gratify its passion1 deludes itself instantly into a conviction of the action's being voluntary4 ,this conviction however is but momentary3 the first reflection shows it to be erroneous2 and the passion vanisheth almost instantaneously with the conviction4 ,but anger1 the most violent of all passions1 has still greater influence4 ,it sometimes forces the mind to personify a stock or a stone when it occasions bodily pain1 in order to be a proper object of resentment4 ,a conception is formed of it as a voluntary agent4 ,and that we have really a momentary conviction of its being a voluntary agent1 must be evident from considering1 that without such conviction1 the passion can neither be justified nor gratified4 ,the imagination can give no aid4 ,a stock or a stone may be imagined sensible2 but a notion of this kind cannot be the foundation of punishment1 so long as the mind is conscious that it is an imagination merely without any reality4 ,of such personification1 involving a conviction of reality1 there is one illustrious instance4 ,when the first bridge of boats over the ,hellespont was destroyed by a storm1 ,xerxes fell into a transport of rage1 so excessive1 that he commanded the sea to be punished with #cjj stripes2 and a pair of fetters to be thrown into it1 enjoining the following words to be pronounced4 8,o thou salt and bitter water6 thy master hath condemned thee to this punishment for offending him without cause2 and is resolved to pass over thee in despite of thy insolence4 ,with reason all men neglect to sacrifice to thee1 because thou art both disagreeable and treacherous#dc40 ,shakespear exhibits beautiful examples of the irregular influence of passion in making us conceive things to be otherwise than they are4 ,king ,lear1 in his distress1 personifies the rain1 wind1 and thunder2 and in order to justify his resentment1 conceives them to be taking part with his daughters4 ,lear4 ,rumble thy belly-full1 spit fire1 spout rain6 ,nor rain1 wind1 thunder1 fire1 are my daughters4 ,i tax not you1 you elements1 with unkindness2 ,i never gave you kingdom1 call'd you children2 ,you owe me no subscription4 ,then let fall ,your horrible pleasure4---- ,here ,i stand1 your brave2 ,a poor1 infirm1 weak1 and despis'd old man6 ,but yet ,i call you servile ministers1 ,that have with two pernicious daughters join'd ,your high engender'd battles1 'gainst a head ,so old and white as this4 ,oh6 oh6 'tis foul4 ,act #c4 sc4 #b4 ,king ,richard1 full of indignation against his favourite horse for suffering ,bolingbroke to ride him1 conceives for a moment the horse to be rational4 ,groom4 ,o1 how it yearn'd my heart1 when ,i beheld1 ,in ,london streets1 that coronation-day2 ,when ,bolingbroke rode on ,roan ,barbary1 ,that horse that thou so often hast bestrid1 ,that horse that ,i so carefully have dress'd4 ,k4 ,rich4 ,rode he on ,barbary8 tell me1 gentle friend1 ,how went he under him8 ,groom4 ,so proudly as he had disdain'd the ground4 ,k4 ,rich4 ,so proud that ,bolingbroke was on his back6 ,that jade had eat bread from my royal hand4 ,this hand hath made him proud with clapping him4 ,would he not stumble8 would he not fall down1 7,since pride must have a fall71 and break the neck ,of that proud man that did usurp his back8 ,richard ,,ii4 act #e4 sc4 #aa4 ,hamlet1 swelled with indignation at his mother's second marriage1 is strongly inclined to lessen the time of her widowhood2 because this circumstance gratified his passion2 and he deludes himself by degrees into the opinion of an interval shorter than the real one4 ,hamlet4---- ,that it should come to this6 ,but two months dead6 nay1 not so much2 not two2-- ,so excellent a ,king1 that was1 to this1 ,hyperion to a satire3 so loving to my mother1 ,that he permitted not the wind of heav'n ,visit her face too roughly4 ,heav'n and earth6 ,must ,i remember--why1 she would hang on him1 ,as if increase of appetite had grown ,by what it fed on2 yet1 within a month1---- ,let me not think--,frailty1 thy name is ,woman6 ,a little month6 or ere those shoes were old1 ,with which she follow'd my poor father's body1 ,like ,niobe1 all tears---- ,why1 she1 ev'n she-- 7,o heav'n6 a beast that wants discourse of reason1 ,would have mourn'd longer--7 married with mine uncle1 ,my father's brother2 but no more like my father1 ,than ,i to ,hercules4 ,within a month6---- ,ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears ,had left the flushing in her gauled eyes1 ,she married4---- ,oh1 most wicked speed1 to post ,with such dexterity to incestuous sheets6 ,it is not1 nor it cannot come to good4 ,but break1 my heart1 for ,i must hold my tongue4 ,act #a4 sc4 #c4 ,the power of passion to falsify the computation of time1 is the more remarkable1 that time1 which hath an accurate measure1 is less obsequious to our desires and wishes1 than objects which have no precise standard of less or more4 ,even belief1 though partly an act of the judgment1 may be influenced by passion4 ,good news are greedily swallowed upon very slender evidence4 ,our wishes magnify the probability of the event as well as the veracity of the relater2 and we believe as certain what at best is doubtful4 ,quel1 che l'huom vede1 amor li fa invisibile ,e l'invisibil fa veder amore4 ,questo creduto fu1 che'l miser suole ,dar facile credenza a' quel1 che vuole4 ,orland4 ,furios4 cant4 #a4 st4 #ef4 ,for the same reason1 bad news gain also credit upon the slightest evidence4 ,fear1 if once alarmed1 has the same effect with hope to magnify every circumstance that tends to conviction4 ,shakespear1 who shows more knowledge of human nature than any of our philosophers1 hath in his ,cymbeline#dd represented this bias of the mind3 for he makes the person who alone was affected with the bad news1 yield to evidence that did not convince any of his companions4 ,and ,othello#de is convinced of his wife's infidelity from circumstances too slight to move an indifferent person4 ,if the news interest us in so low a degree as to give place to reason1 the effect will not be quite the same4 ,judging of the probability or improbability of the story1 the mind settles in a rational conviction either that it is true or not4 ,but even in this case1 it is observable1 that the mind is not allowed to rest in that degree of conviction which is produced by rational evidence4 ,if the news be in any degree favourable1 our belief is augmented by hope beyond its true pitch2 and if unfavourable1 by fear4 ,the observation holds equally with respect to future events4 ,if a future event be either much wished or dreaded1 the mind1 to gratify its passion1 never fails to augment the probability beyond truth4 ,the credit which in all ages has been given to wonders and prodigies1 even the most absurd and ridiculous1 is a strange phenomenon4 ,nothing can be more evident than the following proposition1 ,that the more singular any event is1 the more evidence is required4 ,a familiar event daily occurring1 being in itself extremely probable1 finds ready credit1 and therefore is vouched by the slightest evidence4 ,but a strange and rare event1 contrary to the course of nature1 ought not to be easily believed4 ,it starts up without connection1 and without cause1 so far as we can discover2 and to overcome the improbability of such an event1 the very strongest evidence is required4 ,it is certain1 however1 that wonders and prodigies are swallowed by the vulgar1 upon evidence that would not be sufficient to ascertain the most familiar occurrence4 ,it has been reckoned difficult to explain this irregular bias of the mind4 ,we are now no longer at a loss about its cause4 ,the proneness we have to gratify our passions1 which displays itself upon so many occasions1 produces this irrational belief4 ,a story of ghosts or fairies1 told with an air of gravity and truth1 raiseth an emotion of wonder1 and perhaps of dread4 ,these emotions tending strongly to their own gratification1 impose upon a weak mind1 and impress upon it a thorough conviction contrary to all sense and reason4 ,opinion and belief are influenced by propensity as well as by passion2 for the mind is disposed to gratify both4 ,a natural propensity is all we have to convince us1 that the operations of nature are uniform4 ,influenced by this propensity1 we often rashly conceive1 that good or bad weather will never have an end2 and in natural philosophy1 writers1 influenced by the same propensity1 stretch commonly their analogical reasonings beyond just bounds4 ,opinion and belief are influenced by affection as well as by propensity4 ,the noted story of a fine lady and a curate viewing the moon through a telescope is a pleasant illustration4 ,i perceive1 says the lady1 two shadows inclining to each other1 they are certainly two happy lovers4 ,not at all1 replies the curate1 they are two steeples of a cathedral4 ,,appendix to ,part ,v4 ,concerning the methods which nature hath afforded for computing time and space4 ,i introduce here the subject proposed1 because it affords several curious examples of the power of passion to adjust objects to its gratification2 a lesson that cannot be too much inculcated1 as there is not perhaps another bias in human nature that hath an influence so universal1 and that is so apt to make us wander from truth as well as from justice4 ,i begin with time2 and the question shortly is1 ,what was the measure of time before artificial measures were invented8 and1 ,what is the measure at present when these are not at hand8 ,i speak not of months and days1 which we compute by the moon and sun2 but of hours1 or in general of the time that runs betwixt any two occurrences when there is not access to the sun4 ,the only natural measure we have1 is the train of our thoughts2 and we always judge the time to be long or short1 in proportion to the number of perceptions that have passed through the mind during that interval4 ,this is indeed a very imperfect measure2 because in the different conditions of a quick or slow succession1 the computation is different4 ,but however imperfect1 it is the only measure by which a person naturally calculates time2 and this measure is applied on all occasions1 without regard to any occasional variation in the rate of succession4 ,this natural measure of time1 imperfect as it is1 would however be tolerable1 did it labour under no other imperfection than the ordinary variations that happen in the motion of our perceptions4 ,but in many particular circumstances1 it is much more fallacious2 and in order to explain these distinctly1 ,i must analize the subject4 ,time is generally computed at two different periods2 one while time is passing1 another after it is past4 ,i shall consider these separately1 with the errors to which each of them is liable4 ,it will be found that these errors often produce very different computations of the same period of time4 ,the computation of time while it is passing1 comes first in order4 ,it is a common and trite observation1 ,that to lovers absence appears immeasurably long1 every minute an hour1 and every hour a day4 ,the same computation is made in every case where we long for a distant event2 as where one is in expectation of good news1 or where a profligate heir watches for the death of an old man who keeps him from a great estate4 ,opposite to these are instances not fewer in number4 ,to a criminal the interval betwixt sentence and execution appears miserably short2 and the same holds in every case where one dreads an approaching event4 ,of this even a schoolboy can bear witness3 the hour allowed him for play1 moves1 in his apprehension1 with a very swift pace3 before he is thoroughly engaged1 the hour is gone4 ,a reckoning founded on the number of ideas1 will never produce computations so regularly opposite to each other2 for a slow succession of ideas is not connected with our wishes1 nor a quick succession with our fears4 ,what is it then1 that1 in the cases mentioned1 moves nature to desert her common measure for one very different8 ,i know not that this question ever has been resolved4 ,the false reckonings ,i have suggested are so common and familiar1 that no writer has thought of inquiring for their cause4 ,and indeed1 to enter upon this matter at short hand1 without preparation1 might occasion some difficulty4 ,but to encounter the difficulty1 we luckily are prepared by what is said above about the power of passion to fit objects for its gratification4 ,among the other circumstances that terrify a condemned criminal1 the short time he has to live is one4 ,terror1 like our other passions1 prone to its gratification1 adjusts every one of these circumstances to its own tone4 ,it magnifies in particular the shortness of the interval betwixt the present time and that of the execution2 and forces upon the criminal a conviction that the hour of his death approaches with a swift pace4 ,in the same manner1 among the other distresses of an absent lover1 the time of separation is a capital circumstance1 which for that reason is greatly magnified by his anxiety and impatience4 ,he imagines that the time of meeting comes on very slow1 or rather that it will never come4 ,every minute is thought of an intolerable length4 ,here is a fair and ,i hope satisfactory account1 why we reckon time to be tedious when we long for a future event1 and not less fleet when we dread the event4 ,this account is confirmed by other instances4 ,bodily pain fixt to one part1 produceth a slow train of perceptions1 which1 according to the common measure of time1 ought to make it appear short4 ,yet we know1 that in such a state time has the opposite appearance4 ,bodily pain is always attended with a degree of impatience and an anxiety to be rid of it1 which make us judge every minute to be an hour4 ,the same holds where the pain shifts from place to place2 but not so remarkably1 because such a pain is not attended with the same degree of impatience4 ,the impatience a man hath in travelling through a barren country or in bad roads1 makes him imagine1 during the journey1 that time goes on with a very slow pace4 ,we shall show afterward that he makes a very different computation when his journey is at an end4 ,how ought it to stand with a man who apprehends bad news8 ,it will probably be thought1 that the case of this man resembles that of a criminal1 who1 in reckoning the short time he has to live1 imagines every hour to be but a minute1 and that time flies swift away4 ,yet the computation here is directly opposite4 ,reflecting upon this difficulty1 there appears one capital circumstance in which the two cases differ4 ,the fate of the criminal is determined3 in the case under consideration1 the man is still in suspense4 ,every one knows how distressful suspense is to the bulk of mankind4 ,such distress we wish to get rid of at any rate1 even at the expence of bad news4 ,this case therefore1 upon a more narrow inspection1 resembles that of bodily pain4 ,the present distress in both cases1 makes the time appear extremely tedious4 ,the reader probably will not be displeased1 to have this branch of the subject illustrated in a pleasant manner1 by an author acquainted with every maze of the human heart1 and who bestows ineffable grace and ornament upon every subject he handles4 ,rosalinda4 ,i pray you1 what is't a clock8 ,orlando4 ,you should ask me1 what time o' day2 there's no clock in the forest4 ,ros4 ,then there is no true lover in the forest2 else1 sighing every minute1 and groaning every hour1 would detect the lazy foot of ,time1 as well as a clock4 ,orla4 ,why not the swift foot of ,time8 ,had not that been as proper8 ,ros4 ,by no means1 ,sir4 ,time travels in diverse paces with diverse persons4 ,i'll tell you who ,time ambles withal1 who ,time trots withal1 who ,time gallops withal1 and who he stands still withal4 ,orla4 ,i pr'y thee whom doth he trot withal8 ,ros4 ,marry1 he trots hard with a young maid1 between the contract of her marriage1 and the day it is solemnized3 if the interim be but a se'ennight1 ,time's pace is so hard that it seems the length of seven years4 ,orla4 ,who ambles ,time withal8 ,ros4 ,with a priest that lacks ,latin1 and a rich man that hath not the gout3 for the one sleeps easily1 because he cannot study2 and the other lives merrily1 because he feels no pain3 the one lacking the burden of lean and wasteful learning2 the other knowing no burthen of heavy tedious penury4 ,these ,time ambles withal4 ,orla4 ,whom doth he gallop withal8 ,ros4 ,with a thief to the gallows3 for though he go as softly as foot can fall1 he thinks himself too soon there4 ,orla4 ,whom stays it still withall8 ,ros4 ,with lawyers in the vacation2 for they sleep between term and term1 and then they perceive not how ,time moves4 ,as you like it1 act #c4 sc4 #h4 ,reflecting upon the natural method of computing present time1 it shows how far from truth we may be led by the irregular power of passion4 ,nor are our eyes immediately opened when the scene is past3 the deception continues while there remain any traces of the passion4 ,but looking back upon past time when the joy or distress is no longer remembered1 the computation we make is very different4 ,in this situation1 passion being out of the question1 we apply the ordinary measure1 viz4 the course of our perceptions2 and ,i shall now proceed to the errors that this measure is subjected to4 ,in order to have an accurate notion of this matter1 we must distinguish betwixt a train of perceptions1 and a train of ideas4 ,real objects make a strong impression1 and are faithfully remembered4 ,ideas1 on the contrary1 however entertaining at the time1 are apt to escape an after recollection4 ,hence it is1 that in retrospection1 the time that was employed upon real objects1 appears longer than the time that was employed upon ideas4 ,the former are more accurately recollected than the latter2 and we measure the time by the number that is recollected4 ,i proceed to particulars4 ,after finishing a journey through a populous country1 the frequency of agreeable objects distinctly recollected by the traveller1 makes the time spent in the journey appear to him longer than it was in reality4 ,this is chiefly remarkable in a first journey1 where every object is new and makes a strong impression4 ,on the other hand1 after finishing a journey through a barren country thinly peopled1 the time appears short1 being measured by the number of objects1 which were few and far from interesting4 ,here in both instances a reckoning is brought out1 directly opposite to that made during the journey4 ,and this1 by the way1 serves to account for a thing which may appear singular1 that in a barren country the computed miles are always longer1 than near the capital1 where the country is rich and populous4 ,the traveller has no natural measure of the space gone through1 other than the time bestowed upon it2 nor any natural measure of the time1 other than the number of his perceptions4 ,these being proportioned to the number of visible objects1 he imagines that he hath consumed more time on his day's journey1 and accomplished a greater number of miles1 in a populous than in a waste country4 ,by this method of calculation1 every computed mile in the former must in reality be shorter than in the latter4 ,again1 the travelling with an agreeable companion produceth a short computation both of the road and of time2 especially if there be few objects that demand attention1 or if the objects be familiar4 ,the case is the same of young people at a ball1 or of a joyous company over a bottle4 ,the ideas with which they have been entertained1 being transitory1 escape the memory4 ,after all is over1 they reflect that they have been much diverted1 but scarce can say about what4 ,when one is totally occupied in any agreeable work that admits not many objects1 time runs on without observation2 and upon an after recollection must appear short1 in proportion to the paucity of objects4 ,this is still more remarkable in close contemplation and in deep thinking1 where the train1 composed wholly of ideas1 proceeds with an extreme slow pace4 ,not only are the ideas few in number1 but are apt to escape an after-reckoning4 ,the like false reckoning of time may proceed from an opposite state of mind4 ,in a reverie1 where ideas float at random without making any impression1 time goes on unheeded and the reckoning is lost4 ,a reverie may be so profound as to prevent the recollection of any one idea3 that the mind was busied in a train of thinking1 will in general be remembered2 but what was the subject1 has quite escaped the memory4 ,in such a case1 we are altogether at a loss about the time3 we have no data for making a computation4 ,no cause produceth so false a reckoning of time1 as immoderate grief4 ,the mind1 in this state1 is violently attached to a single object1 and admits not a different thought4 ,any other object breaking in1 is instantly banished1 so as scarce to give an appearance of succession4 ,in a reverie1 we are uncertain of the time that is past3 but in the example now given1 there is an appearance of certainty1 so far as the natural measure of time can be trusted1 that the time must have been short1 when the perceptions are so few in number4 ,the natural measure of space appears more obscure than that of time4 ,i venture however to enter upon it1 leaving it to be further prosecuted1 if it be thought of any importance4 ,the space marked out for a house1 appears considerably larger after it is divided into its proper parts4 ,a piece of ground appears larger after it is surrounded with a fence2 and still larger when it is made a garden and divided into different copartments4 ,on the contrary1 a large plain looks less after it is divided into parts4 ,the sea must be excepted1 which looks less from that very circumstance of not being divided into parts4 ,a room of a moderate size appears larger when properly furnished4 ,but when a very large room is furnished1 ,i doubt whether it be not lessened in appearance4 ,a room of a moderate size1 looks less by having a ceiling lower than in proportion4 ,the same low ceiling makes a very large room look larger than it is in reality4 ,these experiments are by far too small a stock for a general theory4 ,but they are all that occur at present2 and without attempting any regular system1 ,i shall satisfy myself with a few conjectures4 ,the largest angle of vision seems to me the natural measure of space4 ,the eye is the only judge2 and in examining with it the size of any plain1 or the length of any line1 the most accurate method that can be taken is1 to run over the object in parts4 ,the largest part that can be taken in at one stedfast look1 determines the largest angle of vision2 and when that angle is given1 one may institute a calculation by trying with the eye how many of these parts are in the whole4 ,whether this angle be the same in all men1 ,i know not4 ,the smallest angle of vision is ascertained2 and to ascertain the largest angle1 would not be less curious4 ,but supposing it known1 it would be a very imperfect measure2 perhaps more so than the natural measure of time4 ,it requires great steadiness of eye to measure a line with any accuracy1 by applying to it the largest angle of distinct vision4 ,and suppose this steadiness to be acquired by practice1 the measure will be imperfect from other circumstances4 ,the space comprehended under this angle1 will be different according to the distance1 and also according to the situation of the object4 ,of a perpendicular this angle will comprehend the smallest space4 ,the space will be larger in looking upon an inclined plain2 and will be larger or less in proportion to the degree of inclination4 ,this measure of space1 like the measure of time1 is liable to some extraordinary errors from certain operations of the mind1 which will account for some of the erroneous judgements above mentioned4 ,the space marked out for a dwelling-house1 where the eye is at any reasonable distance1 is seldom greater than can be seen at once without moving the head4 ,divide this space into two or three equal parts1 and none of these parts will appear much less than what can be comprehended at one distinct look2 consequently each of them will appear equal1 or nearly equal1 to what the whole did before the division4 ,if1 on the other hand1 the whole be very small1 so as scarce to fill the eye at one look1 its divisions into parts will1 ,i conjecture1 make it appear still less4 ,the minuteness of the parts is1 by an easy transition of ideas1 transferred to the whole4 ,each part hath a diminutive appearance1 and by the intimate connection of these parts with the whole1 we pass the same judgement upon all4 ,the space marked out for a small garden1 is surveyed almost at one view2 and requires a motion of the eye so slight1 as to pass for an object that can be comprehended under the largest angle of distinct vision4 ,if not divided into too many parts1 we are apt to form the same judgement of each part2 and consequently to magnify the garden in proportion to the number of its parts4 ,a very large plain without protuberances1 is an object not less rare than beautiful2 and in those who see it for the first time1 it must produce an emotion of wonder4 ,this emotion1 however slight1 tending to its own gratification1 imposes upon the mind1 and makes it judge that the plain is larger than it is in reality4 ,divide this plain into parts1 and our wonder ceases4 ,it is no longer considered as one great plain1 but as so many different fields or inclosures4 ,the first time one beholds the sea1 it appears to be large beyond all bounds4 ,when it becomes familiar1 and raises our wonder in no degree1 it appears less than it is in reality4 ,in a storm it appears larger1 being distinguishable by the rolling waves into a number of great parts4 ,islands scattered at considerable distances1 add in appearance to its size4 ,each intercepted part looks extremely large1 and we silently apply arithmetic to increase the appearance of the whole4 ,many islands scattered at hand1 give a diminutive appearance to the sea1 by its connection with its diminutive parts4 ,the ,lomond lake would undoubtedly look larger without its islands4 ,furniture increaseth in appearance the size of a small room1 for the same reason that divisions increase in appearance the size of a garden4 ,the emotion of wonder which is raised by a very large room without furniture1 makes it look larger than it is in reality4 ,if completely furnished1 we view it in parts1 and our wonder is not raised4 ,a low ceiling hath a diminutive appearance1 which1 by an easy transition of ideas1 is communicated to the length and breadth1 provided they bear any sort of proportion to the height4 ,if they be out of all proportion1 the opposition seizes the mind1 and raises some degree of wonder1 which makes the difference appear greater than it really is4 ,,part ,,vi4 ,of the resemblance emotions bear to their causes4 ,that many emotions bear a certain resemblance to their causes1 is a truth that can be made clear by induction2 though1 so far as ,i know1 the observation has not been made by any writer4 ,motion1 in its different circumstances1 is productive of feelings that resemble it4 ,sluggish motion1 for example1 causeth a languid unpleasant feeling2 slow uniform motion1 a feeling calm and pleasant2 and brisk motion1 a lively feeling that rouses the spirits and promotes activity4 ,a fall of water through rocks1 raises in the mind a tumultuous confused agitation1 extremely similar to its cause4 ,when force is exerted with any effort1 the spectator feels a similar effort as of force exerted within his mind4 ,a large object swells the heart4 ,an elevated object makes the spectator stand erect4 ,sounds also produce emotions that resemble them4 ,a sound in a low key1 brings down the mind4 ,such a sound in a full tone1 hath a certain solemnity1 which it communicates to the emotion produced by it4 ,a sound in a high key1 chears the mind by raising it4 ,such a sound in a full tone1 both elevates and swells the mind4 ,again1 a wall or pillar that declines from the perpendicular1 produceth a painful emotion1 as of a tottering and falling within the mind4 ,an emotion somewhat similar is produced by a tall pillar that stands so ticklish as to look like falling4 ,for this reason1 a column upon a base looks better than upon the naked ground4 ,the base1 which makes a part of the column1 inspires a feeling of firmness and stability4 ,the ground supporting a naked column1 is too large to be considered as its base4 ,and for the same reason1 a cube as a base1 is preferred before a cylinder1 though the latter is a more beautiful figure4 ,the angles of a cube1 being extended to a greater distance from the centre than the circumference of a cylinder1 give the column a greater appearance of stability4 ,this excludes not a different reason1 that the base1 shaft1 and capital1 of a pillar1 ought1 for the sake of variety1 to differ from each other4 ,if the shaft be round1 the base and capital ought to be square4 ,a constrained posture1 uneasy to the man himself1 is disagreeable to the spectator2 which makes it a rule in painting1 that the drapery ought not to adhere to the body1 but hang loose1 that the figures may appear easy and free in their movements4 ,hence the disagreeable figure of a ,french dancing-master is one of ,hogarth's pieces4 ,it is also ridiculous1 because the constraint is assumed and not forced4 ,the foregoing observation is not confined to emotions raised by still life4 ,it holds also in those which are raised by the qualities1 actions1 and passions1 of a sensible being4 ,love inspired by a fine woman1 assumes her qualities4 ,it is sublime1 soft1 tender1 severe1 or gay1 according to its cause4 ,this is still more remarkable in emotions raised by human actions4 ,it hath already been remarked#df1 that any signal instance of gratitude1 beside procuring esteem for the author1 raiseth in the spectator a vague emotion of gratitude1 which disposeth him to be grateful4 ,i now further remark1 that this vague emotion1 being of the same kind with what produced the grateful action1 hath a strong resemblance to its cause4 ,courage exerted inspires the reader as well as the spectator with a like emotion of courage4 ,a just action fortifies our love to justice1 and a generous action rouses our generosity4 ,in short1 with respect to all virtuous actions1 it will be found by induction1 that they lead us to imitation by inspiring emotions resembling the passions that produced these actions4 ,and hence the benefit of dealing in choice books and in choice company4 ,grief as