striking testimony, among many others, of benevolence and goodness. This thought, which Mr Addison first started, Dr Akenside, in his poem on the Pleasures of the Imagination, has happily pursued. Not content With every food of life to nourish man, I shall begin with considering the pleasure which arises from sublimity or grandeur, of which I propose to treat at some length; both, as this has a character more precise and distinctly marked than any other of the pleasures of the imagination, and as it coincides more directly with our main subject. For the greater distinctness, I shall, first, treat of the grandeur or sublimity of external objects themselves, which will employ the rest of this Lecture; and, afterwards, of the description of such objects, or of what is called the sublime in writing, which shall be the subject of a following Lecture. I distinguish these two things from one another, the grandeur of the objects themselves when they are presented to the eye, and the description of that grandeur in discourse or writing; though most critics, inaccurately I think, blend them together; and I consider grandeur and sublimity as terms synonymous, or nearly so. If there be any distinction between them, it arises from sublimity's expressing grandeur in its highest degree.* It is not easy to describe, in words, the precise impression which great and sublime objects make upon us when we behold them, but every one has a conception of it. It produces a sort of internal elevation and expansion; it raises the mind much above its ordinary state; and fills it with a degree of wonder and astonishment, which it cannot well express. The emotion is certainly delightful; but it is altogether of the serious kind: a degree of awfulness and solemnity, even approaching to severity, commonly attends it when at its height; very distinguishable from the more gay and brisk emotion raised by beautiful objects. All The simplest form of external grandeur appears in the vast and boundless prospects presented to us by nature; such as wide-extended plains, to which the eye can see no limits; the firmament of heaven, or the boundless expanse of the ocean. vastness produces the impression of sublimity. It is to be remarked, however, that space, extended in length, makes not so strong an impression as height or depth. Though a boundless plain be a grand object, yet a high mountain, to which we * See a Philosophical Inquiry into the Origin of our Ideas of the Sublime and Beautiful. Dr Gerard on Taste, Section II. Elements of Criticism, Chap. IV. look up, or an awful precipice or tower whence we look down on the objects which lie below, is still more so. The excessive grandeur of the firmament arises from its height, joined to its boundless extent; and that of the ocean, not from its extent alone, but from the perpetual motion and irresistible force of that mass of waters. Wherever space is concerned, it is clear, that amplitude or greatness of extent, in one dimension or other, is necessary to grandeur. Remove all bounds from any object, and you presently render it sublime. Hence infinite space, cndless numbers, and eternal duration, fill the mind with great ideas. From this some have imagined, that vastness, or amplitude of extent, is the foundation of all sublimity. But I cannot be of this opinion, because many objects appear sublime which have no relation to space at all. Such, for instance, is great loudness of sound. The burst of thunder or of cannon, the roaring of winds, the shouting of multitudes, the sound of vast cataracts of water, are all incontestably grand objects. "I heard the "voice of a great multitude, as the sound of many "waters, and of mighty thunderings, saying, Alle lujah." In general we may observe, that great power and force exerted, always raise sublime ideas; and perhaps the most copious source of these is derived from this quarter. Hence the grandeur of earthquakes and burning mountains; of great conflagrations; of the stormy ocean, and over flowing waters; of tempests of wind; of thunder and lightning; and of all the uncommon violence of the elements. Nothing is more sublime than mighty power and strength. A stream that runs within its banks is a beautiful object; but when it rushes down with the impetuosity and noise of a torrent, it presently becomes a sublime one. From lions and other animals of strength, are drawn sublime comparisons in poets. A race-horse is looked upon with pleasure; but it is the war-horse, "whose neck is clothed with thunder," that carries grandeur in its idea. The engagement of two great armies, as it is the highest exertion of human might, combines a variety of sources of the sublime; and has accordingly been always considered as one of the most striking and magnificent spectacles that can either be presented to the eye, or exhibited to the imagination in description. For the farther illustration of this subject, it is proper to remark, that all ideas of the solemn and awful kind, and even bordering on the terrible, tend greatly to assist the sublime; such as darkness, solitude, and silence. What are the scenes of nature that elevate the mind in the highest degree, and produce the sublime sensation? Not the gay landscape, the flowery field, or the flourishing city; but the hoary mountain, and the solitary lake; the aged forest, and the torrent falling over the rock. Hence, too, night scenes are commonly the most sublime. The firmament, when filled with stars, scattered in such vast numbers, and with such magnificent profusion, strikes the imagination with a more awful grandeur, than when we view it enlightened with all the splendour of the sun. The deep sound of a great bell, or the striking of a great clock, are at any time grand ; but when heard amid the silence and stillness of the night, they become doubly so. Darkness is very commonly applied for adding sublimity to all our ideas of the Deity. "He maketh darkness his pavilion; he dwelleth in the thick cloud." So Milton: How oft, amidst Thick clouds and dark, does Heaven's all-ruling Sire And, with the majesty of darkness, round Book II. 263. Observe, with how much art Virgil has introduced all those ideas of silence, vacuity, and darkness, when he is going to introduce his hero to the infernal regions, and to disclose the secrets of the great deep. Dii quibus imperium est animarum, umbræque silentes, Sit mihi fas audita loqui: sit numine vestro * Ye subterranean gods, whose awful sway The gliding ghosts and silent shades obey; |