It is this fenfe that furnishes the imagination with its ideas; fo that by the pleasures of the imagination or fancy (which I fhall ufe promifcuoufly) I here mean fuch as arife from vifible objects, either when we have them actually in our view, or when we call up their ideas into our minds by paintings, ftatues, defcriptions, or any the like occafion. We cannot indeed have a fingle image in the fancy that did not make its firft entrance through the fight; but we have the power of retaining, altering and compounding thofe images, which we have once received, into all the varieties of picture and vifion that are most agreeable to the imagination: for by this faculty a man in a dungeon is capable of entertaining himself with scenes and landskips more beautiful than any that can be found in the whole compass of nature.

There are few words in the English language which are employed in a more loofe and uncircumfcribed fenfe that thofe of the fancy and the imagination. therefore thought it neceffary to fix and determine the notion of these two words, as I intend to make use of them in the thread of my following fpeculations, that the reader may conceive rightly what is the fubject which I proceed upon. I must therefore defire him to remember that, by the pleasures of the imagination, I mean only fuch pleasures as arife originally from fight, and that I divide thefe pleafures into two kinds; my defign being first of all to difcourfe of thofe primary pleafures of the imagination, which entirely proceed from fuch objects as are before our eyes; and in the next place to fpeak of those fecondary pleasures of the imagination which flow from the ideas of vifible objects, when the objects are not actually before the eye, but are called up into our memories, or formed into agreeable vifions of things that are either abfent or fictitious.

The pleasures of the imagination, taken in their full extent, are not fo grofs as thofe of fenfe, nor fo refined as thofe of the understanding. The laft are, indeed, more preferable, because they are founded on fome new knowledge or improvement in the mind of man; yet it must be confeffed that thofe of the imagination are

as great and as tranfporting as the other. A beautiful profpect delights the foul, as much as a demonftration; and a defcription in Homer has charmed more readers than a chapter in Ariftotle. Befides, the pleafures of the imagination have this advantage, above thofe of the understanding, that they are more obvious, and more eafy to be acquired. It is but opening the eye and the fcene enters. The colours paint themfelves on the fancy, with very little attention of thought or application of mind in the beholder. We are ftruck, we know not how, with the fymmetry of any thing we fee, and immediately affent to the beauty of an object, without enquiring into the particular caufes and occafions of it.

A man of a polite imagination is let into a great many pleasures that the vulgar are not capable of receiving. He can converfe with a picture, and find an agreeable companion in a statue. He meets with a fecret refreshment in a defcription, and often feels a greater fatisfaction in the profpect of fields and meadows, than another does in the poffeffion. It gives him indeed, a kind of property in every thing he fees, and makes the most rude uncultivated parts of nature adminifter to his pleasures: fo that he looks upon the world, as it were in another light, and difcovers in it a multitude of charms, that conceal themfelves from the generality of mankind.

There are, indeed, but very few who know how to be idle and innocent, or Lave a relifh of any pleafures that are not criminal; every diverfion they take is at the expence of fome one virtue or another, and their very firft ftep out of bufinefs is into vice or folly. A man fhould endeavour, therefore, to make the fphere of his innocent pleasures as wide as poffible, that he may retire into them with fafety, and find in them fuch a fatisfaction as a wife man would not blush to take. Of this nature are those of the imagination, which do not require fuch a bent of thought as is neceffary to our more ferious employments, nor, at the fame time, fuffer the mind to fink into that negligence and remiffness, which are apt to accompany our more fenfual delights, but, like a gentle exercile to the faculties, awaken them

from floth and idleness, without putting them upon any labour or difficulty.

We might here add, that the pleasures of the fancy are more conducive to health, than thofe of the underftanding, which are worked out by dint of thinking, and attended with too violent a labour of the brain.

Delightful fcenes, whether in nature, painting, or poetry, have a kindly influence on the body, as well as the mind, and not only ferve to clear and brighten the imagination, but are able to difperfe grief and melancholy, and to fet the animal fpirits in pleafing and agreeable motions. For this reafon fir Francis Bacon, in his Effay upon Health, has not thought it improper to prescribe to his reader a poem or a pro pect, where he particularly diffuades him from knotty and fubtile difquifitions, and advifes him to purfue ftudies that fill the mind with fplendid and illuftrious objects, as hiftories, fables, and contemplations of nature.