well as joy are infectious3 the emotions they raise in a spectator resemble them perfectly4 ,fear is equally infectious3 and hence in an army1 fear1 even from the slighted cause1 making an impression on a few1 spreads generally through all1 and becomes an universal panic4 ,pity is similar to its cause4 ,a parting scene betwixt lovers or friends1 produceth in the spectator a sort of pity1 which is tender like the distress4 ,the anguish of remorse1 produceth pity of a harsh kind2 and if the remorse be extreme1 the pity hath a mixture of horror4 ,anger ,i think is singular2 for even where it is moderate and causeth no disgust1 it disposes not the spectator to anger in any degree#dg4 ,covetousness1 cruelty1 treachery1 and other vicious passions1 are so far from raising any emotion similar to themselves1 to incite a spectator to imitation1 that they have an opposite effect4 ,they raise abhorrence1 and fortify the spectator in his aversion to such actions4 ,when anger is immoderate1 it cannot fail to produce the same effect4 ,,part ,,vii4 ,final causes of the more frequent emotions and passions4 ,it is a law in our nature1 that we never act but by the impulse of desire2 which in other words is saying1 that it is passion1 by the desire included in it1 which determines the will4 ,hence in the conduct of life1 it is of the utmost importance1 that our passions be directed upon proper objects1 tend to just and rational ends1 and with relation to each other be duly balanced4 ,the beauty of contrivance1 so conspicuous in the human frame1 is not confined to the rational part of our nature1 but is visible over the whole4 ,concerning the passions in particular1 however irregular1 headstrong1 and perverse1 in an overly view1 they may appear1 ,i propose to show1 that they are by nature adjusted and tempered with admirable wisdom1 for the good of society as well as for private good4 ,this subject is extensive3 but as the nature of the present undertaking will not admit a complete discussion1 it shall suffice to give a few observations in general upon the sensitive part of our nature1 without regarding that strange irregularity of passion discovered in some individuals4 ,such topical irregularities1 if ,i may use the term1 cannot fairly be held an objection to the present theory4 ,we are frequently1 it is true1 misled by inordinate passion3 but we are also1 and perhaps not less frequently1 misled by wrong judgement4 ,in order to a distinct apprehension of the present subject1 it must be premised1 that an agreeable object produceth always a pleasant emotion1 and a disagreeable object one that is painful4 ,this is a general law of nature1 which admits not a single exception4 ,agreeableness in the object or cause is indeed so essentially connected with pleasure in the emotion its effect1 that an agreeable object cannot be better defined1 than by its power of producing a pleasant emotion4 ,disagreeableness in the object or cause1 has the same necessary connection with pain in the emotion produced by it4 ,from this preliminary it appears1 that to inquire for what end an emotion is made pleasant or painful1 resolves into an inquiry for what end its cause is made agreeable or disagreeable4 ,and from the most accurate induction it will be discovered1 that no cause of an emotion is made agreeable or disagreeable arbitrarily2 but that these qualities are so distributed as to answer wise and good purposes4 ,it is an invincible proof of the benignity of the ,deity1 that we are surrounded with things generally agreeable1 which contribute remarkably to our entertainment and to our happiness4 ,some things are made disagreeable1 such as a rotten carcass1 because they are noxious4 ,others1 a dirty marsh1 for example1 or a barren heath1 are made disagreeable in order to excite our industry4 ,and with respect to the few things that are neither agreeable nor disagreeable2 it will be made evident1 that their being left indifferent is not a work of chance but of wisdom4 ,of such ,i shall have occasion to give several instances4 ,having attempted to assign the final causes of emotions and passions considered as pleasant or painful1 we proceed to the final causes of the desires involved in them4 ,this seems a work of some difficulty2 for the desires that accompany different passions have very different aims1 and seldom or never demand precisely the same gratification4 ,one passion moves us to cling to its object1 one to fly from it2 one passion impels to action for our own good1 and one for the good of others2 one passion prompts us to do good to ourselves or others1 and one to do mischief1 frequently to others1 and sometimes even to ourselves4 ,deliberating upon this intricate subject1 and finding an intimate correspondence betwixt our desires and their objects1 it is natural to think that the former must be regulated in some measure by the latter4 ,in this view1 ,i begin with desire directed upon an inanimate object4 ,any pleasure we have in an agreeable object of this kind1 is enjoyed by the continuance of the pleasant impression it makes upon us2 and accordingly the desire involved in the pleasant emotion tends to that end1 and is gratified by dwelling upon the agreeable object4 ,hence such an object may be properly termed attractive4 ,thus a flowing river1 a towering hill1 a fine garden1 are attractive objects4 ,they fix the attention of the spectator1 by inspiring pleasant emotions1 which are gratified by adhering to these objects and enjoying them4 ,on the other hand1 a disagreeable object of the same kind1 raises in us a painful emotion including a desire to turn from the object1 which relieves us of course from the pain2 and hence such an object may be properly termed repulsive4 ,a monstrous birth1 for example1 a rotten carcass1 a confusion of jarring sounds1 are repulsive4 ,they repel the mind1 by inspiring painful or unpleasant emotions1 which are gratified by flying from such objects4 ,thus in general1 with regard to inanimate objects1 the desire included in every pleasant passion tends to prolong the pleasure1 and the desire included in every painful passion tends to put an end to the pain4 ,here the final cause is evident4 ,our desires1 so far1 are modelled in such a manner as to correspond precisely to the sensitive part of our nature1 prone to happiness and averse to misery4 ,these operations of adhering to an agreeable inanimate object1 and flying from one that is disagreeable1 are performed in the beginning of life by means of desire impelling us1 without the intervention of reason or reflection4 ,reason and reflection directing self-love1 become afterward motives that unite their force with desire2 because experience informs us1 that the adhering to agreeable objects and the flying from those that are disagreeable1 contribute to our happiness4 ,sensible ,beings considered as objects of passion1 lead us into a more complex theory4 ,a sensible being that is agreeable by its attributes1 inspires us with a pleasant emotion2 and the desire included in this emotion has evidently different means of gratification4 ,a man regarding himself only1 may be satisfied with viewing and contemplating this being1 precisely as if it were inanimate2 or he may desire the more generous gratification of making it happy4 ,were man altogether selfish1 it would be conformable to his nature1 that he should indulge the pleasant emotion without making any acknowledgement to the person who gives him pleasure1 more than to a pure air or temperate clime when he enjoys these benefits4 ,but as man is endued with a principle of benevolence as well as of selfishness1 he is prompted by his nature to desire the good of every sensible being that gives him pleasure4 ,and the final cause of desire so directed1 is illustrious4 ,it contributes to a man's own happiness1 by affording him more means of gratification than he can have when his desire terminates upon himself alone2 and at the same time it tends eminently to improve the happiness of those with whom he is connected4 ,the directing our desires in this manner1 occasions a beautiful coalition of self-love with benevolence2 for both are equally promoted by the same internal impulse1 and by the same external conduct4 ,and this consideration1 by the way1 ought to silence those minute philosophers1 who1 ignorant of human nature1 teach a most disgustful doctrine4 ,that to serve others unless with a view to our own good1 is weakness and folly2 as if self-love only contributed to happiness and not benevolence4 ,the hand of ,god is too visible in the human frame1 to permit us to think seriously1 that there ever can be any jarring or inconsistency among natural principles1 those especially of self-love and benevolence1 which regulate the bulk of our actions4 ,next in order come sensible ,beings that are in affliction or pain4 ,it is disagreeable to behold a person in distress2 and therefore this object must raise in the spectator an uneasy emotion4 ,were man purely a selfish being1 he would be prompted by his nature to turn from every object1 animate or inanimate1 that gives him uneasiness4 ,but the principle of benevolence gives an opposite direction to his desire4 ,it impels him to afford relief2 and by relieving the person from distress1 his desire is fully gratified4 ,our benevolence to a person in distress is inflamed into an emotion of sympathy1 signifying in ,greek the painful emotion that is raised in us by that person4 ,thus sympathy1 though a painful emotion1 is in its nature attractive4 ,and with respect to its final cause1 we can be at no loss4 ,it not only tends to relieve a fellow-creature from pain1 but in its gratification is greatly more pleasant than if it were repulsive4 ,we in the last place bring under consideration persons hateful by vice or wickedness4 ,imagine a wretch who has lately perpetrated some horrid crime4 ,he is disagreeable to every spectator2 and consequently raises in every spectator a painful emotion4 ,what is the natural gratification of the desire that accompanies this painful emotion8 ,i must here again observe1 that supposing man to be entirely a selfish being1 he would be prompted by his nature to relieve himself from the pain by averting his eye1 and banishing the criminal from his thoughts4 ,but man is not so constituted4 ,he is composed of many principles1 which1 though seemingly contradictory1 are perfectly concordant4 ,the principle of benevolence influences his conduct1 not less remarkably than that of selfishness4 ,and in order to answer the foregoing question1 ,i must introduce a third principle1 not less remarkable in its influence than either of those mentioned4 ,it is that principle common to all1 which prompts us to punish those who do wrong4 ,an envious1 malicious1 or cruel action1 is disagreeable to me even where ,i have no connection with the sufferer1 and raises in me the painful emotion of resentment4 ,the gratification of this emotion1 when accompanied with desire1 is directed by the principle now unfolded4 ,being prompted by my nature to punish guilt as well as to reward virtue1 my desire is not gratified but by inflicting punishment4 ,i must chastise the wretch by indignation at least and hatred1 if not more severely4 ,here the final cause is self-evident4 ,an injury done to myself1 touching me more than when done to others1 raises my resentment in a higher degree4 ,the desire accordingly included in this passion1 is not satisfied with so slight a punishment as indignation or hatred4 ,it is not fully gratified without retaliation2 and the author must by my hand suffer mischief1 as great at least as he has done me4 ,neither can we be at any loss about the final cause of this higher degree of resentment4 ,the whole vigor of this passion is required to secure individuals from the injustice and oppression of others#dh4 ,a wicked or disgraceful action1 is disagreeable not only to others1 but even to the delinquent himself4 ,it raises in him as well as in others a painful emotion including a desire of punishment4 ,the painful emotion which the delinquent feels1 is distinguished by the name of remorse2 and in this case the desire he has to punish is directed against himself4 ,there cannot be imagined a better contrivance to deter us from vice2 for remorse is the severest of all punishments4 ,this passion and the desire of self-punishment derived from it1 are touched delicately by ,terence4 ,menedemus4 ,ubi comperi ex iis1 qui ei fuere conscii1 ,domum revortor mstus1 atque animo fere ,perturbato1 atque incerto pr gritudine3 ,adsido1 adcurrunt servi1 soccos detrahunt3 ,video alios festinare1 lectos sternere1 ,cnam adparare3 pro se quisque sedulo ,faciebat1 quo illam mihi lenirent miseriam4 ,ubi video hc1 cpi cogitare3 ,hem6 tot mea ,solius solliciti sint causa1 ut me unum expleant8 ,ancill tot me vestiant8 sumptus domi ,tantos ego solus faciam8 sed gnatum unicum1 ,quem pariter uti his decuit1 aut etiam amplius1 ,quod illa tas magis ad hc utenda idonea 'st1 ,eum ego hinc ejeci miserum injustitia mea4 ,malo quidem me dignum quovis deputem1 ,si id faciam4 nam usque dum ille vitam illam colet ,inopem1 carens patria ob meas injurias1 ,interea usque illi de me supplicium dabo3 ,laborans1 qurens1 parcens1 illi serviens1 ,ita facio prorsus3 nihil relinquo in dibus1 ,nec vas1 nec vestimentum3 conrasi omnia1 ,ancillas1 servos1 nisi eos1 qui opere rustico ,faciundo facile sumptum exercerent suum3 ,omnes produxi ac vendidi3 inscripsi ilico deis mercede3 quasi talenta ad quindecim ,cogi3 agrum hunc mercatus sum3 hic me exerceo4 ,decrevi tantisper me minus injuri1 ,chreme1 meo gnato facere1 dum fiam miser3 ,nec fas esse ulla me voluptate hic frui1 ,nisi ubi ille huc salvos redierit meus particeps4 ,heautontimerumenos1 act #a4 sc4 #a4 ,otway reaches the same sentiment3 ,monimia4 ,let mischiefs multiply6 let ev'ry hour ,of my loath'd life yield me increase of horror6 ,oh let the sun to these unhappy eyes ,ne'er shine again1 but be eclips'd for ever6 ,may every thing ,i look on seem a prodigy1 ,to fill my soul with terror1 till ,i quite ,forget ,i ever had humanity1 ,and grow a curser of the works of nature6 ,orphan1 act #d4 ,the cases mentioned are1 where benevolence alone or where desire of punishment alone1 governs without a rival4 ,and it was necessary to handle these cases separately1 in order to elucidate a subject which by writers is left in great obscurity4 ,but neither of these principles operates always without rivalship4 ,cases may be figured1 and cases actually exist1 where the same person is an object both of sympathy and of desire to punish4 ,thus the sight of a profligate in the venereal disease1 over-run with botches and sores1 actuates both principles4 ,while his distress fixes my attention1 sympathy exerts itself2 but so soon as ,i think of his profligacy1 hatred prevails1 and a desire to punish4 ,this in general is the case of distress occasioned by immoral actions that are not highly criminal4 ,and if the distress and the immoral action be in any proportion1 sympathy and hatred counterbalancing each other will not suffer me either to afford relief or to inflict punishment4 ,what then will be the result of the whole8 ,the principle of self-love solves the question4 ,abhorring an object so loathsome1 ,i naturally avert my eye1 and walk off as fast as ,i can1 in order to be relieved from the pain4 ,the present subject gives birth to several other observations1 for which ,i could not find room above1 without relaxing more from the strictness of order and connection1 than with safety could be indulged in discoursing upon a matter that with difficulty is made perspicuous1 even with all the advantages of order and connection4 ,these observations ,i shall throw out loosely as they occur1 without giving myself any further trouble about method4 ,no action good or bad is altogether indifferent even to a mere spectator4 ,if good1 it inspires esteem2 and indignation1 if wicked4 ,but it is remarkable1 that these emotions seldom are accompanied with desire4 ,the abilities of man are limited1 and he finds sufficient employment1 in relieving the distressed1 in requiting his benefactors1 and in punishing those who wrong him1 without moving out of his own sphere for the benefit or chastisement of those with whom he has no connection4 ,if the good qualities of others excite my benevolence1 the same qualities in myself must produce a similar effect in a superior degree1 upon account of the natural partiality every man hath for himself4 ,this increases self-love4 ,if these qualities be of a high rank1 they produce a feeling of superiority1 which naturally leads me to assume some sort of government over others4 ,mean qualities1 on the other hand1 produce in me a feeling of inferiority1 which naturally leads me to submit to others4 ,unless such feelings were distributed among individuals in society by measure and proportion1 there could be no natural subordination of some to others1 which is the principal foundation of government4 ,no other branch of the human constitution shows more visibly our destination for society1 nor tends more to our improvement1 than appetite for fame or esteem4 ,the whole conveniencies of life being derived from mutual aid and support in society1 it ought to be a capital aim1 to form connections with others so strict and so extensive as to produce a firm reliance on many for succour in time of need4 ,reason dictates this lesson4 ,but reason solely is not relied on in a matter of such consequence4 ,we are moved by a natural appetite1 to be solicitous about esteem and respect as we are about food when hungry4 ,this appetite1 at the same time1 is finely adjusted to the moral branch of our constitution1 by promoting all the moral virtues4 ,for what infallible means are there to attract love and esteem1 other than a virtuous course of life8 ,if a man be just and beneficent1 if he be temperate modest and prudent1 he will infallibly gain the esteem and love of all who know him4 ,the communication of passion to related objects1 is an illustrious instance of the care of ,providence1 to extend social connections as far as the limited nature of man can admit4 ,this communication of passion is so far unhappy as to spread the malevolent passions beyond their natural bounds4 ,but let it be remarked1 that this unhappy effect regards savages only1 who give way to malevolent passions4 ,under the discipline of society1 these passions are subdued1 and in a good measure eradicated4 ,in their place succeed the kindly affections1 which1 meeting with all encouragement1 take possession of the mind and govern our whole actions4 ,in this condition1 the progress of passion along related objects1 by spreading the kindly affections through a multitude of individuals1 hath a glorious effect4 ,nothing can be more entertaining to a rational mind1 than the conomy of the human passions1 of which ,i have attempted to give some faint notion4 ,it must however be confessed1 that our passions1 when they happen to swell beyond their proper limits1 take on a less regular appearance4 ,reason may proclaim our duty1 but the will influenced by passion1 makes gratification always welcome4 ,hence the power of passion1 which1 when in excess1 cannot be resisted but by the utmost fortitude of mind4 ,it is bent upon gratification2 and where proper objects are wanting1 it clings to any object at hand without distinction4 ,thus joy inspired by a fortunate event1 is diffused upon every person around by acts of benevolence2 and resentment for an atrocious injury done by one out of reach1 seizes the first object that occurs to vent itself upon4 ,those who believe in prophecies1 even wish the accomplishment2 and a weak mind is disposed voluntarily to fulfil a prophecy1 in order to gratify its wish4 ,shakespear1 whom no particle of human nature hath escaped1 however remote from common observation1 describes this weakness3 ,k4 ,henry4 ,doth any name particular belong ,unto that lodging where ,i first did swoon8 ,warwick4 ',tis call'd ,jerusalem1 my ,noble ,lord4 ,k4 ,henry4 ,laud be to ,god6 even there my life must end4 ,it hath been prophesy'd to me many years1 ,i should not die but in ,jerusalem1 ,which vainly ,i suppos'd the holy land4 ,but bear me to that chamber1 there ,i'll lie3 ,in that ,jerusalem shall ,henry die4 ,second part1 ,henry ,,iv4 act #d4 sc4 last4 ,i could not deny myself the amusement of the foregoing observation1 though it doth not properly come under my plan4 ,the irregularities of passion proceeding from peculiar weaknesses and biasses1 ,i do not undertake to justify2 and of these we have had many examples4#di ,it is sufficient that passions common to all and as generally exerted1 are made subservient to beneficial purposes4 ,i shall only observe1 that in a polished society instances of irregular passions are rare1 and that their mischief doth not extend far4 ,,chap4 ,,iii4 ,,beauty4 ,having discoursed in general of emotions and passions1 ,i proceed to a more narrow inspection of some particulars that serve to unfold the principles of the fine arts4 ,it is the province of a writer upon ethics1 to give a full enumeration of all the passions2 and of each separately to assign the nature1 the cause1 the gratification1 and the effects4 ,but a treatise of ethics is not my province4 ,i carry my view no farther than to the elements of criticism1 in order to show that the fine arts are a subject of reasoning as well as of taste4 ,an extensive work would be ill suited to a design so limited2 and to keep within moderate bounds1 the following plan may contribute4 ,it has already been observed1 that things are the causes of emotions1 by means of their properties and attributes#ej4 ,this furnisheth a hint for distribution4 ,instead of a painful and tedious examination of the several passions and emotions1 ,i propose to confine my inquiries to such attributes1 relations1 and circumstances1 as in the fine arts are chiefly employed to raise agreeable emotions4 ,attributes of single objects1 as the most simple1 shall take the lead2 to be followed with particulars that depend on the relations of objects1 and are not found in any one object singly considered4 ,dispatching next some coincident matters1 ,i approach nearer to practice1 by applying the principles unfolded in the foregoing parts of the work4 ,this is a general view of the intended method2 reserving however a privilege to vary it in particular instances1 where a different method may be more commodious4 ,i begin with beauty1 the most noted of all the qualities that belong to single objects4 ,the term beauty1 in its native signification1 is appropriated to objects of sight4 ,objects of the other senses may be agreeable1 such as the sounds of musical instruments1 the smoothness and softness of some surfaces3 but the agreeableness denominated beauty belongs to objects of sight4 ,of all the objects of the external senses1 an object of sight is the most complex4 ,in the very simplest1 colour is perceived1 figure1 and length breadth and thickness4 ,a tree is composed of a trunk1 branches1 and leaves4 ,it has colour1 figure1 size1 and sometimes motion4 ,by means of each of these particulars1 separately considered1 it appears beautiful3 how much more so1 when they enter all into one complex perception8 ,the beauty of the human figure is extraordinary1 being a composition of numberless beauties arising from the parts and qualities of the object1 various colours1 various motions1 figure1 size1 c42 all uniting in one complex perception1 and striking the eye with combined force4 ,hence it is1 that beauty1 a quality so remarkable in visible objects1 lends its name to express every thing that is eminently agreeable4 ,thus1 by a figure of speech1 we say a beautiful sound1 a beautiful thought or expression1 a beautiful theorem1 a beautiful event1 a beautiful discovery in art or science4 ,but as figurative expression is not our present theme1 this chapter is confined to beauty in its genuine signification4 ,it is natural to suppose1 that a perception so various as that of beauty1 comprehending sometimes many particulars1 sometimes few1 should occasion emotions equally various4 ,and yet all the various emotions of beauty maintain one general character of sweetness and gaiety4 ,considering attentively the beauty of visible objects1 we discover two kinds4 ,one may be termed intrinsic beauty1 because it is discovered in a single object viewed apart without relation to any other object4 ,the examples above given1 are of that kind4 ,the other may be termed relative beauty1 being founded on the relation of objects4 ,the former is a perception of sense merely2 for to perceive the beauty of a spreading oak or of a flowing river1 no more is required but singly an act of vision4 ,the latter is accompanied with an act of understanding and reflection2 for of a fine instrument or engine1 we perceive not the relative beauty1 until we be made acquainted with its use and destination4 ,in a word1 intrinsic beauty is ultimate3 relative beauty is that of means relating to some good end or purpose4 ,these different beauties agree in one capital circumstance1 that both are equally perceived as spread upon the object4 ,this will be readily admitted with respect to intrinsic beauty2 but is not so obvious with respect to the other4 ,the utility of the plough1 for example1 may make it an object of admiration or of desire2 but why should utility make it appear beautiful8 ,a principle mentioned above#ea1 will explain this doubt4 ,the beauty of the effect1 by an easy transition of ideas1 is transferred to the cause1 and is perceived as one of the qualities of the cause4 ,thus a subject void of intrinsic beauty1 appears beautiful from its utility4 ,an old ,gothic tower that has no beauty in itself1 appears beautiful1 considered as proper to defend against an enemy4 ,a dwelling-house void of all regularity1 is however beautiful in the view of convenience2 and the want of form or symmetry in a tree1 will not prevent its appearing beautiful1 if it be known to produce good fruit4 ,when these two beauties concur in any object1 it appears delightful4 ,every member of the human body possesses both in a high degree4 ,the slender make of a horse destined for running1 pleases every taste2 partly from symmetry1 and partly from utility4 ,the beauty of utility1 being proportioned accurately to the degree of utility1 requires no illustration4 ,but intrinsic beauty1 so complex as ,i have said1 cannot be handled distinctly without being analized into its constituent parts4 ,if a tree be beautiful by means of its colour1 its figure1 its size1 its motion1 it is in reality possessed of so many different beauties1 which ought to be examined separately1 in order to have a clear notion of the whole4 ,the beauty of colour is too familiar to need explanation4 ,the beauty of figure requires an accurate discussion1 for in it many circumstances are involved4 ,when any portion of matter is viewed as a whole1 the beauty of its figure arises from regularity and simplicity4 ,viewing the parts with relation to each other1 uniformity1 proportion1 and order1 contribute to its beauty4 ,the beauty of motion deserves a chapter by itself2 and another chapter is destined for grandeur1 being distinguishable from beauty in a strict sense4 ,for the definitions of regularity1 uniformity1 proportion1 and order1 if thought necessary1 ,i remit my reader to the appendix at the end of the book4 ,upon simplicity ,i must make a few cursory observations1 such as may be of use in examining the beauty of single objects4 ,a multitude of objects crowding into the mind at once1 disturb the attention1 and pass without making any impression1 or any lasting impression4 ,in a group1 no single object makes the figure it would do apart1 when it occupies the whole attention#eb4 ,for the same reason1 even a single object1 when it divides the attention by the multiplicity of its parts1 equals not1 in strength of impression1 a more simple object comprehended in a single view4 ,parts extremely complex must be considered in portions successively2 and a number of impressions in succession1 which cannot unite because not simultaneous1 never touch the mind like one entire impression made as it were at one stroke4 ,this justifies simplicity in works of art1 as opposed to complicated circumstances and crowded ornaments4 ,there is an additional reason for simplicity1 in works that make an impression of dignity or elevation4 ,the mind attached to beauties of a high rank1 cannot descend to inferior beauties4 ,and yet1 notwithstanding these reasons1 we find profuse decoration prevailing in works of art4 ,but this is no argument against simplicity1 ,for authors and architects who cannot reach the higher beauties1 endeavour to supply their want of genius by dealing in those that are inferior4 ,in all ages1 the best writers and artists have been governed by a taste for simplicity4 ,these things premised1 ,i proceed to examine the beauty of figure1 as arising from the above-mentioned particulars1 viz4 regularity1 uniformity1 proportion1 order1 and simplicity4 ,to exhaust this subject1 would of itself require a large volume4 ,i limit myself to a few cursory remarks1 as matter for future disquisition4 ,to inquire why an object1 by means of the particulars mentioned1 appears beautiful1 would ,i am afraid be a vain attempt4 ,it seems the most probable opinion1 that the nature of man was originally framed with a relish for them1 in order to answer wise and good purposes4 ,the final causes have not hitherto been ascertained1 though they are not probably beyond our reach4 ,one thing is clear1 that regularity1 uniformity1 order1 and simplicity1 contribute each of them to readiness of apprehension2 and enable us to form more distinct images of objects1 than can be done with the utmost attention where these particulars are not found4 ,this final cause is1 ,i acknowledge1 too slight1 to account satisfactorily for a taste that makes a figure so illustrious in the nature of man4 ,that this branch of our constitution hath a purpose still more important1 we have great reason to believe4 ,with respect to proportion1 ,i am still less successful4 ,in several instances1 accurate proportion is connected with utility4 ,this in particular is the case of animals2 for those that are the best proportioned1 are the strongest and most active4 ,but instances are still more numerous1 where the proportions we relish the most1 have no connection1 so far as we see1 with utility4 ,writers on architecture insist much upon the proportions of a column2 and assign different proportions to the ,doric1 ,ionic1 and ,corinthian4 ,but no architect will maintain1 that the most accurate proportions contribute more to use1 than several that are less accurate and less agreeable4 ,neither will it be maintained1 that the proportions assigned for the length breadth and height of rooms1 tend to make them the more commodious4 ,it appears then1 so far as we can discover1 that we have a taste for proportion independent altogether of utility4 ,one thing indeed is certain1 that any external object proportioned to our taste1 is delightful4 ,this furnishes a hint4 ,may it not be thought a good final cause of proportion1 that it contributes to our entertainment8 ,the author of our nature has given many signal proofs1 that this end is not below his care4 ,and if so1 why should we hesitate in assigning this as an additional final cause of regularity1 and the other particulars above mentioned8 ,we may be confirmed in this thought1 by reflecting1 that our taste1 with respect to these1 is not occasional or accidental1 but uniform and universal1 making an original branch of human nature4 ,one might fill a volume with the effects that are produced by the endless combinations of the principles of beauty4 ,i have room only for a slight specimen1 confined to the simplest figures4 ,a circle and a square are each of them perfectly regular1 being equally confined to a precise form1 and admitting not the slightest variation4 ,a square however is less beautiful than a circle1 because it is less simple4 ,a circle has parts as well as a square2 but its parts not being distinct like those of a square1 it makes one entire impression2 whereas the attention is divided among the sides and angles of a square4 ,the effect of simplicity may be illustrated by another example4 ,a square1 though not more regular than a hexagon or octagon1 is more beautiful than either2 for what other reason1 than that a square is more simple1 and the attention less divided8 ,this reasoning will appear still more solid when we consider any regular polygon of very many sides2 for of such figure the mind can never have any distinct perception4 ,simplicity thus contributes to beauty4 ,a square is more beautiful than a parallelogram4 ,the former exceeds the latter in regularity and in uniformity of parts4 ,but this holds with respect to intrinsic beauty only2 for in many instances1 utility comes in to cast the balance on the side of the parallelogram4 ,this figure for the doors and windows of a dwelling-house1 is preferred because of utility2 and here we find the beauty of utility prevailing over that of regularity and uniformity4 ,a parallelogram again depends1 for its beauty1 on the proportion of its sides4 ,the beauty is lost by a great inequality of sides4 ,it is also lost1 on the other hand1 by the approximation toward equality4 ,proportion in this circumstance degenerates into imperfect uniformity2 and the figure upon the whole appears an unsuccessful attempt toward a square4 ,an equilateral triangle yields not to a square in regularity nor in uniformity of parts1 and it is more simple4 ,but an equilateral triangle is less beautiful than a square1 which must be owing to inferiority of order in the position of its parts4 ,the sides of an equilateral triangle incline to each other in the same angle1 which is the most perfect order they are susceptible of4 ,but this order is obscure1 and far from being so perfect as the parallelism of the sides of a square4 ,thus order contributes to the beauty of visible objects1 not less than simplicity and regularity4 ,a parallelogram exceeds an equilateral triangle in the orderly disposition of its parts2 but being inferior in uniformity and simplicity1 it is less beautiful4 ,uniformity is singular in one capital circumstance1 that it is apt to disgust by excess4 ,a number of things contrived for the same use1 such as chairs spoons1 c4 cannot be too uniform4 ,but a scrupulous uniformity of parts in a large garden or field1 is far from being agreeable4 ,uniformity among connected objects1 belongs not to the present subject4 ,it is handled in the chapter of uniformity and variety4 ,in all the works of nature1 simplicity makes an illustrious figure4 ,the works of the best artists are directed by it4 ,profuse ornament in painting1 gardening1 or architecture1 as well as in dress and language1 shows a mean or corrupted taste4 ,poets1 like painters1 thus unskill'd to trace ,the naked nature and the living grace1 ,with gold and jewels cover ev'ry part1 ,and hide with ornaments their want of art4 ,pope's ,essay on criticism4 ,no one property recommends a machine more than its simplicity2 not singly for better answering its purpose1 but by appearing in itself more beautiful4 ,simplicity hath a capital effect in behaviour and manners2 no other particular contributing more to gain esteem and love4 ,the artificial and intricate manners of modern times1 have little of dignity in them4 ,general theorems1 abstracting from their importance1 are delightful by their simplicity1 and by the easiness of their application to a variety of cases4 ,we take equal delight in the laws of motion1 which1 with the greatest simplicity1 are boundless in their influence4 ,a gradual progress from simplicity to complex forms and profuse ornament1 seems to be the fate of all the fine arts2 resembling behaviour1 which from original candor and simplicity has degenerated into artificial refinements4 ,at present1 written productions are crowded with words1 epithets1 figures1 c4 ,in music1 sentiment is neglected1 for the luxury of harmony1 and for difficult movement which surprises in its execution4 ,in taste properly so called1 poignant sauces with complicated mixtures of different favours1 prevail among people of condition4 ,the ,french1 accustomed to the artificial red on their women's cheeks1 think the modest colouring of nature displayed on a fine face altogether insipid4 ,the same tendency appears in the progress of the arts among the ancients4 ,of this we have traces still remaining in architecture4 ,some vestiges of the oldest ,grecian buildings prove them to be of the ,doric order4 ,the ,ionic succeeded1 and seems to have been the favourite order1 while architecture was in its height of glory4 ,the ,corinthian came next in vogue3 and in ,greece1 the buildings of that order appear mostly to have been erected after the ,romans got footing there4 ,at last came the ,composite with all its extravagancies1 where proportion is sacrificed to finery and crowded ornament4 ,but what taste is to prevail next8 for fashion is in a continual flux1 and taste must vary with it4 ,after rich and profuse ornaments become familiar1 simplicity appears by contrast lifeless and insipid4 ,this would be an unsurmountable obstruction1 should any man of genius and taste endeavour to restore ancient simplicity4 ,in reviewing what is said above1 ,i am under some apprehension of an objection1 which1 as it may possibly occur to the reader1 ought to be obviated4 ,a mountain1 it will be observed1 is an agreeable object1 without so much as the appearance of regularity2 and a chain of mountains still more agreeable1 without being arranged in any order4 ,but these facts considered in a proper light1 afford not an objection4 ,regularity1 order1 and uniformity1 are intimately connected with beauty2 and in this view only1 have ,i treated them4 ,every regular object1 for example1 must in respect of its regularity be beautiful4 ,but ,i have not said1 that regularity1 order1 and uniformity1 are essential to beauty1 so as that it cannot exist without them4 ,the contrary appears in the beauty of colour4 ,far less have ,i said1 that an object cannot be agreeable in any respect independent of these qualities4 ,grandeur1 as distinguished from beauty1 requires very little regularity4 ,this will appear more fully when that article is handled4 ,in the mean time1 to show the difference betwixt beauty and grandeur with respect to regularity1 ,i shall give a few examples4 ,imagine a small body1 let it be a globe1 in a continual flux of figure1 from the most perfect regularity till there remain no appearance of that quality4 ,the beauty of this globe1 depending on its regular figure1 will gradually wear away with its regularity2 and when it is no longer regular1 it no longer will appear beautiful4 ,the next example shall be of the same globe1 gradually enlarging its size1 but retaining its figure4 ,in this body1 we at first perceive the beauty of regularity only4 ,but so soon as it begins to swell into a great size1 it appears agreeable by its greatness1 which joins with the beauty of regularity to make it a delightful object4 ,in the last place1 let it be imagined1 that the figure as well as the quantity of matter are in a continual flux2 and that the body1 while it increases in size1 becomes less and less regular1 till it lose altogether the appearance of that quality4 ,in this case1 the beauty of regularity wearing off gradually1 gives place to an agreeableness of a different sort1 viz4 that of greatness3 and at last the emotion arising from greatness will be in perfection1 when the beauty of regularity is gone4 ,hence it is1 that in a large object the want of regularity is not much regarded by the spectator who is struck with its grandeur4 ,a swelling eminence is agreeable1 though not strictly regular4 ,a towering hill is delightful1 if it have but any distant resemblance of a cone4 ,a small surface ought to be smooth2 but in a wide-extended plain1 considerable inequalities are overlooked4 ,this observation holds equally in works of art4 ,the slightest irregularity in a house of a moderate size hurts the eye2 while the mind1 struck with the grandeur of a superb edifice1 which occupies it totally1 cannot bear to descend to its irregularities unless extremely gross4 ,in a large volume we pardon many defects that would make an epigram intolerable4 ,in short1 the observation holds in general1 that beauty is connected with regularity in great objects as well as in small2 but with a remarkable difference1 that in passing from small to great1 regularity is less and less required4 ,the distinction betwixt primary and secondary qualities in matter1 seems now fully established4 ,heat and cold1 though seeming to exist in bodies1 are discovered to be effects caused by these bodies in a sensitive being4 ,colour1 which the eye represents as spread upon a substance1 has no existence but in the mind of the spectator4 ,perceptions of this kind1 which1 by a delusion of sense1 are attributed to external subjects1 are termed secondary qualities1 in contradistinction to figure1 extension1 solidity1 which are primary qualities1 and which are not separable1 even in imagination1 from the subjects they belong to4 ,this suggests a curious inquiry1 ,whether beauty be a primary or only a secondary quality of objects8 ,the question is easily determined with respect to the beauty of colour2 for if colour be a secondary quality existing no where but in the mind of the spectator1 its beauty must be of the same kind4 ,this conclusion must also hold with respect to the beauty of utility1 which is plainly a conception of the mind1 arising not merely from sight1 but from reflecting that the thing is fitted for some good end or purpose4 ,the question is more intricate with respect to the beauty of regularity4 ,if regularity be a primary quality1 why not also its beauty8 ,that this is not a good consequence1 will appear from considering1 that beauty1 in its very conception1 refers to a percipient2 for an object is said to be beautiful1 for no other reason but that it appears so to a spectator4 ,the same piece of matter which to man appears beautiful1 may possibly to another being appear ugly4 ,beauty therefore1 which for its existence depends upon the percipient as much as upon the object perceived1 cannot be an inherent property of either4 ,what else then can it be1 but a perception in the mind occasioned by certain objects8 ,the same reasoning is applicable to the beauty of order1 of uniformity1 of grandeur4 ,accordingly1 it may be pronounced in general1 that beauty in no case whatever is a real quality of matter4 ,and hence it is wittily observed by the poet1 that beauty is not in the countenance1 but in the lover's eye4 ,this reasoning is undoubtedly solid3 and the only cause of doubt or hesitation is1 that we are taught a different lesson by sense4 ,by a singular determination of nature1 we perceive both beauty and colour as belonging to the object2 and1 like figure or extension1 as inherent properties4 ,this mechanism is uncommon2 and when nature1 to fulfil her intention1 chuseth any singular method of operation1 we may be certain of some final cause that cannot be reached by ordinary means4 ,it appears to me1 that a perception of beauty in external objects1 is requisite to attach us to them4 ,doth not this mechanism1 in the first place1 greatly promote industry1 by prompting a desire to possess things that are beautiful8 ,doth it not further join with utility1 in prompting us to embellish our houses and enrich our fields8 ,these however are but slight effects1 compared with the connections which are formed among individuals in society by means of this singular mechanism4 ,the qualifications of the head and heart1 are undoubtedly the most solid and most permanent foundations of such connections4 ,but as external beauty lies more in view1 and is more obvious to the bulk of mankind than the qualities now mentioned1 the sense of beauty possesses the more universal influence in forming these connections4 ,at any rate1 it concurs in an eminent degree with mental qualifications1 to produce social intercourse1 mutual good-will1 and consequently mutual aid and support1 which are the life of society4 ,it must not however be overlooked1 that this sense doth not tend to advance the interests of society1 but when in a due mean with respect to strength4 ,love in particular arising from a sense of beauty1 loses1 when excessive1 its sociable character#ec4 ,the appetite for gratification1 prevailing over affection for the beloved object1 is ungovernable2 and tends violently to its end1 regardless of the misery that must follow4 ,love in this state is no longer a sweet agreeable passion4 ,it becomes painful like hunger or thirst2 and produceth no happiness but in the instant of fruition4 ,this discovery suggests a most important lesson1 that moderation in our desires and appetites1 which fits us for doing our duty1 contributes at the same time the most to happiness4 ,even social passions1 when moderate1 are more pleasant than when they swell beyond proper bounds4 ,,chap4 ,,iv4 ,grandeur and ,sublimity4 ,nature hath not more remarkably distinguished us from the other animals by an erect posture1 than by a capacious and aspiring mind1 inclining us to every thing great and elevated4 ,the ocean1 the sky1 or any large object1 seizes the attention1 and makes a strong impression#ed4 ,robes of state are made large and full to draw respect4 ,we admire elephants and whales for their magnitude1 notwithstanding their unwieldiness4 ,the elevation of an object affects us not less than its magnitude4 ,a high place is chosen for the statue of a deity or hero4 ,a tree growing upon the brink of a precipice viewed from the plain below1 affords by that circumstance an additional pleasure4 ,a throne is erected for the chief magistrate1 and a chair with a high seat for the president of a court4 ,in some objects1 greatness and elevation concur to make a complicated impression4 ,the ,alps and the pike of ,teneriff are proper examples2 with the following difference1 that in the former greatness seems to prevail1 elevation in the latter4 ,the emotions raised by great and by elevated objects1 are clearly distinguishable1 not only in the internal feeling1 but even in their external expressions4 ,a great object dilates the breast1 and makes the spectator endeavour to enlarge his bulk4 ,this is remarkable in persons1 who1 neglecting delicacy in behaviour1 give way to nature without reserve4 ,in describing a great object1 they naturally expand themselves by drawing in air with all their force4 ,an elevated object produces a different expression4 ,it makes the spectator stretch upward and stand a tiptoe4 ,great and elevated objects considered with relation to the emotions produced by them1 are termed grand and sublime4 ,grandeur and sublimity have a double signification4 ,they generally signify the quality or circumstance in the objects by which the emotions are produced2 sometimes the emotions themselves4 ,whether magnitude singly in an object of sight1 have the effect to produce an emotion distinguishable from the beauty or deformity of that object2 or whether it be only a circumstance modifying the beauty or deformity1 is an intricate question4 ,if magnitude produce an emotion of its own distinguishable from others1 this emotion must either be pleasant or painful4 ,but this seems to be contradicted by experience2 for magnitude1 as it would appear1 contributes in some instances to beauty1 in some to deformity4 ,a hill1 for instance1 is agreeable1 and a great mountain still more so4 ,but an ugly monster1 the larger1 the more horrid4 ,greatness in an enemy1 great power1 great courage1 serve but to augment our terror4 ,hath not this an appearance as if grandeur were not an emotion distinct from all others1 but only a circumstance that qualifies beauty and deformity8 ,i am notwithstanding satisfied1 that grandeur is an emotion1 not only distinct from all others1 but in every circumstance pleasant4 ,these propositions must be examined separately4 ,i begin with the former1 and shall endeavour to prove1 that magnitude produceth a peculiar emotion distinguishable from all others4 ,magnitude is undoubtedly a real property of bodies1 not less than figure1 and more than colour4 ,figure and colour1 even in the same body1 produce separate emotions1 which are never misapprehended one for the other4 ,why should not magnitude produce an emotion different from both8 ,that it has this effect1 will be evident from a plain experiment of two bodies1 one great and one little1 which produce different emotions1 though they be precisely the same as to figure and colour4 ,there is indeed an obscurity in this matter1 occasioned by the following circumstance1 that the grandeur and beauty of the same object mix so intimately as scarce to be distinguished4 ,but the beauty of colour comes in happily to enable us to make the distinction4 ,for the emotion of colour unites with that of figure1 not less intimately than grandeur does with either4 ,yet the emotion of colour is distinguishable from that of figure2 and so is grandeur1 attentively considered3 though when these three emotions are blended together1 they are scarce felt as different emotions4 ,next1 that grandeur is an emotion in every circumstance pleasant1 appears from the following considerations4 ,magnitude or greatness1 abstracted from all other circumstances1 swells the heart and dilates the mind4 ,we feel this to be a pleasant effect2 and we feel no such effect in contracting the mind upon little objects4 ,this may be illustrated by considering grandeur in an enemy4 ,beauty is an agreeable quality1 whether in a friend or enemy2 and when the emotion it raiseth is mixed with resentment against an enemy1 it must have the effect to moderate our resentment4 ,in the same manner1 grandeur in an enemy1 undoubtedly softens and blunts our resentment4 ,grandeur indeed may indirectly and by reflection produce an unpleasant effect4 ,grandeur in an enemy1 like courage1 may increase our fear1 when we consider the advantage he hath over us by this quality4 ,but the same indirect effect may be produced by many other agreeable qualities1 such as beauty or wisdom4 ,the magnitude of an ugly object1 serves1 it is true1 to augment our horror or aversion4 ,but this proceeds not from magnitude separately considered4 ,it proceeds from the following circumstance1 that in a large object a great quantity of ugly parts are presented to view4 ,the same chain of reasoning is so obviously applicable to sublimity1 that it would be losing time to show the application4 ,grandeur therefore and sublimity shall hereafter be considered both of them as pleasant emotions4 ,the pleasant emotion raised by large objects1 has not escaped the poets3 ---- ,he doth bestride the narrow world ,like a ,colossus2 and we petty men ,walk under his huge legs4 ,julius ,csar1 act ,i4 sc4 #c4 ,cleopatra4 ,i dreamt there was an ,emp'ror ,antony2 ,oh such another sleep1 that ,i might see ,but such another man6 ,his face was as the heav'ns3 and therein stuck ,a sun and moon1 which kept their course and lighted ,the little ,o o' th' earth4 ,his legs bestrid the ocean1 his rear'd arm ,crested the world4 ,antony and ,cleopatra1 act #e4 sc4 #c4 ---- ,majesty ,dies not alone1 but1 like a gulf1 doth draw ,what's near it with it4 ,it's a massy wheel ,fixt on the summit of the highest mount2 ,to whose huge spokes1 ten thousand lesser things ,are mortis'd and adjoin'd2 which when it falls1 ,each small annexment1 petty consequence1 ,attends the boist'rous ruin4 ,hamlet1 act #c4 sc4 #h4 ,the poets have also made good use of the emotion produced by the elevated situation of an object4 ,quod si me lyricis varibus inferes1 ,sublimi feriam sidera vertice4 ,horace1 ,carm4 l4 #a4 ode #a4 ,oh thou6 the earthly author of my blood1 ,whose youthful spirit1 in me regenerate1 ,doth with a twofold vigour lift me up1 ,to reach at victory above my head4 ,richard ,,ii4 act #a4 sc4 #d4 ,northumberland1 thou ladder wherewithal ,the mounting ,bolingbroke ascends my throne4 ,richard ,,ii4 act #e4 sc4 #b4 ,anthony4 ,why was ,i rais'd the meteor of the world1 ,hung in the skies and blazing as ,i travell'd1 ,till all my fires were spent2 and then cast downward ,to be trod out by ,csar8 ,dryden1 ,all for love1 act #a4 ,though the quality of magnitude produceth a pleasant emotion1 we must not conclude that the opposite quality of littleness produceth a painful emotion4 ,it would be unhappy for man1 were an object disagreeable from its being of a small size merely1 when he is surrounded with so many objects of that kind4 ,the same observation is applicable to elevation of place4 ,a body placed high is agreeable2 but the same body placed low1 is not by that circumstance rendered disagreeable4 ,littleness1 and lowness of place1 are precisely similar in the following particular1 that they neither give pleasure nor pain4 ,and in this may visibly be discovered peculiar attention in fitting the internal constitution of man to his external circumstances4 ,were littleness1 and lowness of place agreeable1 greatness and elevation could not be so4 ,were littleness1 and lowness of place disagreeable1 they would occasion uninterrupted uneasiness4 ,the difference betwixt great and little with respect to agreeableness1 is remarkably felt in a series when we pass gradually from the one extreme to the other4 ,a mental progress from the capital to the kingdom1 from that to ,europe--to the whole earth--to the planetary system--to the universe1 is extremely pleasant3 the heart swells and the mind is dilated1 at every step4 ,the returning in an opposite direction is not positively painful1 though our pleasure lessens at every step1 till it vanish into indifference4 ,such a progress may sometimes produce a pleasure of a different sort1 which arises from taking a narrower and narrower inspection4 ,the same observation is applicable to a progress upward and downward4 ,ascent is pleasant because it elevates us4 ,but descent is never painful3 it is for the most part pleasant from a different cause1 that it is according to the order of nature4 ,the fall of a stone from any height1 is extremely agreeable by its accelerated motion4 ,i feel it pleasant to descend from a mountain3 the descent is natural and easy4 ,neither is looking downward painful4 ,on the contrary1 to look down upon objects1 makes part of the pleasure of elevation4 ,looking down becomes then only painful when the object is so far below as to create dizziness3 and even when that is the case1 we feel a sort of pleasure mixt with the pain4 ,witness ,shakespear's description of ,dover cliffs3 ---- ,how fearful ,and dizzy 'tis1 to cast one's eyes so low6 ,the crows and choughs1 that wing the midway-air1 ,shew scarce so gross as beetles4 ,half-way down ,hangs one1 that gathers samphire2 dreadful trade6 ,methinks he seems no bigger than his head4 ,the fishermen that walk upon the beach1 ,appear like mice2 and yon tall anchoring bark ,diminish'd to her cock2 her cock1 a buoy ,almost too small for sight4 ,the murmuring surge1 ,that on th' unnumber'd idle pebbles chafes1 ,cannot be heard so high4 ,i'll look no more1 ,lest my brain turn1 and the deficient sight ,topple down headlong4 ,king ,lear1 act #d4 sc4 #f4 ,an observation is made above1 that the emotions of grandeur and sublimity are nearly allied4 ,hence it is1 that the one term is frequently put for the other4 ,i give an example4 ,an increasing series of numbers produceth an emotion similar to that of mounting upward1 and for that reason is commonly termed an ascending series4 ,a series of numbers gradually decreasing1 produceth an emotion similar to that of going downward1 and for that reason is commonly termed a descending series4 ,we talk familiarly of going up to the capital1 and of going down to the country4 ,from a lesser kingdom we talk of going up to a greater1 whence the anabasis in the ,greek language when one travels from ,greece to ,persia4 ,we discover the same way of speaking in the language even of ,japan#ee2 and its universality proves it the offspring of a natural feeling4 ,the foregoing observation leads us naturally to consider grandeur and sublimity in a figurative sense1 and as applicable to the fine arts4 ,hitherto ,i have considered these terms in their proper meaning1 as applicable to objects of sight only3 and ,i thought it of importance1 to bestow some pains upon that article2 because1 generally speaking1 the figurative sense of a word is derived from its proper sense2 which will be found to hold in the present subject4 ,beauty in its original signification1 is confined to objects of sight4 ,but as many other objects1 intellectual as well as moral1 raise emotions resembling that of beauty1 the resemblance of the effects prompts us naturally to extend the term beauty to these objects4 ,this equally accounts for the terms grandeur and sublimity taken in a figurative sense4 ,every emotion1 from whatever cause proceeding1 that resembles an emotion of grandeur or elevation1 is called by the same name4 ,thus generosity is said to be an elevated emotion1 as well as great courage2 and that firmness of soul which is superior to misfortunes1 obtains the peculiar name of magnanimity4 ,on the other hand1 every emotion that contracts the mind and fixeth it upon things trivial or of no importance1 is termed low1 by its resemblance to an emotion produced by a little or low object of sight4 ,thus an appetite for trifling amusements1 is called a low taste4 ,the same terms are applied to characters and actions4 ,we talk familiarly of an elevated genius1 of a great man1 and equally so of littleness of mind4 ,some actions are great and elevated1 others are low and groveling4 ,sentiments and even expressions are characterised in the same manner4 ,an expression or sentiment that raises the mind1 is denominated great or elevated2 and hence the sublime#ef in poetry4 ,in such figurative terms1 the distinction is lost that is made betwixt great and elevated in their proper sense2 for the resemblance is not so entire1 as to preserve these terms distinct in their figurative application4 ,we carry this figure still farther4 ,elevation in its proper sense1 includes superiority of place2 and lowness1 inferiority of place4 ,hence a man of superior talents1 of superior rank1 of inferior parts1 of inferior taste1 and such like4 ,the veneration we have for our ancestors and for the ancients in general1 being similar to the emotion produced by an elevated object of sight1 justifies the figurative expression1 of the ancients being raised above us1 or possessing a superior place4 ,and we may remark by the way1 that as words are intimately connected with ideas1 many1 by this form of expression1 are led to conceive their ancestors as really above them in place1 and their posterity below them3 ,a grandam's name is little less in love ,than is the doting title of a mother3 ,they are as children but one step below4 ,richard ,,iii4 act #d4 sc4 #e4 ,the notes of the gamut1 proceeding regularly from the blunter or grosser sounds to those which are more acute and piercing1 produce in the hearer a feeling somewhat similar to what is produced by mounting upward2 and this gives occasion to the figurative expressions1 a high note1 a low note4 ,such is the resemblance in feeling betwixt real and figurative grandeur1 that among the nations on the east coast of ,afric1 who are directed purely by nature1 the different dignities of the officers of state are marked by the length of the batoon each carries in his hand4 ,and in ,japan1 princes and great lords shew their rank by the length and size of their sedan-poles#eg4 ,again1 it is a rule in painting1 that figures of a small size are proper for grotesque pieces2 but that in an historical subject1 which is grand and important1 the figures ought to be as great as the life4 ,the resemblance of these feelings is in reality so strong1 that elevation in a figurative sense is observed to have the same effect even externally1 that real elevation has3 ,k4 ,henry4 ,this day is call'd the feast of ,crispian4 ,he that outlives this day1 and comes safe home1 ,will stand a tiptoe when this day is nam'd1 ,and rouse him at the name of ,crispian4 ,henry ,v4 act #d4 sc4 #h4 ,the resemblance in feeling betwixt real and figurative grandeur1 is humorously illustrated by ,addison in criticising upon the ,english tragedy4 8,the ordinary method of making an hero1 is to clap a huge plume of feathers upon his head1 which rises so high1 that there is often a greater length from his chin to the top of his head1 than to the sole of his foot4 ,one would believe1 that we thought a great man and a tall man the same thing4 ,as these superfluous ornaments upon the head make a great man1 a princess generally receives her grandeur from those additional incumbrances that fall into her tail4 ,i mean the broad sweeping train that follows her in all her motions1 and finds constant employment for a boy who stands behind her to open and spread