I have in this paper, by way of introduction, fettled the notion of thofe pleafures of the imagination which are the fubject of my prefent undertaking, and endeavoured, by feveral confiderations, to recommend to my reader the purfuit of those pleasures. I fhall, in my next paper, examine the feveral fources from whence thefe pleasures are derived.

-Divifum fic breve fiet opus. MART. Ep. 83. lib. 4. The work, divided aptly, fhorter grows.

I SHALL firft confider thofe pleasures of the imagi

nation, which arife from the actual view and furvey of outward objects: and thefe, I think, all proceed from the fight of what is great, uncommon, or beautiful. There may, indeed, be fomething fo terrible or offenfive, that the horror or loathsomeness of an object may overbear the pleasure which refults from its greatness, novelty, or

beauty; but ftill there will be fuch a mixture of delight in the very difguft it gives us, as any of these three qualifications are moft confpicuous and prevailing.

of

By greatness I do not only mean the bulk of any fingle object, but the largenefs of a whole view, confidered as one entire piece. Such are the profpects of an open champaign country, a vast uncultivated defart; of huge heaps of mountains, high rocks and precipices, or a wide expanfe of waters, where we are not struck with the novelty or beauty of the fight, but with that rude kind of magnificence which appears in many thefe ftupendous works of nature. Our imagination loves to be filled with an object, or to grafp at any thing that is too big for its capacity. We are flung into a pleafing aftonishment at fuch unbounded views, and feel a delightful ftillness and amazement in the foul at the apprehenfions of them. The mind of man natural y hates every thing that looks like a restraint upon it, and is apt to fancy itself under a fort of confinement, when the fight is pent up in a narrow compafs, and fhortened on every fide by the neighbourhood of walls or mountains. On the contrary a fpacious horizon is an image of liberty, where the eye has room to range abroad, to expatiate at large on the immenfity of its views, and to lose itself amidst the variety of objects that offer themselves to its obfervation. Such wide and undetermined profpects are as pleafing to the fancy, as the fpeculations of eternity or infinitude are to the understanding. But if there be a beauty or uncommonnefs joined with this grandeur, as in a troubled ocean, a heaven adorned with ftars and meteors, or a fpacious landskip cut out into rivers, woods, rocks, and meadows, the pleasure ftill grows upon us, as it arifes from more than a fingle principle.

Every thing that is new or uncommon raises a pleasure in the imagination, because it fills the foul with an agreeable furprize, gratifies its curiofity, and gives it an idea of which it was not before poffeffed. We are indeed fo often converfant with one set of objects, and tired out with fo many repeated shows of the fame things, that whatever is new or uncommon contributes a little to vary human life, and to divert our minds, for a while,

with the ftrangeness of its appearance: it ferves us for a kind of refreshment, and takes off from that fatiety we are apt to complain of in our ufual and ordinary entertainments. It is this that bestows charins on a monster, and makes even the imperfections of nature pleafe us. It is this that recommends variety, where the mind is every instant called off to fomething new, and the attention not fuffered to dwell too long, and wafte itself on any particular object. It is this, likewife, that improves what is great or beautiful, and makes it afford the mind a double entertainment. Groves, fields, and meadows, are at any feafon of the year pleasant to look upon, but never fo much as in the opening of the fpring, when they are all new and fresh, with their firft glofs upon them, and not yet too much accustomed and familiar to the eye. For this reafon there is nothing that more enlivens a profpect than rivers, jetteaus, or falls of water, where the fcene is perpetually shifting, and entaining the fight every moment with fomething that is new. We are quickly tired with looking upon hills and valleys, where every thing continues fixt and fettled in the fame place and pofture, but find our thoughts a little agitated and relieved at the fight of fuch objects as are ever in motion, and sliding away from beneath the of the beholder.

eye

But there is nothing that makes its way more directly to the foul than beauty, which immediately diffufes a fecret fatisfaction and complacency through the imagination, and gives a finifhing to any thing that is great or uncommon. The very first difcovery of it ftrikes the mind with an inward joy, and spreads a chearfulness and delight through all its faculties. There is not perhaps any real beauty or deformity more in one piece of matter than another, because we might have been fo made, that whatsoever now appears loathfome to us, might have fhewn itself agreeable; but we find by experience that there are feveral modifications of matter which the mind, without any previous confideration, pronounces at first fight beautiful or deformed. Thus we fee that every different fpecies of fenfible creatures has its different notions of beauty, and that each of them is most affected with the beauties of its own kind. This is no where