it to advantage#eh40 ,the ,scythians1 impressed with the fame of ,alexander1 were astonished when they found him a little man4 ,a gradual progress from small to great1 is not less remarkable in figurative than in real grandeur or elevation4 ,every one must have observed the delightful effect of a number of thoughts or sentiments1 artfully disposed like an ascending series1 and making impressions stronger and stronger4 ,such disposition of members in a period1 is distinguished by a proper name1 being termed a climax4 ,in order to have a just conception of grandeur and sublimity1 it is necessary to be observed1 that within certain limits they produce their strongest effects1 which lessen by excess as well as by defect4 ,this is remarkable in grandeur and sublimity taken in their proper sense4 ,the strongest emotion of grandeur is raised by an object that can be taken in at one view4 ,an object so immense as not to be comprehended but in parts1 tends rather to distract than satisfy the mind#ei4 ,in like manner1 the strongest emotion produced by elevation is where the object is seen distinctly4 ,a greater elevation lessens in appearance the object1 till it vanish out of sight with its pleasant emotion4 ,the same is equally remarkable in figurative grandeur and elevation1 which shall be handled together1 because1 as observed above1 they are scarce distinguishable4 ,sentiments may be so strained1 as to become obscure1 or to exceed the capacity of the human mind4 ,against such licence of imagination1 every good writer will be upon his guard4 ,and therefore it is of greater importance to observe1 that even the true sublime may be carried beyond that pitch which produces the highest entertainment4 ,we are undoubtedly susceptible of a greater elevation than can be inspired by human actions the most heroic and magnanimous2 witness what we feel from ,milton's description of superior beings4 ,yet every man must be sensible of a more constant and pleasant elevation1 when the history of his own species is the subject4 ,he enjoys an elevation equal to that of the greatest hero1 of an ,alexander or a ,csar1 of a ,brutus or an ,epaminondas4 ,he accompanies these heroes in their sublimest sentiments and most hazardous exploits1 with a magnanimity equal to theirs2 and finds it no stretch to preserve the same tone of mind for hours together1 without sinking4 ,the case is by no means the same in describing the actions or qualities of superior beings4 ,the reader's imagination cannot keep pace with that of the poet2 and the mind1 unable to support itself in a strained elevation1 falls as from a height2 and the fall is immoderate like the elevation4 ,where this effect is not felt1 it must be prevented by some obscurity in the conception1 which frequently attends the description of unknown objects4 ,on the other hand1 objects of sight that are not remarkably great or high1 scarce raise any emotion of grandeur or sublimity2 and the same holds in other objects4 ,the mind is often roused and animated without being carried to the height of grandeur or sublimity4 ,this difference may be discerned in many sorts of music1 as well as in some musical instruments4 ,a kettledrum rouses1 and a hautboy is animating2 but neither of them inspire an emotion of sublimity4 ,revenge animates the mind in a considerable degree2 but ,i think it never produceth an emotion that can be termed grand or sublime2 and ,i shall have occasion afterward to observe1 that no disagreeable passion ever has this effect4 ,i am willing to put this to the test1 by placing before my reader the most spirited picture of revenge ever drawn4 ,it is a speech of ,antony wailing over the body of ,csar4 ,wo to the hand that shed this costly blood6 ,over thy wounds now do ,i prophesy1 7,which1 like dumb mouths1 do ope their ruby lips1 ,to beg the voice and utterance of my tongue71 ,a curse shall light upon the kind of men2 ,domestic fury1 and fierce civil strife1 ,shall cumber all the parts of ,italy2 ,blood and destruction shall be so in use1 ,and dreadful objects so familiar1 ,that mothers shall but smile1 when they behold ,their infants quarter'd by the hands of war1 ,all pity choak'd with custom of fell deeds4 ,and ,csar's spirit1 ranging for revenge1 ,with ,at by his side come hot from hell1 ,shall in these confines1 with a monarch's voice1 ,cry ,havock1 and let slip the dogs of war4 ,julius ,csar1 act #c4 sc4 #d4 ,when the sublime is carried to its due height and circumscribed within proper bounds1 it inchants the mind and raises the most delightful of all emotions4 ,the reader1 ingrossed by a sublime object1 feels himself raised as it were to a higher rank4 ,when such is the case1 it is not wonderful that the history of conquerors and heroes should be universally the favourite entertainment4 ,and this fairly accounts for what ,i once erroneously suspected to be a wrong bias originally in human nature4 ,the grossest acts of oppression and injustice1 scarce blemish the character of a great conqueror4 ,we notwithstanding warmly espouse his interest1 accompany him in his exploits1 and are anxious for his success4 ,the splendor and enthusiasm of the hero transfused into the readers1 elevate their minds far above the rules of justice1 and render them in a great measure insensible of the wrong that is done3 ,for in those days might only shall be admir'd ,and valour and heroic virtue call'd2 ,to overcome in battle1 and subdue ,nations1 and bring home spoils with infinite ,manslaughter1 shall be held the highest pitch ,of human glory1 and for glory done ,of triumph1 to be styl'd great conquerors1 ,patrons of mankind1 gods1 and sons of gods4 ,destroyers rightlier called1 and plagues of men4 ,thus fame shall be atchiev'd1 renown on earth1 ,and what most merits fame in silence hid4 ,milton1 b4 #aa4 ,the attachment we have to things grand or lofty may be thought to proceed from an unwearied inclination we have to be exalted4 ,no desire is more universal than to be respected and honoured4 ,upon that account chiefly1 are we ambitious of power1 riches1 titles1 fame1 which would suddenly lose their relish1 did they not raise us above others1 and command submission and deference#fj4 ,but the preference given to things grand and sublime must have a deeper root in human nature4 ,many bestow their time upon low and trifling amusements1 without showing any desire to be exalted4 ,yet these very persons talk the same language with the rest of mankind2 and at least in their judgement1 if not in their taste1 prefer the more elevated pleasures4 ,they acknowledge a more refined taste1 and are ashamed of their own as low and groveling4 ,this sentiment1 constant and universal1 must be the work of nature2 and it plainly indicates an original attachment in human nature to every object that elevates the mind4 ,some men may have a greater relish for an object not of the highest rank3 but they are conscious of the common nature of man1 and that it ought not to be subjected to their peculiar taste4 ,the irregular influence of grandeur1 reaches also to other matters4 ,however good1 honest1 or useful1 a man may be1 he is not so much respected1 as one of a more elevated character is1 though of less integrity2 nor do the misfortunes of the former affect us so much as those of the latter4 ,i add1 because it cannot be disguised1 that the remorse which attends breach of engagement1 is in a great measure proportioned to the figure that the injured person makes4 ,the vows and protestations of lovers are an illustrious example of this observation2 for these commonly are little regarded when made to women of inferior rank4 ,what ,i have said suggests a capital rule for reaching the sublime in such works of art as are susceptible of it2 and that is1 to put in view those parts or circumstances only which make the greatest figure1 keeping out of sight every thing that is low or trivial4 ,such judicious selection of capital circumstances1 is by an eminent critic styled grandeur of manner#fa4 ,the mind1 from an elevation inspired by important objects1 cannot1 without reluctance1 be forced down to bestow any share of its attention upon trifles4 ,in none of the fine arts is there so great scope for this rule as in poetry1 which1 by that means1 enjoys a remarkable power of bestowing upon objects and events an air of grandeur4 ,when we are spectators1 every minute object presents itself in its order4 ,but in describing at second hand1 these are laid aside1 and the capital objects are brought close together4 ,a judicious taste in selecting1 after this manner1 the most interesting incidents to give them an united force1 accounts for a fact which at first sight may appear surprising1 that we are more moved by a poetical narrative at second hand1 than when we are spectators of the event itself in all its circumstanccs4 ,longinus exemplifies the foregoing rule by a comparison of two passages#fb4 ,the first from ,aristus is thus translated4 ,ye pow'rs1 what madness6 how on ships so frail 7,tremendous thought67 can thoughtless mortals sail8 ,for stormy seas they quit the pleasing plain1 ,plant woods in waves and dwell amidst the main4 ,far o'er the deep 7a trackless path7 they go1 ,and wander oceans in pursuit of wo4 ,no ease their hearts1 no rest their eyes can find1 ,on heaven their looks1 and on the waves their mind4 ,sunk are their spirits1 while their arms they rear1 ,and gods are wearied with their fruitless prayer4 ,the other from ,homer ,i shall give in ,pope's translation4 ,bursts as a wave that from the cloud impends1 ,and swell'd with tempests on the ship descends4 ,white are the decks with foam3 the winds aloud ,howl o'er the masts1 and sing through every shrowd4 ,pale1 trembling1 tir'd1 the sailors freeze with fears1 ,and instant death on every wave appears4 ,in the latter passage1 the most striking circumstances are selected to fill the mind with the grand and terrible4 ,the former is a collection of minute and low circumstances1 which scatter the thought and make no impression4 ,the passage at the same time is full of verbal antitheses and low conceit1 extremely improper in a scene of distress4 ,but this last observation is made occasionally only1 as it belongs not to the present subject4 ,the following passage from the twenty-first book of the ,odyssey1 deviates widely from the rule above laid down4 ,it concerns that part of the history of ,penelope and her suitors1 in which she is made to declare in favour of him who should prove the most dexterous in shooting with the bow of ,ulysses4 ,now gently winding up the fair ascent1 ,by many an easy step1 the matron went3 ,then o'er the pavement glides with grace divine1 7,with polish'd oak the level pavements shine72 ,the folding gates a dazling light display'd1 ,with pomp of various architrave o'erlay'd4 ,the bolt1 obedient to the silken string1 ,forsakes the staple as she pulls the ring2 ,the wards respondent to the key turn round2 ,the bars fall back2 the flying valves resound4 ,loud as a bull makes hill and valley ring2 ,so roar'd the lock when it releas'd the spring4 ,she moves majestic through the wealthy room ,where treasur'd garments cast a rich perfume2 ,there from the column where aloft it hung1 ,reach'd1 in its splendid case1 the bow unstrung4 ,virgil sometimes errs against this rule4 ,in the following passages minute circumstances are brought into full view2 and what is still worse1 they are described in all the sublimity of poetical description4 neid1 ,l4 #a4 l4 #bad4 to #bai4 ,l4 #f4 l4 #agf4 to #ahb4 ,l4 #f4 l4 #bab4 to #bca4 ,and the last1 which is a description of a funeral1 is the less excuseable1 as it relates to a man who makes no figure in the poem4 ,the speech of ,clytemnestra1 descending from her chariot in the ,iphigenia of ,euripides1 beginning of act #c4 is stuffed with a number of low1 common1 and trivial circumstances4 ,but of all writers ,lucan in this article is the most injudicious4 ,the sea-fight betwixt the ,romans and ,massilians#fc1 is described so much in detail without exhibiting any grand or general view1 that the reader is quite fatigued with endless circumstances1 and never feels any degree of elevation4 ,and yet there are some fine incidents1 those for example of the two brothers1 and of the old man and his son1 which1 separated from the rest1 would affect us greatly4 ,but ,lucan once engaged in a description1 knows no bounds4 ,see other passages of the same kind1 ,l4 #d4 l4 #bib4 to #ccg4 ,l4 #d4 l4 #gej4 to #gfe4 ,the episode of the sorceress ,erictho1 end of book #f4 is intolerably minute and prolix4 ,to these ,i venture to oppose a passage from an old historical ballad3 ,go1 little page1 tell ,hardiknute ,that lives on hill so high#fd1 ,to draw his sword1 the dread of faes1 ,and haste to follow me4 ,the little page flew swift as dart ,flung by his master's arm4 ,come down1 come down1 ,lord ,hardiknute1 ,and rid your king from harm4 ,this rule is also applicable to other fine arts4 ,in painting it is established1 that the principal figure must be put in the strongest light2 that the beauty of attitude consists in placing the nobler parts most in view1 and in suppressing the smaller parts as much as possible2 that the folds of the drapery must be few and large2 that foreshortenings are bad1 because they make the parts appear little2 and that the muscles ought to be kept as entire as possible1 without being divided into small sections4 ,every one at present is sensible of the importance of this rule when applied to gardening1 in opposition to the antiquated taste of parterres split into a thousand small parts in the strictest regularity of figure4 ,those who have succeeded best in architecture1 have governed themselves by this rule in all their models4 ,another rule chiefly regards the sublime1 though it may be applied to every literary performance intended for amusement2 and that is1 to avoid as much as possible abstract and general terms4 ,such terms1 perfectly well fitted for reasoning and for conveying instruction1 serve but imperfectly the ends of poetry4 ,they stand upon the same footing with mathematical signs1 contrived to express our thoughts in a concise manner4 ,but images1 which are the life of poetry1 cannot be raised in any perfection1 otherwise than by introducing particular objects4 ,general terms1 that comprehend a number of individuals1 must be excepted from this rule4 ,our kindred1 our clan1 our country1 and words of the like import1 though they scarce raise any image1 have notwithstanding a wonderful power over our passions4 ,the greatness of the complex object over-balances the obscurity of the image4 ,what ,i have further to say upon this subject1 shall be comprehended in a few observations4 ,a man is capable of being raised so much above his ordinary pitch by an emotion of grandeur1 that it is extremely difficult by a single thought or expression to produce that emotion in perfection4 ,the rise must be gradual and the result of reiterated impressions4 ,the effect of a single expression can be but momentary2 and if one feel suddenly somewhat like a swelling or exaltation of mind1 the emotion vanisheth as soon as felt4 ,single expressions1 ,i know1 are often justly cited as examples of the sublime4 ,but then their effect is nothing compared with a grand subject displayed in its capital parts4 ,i shall give a few examples1 that the reader may judge for himself4 ,in the famous action of ,thermopyl1 where ,leonidas the ,spartan ,king with his chosen band fighting for their country1 were cut off to the last man1 a saying is reported of ,dieneces one of the band1 which1 expressing chearful and undisturbed bravery1 is well intitled to the first place in examples of this kind4 ,talking of the number of their enemies1 it was observed1 that the arrows shot by such a multitude would intercept the light of the sun4 ,so much the better1 says he2 for we shall then fight in the shade#fe4 ,somerset4 ,ah6 ,warwick1 ,warwick1 wert thou as we are1 ,we might recover all our loss again4 ,the ,queen from ,france hath brought a puissant power1 ,ev'n now we heard the news4 ,ah6 couldst thou fly6 ,warwick4 ,why1 then ,i would not fly4 ,third part1 ,henry ,,vi4 act #e4 sc4 #c4 ,such a sentiment from a man expiring of his wounds1 is truly heroic1 and must elevate the mind to the greatest height that can be done by a single expression4 ,it will not suffer in a comparison with the famous sentiment ,qu'il mourut in ,corneille's ,horace4 ,the latter is a sentiment of indignation merely1 the former of invincible fortitude4 ,in opposition to these examples1 to cite many a sublime passage1 enriched with the finest images1 and dressed in the most nervous expressions1 would scarce be fair4 ,i shall produce but one instance from ,shakespear1 which sets a few objects before the eye1 without much pomp of language4 ,it works its effect1 by representing these objects in a climax1 raising the mind higher and higher till it feel the emotion of grandeur in perfection4 ,the cloud-capt tow'rs1 the gorgeous palaces1 ,the solemn temples1 the great globe itself1 ,yea all which it inherit1 shall dissolve1 c4 ,the cloud-capt tow'rs produce an elevating emotion1 heightened by the gorgeous palaces4 ,and the mind is carried still higher and higher by the images that follow4 ,successive images1 making thus stronger and stronger impressions1 must elevate more than any single image can do4 ,i proceed to another observation4 ,in the chapter of beauty it is remarked1 that regularity is required in small figures1 and order in small groups2 but that in advancing gradually from small to great1 regularity and order are less and less required4 ,this remark serves to explain the extreme delight we have in viewing the face of nature1 when sufficiently enriched and diversified by objects4 ,the bulk of the objects seen in a natural landscape are beautiful1 and some of them grand4 ,a flowing river1 a spreading oak1 a round hill1 an extended plain1 are delightful2 and even a rugged rock or barren heath1 though in themselves disagreeable1 contribute by contrast to the beauty of the whole4 ,joining to these1 the verdure of the fields1 the mixture of light and shade1 and the sublime canopy spread over all2 it will not appear wonderful1 that so extensive a group of glorious objects should swell the heart to its utmost bounds1 and raise the strongest emotion of grandeur4 ,the spectator is conscious of an enthusiasm1 which cannot bear confinement nor the strictness of regularity and order4 ,he loves to range at large2 and is so inchanted with shining objects1 as to neglect slight beauties or defects4 ,thus it is1 that the delightful emotion of grandeur1 depends little on order and regularity4 ,and when the emotion is at its height by a survey of the greatest objects1 order and regularity are almost totally disregarded4 ,the same observation is applicable in some measure to works of art4 ,in a small building the slightest irregularity is disagreeable4 ,in a magnificent palace or a large ,gothic church1 irregularities are less regarded4 ,in an epic poem we pardon many negligences1 which would be intolerable in a sonnet or epigram4 ,notwithstanding such exceptions1 it may be justly laid down for a rule1 ,that in all works of art1 order and regularity ought to be governing principles4 ,and hence the observation of ,longinus#ff1 8,in works of art we have regard to exact proportion2 in those of nature1 to grandeur and magnificence40 ,i shall add but one other observation1 ,that no means can be more successfully employed to sink and depress the mind than grandeur or sublimity4 ,by the artful introduction of an humbling object1 the fall is great in proportion to the former elevation4 ,of this doctrine ,shakespear affords us a beautiful illustration1 in a passage part of which is cited above for another purpose3 ,the cloud-capt tow'rs1 the gorgeous palaces1 ,the solemn temples1 the great globe itself1 ,yea all which it inherit1 shall dissolve1 ,and like the baseless fabric of a vision ,leave not a rack behind---- ,tempest1 act #d4 sc4 #d4 ,the elevation of the mind in the former part of this beautiful passage1 makes the fall great in proportion when the most humbling of all images is introduced1 that of an utter dissolution of the earth and its inhabitants4 ,a sentiment makes not the same impression in a cool state1 that it does when the mind is warmed2 and a depressing or melancholy sentiment makes the strongest impression1 when it brings down the mind from its highest state of elevation or chearfulness4 ,this indirect effect of elevation to sink the mind1 is sometimes produced without the intervention of any humbling image4 ,there was occasion above to remark1 that in describing superior beings1 the reader's imagination1 unable to support itself in a strained elevation1 falls often as from a height1 and sinks even below its ordinary tone4 ,the following instance comes luckily in view2 for a better illustration cannot be given3 8,god said1 ,let there be light1 and there was light40 ,longinus cites this passage from ,moses as a shining example of the sublime2 and it is scarce possible in fewer words1 to convey so clear an image of the infinite power of the ,deity4 ,but then it belongs to the present subject to remark1 that the emotion of sublimity raised by this image is but momentary2 and that the mind1 unable to support itself in an elevation so much above nature1 immediately sinks down into humility and veneration for a being so far exalted above us groveling mortals4 ,every one is acquainted with a dispute about this passage betwixt two ,french critics#fg1 the one positively affirming1 the other as positively denying1 it to be sublime4 ,what ,i have opened1 shows that both of them have reached the truth1 but neither of them the whole truth4 ,every one of taste must be sensible1 that the primary effect of this passage is an emotion of grandeur4 ,this so far justifies ,boileau4 ,but then every one of taste must be equally sensible1 that the emotion is merely a flash1 which vanisheth instantly1 and gives way to the deepest humility and veneration4 ,this indirect effect of sublimity1 justifies ,huet on the other hand1 who being a man of true piety1 and perhaps of inferior imagination1 felt the humbling passions more sensibly than his antagonist4 ,and even laying aside any peculiarity of character1 ,huet's opinion may ,i think be defended as the more solid2 upon the following account1 that in such images1 the depressing emotions are the more sensibly felt1 and have the longer endurance4 ,the straining an elevated subject beyond due bounds and beyond the reach of an ordinary conception1 is not a vice so frequent as to require the correction of criticism4 ,but false sublime is a rock which writers of more fire than judgement generally split on4 ,and therefore a collection of examples may be of use as a beacon to future adventurers4 ,one species of false sublime1 known by the name of bon bast1 is common among writers of a mean genius4 ,it is a serious endeavour1 by strained description1 to raise a low or familiar subject above its rank2 which instead of being sublime1 never fails to be ridiculous4 ,i am extremely sensible how prone the mind is1 in some animating passions1 to magnify its objects beyond natural bounds4 ,but such hyperbolical description has its limits4 ,if carried beyond the impulse of the propensity1 the colouring no longer pleases3 it degenerates into the burlesque4 ,take the following examples4 ,sejanus4---- ,great and high ,the world knows only two1 that's ,rome and ,i4 ,my roof receives me not2 'tis air ,i tread1 ,and at each step ,i feel my advanc'd head ,knock out a star in heav'n4 ,sejanus1 ,ben ,johnson1 act #e4 ,a writer who has no natural elevation of genius1 is extremely apt to deviate into bombast4 ,he strains above his genius2 and the violent effort he makes carries him generally beyond the bounds of propriety4 ,boileau expresses this happily3 ,l'autre peur de ramper1 il se perd dans la nue#fh4 ,the same author ,ben ,johnson abounds in the bombast3 ---- ,the mother1 ,th'expulsed ,apicata1 finds them there2 ,whom when she saw lie spread on the degrees1 ,after a world of fury on herself1 ,tearing her hair1 defacing of her face1 ,beating her breasts and womb1 kneeling amaz'd4 ,crying to heav'n1 then to them2 at last ,her drowned voice got up above her woes3 ,and with such black and bitter execrations1 7,as might affright the gods1 and force the sun ,run backward to the east2 nay1 make the old ,deformed ,chaos rise again t' o'erwhelm ,them1 us1 and all the world7 she fills the air1 ,upbraids the heavens with their partial dooms1 ,defies their tyrannous powers1 and demands ,what she and those poor innocents have transgress'd1 ,that they must suffer such a share in vengeance4 ,sejanus1 act #e4 sc4 last4 ---- ,lentulus1 the man1 ,if all our fire were out1 would fetch down new1 ,out of the hand of ,jove2 and rivet him ,to ,caucasus1 should he but frown2 and let ,his own gaunt eagle fly at him to tire4 ,catiline1 act #c4 ,can these1 or such1 be any aids to us8 ,look they as they were built to shake the world1 ,or be a moment to our enterprise8 ,a thousand1 such as they are1 could not make ,one atom of our souls4 ,they should be men ,worth heaven's fear1 that looking up1 but thus1 ,would make ,jove stand upon his guard1 and draw ,himself within his thunder2 which1 amaz'd1 ,he should discharge in vain1 and they unhurt4 ,or1 if they were1 like ,capaneus at ,thebes1 ,they should hang dead upon the highest spires1 ,and ask the second bolt to be thrown down4 ,why ,lentulus talk you so long8 ,this time ,had been enough t' have scatter'd all the stars1 ,t' have quench'd the sun and moon1 and made the world ,despair of day1 or any light but ours4 ,catiline1 act #d4 ,this is the language of a madman3 ,guilford4 ,give way1 and let the gushing torrent come1 ,behold the tears we bring to swell the deluge1 ,till the flood rise upon the guilty world ,and make the ruin common4 ,lady ,jane ,gray1 act #d4 near the end4 ,another species of false sublime1 is still more faulty than bombast2 and that is1 to force an elevation by introducing imaginary beings without preserving any propriety in their actions2 as if it were lawful to ascribe every extravagance and inconsistence to beings of the poet's creation4 ,no writers are more licentious in this article than ,johnson and ,dryden4 ,methinks ,i see ,death and the furies waiting ,what we will do1 and all the heaven at leisure ,for the great spectacle4 ,draw then your swords3 ,and if our destiny envy our virtue ,the honour of the day1 yet let us care ,to sell ourselves at such a price1 as may ,undo the world to buy us1 and make ,fate1 ,while she tempts ours1 to fear her own estate4 ,catiline1 act #e4 ---- ,the furies stood on hills ,circling the place1 and trembled to see men ,do more than they3 whilst ,piety left the field1 ,griev'd for that side1 that in so bad a cause ,they knew not what a crime their valour was4 ,the ,sun stood still1 and was1 behind the cloud ,the battle made1 seen sweating to drive up ,his frighted horse1 whom still the noise drove backward4 ,ibid4 act4 #e4 ,osmyn4 ,while we indulge our common happiness1 ,he is forgot by whom we all possess1 ,the brave ,almanzor1 to whose arms we owe ,all that we did1 and all that we shall do2 ,who like a tempest that outrides the wind1 ,made a just battle ere the bodies join'd4 ,abdalla4 ,his victories we scarce could keep in view1 ,or polish 'em so fast as he rough drew4 ,abdemelech4 ,fate after him below with pain did move1 ,and ,victory could scarce keep pace above4 ,death did at length so many slain forget1 ,and lost the tale1 and took 'em by the great4 ,conquest of ,granada1 act4 #b4 at beginning4 ,the gods of ,rome fight for ye2 loud ,fame calls ye1 ,pitch'd on the topless ,apenine1 and blows ,to all the under world1 all nations1 ,the seas and unfrequented deserts1 where the snow dwells1 ,wakens the ruin'd monuments1 and there ,where nothing but eternal death and sleep is1 ,informs again the dead bones4 ,beaumont and ,fletcher1 ,bonduca1 act4 #c4 sc4 #c4 ,i close with the following observation1 ,that an actor upon the stage may be guilty of bombast as well as an author in his closet4 ,a certain manner of acting1 which is grand when supported by dignity in the sentiment and force in the expression1 is ridiculous where the sentiment is mean1 and the expression flat4 ,,chap4 ,v4 ,motion and ,force4 ,that motion is agreeable to the eye without relation to purpose or design1 may appear from the amusement it gives to infants4 ,juvenile exercises are relished chiefly upon that account4 ,if to see a body in motion be agreeable1 one will be apt to conclude1 that to see it at rest is disagreeable4 ,but we learn from experience1 that this would be a rash conclusion4 ,rest is one of those circumstances that are neither agreeable nor disagreeable4 ,it is viewed with perfect indifferency4 ,and happy it is for mankind that the matter is so ordered4 ,if rest were agreeable1 it would disincline us to motion1 by which all things are performed4 ,if it were disagreeable1 it would be a source of perpetual uneasiness2 for the bulk of the things we see appear to be at rest4 ,a similar instance of designing wisdom ,i have had occasion to explain1 in opposing grandeur to littleness1 and elevation to lowness of place#fi4 ,even in the simplest matters1 the finger of ,god is conspicuous4 ,the happy adjustment of the internal nature of man to his external circumstances1 displayed in the instances here given1 is indeed admirable4 ,motion is certainly agreeable in all its varieties of quickness and slowness4 ,but motion long continued admits some exceptions4 ,that degree of continued motion which corresponds to the natural course of our perceptions1 is the most agreeable#gj4 ,the quickest motion is for an instant delightful4 ,but it soon appears to be too rapid4 ,it becomes painful1 by forcibly accelerating the course of our perceptions4 ,slow continued motion becomes disagreeable for an opposite reason1 that it retards the natural course of our perceptions4 ,there are other varieties in motion1 beside quickness and slowness1 that make it more or less agreeable4 ,regular motion is preferred before what is irregular1 witness the motion of the planets in orbits nearly circular4 ,the motion of the comets in orbits less regular1 is less agreeable4 ,motion uniformly accelerated1 resembling an ascending series of numbers1 is more agreeable than when uniformly retarded4 ,motion upward is agreeable by the elevation of the moving body4 ,what then shall we say of downward motion regularly accelerated by the force of gravity1 compared with upward motion regularly retarded by the same force8 ,which of these is the most agreeable8 ,this question is not easily solved4 ,motion in a straight line is no doubt agreeable4 ,but we prefer undulating motion1 as of waves1 of a flame1 of a ship under sail4 ,such motion is more free1 and also more natural4 ,hence the beauty of a serpentine river4 ,the easy and sliding motion of fluids1 from the lubricity and incoherence of their parts1 is agreeable upon that account4 ,but the agreeableness chiefly depends upon the following circumstance1 that the motion is perceived1 not as of one body1 but as of an endless number moving together with order and regularity4 ,poets struck with this beauty1 draw more images from fluids than from solids4 ,force is of two kinds2 one quiescent1 and one exerted by motion4 ,the former1 dead weight for example1 must be laid aside2 for a body at rest is not by that circumstance either agreeable or disagreeable4 ,moving force only belongs to the present subject2 and though it is not separable from motion1 yet by the power of abstraction1 either of them may be considered independent of the other4 ,both of them are agreeable1 because both of them include activity4 ,it is agreeable to see a thing move3 to see it moved1 as when it is dragged or pushed along1 is neither agreeable nor disagreeable1 more than when at rest4 ,it is agreeable to see a thing exert force2 but it makes not the thing either agreeable or disagreeable1 to see force exerted upon it4 ,though motion and force are each of them agreeable1 the impressions they make are different4 ,this difference1 clearly felt1 is not easily described4 ,all we can say is1 that the emotion raised by a moving body1 resembles its cause3 it feels as if the mind were carried along4 ,the emotion raised by force exerted1 resembles also its cause3 it feels as if force were exerted within the mind4 ,to illustrate this difference1 ,i give the following examples4 ,it has been explained why smoke ascending in a calm day1 suppose from a cottage in a wood1 is an agreeable object#ga4 ,landscape-painters are fond of this object1 and introduce it upon all occasions4 ,as the ascent is natural and without effort1 it is delightful in a calm state of mind4 ,it makes an impression of the same sort with that of a gently-flowing river1 but more agreeable1 because ascent is more to our taste than descent4 ,a fire-work or a jet d'eau rouses the mind more2 because the beauty of force visibly exerted1 is superadded to that of upward motion4 ,to a man reclining indolently upon a bank of flowers1 ascending smoke in a still morning is delightful4 ,but a fire-work or a jet d'eau rouses him from this supine posture1 and puts him in motion4 ,a jet d'eau makes an impression distinguishable from that of a water-fall4 ,downward motion being natural and without effort1 tends rather to quiet the mind than to rouse it4 ,upward motion1 on the contrary1 overcoming the resistance of gravity1 makes an impression of a great effort1 and thereby rouses and enlivens the mind4 ,the public games of the ,greeks and ,romans1 which gave so much entertainment to the spectators1 consisted chiefly in exerting force1 wrestling1 leaping1 throwing great stones1 and such like trials of strength4 ,when great force is exerted1 the effort felt within the mind produces great life and vivacity4 ,the effort may be such1 as in some measure to overpower the mind4 ,thus the explosion of gun-powder1 the violence of a torrent1 the weight of a mountain1 and the crush of an earthquake1 create astonishment rather than pleasure4 ,no quality nor circumstance contributes more to grandeur than force1 especially as exerted by sensible beings4 ,i cannot make this more evident than by the following citations4 ---- ,him the almighty power ,hurl'd headlong flaming from th' ethereal sky1 ,with hideous ruin and combustion1 down ,to bottomless perdition1 there to dwell ,in adamantine chains and penal fire1 ,who durst defy th' ,omnipotent to arms4 ,paradise ,lost1 book #a4 ---- ,now storming fury rose1 ,and clamour such as heard in heaven till now ,was never2 arms on armour clashing bray'd ,horrible discord1 and the madding wheels ,of brazen chariots rag'd2 dire was the noise ,of conflict2 over head the dismal hiss ,of fiery darts in flaming vollies flew1 ,and flying vaulted either host with fire4 ,so under fiery cope together rush'd ,both battles main1 with ruinous assault ,and inextinguishable rage3 all heav'n ,resounded2 and had earth been then1 all earth ,had to her centre shook4 ,ibid1 book #f4 ,they ended parle1 and both address'd for fight ,unspeakable2 for who1 though with the tongue ,of angels1 can relate1 or to what things ,liken on earth conspicuous1 that may lift ,human imagination to such height ,of godlike pow'r8 for likest gods they seem'd1 ,stood they or mov'd1 in stature1 motion1 arms1 ,fit to decide the empire of great ,heav'n4 ,now wav'd their fiery swords1 and in the air ,made horrid circles3 two broad suns their shields ,blaz'd opposite1 while ,expectation stood ,in horror3 from each hand with speed retir'd1 ,where erst was thickest fight1 th' angelic throng1 ,and left large field1 unsafe within the wind ,of such commotion2 such as1 to set forth ,great things by small1 if ,nature's concord broke1 ,among the constellations war were sprung1 ,two planets1 rushing from aspct malign ,of fiercest opposition1 in mid sky1 ,should combat1 and their jarring spheres confound4 ,ibid1 book #f4 ,we shall now consider the effect of motion and force in conjunction4 ,in contemplating the planetary system1 what strikes us the most1 is the spherical figures of the planets and their regular motions4 ,the conception we have of their activity and enormous bulk is more obscure4 ,the beauty accordingly of this system1 raises a more lively emotion than its grandeur4 ,but if we could imagine ourselves spectators comprehending the whole system at one view1 the activity and irresistible force of these immense bodies would fill us with amazement4 ,nature cannot furnish another scene so grand4 ,motion and force1 agreeable in themselves1 are also agreeable by their utility when employed as means to accomplish some beneficial end4 ,hence the superior beauty of some machines1 where force and motion concur to perform the work of numberless hands4 ,hence the beautiful motions1 firm and regular1 of a horse trained for war4 ,every single step is the fittest that can be for obtaining the end proposed4 ,but the grace of motion is visible chiefly in man1 not only for the reasons mentioned1 but also because every gesture is significant4 ,the power however of agreeable motion is not a common talent4 ,every limb of the human body has a good and a bad1 an agreeable and disagreeable action4 ,some motions are extremely graceful1 others are plain and vulgar3 some express dignity1 others meanness4 ,but the pleasure here1 arising not singly from the beauty of motion1 but from indicating character and sentiment1 belongs to a different chapter#gb4 ,i should conclude with the final cause of the relish we have for motion and force1 were it not so evident as to require no explanation4 ,we are placed here in such circumstances as to make industry essential to our well-being2 for without industry the plainest necessaries of life are not to be obtained4 ,when our situation therefore in this world requires activity and a constant exertion of motion and force1 ,providence indulgently provides for our welfare in making these agreeable to us4 ,it would be a blunder in our nature1 to make things disagreeable that we depend on for existence2 and even to make them indifferent1 would tend to make us relax greatly from that degree of activity which is indispensable4 ,,chap4 ,,vi4 ,novelty1 and the unexpected appearance of objects4 ,of all the particulars that contribute to raise emotions1 not excepting beauty1 or even greatness1 novelty hath the most powerful influence4 ,a new spectacle attracts multitudes4 ,it produceth instantaneously an emotion which totally occupies the mind1 and for a time excludes all other objects4 ,the soul seems to meet the strange appearance with a certain elongation of itself2 and all is hushed in close contemplation4 ,in some instances1 there is perceived a degree of agony1 attended with external symptoms extremely expressive4 ,conversation among the vulgar never is more interesting1 than when it runs upon strange objects and extraordinary events4 ,men tear themselves from their native country in search of things rare and new2 and curiosity converts into a pleasure1 the fatigues1 and even perils of travelling4 ,to what cause shall we ascribe these singular appearances8 ,the plain account of the matter follows4 ,curiosity is implanted in human nature1 for a purpose extremely beneficial1 that of acquiring knowledge4 ,new and strange objects1 above all others1 excite our curiosity2 and its gratification is the emotion above described1 known by the name of wonder4 ,this emotion is distinguished from admiration4 ,novelty where-ever found1 whether in a quality or action1 is the cause of wonder3 admiration is directed upon the operator who performs any thing wonderful4 ,during infancy1 every new object is probably the occasion of wonder1 in some degree2 because1 during infancy1 every object at first is strange as well as new4 ,but as objects are rendered familiar by custom1 we cease by degrees to wonder at new appearances that have any resemblance to what we are acquainted with4 ,a thing must be singular as well as new1 to excite our curiosity and to raise our wonder4 ,to save multiplying words1 ,i would be understood to comprehend both circumstances when ,i hereafter talk of novelty4 ,in an ordinary train of perceptions where one thing introduces another1 not a single object makes its appearance unexpectedly#gc4 ,the mind thus prepared for the reception of its objects1 admits them one after another without perturbation4 ,but when a thing breaks in unexpectedly and without the preparation of any connection1 it raises a singular emotion known by the name of surprise4 ,this emotion may be produced by the most familiar object1 as when one accidentally meets a friend who was reported to be dead2 or a man in high life1 lately a beggar4 ,on the other hand1 a new object1 however strange1 will not produce this emotion if the spectator be prepared for the fight4 ,an elephant in ,india will not surprise a traveller who goes to see one2 and yet its novelty will raise his wonder4 ,an ,indian in ,britain would be much surprised to stumble upon an elephant feeding at large in the open fields2 but the creature itself1 to which he was accustomed1 would not raise his wonder4 ,surprise thus in several respects differs from wonder4 ,unexpedtedness is the cause of the former emotion3 novelty is the cause of the latter4 ,nor differ they less in their nature and circumstances1 as will be explained by and by4 ,with relation to one circumstance they perfectly agree1 which is the shortness of their duration4 ,the instantaneous production of these emotions in perfection1 may contribute to this effect1 in conformity to a general law1 ,that things soon decay which soon come to perfection4 ,the violence of the emotions may also contribute2 for an ardent emotion1 which is not susceptible of increase1 cannot have a long course4 ,but their short duration is occasioned chiefly by that of their causes4 ,we are soon reconciled to an object1 however unexpected2 and novelty soon degenerates into familiarity4 ,whether these emotions be pleasant or painful1 is not a clear point4 ,it may appear strange1 that our own feelings and their capital qualities should afford any matter for a doubt4 ,but when we are ingrossed by any emotion1 there is no place for speculation2 and when sufficiently calm for speculation1 it is not easy to recal the emotion with sufficient accuracy4 ,new objects are sometimes terrible1 sometimes delightful4 ,the terror which a tyger inspires is greatest at first1 and wears off gradually by familiarity4 ,on the other hand1 even women will acknowledge1 that it is novelty which pleases the most in a new fashion4 ,at this rate1 it should be thought1 that wonder is not in itself pleasant or painful1 but that it assumes either quality according to circumstances4 ,this doctrine1 however plausible1 must not pass without examination4 ,and when we reflect upon the principle of curiosity and its operations1 a glimpse of light gives some faint view of a different theory4 ,our curiosity is never more thoroughly gratified1 than by new and singular objects4 ,that very gratification is the emotion of wonder1 which therefore1 according to the analogy of nature1 ought always to be pleasant#gd4 ,and indeed it would be a great defect in human nature1 were the gratification of so useful a principle unpleasant4 ,but upon a more strict scrutiny1 we shall not have occasion to mark curiosity as an exception from the general rule4 ,a new object1 it is true1 that hath a threatening appearance1 adds to our terror by its novelty4 ,but from this experiment it doth not follow1 that novelty is in itself disagreeable4 ,it is perfectly consistent1 that we should be delighted with an object in one view1 and terrified with it in another4 ,a river in flood swelling over its banks1 is a grand and delightful object2 and yet it may produce no small degree of fear when we attempt to cross it4 ,courage and magnanimity are agreeable2 and yet when we view these qualities in an enemy1 they serve to increase our terror#ge4 ,in the same manner1 novelty has two effects clearly distinguishable from each other4 ,a new object1 by gratifying curiosity1 must always be agreeable4 ,it may1 at the same time1 have an opposite effect indirectly1 which is1 to inspire terror4 ,for when a new object appears in any degree dangerous1 our ignorance of its powers and qualities affords ample scope for the imagination to dress it in the most frightful colours#gf4 ,thus the first sight of a lion at some distance1 may at the same instant produce two opposite feelings1 the pleasant emotion of wonder1 and the painful passion of terror4 ,the novelty of the object1 produces the former directly1 and contributes to the latter indirectly4 ,thus1 when the subject is analized1 we find1 that the power which novelty hath indirectly to inflame terror1 is perfectly consistent with its being in every case agreeable4 ,the matter may be put in a still clearer light by varying the scene4 ,if a lion be first seen from a place of safety1 the spectacle is altogether agreeable without the least mixture of terror4 ,if again the first sight put us within reach of this dangerous animal1 our terror may be so great as quite to exclude any sense of novelty4 ,but this fact proves not that wonder is painful3 it proves only that wonder may be excluded by a more powerful passion4 ,and yet it is this fact1 which1 in superficial thinking1 has thrown the subject into obscurity4 ,i presume we may now boldly affirm1 that wonder is in every case a pleasant emotion4 ,this is acknowledged as to all new objects that appear inoffensive4 ,and even as to objects that appear offensive1 ,i urge that the same must hold so long as the spectator can attend to the novelty4 ,whether surprise be in itself pleasant or painful1 is a question not less intricate than the former4 ,it is certain1 that surprise inflames our joy when unexpectedly we meet with an old friend3 and not less our terror1 when we stumble upon any thing noxious4 ,to clear this point1 we must trace it step by step4 ,and the first thing to be remarked is1 that in some instances an unexpected object overpowers the mind so as to produce a momentary stupefaction4 ,an unexpected object1 not less than one that is new1 is apt to sound an alarm and to raise terror4 ,man1 naturally a defenceless being1 is happily so constituted as to apprehend danger in all doubtful cases4 ,accordingly1 where the object is dangerous1 or appears so1 the sudden alarm it gives1 without preparation1 is apt totally to unhinge the mind1 and for a moment to suspend all the faculties1 even thought itself#gg4 ,in this state a man is quite helpless2 and if he move at all1 is as likely to run upon the danger as from it4 ,surprise carried to this height1 cannot be either pleasant or painful2 because the mind1 during such momentary stupefaction1 is in a good measure1 if not totally1 insensible4 ,if we then inquire for the character of this emotion1 it must be where the unexpected object or event produceth less violent effects4 ,and while the mind remains sensible of pleasure and pain1 is it not natural to suppose1 that surprise1 like wonder1 should have an invariable character8 ,i am inclined however to think1 that surprise has no invariable character1 but assumes that of the object which raises it4 ,wonder is the gratification of a natural principle1 and upon that account must be pleasant4 ,there1 novelty is the capital circumstance1 which1 for a time1 is intitled to possess the mind entirely in one unvaried tone4 ,the unexpected appearance of an object1 seems not equally intitled to produce an emotion distinguishable from the emotion1 pleasant or painful1 that is produced by the object in its ordinary appearance4 ,it ought not naturally to have any effect1 other than to swell that emotion1 by making it more pleasant or more painful than it commonly is4 ,and this conjecture is confirmed by experience1 as well as by language1 which is built upon experience4 ,when a man meets a friend unexpectedly1 he is said to be agreeably surprised2 and when he meets an enemy unexpectedly1 he is said to be disagreeably surprised4 ,it appears then1 that the sole effect of surprise is to swell the emotion raised by the object4 ,and this effect can be clearly explained4 ,a tide of connected perceptions1 glides gently into the mind1 and produceth no perturbation4 ,an object on the other hand breaking in unexpectedly1 sounds an alarm1 rouses the mind out of its calm state1 and directs its whole attention upon the object1 which1 if agreeable1 becomes doubly so4 ,several circumstances concur to produce this effect4 ,on the one hand1 the agitation of the mind and its keen attention1 prepare it in the most effectual manner for receiving a deep impression4 ,on the other hand1 the object by its sudden and unforeseen appearance1 makes an impression1 not gradually as expected objects do1 but as at one stroke with its whole force4 ,the circumstances are precisely similar1 where the object is in itself disagreeable4 ,the pleasure of novelty is easily distinguished from that of variety4 ,to produce the latter1 a plurality of objects is necessary4 ,the former arises from a circumstance found in a single object4 ,again1 where objects1 whether coexistent or in succession1 are sufficiently diversified1 the pleasure of variety is complete1 though every single object of the train be familiar4 ,but the pleasure of novelty1 directly opposite to familiarity1 requires no diversification4 ,there are different degrees of novelty1 and its effects are in proportion4 ,the lowest degree is found in objects that are surveyed a second time after a long interval4 ,that in this case an object takes on some appearance of novelty1 is certain from experience4 ,a large building of many parts variously adorned1 or an extensive field embellished with trees1 lakes1 temples1 statues1 and other ornaments1 will appear new oftener than once4 ,the memory of an object so complex is soon lost2 of its parts at least1 or of their arrangement4 ,but experience teaches1 that even without any decay of remembrance1 absence alone will give an air of novelty to a once familiar object2 which is not surprising1 because familiarity wears off gradually by absence4 ,thus a person with whom we have been intimate1 returning after a long interval1 appears like a new acquaintance4 ,distance of place contributes to this appearance1 not less than distance of time4 ,a friend after a short absence in a remote country1 has the same air of novelty as if he had returned after a longer interval from a place nearer home4 ,the mind forms a connection betwixt him and the remote country1 and bestows upon him the singularity of the objects he has seen4 ,when two things equally new and singular are presented1 the spectator balances betwixt them4 ,but when told that one of them is the product of a distant quarter of the world1 he no longer hesitates1 but clings to this as the more singular4 ,hence the preference given to foreign luxuries and to foreign curiosities1 which appear rare in proportion to their original distance4 ,the next degree of novelty1 mounting upward1 is found in objects of which we have some information at second hand4 ,for description1 though it contribute to familiarity1 cannot altogether remove the appearance of novelty when the object itself is presented4 ,the first sight of a lion occasions some wonder1 after a thorough acquaintance with the corrected pictures or statues of that animal4 ,a new object that bears some distant resemblance to a known species1 is an instance of a third degree of novelty4 ,a strong resemblance among individuals of the same species1 prevents almost entirely the effect of novelty2 unless distance of place or some other circumstance concur4 ,but where the resemblance is faint1 some degree of wonder is felt2 and the emotion rises in proportion to the faintness of the resemblance4 ,the highest degree of wonder ariseth from unknown objects that have no analogy to any species we are acquainted with4 ,shakespear in a simile introduces this species of novelty4 ,as glorious to the sight ,as is a winged messenger from heaven ,unto the white upturned wondring eye ,of mortals1 that fall back to gaze on him ,when he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds1 ,and sails upon the bosom of the air4 ,romeo and ,juliet4 ,one example of this species of novelty deserves peculiar attention2 and that is1 when an object altogether new is seen by one person only1 and but once4 ,these circumstances heighten remarkably the emotion4 ,the singularity of the condition of the spectator concurs with the singularity of the object1 to inflame wonder to its highest pitch4 ,in explaining the effects of novelty1 the place a being occupies in the scale of existence1 is a circumstance that must not be omitted4 ,novelty in the individuals of a low class1 is perceived with indifference1 or with a very slight emotion4 ,thus a pebble1 however singular in its appearance1 scarce moves our wonder4 ,the emotion rises with the rank of the object2 and1 other circumstances being equal1 is strongest in the highest order of existence4 ,a strange animal affects us more than a strange vegetable2 and were we admitted to view superior beings1 our wonder would rise proportionably2 and accompanying ,nature in her amazing works1 be completed in the contemplation of the ,deity4 ,however natural the love of novelty may be1 it is a matter of experience1 that those who relish novelty the most1 are careful to conceal its influence4 ,this relish1 it is true1 prevails in children1 in idle people1 and in men of a weak mind4 ,and yet1 after all1 why should one be ashamed for indulging a natural propensity8 ,a distinction will explain this difficulty4 ,no man is ashamed to own1 that he loves to contemplate new or strange objects4 ,he neither condemns himself nor is censured by others1 for this appetite4 ,but every man studies to conceal1 that he loves a thing or performs an action1 merely for its novelty4 ,the reason of the difference will set the matter in a clear light4 ,curiosity is a natural principle directed upon new and singular objects1 in the contemplation of which its gratification consists1 without leading to any end other than knowledge4 ,the man therefore who prefers any thing merely because it is new1 hath not this principle for his justification2 nor indeed any good principle4 ,vanity is at the bottom1 which easily prevails upon those who have no taste1 to prefer things odd1 rare1 or singular1 in order to distinguish themselves from others4 ,and in fact1 the appetite for novelty1 as above mentioned1 reigns chiefly among persons of a mean taste1 who are ignorant of refined and elegant pleasures4 ,the gratification of curiosity1 as mentioned above1 is distinguished by a proper name1 viz4 wonder2 an honour denied to the gratification of any other principle1 emotion1 or passion1 so far as ,i can recollect4 ,this singularity indicates some important final cause1 which ,i endeavour to unfold4 ,an acquaintance with the various things that may affect us1 and with their properties1 is essential to our well-being4 ,nor will a slight or superficial acquaintance be sufficient4 ,it ought to be so deeply ingraved on the mind1 as to be ready for use upon every occasion4 ,now1 in order to a deep impression1 it is wisely contrived1 that things should be introduced to our acquaintance1 with a certain pomp and solemnity productive of a vivid emotion4 ,when the impression is once fairly made1 the emotion of novelty1 being no longer necessary1 vanisheth almost instantaneously2 never to return1 unless where the impression happens to be obliterated by length of time or other means2 in which case the second introduction is nearly as solemn as the first4 ,designing wisdom is no where more legible than in this part of the human frame4 ,if new objects did not affect us in a very peculiar manner1 their impressions would be so slight as scarce to be of any use in life4 ,on the other hand1 did objects continue to affect us as deeply as at first1 the mind would be totally ingrossed with them1 and have no room left either for action or reflection4 ,the final cause of surprise is still more evident than of novelty4 ,self-love makes us vigilantly attentive to self-preservation4 ,but self-love1 which operates by means of reason and reflection1 and impells not the mind to any particular object or from it1 is a principle too cool for a sudden emergency4 ,an object breaking in unexpectedly1 affords no time for deliberation2 and1 in this case1 the agitation of surprise is artfully contrived to rouse self-love into action4 ,surprise gives the alarm1 and if there be any appearance of danger1 our whole force is instantly summoned up to shun or to prevent it4 ,,chap4 ,,vii4 ,risible ,objects4 ,such is the nature of man1 that his powers and faculties are soon blunted by exercise4 ,the returns of sleep1 suspending all activity1 are not alone sufficient to preserve him in vigor4 ,during his waking hours1 amusement by intervals is requisite to unbend his mind from serious occupation4 ,the imagination1 of all our faculties the most active1 and not always at rest even in sleep1 contributes more than any other cause to recruit the mind and restore its vigor1 by amusing us with gay and ludicrous images2 and when relaxation is necessary1 such amusement is much relished4 ,but there are other sources of amusement beside the imagination4 ,many objects1 natural as well as artificial1 may be distinguished by the epithet of risible1 because they raise in us a peculiar emotion expressed externally by laughter4 ,this is a pleasant emotion2 and being also mirthful1 it most successfully unbends the mind and recruits the spirits4 ,ludicrous is a general term1 signifying1 as we may conjecture from its derivation1 what is playsome1 sportive1 or jocular4 ,ludicrous therefore seems the genus1 of which risible is a species1 limited as above to what makes us laugh4 ,however easy it may be1 concerning any particular object1 to say whether it be risible or not2 it seems difficult1 if at all practicable1 to establish beforehand any general character by which objects of this kind may be distinguished from others4 ,nor is this a singular case4 ,upon a review1 we find the same difficulty in most of the articles already handled4 ,there is nothing more easy1 viewing a particular object1 than to pronounce that it is beautiful or ugly1 grand or little3 but were we to attempt general rules for ranging objects under different classes1 according to these qualities1 we should find ourselves utterly at a loss4 ,there is a separate cause which increases the difficulty of distinguishing risible objects by a general character4 ,all men are not equally affected by risible objects2 and even the same person is more disposed to laugh at one time than another4 ,in high spirits a thing will make us laugh outright1 that will scarce provoke a smile when we are in a grave mood4 ,we must therefore abandon the thought of attempting general rules for distinguishing risible objects from others4 ,risible objects however are circumscribed within certain limits1 which ,i shall suggest1 without pretending to any degree of accuracy4 ,and1 in the first place1 ,i observe1 that no object is risible but what appears slight1 little1 or trifling4 ,for man is so constituted as to be seriously affected with every thing that is of importance to his own interest or to that of others4 ,secondly1 with respect to the works both of nature and of art1 nothing is risible but what deviates from the common nature of the subject3 it must be some particular out of rule1 some remarkable defect or excess1 a very long visage1 for example1 or a very short one4 ,hence nothing just1 proper1 decent1 beautiful1 proportioned1 or grand1 is risible4 ,a real distress raises pity1 and therefore cannot be risible4 ,but a slight or imaginary distress1 which moves not pity1 is risible4 ,the adventure of the fulling-mills in ,don ,quixote is extremely risible2 so is the scene where ,sancho1 in a dark night1 tumbles into a pit1 and attaches himself to the side by hand and foot1 there hanging in terrible dismay till the morning1 when he discovers himself to be within a foot of the bottom4 ,a nose remarkably long or short is risible2 but to want the nose altogether1 far from provoking laughter1 raises horror in the spectator4 ,from what is said1 it will readily be conjectured1 that the emotion raised by a risible object is of a nature so singular as scarce to find place while the mind is occupied with any other passion or emotion4 ,and this conjecture is verified by experience4 ,we scarce ever find this emotion blended with any other4 ,one emotion ,i must except1 and that is contempt raised by some sort of improprieties4 ,every improper act inspires us with some degree of contempt for the author4 ,and if an improper act be at the same time risible and provoke laughter1 of which blunders and absurdities are noted instances1 the two emotions of contempt and of laughter unite intimately in the mind1 and produce externally what is termed a laugh of derision or of scorn4 ,hence objects that cause laughter1 may be distinguished into two kinds4 ,they are either risible or ridiculous4 ,a risible object is mirthful only2 a ridiculous object is both mirthful and contemptible4 ,the first raises an emotion of laughter that is altogether pleasant3 the emotion of laughter raised by the other1 is qualified with that of contempt2 and the mixed emotion1 partly pleasant partly painful1 is termed the emotion of ridicule4 ,i avenge myself of the pain a ridiculous object gives me by a laugh of derision4 ,a risible object1 on the other hand1 gives me no pain3 it is altogether pleasant by a certain sort of titillation1 which is expressed externally by mirthful laughter4 ,ridicule will be more fully explained afterward3 the present chapter is appropriated to the other emotion4 ,risible objects are so common and so well understood1 that it is unnecessary to consume paper or time upon them4 ,take the few following examples4 ,falstaff4 ,i do remember him at ,clement's inn1 like a man made after supper of a cheese-paring4 ,when he was naked1 he was for all the world like a forked radish1 with a head fantastically carved upon it with a knife4 ,second part1 ,henry ,,iv4 act #c4 sc4 #e4 ,the foregoing is of disproportion4 ,the following examples are of slight or imaginary misfortunes4 ,falstaff4 ,go fetch me a quart of sack1 put a toast in't4 ,have ,i liv'd to be carried in a basket1 like a barrow of butcher's offal1 and to be thrown into the ,thames8 ,well1 if ,i be serv'd such another trick1 ,i'll have my brains ta'en out and butter'd1 and give them to a dog for a new-year's gift4 ,the rogues slighted me into the river with as little remorse as they would have drown'd a bitch's blind puppies1 fifteen i' th' litter2 and you may know by my size1 that ,i have a kind of alacrity in sinking3 if the bottom were as deep as hell1 ,i should down4 ,i had been drown'd1 but that the shore was shelvy and shallow2 a death that ,i abhor2 for the water swells a man3 and what a thing should ,i have been1 when ,i had been swell'd8 ,i should have been a mountain of mummy4 ,merry wives of ,windsor1 act #c4 sc4 #ae4 ,falstaff4 ,nay1 you shall hear1 ,master ,brook1 what ,i have suffer'd to bring this woman to evil for your good4 ,being thus cramm'd in the basket1 a couple of ,ford's knaves1 his hinds1 were call'd forth by their mistress1 to carry me in the name of foul cloaths to ,datchet-lane4 ,they took me on their shoulders1 met the jealous knave their master in the door1 who ask'd them once or twice what they had in their basket4 ,i quak'd for fear1 left the lunatic knave would have search'd it2 but ,fate1 ordaining he should be a cuckold1 held his hand4 ,well1 on went he for a search1 and away went ,i for foul cloaths4 ,but mark the sequel1 ,master ,brook4 ,i suffer'd the pangs of three egregious deaths3 first1 an intolerable fright1 to be detected by a jealous rotten bell weather2 next1 to be compass'd like a good bilbo1 in the circumference of a peck1 hilt to point1 heel to head2 and then to be stopt in1 like a strong distillation1 with stinking cloaths that fretted in their own grease4 ,think of that1 a man of my kidney2 think of that1 that am as subject to heat as butter2 a man of continual dissolution and thaw2 it was a miracle to 'scape suffocation4 ,and in the height of this bath1 when ,i was more than half-stew'd in grease1 like a ,dutch dish1 to be thrown into the ,thames1 and cool'd glowing hot1 in that surge1 like a horse-shoe2 think of that2 hissing hot2 think of that1 ,master ,brook4 ,merry wives of ,windsor1 act #c4 sc4 #ag4 ,,chap4 ,,viii4 ,resemblance and ,contrast4 ,having discussed those qualities and circumstances of single objects that seem peculiarly connected with criticism1 we proceed1 according to the method proposed in the chapter of beauty1 to the relations of objects1 beginning with the relations of resemblance and contrast4 ,man being unavoidably connected with the beings around him1 some acquaintance with their nature1 their powers1 and their qualities1 is requisite for regulating his conduct4 ,as an incentive to acquire a branch of knowledge so essential to our well-being1 motives alone of reason and interest are not sufficient4 ,nature hath providently superadded curiosity1 a vigorous propensity which never is at rest4 ,it is this propensity which attaches us to every new object#gh2 and in particular incites us to consider objects in the way of comparison1 in order to discover their differences and resemblances4 ,resemblance among objects of the same kind1 and dissimilitude among objects of different kinds1 are too obvious and familiar to gratify our curiosity in any degree4 ,the gratification lies in discovering differences among things where resemblance prevails1 and in discovering resemblances where difference prevails4 ,thus a difference in individuals of the same kind of plants or animals is deemed a discovery1 while the many particulars in which they agree are neglected3 and in different kinds1 any resemblance is greedily remarked1 without attending to the many particulars in which they differ4 ,a comparison however may be too far stretched4 ,when differences or resemblances are carried beyond certain bounds1 they appear slight and trivial2 and for that reason will not be relished by one of taste4 ,yet such propensity is there to gratify passion1 curiosity in particular1 that even among good writers1 we find many comparisons too slight to afford satisfaction4 ,hence the frequent instances among logicians1 of distinctions without any solid difference3 and hence the frequent instances among poets and orators1 of similes without any just resemblance4 ,with regard to the latter1 ,i shall confine myself to one instance1 which will probably amuse the reader1 being a citation not from a poet nor orator1 but from a grave author writing an institute of law4 8,our student shall observe1 that the knowledge of the law is like a deep well1 out of which each man draweth according to the strength of his understanding4 ,he that reacheth deepest1 seeth the amiable and admirable secrets of the law1 wherein ,i assure you the sages of the law in former times have had the deepest reach4 ,and as the bucket in the depth is easily drawn to the uppermost part of the water1 7for nullum elementum in suo proprio loco est grave71 but take it from the water it cannot be drawn up but with a great difficulty2 so1 albeit beginnings of this study seem difficult1 yet when the professor of the law can dive into the depth1 it is delightful1 easy1 and without any heavy burden1 so long as he keep himself in his own proper element#gi40 ,shakespear with much wit ridicules this disposition to simile-making1 by putting in the mouth of a weak man a resemblance much of a piece with that now mentioned4 ,fluellen4 ,i think it is in ,macedon where ,alexander is porn3 ,i tell you1 ,captain1 if you look in the maps of the orld1 ,i warrant that you sall find1 in the comparisons between ,macedon and ,monmouth1 that the situations1 look you1 is both alike4 ,there is a river in ,macedon1 there is also moreover a river in ,monmouth3 it is call'd ,wye at ,monmouth1 but it is out of my prains what is the name of the other river2 but it is all one1 'tis as like as my fingers to my fingers1 and there is salmons in both4 ,if you mark ,alexander's life well1 ,harry of ,monmouth's life is come after it indifferent well2 for there is figures in all things4 ,alexander1 ,god knows1 and you know1 in his rages1 and his furies1 and his wraths1 and his cholers1 and his moods1 and his displeasures1 and his indignations1 and also being a little intoxicates in his prains1 did1 in his ales and his angers1 look you1 kill his pest friend ,clytus4 ,gower4 ,our ,king is not like him in that1 he never kill'd any of his friends4 ,fluellen4 ,it is not well done1 mark you now1 to take the tales out of my mouth1 ere it is made and finished4 ,i speak but in figures1 and comparisons of it3 ,as ,alexander kill'd his friend ,clytus1 being in his ales and his cups2 so also ,harry ,monmouth1 being in his right wits and his good judgments1 turn'd away the fat knight with the great belly-doublet2 he was full of jests1 and gypes1 and knaveries1 and mocks3 ,i have forgot his name4 ,gower4 ,sir ,john ,falstaff4 ,fluellen4 ,that is he3 ,i tell you1 there is good men porn at ,monmouth4 ,k4 ,henry ,v4 act #d4 sc4 #ac4 ,instruction1 no doubt1 is the chief end of comparison1 but not the only end4 ,in works addressed to the imagination1 comparison may be employed with great success to put a subject in a strong point of view4 ,a lively idea is formed of a man's courage1 by likening it to that of a lion2 and eloquence is exalted in our imagination1 by comparing it to a river overflowing its banks1 and involving all in its impetuous course4 ,the same effect is produced by contrast4 ,a man in prosperity1 becomes more sensible of his happiness1 by opposing his condition to that of a person in want of bread4 ,thus comparison is subservient to poetry as well as to philosophy2 and with respect to both1 the foregoing observation holds equally1 that resemblance among objects of the same kind1 and contrast among objects of different kinds1 have no effect4 ,such a comparison neither tends to gratify our curiosity1 nor to set the objects compared in a stronger light4 ,two apartments in a palace1 similar in shape1 size1 and furniture1 make separately as good a figure as when compared2 and the same observation applies to two similar copartments in a garden4 ,on the other hand1 oppose a regular building to a fall of water1 or a good picture to a towering hill1 or even a little dog to a large horse1 and the contrast will produce no effect4 ,but resemblance1 where the objects compared are of different kinds1 and contrast where the objects compared are of the same kind1 have each of them remarkably an enlivening effect4 ,the poets1 such of them as have a just taste1 draw all their similes from things that in the main differ widely from the principal subject2 and they never attempt a contrast but where the things have a common genus and a resemblance in the capital circumstances4 ,place together a large and a small sized animal of the same species1 the one will appear greater the other less1 than when viewed separately4 ,when we oppose beauty to deformity1 each makes a greater figure by the comparison4 ,upon a subject not only in itself curious1 but of great importance in all the fine arts1 ,i must be more particular4 ,that resemblance and contrast have an enlivening effect upon objects of sight1 is made sufficiently evident2 and that they have the same effect upon objects of the other senses1 will appear from induction4 ,nor is this law confined to the external senses4 ,characters contrasted1 make a greater figure by the opposition4 ,iago1 in the tragedy of ,othello1 says ,he hath a daily beauty in his life1 ,that makes me ugly4 ,the character of a fop1 and of a rough warrior1 are no where more successfully contrasted than by ,shakespear4 ,hotspur4 ,my liege1 ,i did deny no prisoners2 ,but ,i remember1 when the fight was done1 ,when ,i was dry with rage1 and extreme toil1 ,breathless and faint1 leaning upon my sword2 ,came there a certain ,lord1 neat1 trimly dress'd1 ,fresh as a bridegroom2 and his chin1 new-reap'd1 ,shew'd like a stubble-land at harvest-home4 ,he was perfumed like a milliner2 ,and 'twixt his finger and his thumb he held ,a pouncet-box1 which ever and anon ,he gave his nose2--and still he smil'd1 and talk'd2 ,and as the soldiers bare dead bodies by1 ,he call'd them untaught knaves1 unmannerly1 ,to bring a slovenly1 unhandsome corse ,betwixt the wind and his nobility4 ,with many holiday and lady terms ,he question'd me3 amongst the rest1 demanded ,my pris'ners1 in your ,majesty's behalf4 ,i then all smarting with my wounds2 being gal'd ,to be so pester'd with a popinjay1 ,out of my grief1 and my impatience1 ,answer'd1 neglectingly1 ,i know not what3 ,he should1 or should not2 for he made me mad1 ,to see him shine so brisk1 and smell so sweet1 ,and talk so like a waiting-gentlewoman1 ,of guns1 and drums1 and wounds2 7,god save the mark67 ,and telling me1 the sovereign'st thing on earth ,was parmacity1 for an inward bruise2 ,and that it was great pity1 so it was1 ,this villanous saltpetre should be digg'd ,out of the bowels of the harmless earth1 ,which many a good1 tall fellow had destroy'd ,so cowardly3 and but for these vile guns1 ,he would himself have been a soldier4-- ,first part1 ,henry ,,iv4 act #a4 sc4 #d4 ,passions and emotions are also inflamed by comparison4 ,a man of high rank humbles the bystanders so far as almost to annihilate them in their own opinion4 ,csar1 beholding the statue of ,alexander1 felt a great depression of spirits1 when he reflected1 that now at the age of thirty-two1 when ,alexander died1 he had not performed one memorable action4 ,our opinions also are much influenced by comparison4 ,a man whose opulence exceeds the ordinary standard1 is reputed richer than he is in reality2 and the character of wisdom or weakness1 if at all remarkable is generally carried beyond the truth4 ,the opinion a man forms of his present condition as to happiness or misery1 depends in a great measure on the comparison he makes betwixt it and his former condition3 ,could ,i forget ,what ,i have been1 ,i might the better bear ,what ,i am destin'd to4 ,i'm not the first ,that have been wretched3 but to think how much ,i have been happier4 ,southern's ,innocent adultery1 act #b4 ,the distress of a long journey makes even an indifferent inn pass current4 ,and in travelling1 when the road is good and the horseman well covered1 a bad day may be agreeable1 by making him sensible how snug he is4 ,the same effect is equally remarkable1 when a man sets his condition in opposition to that of others4 ,a ship tossed about in a storm1 makes the spectator reflect upon his own security and ease1 and puts these in the strongest light3 ,suave1 mari magno turbantibus quora ventis1 ,e terra magnum alterius spectare laborem1 ,non quia vexari quemquam est jocunda voluptas1 ,sed quibus ipse malis careas1 quia cernere suave est4 ,lucret4 l4 #b4 principio4 ,a man in grief cannot bear mirth4 ,it gives him a more lively notion of his unhappiness1 and of course makes him more unhappy4 ,satan contemplating the beauties of the terrestrial paradise1 breaks out in the following exclamation4 ,with what delight could ,i have walk'd thee round1 ,if ,i could joy in ought1 sweet interchange ,of hill and valley1 rivers1 woods1 and plains1 ,now land1 now sea1 and shores with forest crown'd1 ,rocks1 dens1 and caves6 but ,i in none of these ,find place or refuge2 and the more ,i see ,pleasures about me1 so much more ,i feel ,torment within me1 as from the hateful siege ,of contraries3 all good to me becomes ,bane1 and in heav'n much worse would be my state4 ,paradise ,lost1 book #i4 l4 #aad4 ,gaunt4 ,all places that the eye of heaven visits1 ,are to a wise man ports and happy havens4 ,teach thy necessity to reason thus3 ,there is no virtue like necessity4 ,think not the ,king did banish thee2 ,but thou the ,king4 ,wo doth the heavier sit1 ,where it perceives it is but faintly borne4 ,go say1 ,i sent thee forth to purchase honour2 ,and not1 the ,king exil'd thee4 ,or suppose1 ,devouring pestilence hangs in our air1 ,and thou art flying to a fresher clime1 ,look what thy soul holds dear1 imagine it ,to lie that way thou go'st1 not whence thou com'st4 ,suppose the singing birds1 musicians2 ,the grass whereon thou tread'st1 the presence-floor2 ,the flow'rs1 fair ladies2 and thy steps1 no more ,than a delightful measure1 or a dance4 ,for gnarling ,sorrow hath less power to bite ,the man that mocks at it1 and sets it light4 ,bolingbroke4 ,oh1 who can hold a fire in his hand1 ,by thinking on the frosty ,caucasus8 ,or cloy the hungry edge of ,appetite1 ,by bare imagination of a feast8 ,or wallow naked in ,december snow1 ,by thinking on fantastic summer's heat8 ,oh1 no6 the apprehension of the good ,gives but the greater feeling to the worse4 ,king ,richard ,,ii4 act #a4 sc4 #f4 ,the appearance of danger gives sometimes pleasure1 sometimes pain4 ,a timorous person upon the battlements of a high tower1 is seized with terror1 which even the consciousness of security cannot dissipate4 ,but upon one of a firm head1 this situation has a contrary effect4 ,the appearance of danger heightens by opposition the consciousness of security1 and of consequence the satisfaction that arises from security4 ,the feeling here resembles that above mentioned occasioned by a ship labouring in a storm4 ,this effect of magnifying or lessening objects by means of comparison1 is so familiar1 that no philosopher has thought of searching for a cause#hj4 ,the obscurity of the subject may possibly have contributed to their silence4 ,but luckily in treating other subjects1 a principle is unfolded which will clearly account for this phenomenon4 ,it depends upon the power of passion to model our opinion of objects for its gratification#ha4 ,we have had occasion to see many illustrious examples of this singular power of passion2 and the present subject affords an additional instance4 ,that this is the cause1 will evidently appear1 by reflecting in what manner a spectator is affected1 when a very large animal is for the first time placed beside a very small one of the same species4 ,the opposition is the first thing that strikes the mind3 the unusual appearance gives surprise2 and the spectator1 prone to gratify this emotion1 conceives the opposition to be the greatest that can be4 ,he sees1 or seems to see1 the one animal extremely little1 and the other extremely large4 ,the emotion of surprise arising from any unusual resemblance1 serves equally to explain why at first view we are apt to think such resemblance more entire than it is in reality4 ,and it must be observed1 that the circumstances of more and less1 which are the proper subjects of comparison1 raise a perception so indistinct and vague as to facilitate the effect described4 ,we have no mental standard of great and little1 nor of the several degrees of any attribute2 and the mind thus unrestrained1 is naturally disposed to indulge its surprise to the utmost extent4 ,in exploring the operations of the mind1 some of which are extremely nice and slippery1 it is necessary to proceed with the utmost circumspection4 ,and after all1 seldom it happens that speculations of this kind afford any strong conviction4 ,luckily1 in the present case1 we have at hand facts and experiments that support the foregoing theory in a satisfactory manner4 ,in the first place1 the opposing a small object of one species to a great object of another1 produces not1 in any degree1 that effect of contrast1 which is so remarkable when both objects are of the same species4 ,there is no difference betwixt these two cases that promiseth to have any influence1 but only that the former is common1 the latter rare4 ,may we not then fairly conclude1 that surprise from the rarity of appearance is the cause of contrast1 when we find no such effect where the appearance is common8 ,in the next place1 if surprise be the sole cause of the effects that appear in making a comparison1 it follows necessarily that these effects will vanish so soon as a comparison becomes familiar4 ,this holds so unerringly1 as to leave no reasonable doubt that surprise is the prime mover in this operation4 ,our surprise is great the first time a small lapdog is seen with a large mastiff3 but when two such animals are constantly together1 there is no surprise2 and it makes no difference whether they be viewed separately or in company4 ,we put no bounds to the riches of a man who has recently made his fortune4 ,the opposition betwixt his present and past situation1 or betwixt his present situation and that of others1 is carried to an extreme4 ,with regard to a family that for many generations hath enjoyed great wealth1 the same false reckoning is not made4 ,it is equally remarkable1 that a simile loses its effect by repetition4 ,a lover compared to a moth scorching itself at the flame of a candle1 is a sprightly simile1 which by frequent use has lost all force4 ,love cannot now be compared to fire1 without some degree of disgust4 ,it has been justly objected against ,homer1 that the lion is too often introduced in his similes4 ,all the variety he is able to throw into them1 is not sufficient to keep alive the reader's surprise4 ,to explain the influence of comparison upon the mind1 ,i have chosen the simplest case1 that of two animals of the same kind1 differing in size only1 seen for the first time4 ,to complete the theory1 other circumstances must be taken in4 ,and the next supposition ,i shall make1 is where both animals1 separately familiar to the spectator1 are brought together for the first time4 ,in this case1 the effect of magnifying and diminishing1 will be found remarkably greater than in that first mentioned4 ,and the reason will appear upon analyzing the operation4 ,the first thing we feel is surprise1 occasioned by the uncommon difference of two creatures of the same species4 ,we are next sensible1 that the one appears less1 the other larger1 than they did formerly4 ,this new circumstance is a second cause of surprise1 and augments it so as to make us imagine a still greater opposition betwixt the animals1 than if we had formed no notion of them beforehand4 ,i shall confine myself to one other supposition1 ,that the spectator was acquainted beforehand with one of the animals only1 the lapdog for example4 ,this new circumstance will vary the effect4 ,instead of widening the natural difference by enlarging in appearance the one animal and diminishing the other in proportion1 the whole apparent alteration will rest upon the lapdog4 ,the surprise to find it less than judged to be formerly1 will draw the whole attention of the mind upon it2 and this surprise will be gratified1 by conceiving it to be of the most diminutive size possible4 ,the mastiff in the mean time is quite neglected4 ,i am able to illustrate this effect by a very familiar example4 ,take a piece of paper or linen reckoned to be a good white1 and compare it with something of the same kind that is a pure white4 ,the judgement we formed of the first object is instantly varied2 and the surprise occasioned by finding it not so white as was thought1 produceth a hasty conviction that it is much less white than it is in reality4 ,withdrawing now the pure white1 and putting in its place a deep black1 the surprise occasioned by this new circumstance carries our thought to the other extreme1 and we now conceive the original object to be a pure white4 ,thus experience forces us to acknowledge1 that our emotions have an influence even upon our eye-sight4 ,this experiment leads to a general observation1 ,that whatever is found more strange or beautiful than was expected1 is judged to be more strange or beautiful than it is in reality4 ,hence it is a common artifice1 to depreciate beforehand what we wish to make a figure in the eyes of others4 ,the comparisons employed by poets and orators1 coincide with the last-mentioned supposition4 ,it is always a known object that is to be aggrandized or lessened4 ,the former is effectuated by likening it to some grand object1 or by contrasting it with one that has the opposite character4 ,to effectuate the latter1 the method must be reversed4 ,the object must be contrasted with something superior to itself1 or likened to something inferior4 ,the whole effect is produced upon the principal subject1 which by this means is elevated above its rank or depressed below it4 ,in accounting for the effect that any unusual resemblance or contrast has upon the mind1 ,i have hitherto assigned no other cause but surprise2 and to prevent confusion and obscurity1 ,i thought it proper to discuss that principle first4 ,but surprise is not the only cause of the effect described4 ,another cause concurs1 which operates perhaps not less powerfully than surprise4 ,this cause is a principle in human nature that lies still in obscurity1 not having been evolved by any writer1 though its effects are extensive4 ,as it is not distinguished by a proper name1 the reader must be satisfied with the following description4 ,no man who studies himself or others but must be sensible of a tendency or propensity in the mind to complete every work that is begun1 and to carry things to their full perfection4 ,this principle has little opportunity to display itself upon natural operations1 which are seldom left imperfect4 ,but in the operations of art it hath great scope2 and displays itself remarkably1 by making us persevere in our own work1 and by making us wish for the completion of what is done by another4 ,we feel a sensible pleasure when the work is brought to perfection2 and our pain is not less sensible when we are disappointed4 ,hence our uneasiness1 when an interesting story is broke off in the middle1 when a piece of music ends without a close1 or when a building or garden is left imperfect4 ,the same principle operates in making collections1 such as the whole works good and bad of any author4 ,a certain person endeavoured to collect prints of all the capital paintings1 and succeeded except as to a few4 ,la ,bruyere remarks1 that an anxious search was made for these1 not on account of their value1 but to complete the set#hb4 ,the final cause of this principle is an additional proof of its existence4 ,human works are of no significancy till they be completed4 ,reason is not always a sufficient counterbalance to indolence3 and some principle over and above is necessary1 to excite our industry1 and to prevent our stopping short in the middle of the course4 ,we need not lose time in describing the co-operation of the foregoing principle with surprise in producing the effect that is felt upon the appearance of any unusual resemblance or contrast4 ,surprise first operates1 and carries our opinion of the resemblance or contrast beyond the truth4 ,the principle we have been describing carries us still farther2 for being bent upon gratification1 it forces upon the mind a conviction that the resemblance or contrast is complete4 ,we need no better illustration than the resemblance that is fancied in some pebbles to a tree or an insect4 ,the resemblance1 however faint in reality1 is conceived to be wonderfully perfect4 ,this tendency to complete a resemblance acting jointly with surprise1 carries the mind sometimes so far as even to presume upon future events4 ,in the ,greek tragedy1 intitled1 ,phineides1 those unhappy women1 seeing the place where it was intended they should be slain1 cried out with anguish1 8,they now saw their cruel destiny had condemned them to die in that place1 being the same where they had been exposed in their infancy#hc40 ,this remarkable principle which inclines us to advance every thing to its perfection1 not only co-operates with surprise to deceive the mind1 but of itself is able to produce that effect4 ,of this we see many instances where there is no place for surprise4 ,the first instance ,i shall give is of resemblance4 ,unumquodque eodem modo dissolvitur quo colligatum est1 is a maxim in the ,roman law that has no foundation in truth4 ,for tying and loosing1 building and demolishing1 are acts opposite to each other1 and are performed by opposite means4 ,but when these acts are connected by their relation to the same subject1 their connection leads us to imagine a sort of resemblance betwixt them1 which the foregoing principle makes us conceive to be as complete as possible4 ,the next instance shall be of contrast4 ,addison observes#hd1 8,that the palest features look the most agreeable in white2 that a face which is overflushed appears to advantage in the deepest scarlet2 and that a dark complexion is not a little alleviated by a black hood40 ,the foregoing principle serves to account for these appearances4 ,to make this evident1 one of the cases shall suffice4 ,a complexion1 however dark1 never approaches to black4 ,when these colours appear together1 their opposition strikes us2 and the propensity we have to complete the opposition1 makes the darkness of complexion vanish out of sight4 ,the operation of this principle1 even where there is no ground for surprise1 is not confined to opinion or conviction4 ,so powerful is it1 as to make us sometimes proceed to action in order to complete a resemblance or contrast4 ,if this appear obscure1 it will be made clear by the following instances4 ,upon what principle is the lex talionis founded other than to make the punishment resemble the mischief8 ,reason dictates1 that there ought to be a conformity or resemblance betwixt a crime and its punishment2 and the foregoing principle impells us to make the resemblance as complete as possible4 ,titus ,livius1 influenced by this principle1 accounts for a certain punishment by a resemblance betwixt it and the crime1 far too subtile for common apprehension4 ,speaking of ,mettus ,fuffetius1 the ,alban general1 who1 for treachery to the ,romans1 his allies1 was sentenced to be torn to pieces by horses1 he puts the following speech in the mouth of ,tullus ,hostilius1 who decreed the punishment4 8,mette ,fuffeti1 inquit1 si ipse discere posses fidem ac fdera servare1 vivo tibi ea disciplina a me adhibita esset4 ,nunc1 quoniam tuum insanabile ingenium est1 at tu tuo supplicio doce humanum genus1 ea sancta credere1 qu a te violata sunt4 ,ut igitur paulo ante animum inter ,fidenatem ,romanamque rem ancipitem gessisti1 ita jam corpus passim distrahendum dabis#he40 ,by the same influence1 the sentence is often executed upon the very spot where the crime was committed4 ,in the ,electra of ,sophocles1 ,egistheus is dragged from the theatre into an inner room of the supposed palace1 to suffer death where he murdered ,agamemnon4 ,shakespear1 whose knowledge of nature is not less profound than extensive1 has not overlooked this propensity3 ,othello4 ,get me some poison1 ,iago1 this night2 ,i'll not expostulate with her1 lest her body and her beauty unprovide my mind again2 this night1 ,iago4 ,iago4 ,do it not with poison2 strangle her in her bed1 even in the bed she hath contaminated4 ,othello4 ,good1 good3 ,the justice of it pleases2 very good4 ,othello1 act #d4 sc4 #e4 ,warwick4 ,from off the gates of ,york fetch down the head1 ,your father's head which ,clifford placed there4 ,instead whereof let his supply the room4 ,measure for measure must be answered4 ,third ,part of ,henry ,,vi4 act #b4 sc4 #i4 ,persons in their last moments are generally seized with an anxiety to be buried with their relations4 ,in the ,amynta of ,tasso1 the lover1 hearing that his mistress was torn to pieces by a wolf1 expresses a desire to die the same death#hf4 ,upon the subject in general1 ,i have two remarks to add4 ,the first concerns resemblance1 which when too entire hath no effect1 however different in kind the things compared may be4 ,this remark is applicable to works of art only2 for natural objects of different kinds1 have scarce ever an entire resemblance4 ,marble is a sort of matter1 very different from what composes an animal2 and marble cut into a human figure1 produces great pleasure by the resemblance4 ,but let a marble statue be coloured like a picture1 the resemblance is so entire as to produce no effect4 ,at a distance1 it appears a real person4 ,we discover the mistake when we approach2 and no other emotion is raised but surprise occasioned by the deception4 ,the idea of resemblance is sunk into that of identity4 ,the figure still appears to our eyes rather to be a real person than a resemblance of it2 and we must make use of our reflection to correct the mistake4 ,this cannot happen in a picture2 for the resemblance can never be so entire as to disguise the imitation4 ,the other remark regards contrast4 ,emotions make the greatest figure when contrasted in succession4 ,but then the succession ought neither to be precipitate nor immoderately slow4 ,if too slow1 the effect of contrast becomes faint by the distance of the emotions2 and if precipitate1 no single emotion has room to expand itself to its full size2 but is stifled as it were in the birth by a succeeding emotion4 ,the funeral oration of the ,bishop of ,meaux upon the ,duchess of ,orleans1 is a perfect hotchpotch of chearful and melancholy representations following each other in the quickest succession4 ,opposite emotions are best felt in succession3 but each emotion separately should be raised to its due pitch1 before another be introduced4 ,what is above laid down1 will enable us to determine a very important question concerning emotions raised by the fine arts1 viz4 ,what ought to be the rule of succession2 whether ought resemblance to be studied or contrast8 ,the emotions raised by the fine arts1 are generally too nearly related to make a figure by resemblance2 and for that reason1 their succession ought to be regulated as much as possible by contrast4 ,this holds confessedly in epic and dramatic compositions3 and the best writers1 led perhaps by a good taste more than by reasoning1 have generally aimed at this beauty4 ,in the same cantata1 all the variety of emotions that are within the power of music1 may not only be indulged1 but1 to make the greatest figure1 ought to be contrasted4 ,in gardening there is an additional reason for the rule4 ,the emotions raised by that art1 are at best so faint1 that every artifice should be used to give them their utmost strength4 ,a field may be laid out in grand1 sweet1 gay1 neat1 wild1 melancholy scenes4 ,when these are viewed in succession1 grandeur ought to be contrasted with neatness1 regularity with wildness1 and gaiety with melancholy2 so as that each emotion may succeed its opposite4 ,nay it is an improvement to intermix in the succession1 rude uncultivated spots as well as unbounded views1 which in themselves are disagreeable1 but in succession heighten the feeling of the agreeable objects4 ,and we have nature for our guide1 who in her most beautiful landscapes often intermixes rugged rocks1 dirty marshes1 and barren stony heaths4 ,the greatest matters of music1 have the same view in their compositions3 the second part of an ,italian song seldom conveys any sentiment2 and1 by its harshness1 seems purposely contrived to give a greater relish for the interesting parts of the composition4 ,a small garden comprehended under a single view1 affords little opportunity for this embellishment4 ,dissimilar emotions require different tones of mind2 and therefore in conjunction can never make a good figure#hg4 ,gaiety and sweetness may be combined1 or wildness and gloominess2 but a composition of gaiety and gloominess is distasteful4 ,the rude uncultivated copartment of furze and broom in ,richmond garden1 hath a good effect in the succession of objects2 but a spot of this nature would be insufferable in the midst of a polished parterre or flower-plot4 ,a garden therefore1 if not of great extent1 will not admit of dissimilar emotions4 ,and in ornamenting a small garden1 the safest course is to confine it to a single expression4 ,for the same reason1 a landscape ought also to be confined to a single expression4 ,it is accordingly a rule in painting1 ,that if the subject be gay1 every figure ought to contribute to that emotion4 ,it follows from the foregoing train of reasoning1 that a garden near a great city1 ought to have an air of solitude4 ,the solitariness again of a waste country ought to be contrasted in forming a garden2 no temples1 no obscure walks2 but jets d'eau1 cascades1 objects active1 gay1 and splendid4 ,nay such a garden should in some measure avoid imitating nature1 by taking on an extraordinary appearance of regularity and art1 to show the busy hand of man1 which in a waste country has a fine effect by contrast4 ,it may be gathered from what is said above#hh1 that wit and ridicule make not an agreeable mixture with grandeur4 ,dissimilar emotions have a fine effect in a slow succession2 but in a rapid succession1 which approaches to co-existence1 they will not be relished4 ,in the midst of a laboured and elevated description of a battle1 ,virgil introduces a ludicrous image1 which is certainly out of its place3 ,obvius ambustum torrem ,chorinus ab ara ,corripit1 et venienti ,ebuso plagamque ferenti ,occupat os flammis3 illi ingens barba reluxit1 ,nidoremque ambusta dedit4 n4 xii4 #bih4 ,the following image is not less ludicrous1 nor less improperly placed4 ,mentre fan questi i bellici stromenti ,perche debbiano tosto in uso porse1 ,il gran nemico de l'humane genti1 ,contra i ,christiani i lividi occhi torse3 ,e lor veggendo a le bell' opre intenti1 ,ambo le labra per furor si morse3 ,e qual tauro ferito1 il suo dolore ,verso mugghiando e sospirando fuore4 ,gierusal4 cant4 #d4 st4 #a4 ,it would however be too austere1 to banish altogether ludicrous images from an epic poem4 ,this poem doth not always soar above the clouds4 ,it admits great variety2 and upon occasions can descend even to the ground without sinking4 ,in its more familiar tones1 a ludicrous scene may be introduced without impropriety4 ,this is done by ,virgil#hi in describing a foot-race2 the circumstances of which1 not excepting the ludicrous part1 are copied from ,homer#ij4 ,after a fit of merryment1 we are1 it is true1 the less disposed to the serious and sublime3 but then1 a ludicrous scene1 by unbending the mind from severe application to more interesting subjects1 may prevent fatigue1 and preserve our relish entire4 ,,chap4 ,,ix4 ,of ,uniformity and ,variety4 ,when ,i apply myself to explain uniformity and variety1 and to show how we are affected by these circumstances1 it appears doubtful what method ought to be followed4 ,i foresee several difficulties in keeping close to my text2 and yet by indulging a range1 such as may be necessary for a clear view1 ,i shall certainly incur the censure of wandering4--,be it so4 ,one ought not to abandon the right track for fear of censure4 ,the collateral matters1 beside1 that will be introduced1 are curious1 and not of slight importance in the science of human nature4 ,the necessary succession of perceptions1 is a subject formerly handled1 so far as it depends on the relations of objects and their mutual connections#ia4 ,but that subject is not exhausted2 and ,i take the liberty to introduce it a second time1 in order to explain in what manner we are affected by uniformity and variety4 ,the world we inhabit is replete with things not less remarkable for their variety than their number4 ,these1 unfolded by the wonderful mechanism of external sense1 furnish the mind with many perceptions1 which1 joined with ideas of memory1 of imagination1 and of reflection1 form a complete train that has not a gap or interval4 ,this tide of objects1 in a continual flux1 is in a good measure independent of will4 ,the mind1 as has been observed#ib1 is so constituted1 8,that it can by no effort break off the succession of its ideas1 nor keep its attention long fixt upon the same object40 ,we can arrest a perception in its course2 we can shorten its natural duration1 to make room for another2 we can vary the succession by change of place or amusement2 and we can in some measure prevent variety1 by frequently recalling the same object after short intervals3 but still there must be a succession1 and a change from one thing to another4 ,by artificial means1 the succession may be retarded or accelerated1 may be rendered more various or more uniform1 but in one shape or other is unavoidable4 ,the rate of succession1 even when left to its ordinary course1 is not always the same4 ,there are natural causes that accelerate or retard it considerably4 ,the first ,i shall mention depends on a peculiar constitution of mind4 ,one man is distinguished from another1 by no circumstance more remarkably than the movement of his train of perceptions4 ,a cold languid temper is accompanied with a slow course of perceptions1 which occasions dulness of apprehension and sluggishness in action4 ,to a warm temper1 on the contrary1 belongs a quick course of perceptions1 which occasions quickness of apprehension and activity in business4 ,the ,asiatic nations1 the ,chinese especially1 are observed to be more cool and deliberate than the ,europeans3 may not the reason be1 that heat enervates by exhausting the spirits8 ,a certain degree of cold1 such as is felt in the middle regions of ,europe1 by bracing the fibres1 rouses the mind1 and produces a brisk circulation of thought1 accompanied with vigour in action4 ,in youth there is observable a quicker succession of perceptions1 than in old age4 ,hence in youth a remarkable avidity for variety of amusements1 which in riper years give place to more uniform and more sedate occupation4 ,this qualifies men of middle age for business1 where activity is required1 but with a greater proportion of uniformity than variety4 ,in old age1 a slow and languid succession makes variety unnecessary2 and for that reason1 the aged1 in all their motions1 are generally governed by an habitual uniformity4 ,whatever be the cause1 we may venture to pronounce1 that heat in the imagination and temper1 is always connected with a brisk flow of perceptions4 ,the natural rate of succession1 depends also in some degree upon the particular perceptions that compose the train4 ,an agreeable object1 taking a strong hold of the mind1 occasions a slower succession than when the objects are indifferent4 ,grandeur and novelty fix the attention for a considerable time1 excluding all other ideas2 and the mind thus occupied feels no vacuity4 ,some emotions1 by hurrying the mind from object to object1 accelerate the succession4 ,where the train is composed of connected objects1 the succession is quick4 ,for it is so ordered by nature1 that the mind goes easily and sweetly along connected objects#ic4 ,on the other hand1 the succession must be slow where the train is composed of unconnected objects4 ,an unconnected object1 finding no ready access to the mind1 requires time to make an impression4 ,and that it is not admitted without a struggle1 appears from the unsettled state of the mind for some moments after it is presented1 wavering betwixt it and the former train4 ,during this short period1 one or other of the former objects will intrude1 perhaps oftener than once1 till the attention be fixt entirely upon the new object4 ,the same observations are applicable to ideas suggested by language4 ,the mind can bear a quick succession of related ideas4 ,but an unrelated idea1 for which the mind is not prepared1 takes time to make a distinct impression2 and therefore a train composed of such ideas1 ought to proceed with a slow pace4 ,hence an epic poem1 a play1 or any story connected in all its parts1 may be perused in a shorter time1 than a book of maxims or apothegms1 of which a quick succession creates both confusion and fatigue4 ,such latitude hath nature indulged in the rate of succession4 ,what latitude it indulges with respect to uniformity we proceed to examine4 ,the uniformity or variety of a train1 so far as composed of external objects1 depends on the particular objects that surround the percipient at the time4 ,the present occupation must also have an influence2 one is sometimes engaged in a multiplicity of affairs1 sometimes altogether vacant4 ,a natural train of ideas of memory is more circumscribed1 each object being linked1 by some connection1 to what precedes and to what follows it4 ,these connections1 which are many and of different kinds1 afford scope for a sufficient degree of variety2 and at the same time prevent any excess that is unpleasant4 ,temper and constitution also have an influence here1 as well as upon the rate of succession4 ,a man of a calm and sedate temper1 admits not willingly any idea but what is regularly introduced by a proper connection4 ,one of a roving disposition embraces with avidity every new idea1 however slender its relation be to those that go before it4 ,neither must we overlook the nature of the perceptions that compose the train2 for their influence is not less with respect to uniformity and variety1 than with respect to the rate of succession4 ,the mind ingrossed by any passion1 love or hatred1 hope or fear1 broods over its object1 and can bear no interruption4 ,in such a state1 the train of perceptions must not only be slow1 but extremely uniform4 ,anger newly inflamed eagerly grasps its object1 and leaves not a cranny in the mind for another thought than of revenge4 ,in the character of ,hotspur1 this state of mind is represented to the life2 a picture remarkable for high colouring as well as for strictness of imitation3 ,worcester4 ,peace1 cousin1 say no more4 ,and now ,i will unclasp a secret book1 ,and to your quick-conceiving discontents ,i'll read you matter1 deep and dangerous2 ,as full of peril and advent'rous spirit ,as to o'erwalk a current1 roaring loud1 ,on the unsteadfast footing of a spear4 ,hotspur4 ,if he fall in1 good-night4 ,or sink or swim1 ,send danger from the east into the west1 ,so honour cross it from the north to south2 ,and let them grapple4 ,o6 the blood more stirs ,to rouse a lion than to start a hare4 ,worcester4 ,those same ,noble ,scots1 ,that are your prisoners---- ,hotspur4 ,i'll keep them all4 ,by ,heav'n1 he shall not have a ,scot of them3 ,no1 if a ,scot would save his soul1 he shall not2 ,i'll keep them1 by this hand4 ,worcester4 ,you start away1 ,and lend no ear unto my purposes2 ,those pris'ners you shall keep4 ,hotspur4 ,i will2 that's flat3 ,he said1 he would not ransom ,mortimer3 ,forbad my tongue to speak of ,mortimer3 ,but ,i will find him when he lies asleep1 ,and in his ear ,i'll holla ,mortimer6 ,nay1 ,i will have a starling taught to speak ,nothing but ,mortimer1 and give it him1 ,to keep his anger still in motion4 ,worcester4 ,hear you1 cousin1 a word4 ,hotspur4 ,all studies here ,i solemnly defy1 ,save how to gall and pinch this ,bolingbroke3 ,and that same sword-and-buckler ,prince of ,wales1 7,but that ,i think his father loves him not1 ,and would be glad he met with some mischance71 ,i'd have him poison'd with a pot of ale4 ,worcester4 ,farewel1 my kinsman1 ,i will talk to you1 ,when you are better temper'd to attend4 ,first part1 ,henry ,,iv4 act #a4 sc4 #d4 ,having viewed a train of perceptions as directed by nature1 and the variations it is susceptible of from different necessary causes1 we proceed to examine how far it is subjected to will2 for that will hath some influence1 more or less1 is observed above4 ,and first1 the rate of succession may be retarded by insisting upon one object1 and propelled by dismissing another before its time4 ,but such voluntary mutations in the natural course of succession1 have limits that cannot be extended by the most painful efforts4 ,the mind circumscribed in its capacity1 cannot1 at the same instant1 admit many perceptions2 and when replete1 it has no place for new perceptions till others be removed4 ,for this reason1 a voluntary change of perceptions cannot be instantaneous2 and the time it requires sets bounds to the velocity of succession4 ,on the other hand1 the power we have to arrest a flying perception1 is equally limited4 ,the longer we detain any perception1 the more difficulty we find in the operation2 till1 the difficulty becoming unsurmountable1 we are forced to quit our hold1 and to permit the train to take its usual course4 ,the power we have over this train as to uniformity and variety1 is in some cases very great1 in others very little4 ,a train so far as composed of external objects1 depends entirely on the place we occupy1 and admits not more or less variety but by change of place4 ,a train composed of ideas of memmory1 is still less under our power4 ,objects which are connected1 afford the mind an easy passage from one to another4 ,they suggest each other in idea by the same means2 and we cannot at will call up any idea that is not connected with the train#id4 ,but a train of ideas suggested by reading1 may be varied at will1 provided we have books in store4 ,this power which nature hath given us over our train of perceptions1 may be greatly strengthened by proper discipline1 and by an early application to business4 ,its improved strength is remarkable in those who have a strong genius for the mathematics3 nor less remarkable in persons devoted to religious exercises1 who pass whole days in contemplation1 and impose upon themselves long and severe penances4 ,it is not to be conceived1 what length a habit of activity in affairs will carry some men4 ,let a stranger1 or let any person to whom the sight is not familiar1 attend the ,chancellor of ,great ,britain through the labours but of one day1 during a session of parliament3 how great will be his astonishment6 what multiplicity of law-business1 what deep thinking1 and what elaborate application to matters of government6 ,the train of perceptions must in this great man be accelerated far beyond the common course of nature4 ,yet no confusion nor hurry2 but in every article the greatest order and accuracy4 ,such is the force of habit6 ,how happy is man1 to have the command of a principle of action1 that can elevate him so far above the ordinary condition of humanity#ie6 ,we are now ripe for considering a train of perceptions with respect to pleasure and pain3 and to this speculation we must give peculiar attention1 because it serves to explain the effects that uniformity and variety have upon the mind4 ,a man is always in a pleasant state of mind1 when his perceptions flow in their natural course4 ,he feels himself free1 light1 and easy1 especially after any forcible acceleration or retardation4 ,on the other hand1 the resistance felt in retarding or accelerating the natural course1 excites a pain1 which1 though scarcely felt in small removes1 becomes considerable toward the extremes4 ,an aversion to fix on any single object for a long time1 or to take in a multiplicity of objects in a short time1 is remarkable in children2 and equally so in men unaccustomed to business4 ,a man languishes when the succession is very slow2 and1 if he grow not impatient1 is apt to fall asleep4 ,during a rapid succession1 he hath a feeling as if his head were turning round4 ,he is fatigued1 and his pain resembles that of weariness after bodily labour4 ,external objects1 when they occasion a very slow or a very quick succession1 produce a pain of the same sort with what it felt in a voluntary retardation or acceleration3 which shows that the pain proceeds not from the violence of the action1 but from the retardation or acceleration itself1 disturbing that free and easy course of succession which is naturally pleasant4 ,but the mind is not satisfied with a moderate course alone3 its perceptions must also be sufficiently diversified4 ,number without variety constitutes not an agreeable train4 ,in comparing a few objects1 uniformity is agreeable3 but the frequent reiteration of uniform objects becomes unpleasant4 ,one tires of a scene that is not diversified2 and soon feels a sort of unnatural restraint when confined within a narrow range1 whether occasioned by a retarded succession or by too great uniformity4 ,an excess in variety is1 on the other hand1 fatiguing4 ,this is even perceptible in a train composed of related objects3 much more where the objects are unrelated2 for an object1 unconnected with the former train1 gains not admittance without effort2 and this effort1 though scarce perceptible in a single instance1 becomes by frequent reiteration exceeding painful4 ,whatever be the cause1 the fact is certain1 that a man never finds himself more at ease1 than when his perceptions succeed each other with a certain degree1 not only of velocity1 but also of variety4 ,hence it proceeds1 that a train consisting entirely of ideas of memory1 is never painful by too great variety2 because such ideas are not introduced otherwise than according to their natural connections#if4 ,the pleasure of a train of ideas1 is the most remarkable in a reverie2 especially where the imagination interposes1 and is active in coining new ideas1 which is done with wonderful facility4 ,one must be sensible1 that the serenity and ease of the mind in this state1 makes a great part of the enjoyment4 ,the case is different where external objects enter into the train2 for these1 making their appearance without any order1 and without any connection save that of contiguity1 form a train of perceptions that may be extremely uniform or extremely diversified2 which1 for opposite reasons1 are both of them painful4 ,any acceleration or retardation of the natural run of perceptions1 is painful even where it is voluntary4 ,and it is equally painful to alter that degree of variety which nature requires4 ,contemplation1 when the mind is long attached to one thing1 soon becomes painful by restraining the free range of perception4 ,curiosity and the prospect of advantage from useful discoveries1 may engage a man to prosecute his studies1 notwithstanding the pain they give him2 and a habit of close attention1 formed by frequent exercise1 may soften the pain4 ,but it is deeply felt by the bulk of mankind1 and produceth in them an aversion to all abstract sciences4 ,in any profession or calling1 a train of operation that is simple and reiterated without intermission1 makes the operator languish1 and lose his vigor4 ,he complains neither of too great labour nor of too little action2 but regrets the want of variety1 and his being obliged to do the same thing over and over4 ,where the operation is sufficiently varied1 the mind retains its vigor1 and is pleased with its condition4 ,actions again create an uneasiness when excessive in number or variety1 though in every other respect agreeable4 ,this uneasiness is extremely remarkable1 where strict attention must be given1 at the same time1 to a number of different things4 ,thus a throng of business in law1 in physic1 or in traffick1 distresseth and distracts the mind1 unless where a habit of application is acquired by long and constant exercise4 ,the excessive variety is the distressing circumstance2 and the mind suffers grievously by being kept constantly upon the stretch4 ,with relation to involuntary causes disturbing that degree of variety which nature requires1 a slight pain affecting one part of the body without variation1 becomes1 by its constancy and long duration1 almost insupportable4 ,the patient1 sensible that the pain is not increased in degree1 complains of its constancy more than of its severity1 that it ingrosses his whole thoughts1 and gives admission to no other object4 ,pain1 of all feelings1 seizes the attention with the greatest force2 and the mind1 after fruitless efforts to turn its view to objects more agreeable1 must abandon itself to its tormentor4 ,a shifting pain gives less uneasiness1 because change of place contributes to variety4 ,an intermitting pain1 suffering other objects to intervene1 is not increased by reiteration4 ,again1 any single colour or sound often returning1 becomes disagreeable2 as may be observed in viewing a train of similar apartments painted with the same colour1 and in hearing the prolonged tollings of a bell4 ,colour and sound varied within certain limits1 though without any order1 are agreeable2 witness a field variegated with many colours of plants and flowers1 and the various notes of birds in a thicket4 ,increase the number or variety1 and the feeling becomes unpleasant4 ,thus a great variety of colours1 crowded upon a small canvas or in quick succession1 create an uneasy feeling1 which is prevented by putting the colours at a greater distance either of place or time4 ,a number of voices in a crowded assembly1 a number of animals collected in a market1 produce an unpleasant emotion2 though a few of them together1 or all of them in a moderate succession1 would be agreeable4 ,and because of the same excess in variety1 a number of pains felt in different parts of the body1 at the same instant or in a rapid succession1 make an exquisite torture4 ,the foregoing doctrine concerning the train of perceptions1 and the pleasure or pain resulting from that train in different circumstances1 will be confirmed by attending to the final cause of these effects4 ,and as ,i am sensible that the mind1 inflamed with speculations of this kind so highly interesting1 is beyond measure disposed to conviction1 ,i shall be watchful to admit no argument nor remark but what appears solidly founded4 ,with this caution ,i proceed to the inquiry4 ,it is occasionally observed above1 that persons of a phlegmatic temperament1 having a sluggish train of perceptions1 are indisposed to action2 and that activity constantly accompanies a brisk motion of perceptions4 ,to ascertain this fact1 a man need not go abroad for experiments4 ,reflecting upon things passing in his own mind1 he will find1 that a brisk circulation of thought constantly prompts him to action2 and that he is averse to action when his perceptions languish in their course4 ,but man by nature is formed for action1 and he must be active in order to be happy4 ,nature therefore hath kindly provided against indolence1 by annexing pleasure to a moderate course of perceptions1 and by making every remarkable retardation painful4 ,a slow course of perceptions is attended with another bad effect4 ,man in a few capital cases is governed by propensity or instinct2 but in matters that admit deliberation and choice1 reason is assigned him for a guide4 ,now1 as reasoning requires often a great compass of ideas1 their succession ought to be so quick1 as readily to furnish every motive that may be necessary for mature deliberation4 ,in a languid succession1 motives will often occur after action is commenced1 when it is too late to retreat4 ,nature hath guarded man1 her favourite1 against a succession too rapid1 not less carefully than against one too slow4 ,both are equally painful1 though the pain is not the same in both4 ,many are the good effects of this contrivance4 ,in the first place1 as the bodily faculties are by certain painful sensations confined within proper limits1 beyond which it would be dangerous to strain the tender organs1 ,nature1 in like manner1 is equally provident with respect to the nobler faculties of the mind4 ,thus the pain of an accelerated course of perceptions1 is ,nature's admonition to relax our pace1 and to admit a more gentle exertion of thought4 ,another valuable purpose may be gathered1 from considering in what manner objects are imprinted upon the mind4 ,to make such an impression as to give the memory fast hold of the object1 time is required1 even where attention is the greatest2 and a moderate degree of attention1 which is the common case1 must be continued still longer to produce the same effect4 ,a rapid succession then must prevent objects from making impressions so deep as to be of real service in life2 and ,nature accordingly for the sake of memory1 has by a painful feeling guarded against a rapid succession4 ,but a still more valuable purpose is answered by this contrivance4 ,as1 on the one hand1 a sluggish course of perceptions indisposeth to action2 so1 on the other1 a course too rapid impels to rash and precipitant action4 ,prudent conduct is the child of deliberation and clear conception1 for which there is no place in a rapid course of thought4 ,nature therefore1 taking measures for prudent conduct1 has guarded us effectually from precipitancy of thought1 by making it painful4 ,nature not only provides against a succession too slow or too quick1 but makes the middle course extremely pleasant4 ,nor is this middle course confined within narrow bounds4 ,every man can naturally without pain accelerate or retard in some degree the rate of his perceptions2 and he can do this in a still greater degree by the force of habit4 ,thus a habit of contemplation annihilates the pain of a retarded course of perceptions2 and a busy life1 after long practice1 makes acceleration pleasant4 ,concerning the final cause of our taste for variety1 it will be considered1 that human affairs1 complex by variety as well as number1 require the distributing our attention and activity1 in measure and proportion4 ,nature therefore1 to secure a just distribution corresponding to the variety of human affairs1 has made too great uniformity or too great variety in the course of our perceptions equally unpleasant4 ,and indeed1 were we addicted to either extreme1 our internal constitution would be ill suited to our external circumstances4 ,at the same time1 where a frequent reiteration of the same operation is required1 as in several manufactures1 or a quick circulation1 as in law or physic1 ,nature1 attentive to all our wants1 hath also provided for these cases4 ,she hath implanted in the breast of every person1 an efficacious principle1 which leads to habit4 ,by an obstinate perseverance in the same occupation1 the pain of excessive uniformity vanisheth2 and by the like perseverance in a quick circulation of different occupations1 the pain of excessive variety vanisheth4 ,and thus we come to take delight in several occupations1 that by nature1 without habit1 are not a little disgustful4 ,a middle rate also in our train of perceptions betwixt uniformity and variety1 is not less pleasant1 than betwixt quickness and slowness4 ,the mind of man thus constituted1 is wonderfully adapted to the course of human affairs1 which are continually changing1 but not without connection4 ,it is equally adapted to the acquisition of knowledge1 which results chiefly from discovering resemblances among differing objects1 and differences among resembling objects4 ,such occupation1 even abstracting from the knowledge we acquire1 is in itself delightful1 by preserving a middle rate betwixt too great uniformity and too great variety4 ,we are now arrived at the chief purpose of the present chapter2 and that is to examine how far uniformity or variety ought to be studied in the fine arts4 ,and the knowledge we have obtained1 will even at first view suggest a general observation1 ,that in every work of art1 it must be agreeable to find that degree of variety which corresponds to the natural course of our perceptions2 and that an excess in variety or in uniformity1 must be disagreeable by varying that natural course4 ,for this reason1 works of art admit more or less variety according to the nature of the subject4 ,in a picture that strongly attaches the spectator to a single object1 the mind relisheth not a multiplicity of figures or of ornaments4 ,a picture again representing a gay subject1 admits great variety of figures and ornaments2 because these are agreeable to the mind in a chearful tone4 ,the same observation is applicable to poetry and to music4 ,it must at the same time be remarked1 that one can bear a greater variety of natural objects than of objects in a picture2 and a greater variety in a picture than in a description4 ,a real object presented to the view1 makes an impression more readily than when represented in colours1 and much more readily than when represented in words4 ,hence it is1 that the profuse variety of objects in some natural landscapes1 neither breed confusion nor fatigue4 ,and for the same reason1 there is place for greater variety of ornament in a picture1 than in a poem4 ,from these general observations ,i proceed to particulars4 ,in works exposed continually to public view1 variety ought to be studied4 ,it is a rule accordingly in sculpture1 to contrast the different limbs of a statue1 in order to give it all the variety possible4 ,though the cone in a single view be more beautiful than the pyramid2 yet a pyramidal steeple1 because of its variety1 is justly preferred4 ,for the same reason1 the oval in compositions is preferred before the circle2 and painters1 in copying buildings or any regular work1 endeavour to give an air of variety by representing the subject in an angular view3 we are pleased with the variety without losing sight of the regularity4 ,in a landscape representing animals1 those especially of the same kind1 contrast ought to prevail4 ,to draw one sleeping another awake1 one sitting another in motion1 one moving toward the spectator another from him1 is the life of such a performance4 ,in every sort of writing intended for amusement1 variety is necessary in proportion to the length of the work4 ,want of variety is sensibly felt in ,davila's history of the civil wars of ,france4 ,the events are indeed important and various3 but the reader languisheth by a tiresome uniformity of character2 every person engaged being figured a consummate politician1 governed by interest only4 ,it is hard to say1 whether ,ovid disgusts more by too great variety or too great uniformity4 ,his stories are all of the same kind1 concluding invariably with the transformation of one being into another4 ,so far he is tiresome with excess in uniformity4 ,he also fatigues with excess in variety1 by hurrying his reader incessantly from story to story4 ,ariosto is still more fatiguing than ,ovid1 by exceeding the just bounds of variety4 ,not satisfied1 like ,ovid1 with a succession in his stories1 he distracts the reader by jumbling together a multitude of unconnected events4 ,nor is the ,orlando ,furioso less tiresome by its uniformity than the ,metamorphoses1 though in a different manner4 ,after a story is brought to a crisis1 the reader1 intent upon the catastrophe1 is suddenly snatched away to a new story1 which is little regarded so long as the mind is occupied with the former4 ,this tantalizing method1 from which the author never once swerves during the course of a long work1 beside its uniformity1 hath another bad effect3 it prevents that sympathy which is raised by an interesting event when the reader meets with no interruption4 ,the emotions produced by our perceptions in a train1 have been little considered1 and less understood4 ,the subject therefore required an elaborate discussion4 ,it may surprise some readers1 to find variety treated as only contributing to make a train of perceptions pleasant1 when it is commonly held to be a necessary ingredient in beauty of whatever kind2 according to the definition1 8,that beauty consists in uniformity amidst variety40 ,but after the subject is explained and illustrated as above1 ,i presume it will be evident1 that this definition1 however applicable to one or other species1 is far from being just with respect to beauty in general4 ,variety contributes no share to the beauty of a moral action1 nor of a mathematical theorem2 and numberless are the beautiful objects of sight that have little or no variety in them4 ,a globe1 the most uniform of all figures1 is of all the most beautiful2 and a square1 though more beautiful than a trapezium1 hath less variety in its constituent parts4 ,the foregoing definition1 which at best is but obscurely expressed1 is only applicable to a number of objects in a group or in succession1 among which indeed a due mixture of uniformity and variety is always agreeable1 provided the particular objects1 separately considered1 be in any degree beautiful4 ,uniformity amidst variety among ugly objects1 affords no pleasure4 ,this circumstance is totally omitted in the definition2 and indeed to have mentioned it1 would at first glance show the definition to be imperfect4 ,to define beauty as arising from beautiful objects blended together in a due proportion of uniformity and variety1 would be too gross to pass current2 as nothing can be more gross1 than to employ in a definition the very term that is proposed to be explained4 ,,appendix to ,chap4 ,,ix4 ,concerning the works of nature4 ,in natural objects1 whether we regard their internal or external structure1 beauty and design are equally conspicuous4 ,we shall begin with the outside of nature1 as what first presents itself4 ,the figure of an organic body1 is generally regular4 ,the trunk of a tree1 its branches1 and their ramifications1 are nearly round1 and form a series regularly decreasing from the trunk to the smallest fibre4 ,uniformity is no where more remarkable than in the leaves1 which1 in the same species1 have all the same colour1 size1 and shape4 ,the seeds and fruits are all regular figures1 approaching for the most part to the globular form4 ,hence a plant1 especially of the larger kind1 with its trunk1 branches1 foliage1 and fruit1 is a delightful object4 ,in an animal1 the trunk1 which is much larger than the other parts1 occupies a chief place4 ,its shape1 like that of the stem of plants1 is nearly round2 a figure which of all is the most agreeable4 ,its two sides are precisely similar4 ,several of the under parts go off in pairs2 and the two individuals of each pair are accurately uniform4 ,the single parts are placed in the middle4 ,the limbs1 bearing a certain proportion to the trunk1 serve to support it1 and to give it a proper elevation4 ,upon one extremity are disposed the neck and head1 in the direction of the trunk4 ,the head being the chief part1 possesses with great propriety the chief place4 ,hence1 the beauty of the whole figure1 is the result of many equal and proportional parts orderly disposed2 and the smallest variation in number1 equality1 proportion1 or order1 never fails to produce a perception of ugliness and deformity4 ,nature in no particular seems more profuse of ornament1 than in the beautiful colouring of her works4 ,the flowers of plants1 the furs of beasts1 and the feathers of birds1 vie with each other in the beauty of their colours1 which in lustre as well as in harmony are beyond the power of imitation4 ,of all natural appearances1 the colouring of the human face is the most exquisite4 ,it is the strongest instance of the ineffable art of nature1 in adapting and proportioning its colours to the magnitude1 figure1 and position1 of the parts4 ,in a word1 colour seems to live in nature only1 and to languish under the finest touches of art4 ,when we examine the internal structure of a plant or animal1 a wonderful subtility of mechanism is displayed4 ,man1 in his mechanical operations1 is confined to the surface of bodies4 ,but the operations of nature are exerted through the whole substance1 so as to reach even the elementary parts4 ,thus the body of an animal1 and of a plant1 are composed of certain great vessels2 these of smaller2 and these again of still smaller1 without end so far we can discover4 ,this power of diffusing mechanism through the most intimate parts1 is peculiar to nature2 and distinguishes her operations1 most remarkably1 from every work of art4 ,such texture1 continued from the grosser parts to the most minute1 preserves all along the strictest regularity4 ,the fibres of plants are a bundle of cylindric canals1 lying in the same direction1 and parallel or nearly parallel to each other4 ,in some instances1 a most accurate arrangement of parts is discovered1 as in onions1 formed of concentric coats one within another to the very centre4 ,an animal body is still more admirable1 in the disposition of its internal parts1 and in their order and symmetry4 ,there is not a bone1 a muscle1 a blood-vessel1 a nerve1 that hath not one corresponding to it on the opposite side of the animal2 and the same order is carried through the most minute parts4 ,the lungs are composed of two parts1 which are disposed upon the sides of the thorax2 and the kidneys1 in a lower situation1 have a position not less orderly4 ,as to the parts that are single1 the heart is advantageously situated nigh the middle4 ,the liver1 stomach1 and spleen1 are disposed in the upper region of the abdomen1 about the same height3 the bladder is placed in the middle of the body2 as well as the intestinal canal1 which fills the whole cavity by its convolutions4 ,the mechanical power of nature1 not confined to small bodies1 reacheth equally those of the greatest size2 witness the bodies that compose the solar system1 which1 however large1 are weighed1 measured1 and subjected to certain laws1 with the utmost accuracy4 ,their places around the sun1 with their distances1 are determined by a precise rule1 corresponding to their quantities of matter4 ,the superior dignity of the central body1 in respect of its bulk and lucid appearance1 is suited to the place it occupies4 ,the globular figure of these bodies1 is not only in itself beautiful1 but is above all others fitted for regular motion4 ,each planet revolves about its own axis in a given time2 and each moves round the sun1 in an orbit nearly circular1 and in a time proportioned to its distance4 ,their velocities1 directed by an established law1 are perpetually changing by regular accelerations and retardations4 ,in fine1 the great variety of regular appearances1 joined with the beauty of the system itself1 cannot fail to produce the highest delight in every person who can taste design1 power1 or beauty4 ,nature hath a wonderful power of connecting systems with each other1 and of propagating that connection through all her works4 ,thus the constituent parts of a plant1 the roots1 the stem1 the branches1 the leaves1 the fruit1 are really different systems1 united by a mutual dependence on each other4 ,thus in an animal1 the lymphatic and lacteal ducts1 the blood-vessels and nerves1 the muscles and glands1 the bones and cartilages1 the membranes and viscera1 with the other organs1 form distinct systems1 which are united into one whole4 ,there are1 at the same time1 other connections less intimate4 ,thus every plant is joined to the earth by its roots2 it requires rain and dews to furnish it with juices2 and it requires heat to preserve these juices in fluidity and motion4 ,thus every animal1 by its gravity1 is connected with the earth1 with the element in which it breathes1 and with the sun1 by deriving from it cherishing and enlivening heat4 ,the earth furnisheth aliment to plants1 these to animals1 and these again to other animals1 in a long train of dependence4 ,that the earth is part of a greater system1 comprehending many bodies mutually attracting each other1 and gravitating all toward one common centre1 is now thoroughly explored4 ,such a regular and uniform series of connections1 propagated through so great a number of beings and through such wide spaces1 is wonderful3 and our wonder must increase1 when we observe this connection propagated from the minutest atoms to bodies of the most enormous size1 and widely diffused1 so as that we can neither perceive its beginning nor its end4 ,that it doth not terminate within our own planetary system1 is certain4 ,the connection is diffused over spaces still more remote1 where new bodies and systems rise to our view1 without end4 ,all space is filled with the works of ,god1 which1 being the operation of one hand1 are formed by one plan1 to answer one great end4 ,but the most wonderful connection of all1 though not the most conspicuous1 is that of our internal frame with the works of nature4 ,man is obviously fitted for contemplating these works1 because in this contemplation he has great delight4 ,the works of nature are remarkable in their uniformity not less than in their variety2 and the mind of man is fitted to receive pleasure equally from both4 ,uniformity and variety are interwoven in the works of nature with surprising art4 ,variety1 however great1 is never without some degree of uniformity2 nor the greatest uniformity1 without some degree of variety4 ,there is great variety in the same plant1 by the different appearances of its stem1 branches1 leaves1 blossoms1 fruit1 size1 and colour2 and yet when we trace this variety through different plants1 especially of the same kind1 there is discovered a surprising uniformity4 ,again1 where nature seems to have intended the most exact uniformity1 as among individuals of the same kind1 there still appears a diversity1 which serves readily to distinguish one individual from another4 ,it is indeed admirable1 that the human visage1 in which uniformity is so prevalent1 should yet be so marked as to leave no room for mistaking one person for another4 ,the difference1 though clearly perceived1 is often so minute as to go beyond the reach of description4 ,a correspondence so perfect betwixt the human mind and the works of nature1 is extremely remarkable4 ,the opposition betwixt variety and uniformity is so great1 that one would not readily imagine they could both be relished by the same palate2 at least not in the same object1 nor at the same time4 ,it is however true1 that the pleasures they afford1 being happily adjusted to each other1 and readily mixing in intimate union1 are frequently produced in perfection by the same individual object4 ,nay further1 in the objects that touch us the most1 uniformity and variety are constantly combined2 witness natural objects1 where this combination is always found in perfection4 ,it is for that reason1 that natural objects readily form themselves into groups1 and are agreeable in whatever manner combined3 a wood with its trees1 shrubs1 and herbs1 is agreeable3 the music of birds1 the lowing of cattle1 and the murmuring of a brook1 are in conjunction delightful2 though they strike the ear without modulation or harmony4 ,in short1 nothing can be more happily accommodated to the inward constitution of man1 than that mixture of uniformity with variety which the eye discovers in natural objects4 ,and accordingly1 the mind is never more highly gratified than in contemplating a natural landscape4 ,end of the ,,first ,,volume4 ,,footnotes3 #a ,see the ,appendix1 #ac4 #b ,du ,bos judiciously observes1 that silence doth not tend to calm an agitated mind2 but that soft and slow music hath a fine effect4 #c ,a taste for natural objects is born with us in perfection4 ,to relish a fine countenance1 a rich landscape1 or a vivid colour1 culture is unnecessary4 ,the observation holds equally in natural sounds1 such as the singing of birds1 or the murmuring of a brook4 ,nature here1 the artificer of the object as well as of the percipient1 hath suited them to each other with great accuracy4 ,but of a poem1 a cantata1 a picture1 and other artificial productions1 a true relish is not commonly attained without study and practice4 #d 8,though logic may subsist without rhetoric or poetry1 yet so necessary to these last is a sound and correct logic1 that without it they are no better than warbling trifles40 ,hermes1 p4 #f4 #e ,genius is allied to a warm and inflammable constitution1 delicacy of taste to calmness and sedateness4 ,hence it is common to find genius in one who is a prey to every passion2 which can scarce happen with respect to delicacy of taste4 ,upon a man possessed of this blessing1 the moral duties1 as well as the fine arts1 make a deep impression1 so as to counterbalance every irregular desire4 ,and even supposing a strong temptation1 it can take no fast hold of a calm and sedate temper4 #f ,for how should this be done8 ,what object is it that we are to call up8 ,if this question can be answered1 the object is already in the mind1 and there is no occasion to exert the power4 ,if the question cannot be answered1 ,i next demand1 how it is possible that a voluntary power can be exerted without any view of an object to exert it upon8 ,we cannot form a conception of such a thing4 ,this argument appears to me satisfactory3 if it need confirmation1 ,i urge experience4 ,whoever makes a trial will find1 that objects are linked together in the mind1 forming a connected chain2 and that we have not the command of any object independent of the chain4 #g ,a train of perceptions or ideas1 with respect to its uniformity and variety1 is handled afterward1 chap4 #i4 #h ,lib4 #b4 ode #ac4 #i ,lin4 #bca4 #aj ,lin4 #acf4 #aa ,lin4 #dge4 #ab ,lib4 #d4 lin4 #agc4 #ac ,part #a4 sect4 #d4 #ad ,introduction4 #ae ,introduction4 #af ,in tracing our emotions and passions to their origin1 it once was my opinion1 that qualities and actions are the primary causes of emotions2 and that these emotions are afterward expanded upon the being to which these qualities and actions belong4 ,but ,i have discovered that opinion to be erroneous4 ,an attribute is not1 even in imagination1 separable from the being to which it belongs2 and for that reason1 cannot of itself be the cause of any emotion4 ,we have1 it is true1 no knowledge of any being or substance but by means of its attributes2 and therefore no being can be agreeable to us otherwise than by their means4 ,but still1 when an emotion is raised1 it is the being itself1 as we apprehend the matter1 which raises the emotion2 and it raises it by means of one or other of its attributes4 ,if it be urged1 ,that we can in idea abstract a quality from the thing to which it belongs2 it might be answered1 ,that an abstract idea1 which serves excellently the purposes of reasoning1 is too faint and too much strained to produce any sort of emotion4 ,but it is sufficient for the present purpose to answer1 ,that the eye never abstracts4 ,by this organ we perceive things as they really exist1 and never perceive a quality as separated from the subject4 ,hence it must be evident1 that emotions are raised1 not by qualities abstractly considered1 but by the substance or body so and so qualified4 ,thus a spreading oak raises a pleasant emotion1 by means of its colour1 figure1 umbrage1 c4 ,it is not the colour strictly speaking that produces the emotion1 but the tree as coloured3 it is not the figure abstractly considered that produces the emotion1 but the tree considered as of a certain figure4 ,and hence by the way it appears1 that the beauty of such an object is complex1 resolvable into several beauties more simple4 #ag ,when this analysis of human nature is considered1 not one article of which can with any shadow of truth be controverted1 ,i cannot help being surprised at the blindness of some philosophers1 who1 by dark and confused notions1 are led to deny all motives to action but what arise from self-love4 ,man1 for ought appears1 might possibly have been so framed1 as to be susceptible of no passions but what have self for their object4 ,but man thus framed1 would be ill fitted for society4 ,much better is the matter ordered1 by enduing him with passions directed entirely to the good of others1 as well as with passions directed entirely to his own good4 #ah ,see ,essays upon morality and natural religion1 part #a4 essay #b4 ch4 #d4 #ai ,such proneness has the mind to this communication of properties1 that we often find properties ascribed to a related object1 of which naturally it is not susceptible4 ,sir ,richard ,greenville in a single ship being surprised by the ,spanish fleet1 was advised to retire4 ,he utterly refused to turn from the enemy2 declaring1 8he would rather die1 than dishonour himself1 his country1 and her ,majesty's ship40 ,hakluyt1 vol4 #b4 part #b4 p4 #afi4 ,to aid the communication of properties in such instances1 there always must be a momentary personification4 ,a ship must be imagined a sensible being1 to make it susceptible of honour or dishonour4 ,in the battle of ,mantinea1 ,epaminondas being mortally wounded1 was carried to his tent in a manner dead4 ,recovering his senses1 the first thing he inquired about was his shield2 which being brought1 he kissed it as the companion of his valour and glory4 ,it must be remarked1 that among the ,greeks and ,romans it was deemed infamous for a soldier to return from battle without his shield4 #bj ,see chap4 #a4 #ba ,see ,essays on morality and natural religion1 part #a4 ess4 #b4 ch4 #e4 #bb ,lib4 #g4 cap4 #cf4 #bc ,aulus ,gellius1 lib4 #e4 cap4 #ad4 #bd ,brasidas being surprised by the bite of a mouse he had catched1 let it slip out of his fingers4 8,no creature 7says he7 is so contemptible1 but what may provide for its own safety1 if it have courage to defend itself40 ,plutarch4 ,apothegmata4 #be ,spectator1 ,n #dci4 #bf ,part #a4 sect4 #a4 of the present chapter4 #bg ,at qu ,polycleto defuerunt1 ,phidi atque ,alcameni dantur4 ,phidias tamen diis quam hominibus efficiendis melior artifex traditur3 in ebore vero longe citra mulum1 vel si nihil nisi ,minervam ,athenis1 aut ,olympium in ,elide ,jovem fecisset1 cujus pulchritudo adjecisse aliquid etiam recept religioni videtur2 adeo majestas operis ,deum quavit4 ,quintilian1 lib4 #ab4 cap4 #aj4 #a4 #bh ,see part #g4 of this chapter4 #bi ,see the place above cited4 #cj ,essays on the principles of morality and natural religion1 part #a4 ess4 #b4 chap4 #a4 #ca ,see the introduction4 #cb ,see this point explained afterwards1 chap4 #i4 #cc ,see the appendix1 containing definitions and explanation of terms1 sect4 #cc4 #cd ,chap4 #f4 #ce ,see chap4 #ad4 #cf ,it is easier to conceive the manner of coexistence of similar emotions1 than to describe it4 ,they cannot be said to mix or incorporate like concordant sounds4 ,their union is rather of agreement or concord2 and therefore ,i have chosen the words in the text1 not as sufficient to express clearly the manner of their coexistence1 but only as less liable to exception than any other ,i can find4 #cg ,chap4 #ah4 sect4 #c4 #ch ,chap4 of epic and dramatic compositions4 #ci ,see part #b4 of the present chapter1 toward the close4 #dj ,canto #bj4 st4 #ig4 #da ,chap4 #a4 #db ,see part #a4 sect4 #a4 of the present chapter4 #dc ,herodotus1 book #g4 #dd ,act #b4 sc4 #f4 #de ,act #c4 sc4 #h4 #df ,part #a4 of this chapter1 sect4 #c4 #dg ,aristotle1 poet4 cap4 #ah4 #c4 says1 that anger raiseth in the spectator a similar emotion of anger4 #dh ,see ,historical law-tracts1 tract #a4 #di ,part #e4 of the present chapter4 #ej ,chap4 #b4 part4 #a4 sect4 #a4 first note4 #ea ,chap4 #b4 part #a4 sect4 #d4 #eb ,see the appendix1 containing definitions and explanation of terms4 #ec ,see chap4 #b4 part #a4 sect4 #a4 #ed ,longinus observes1 that nature inclines us to admire1 not a small rivulet1 however clear and transparent1 but the ,nile1 the ,ister1 the ,rhine1 or still more the ocean4 ,the sight of a small fire produceth no emotion2 but we are struck with the boiling furnaces of tna1 pouring out whole rivers of liquid flame4 ,treatise of the ,sublime1 chap4 #bi4 #ee ,kempfer's history of ,japan1 b4 #e4 ch4 #b4 #ef ,longinus gives a pretty good description of the sublime1 though not entirely just in every one of the circumstances1 8,that the mind is elevated by it1 and so sensibly affected as to swell in transport and inward pride1 as if what is only heard or read1 were its own invention40 ,but he adheres not to this description4 ,in his #fth chapter he justly observes1 that many passions have nothing of the grand1 such as grief1 fear1 pity1 which depress the mind instead of raising it4 ,and yet in chapter #hth1 he mentions ,sappho's ode upon love as sublime4 ,beautiful it is undoubtedly1 but it cannot be sublime1 because it really depresses the mind instead of raising it4 ,his translator ,boileau is not more successful in his instances4 ,in his #ajth reflection he cites a passage from ,demosthenes and another from ,herodotus as sublime1 which are not so4 #eg ,kempfer's history of ,japan4 #eh ,spectator1 ,n #db #ei ,it is justly observed by ,addison1 that perhaps a man would have been more astonished with the majestic air that appeared in one of ,lysippus's statues of ,alexander1 though no bigger than the life1 than he might have been with ,mount ,athos1 had it been cut into the figure of the hero1 according to the proposal of ,phidias1 with a river in one hand and a city in the other4 ,spectator1 ,n #dae4 #fj ,honestum per se esse expetendum indicant pueri1 in quibus1 ut in speculis1 natura cernitur4 ,quanta studia decertantium sunt6 ,quanta ipsa certamina6 ,ut illi efferuntur ltitia1 cum vicerunt6 ,ut pudet victos6 ,ut se accusari nolunt6 ,ut cupiunt laudari6 ,quos illi labores non perferunt1 ut qualium principes sint6 ,cicero de finibus4 #fa ,spectator1 ,n #dae4 #fb ,chap4 #h4 of the ,sublime4 #fc ,lib4 #c4 beginning at line #efg4 #fd ,high1 in the old ,scotch language1 is pronounced hee4 #fe ,herodotus1 book #g4 #ff ,chap4 #cj4 #fg ,boileau and ,huet4 #fh ,l'art poet4 chant #a4 l4 #fh4 #fi ,see chap4 #d4 #gj ,see chap4 #i4 #ga ,chap4 #a4 #gb ,chap4 #ae4 #gc ,see chap4 #a4 #gd ,see chap4 #b4 part #a4 sect4 #b4 #ge ,see chap4 #d4 #gf ,essays on the principles of morality and natural religion part #b4 ess4 #f4 #gg ,hence the ,latin names for surprise1 torpor1 animo stupor4 #gh ,see chap4 #f4 #gi ,coke upon ,littleton1 p4 #ga4 #hj ,practical writers upon the fine arts will attempt any thing1 being blind both to the difficulty and danger4 ,de ,piles1 accounting why contrast is agreeable1 says1 8,that it is a sort of war which puts the opposite parties in motion40 ,thus1 to account for an effect of which there is no doubt1 any cause1 however foolish1 is made welcome4 #ha ,chap4 #b4 part #e4 #hb ,the examples above given are of subjects that can be brought to an end or conclusion4 ,but the same uneasiness is perceptible with respect to subjects that admit not any conclusion2 witness a series that has no end1 commonly called an infinite series4 ,the mind running along such a series1 begins soon to feel an uneasiness1 which becomes more and more sensible in continuing its progress4 ,an unbounded prospect doth not long continue agreeable4 ,we soon feel a slight uneasiness1 which increases with the time we bestow upon the object4 ,in order to find the cause of this uneasiness1 we first take under consideration an avenue without a terminating object4 ,can a prospect without any termination be compared to an infinite series8 ,there is one striking difference1 that with respect to the eye no prospect can be unbounded4 ,the quickest eye commands but a certain length of space2 and there it is bounded1 however obscurely4 ,but the mind perceives things as they exist2 and the line is carried on in idea without end4 ,in that respect an unbounded prospect is similar to an infinite series4 ,in fact1 the uneasiness of an unbounded prospect differs very little in its feeling from that of an infinite series2 and therefore we may reasonably conclude that both proceed from the same cause4 ,we next consider a prospect unbounded every way1 as for example1 a great plain1 or the ocean1 viewed from an eminence4 ,we feel here an uneasiness occasioned by the want of an end or termination1 precisely as in the other cases4 ,a prospect unbounded every way is indeed so far singular1 as at first to be more pleasant than a prospect that is unbounded in one direction only1 and afterward to be more painful4 ,but these circumstances are easily explained without breaking in upon the general theory4 ,the pleasure we feel at first is a strong emotion of grandeur1 arising from the immense extension of the object4 ,and to increase the pain we feel afterward for the want of a termination1 there concurs a pain of a different kind1 occasioned by stretching the eye to comprehend so great a prospect2 a pain that gradually increases with the repeated efforts we make to grasp the whole4 ,it is the same principle1 if ,i mistake not1 which operates imperceptibly with respect to quantity and number4 ,another's property indented into my field gives me uneasiness2 and ,i am eager to make the purchase1 not for profit1 but in order to square my field4 ,xerxes and his army in their passage to ,greece were sumptuously entertained by ,pythius the ,lydian4 ,xerxes getting a particular account of his riches1 recompensed him with #gjjj ,darics1 which he wanted to complete the sum of four millions4 #hc ,aristotle1 poet4 cap4 #ag4 #hd ,spectator1 ,n #bfe4 #he ,lib4 #a4 #bh4 #hf ,act #d4 sc4 #b4 #hg ,see chap4 #b4 part #d4 #hh ,chap4 #b4 part #d4 #hi n4 lib4 #e4 #ij ,iliad1 book #bc4 l4 #hgi4 #ia ,chap4 #a4 #ib ,locke1 book #b4 chap4 #ad4 #ic ,see chap4 #a4 #id ,see chap4 #a4 #ie ,this chapter was composed in the year #agec4 #if ,chap4 #a4