From their foundations loos'ning to and fro, This idea of the giants throwing the mountains, which is in itself so grand, is rendered, by Claudian, burlesque and ridiculous; by the single circumstance, of one of his giants with the mountain Ida upon his shoulders, and a river which flowed from the mountain, running down along the giant's back, as he held it up in that posture. In Virgil's description of mount Etna, there is an inaccuracy of the same kind. After several magnificent images, the poet concludes with representing the mountain as belching up its bowels with a groan ;" which, by likening the mountain to a sick or drunken person, degrades the majesty of the description. 66 Such instances show how much the sublime depends upon a just selection of circumstances; and with how great care every circumstance must be avoided, which, by bordering in the least upon the mean, or even upon the gay or trifling, alters the tone of the emotion. If it shall now be inquired, what are the proper sources of the sublime, we answer, that they are to be found every where in nature. It is not by hunting after tropes, and figures, and rhetorical assistance, that we can expect to produce it; for it stands clear, for the most part, of these labored refinements of art. It must come unsought, if it comes at all; and be the natural offspring of a strong imagination. What is commonly called the sublime style, is, for the most part, a very bad one; and has no relation, whatever, to the real sublime. Persons are apt to imagine, that magnificent words, accumulated epithets, and a certain swelling kind of expression, by rising above what is usual or vulgar, contributes to, or even forms the sublime: but nothing, in reality, is more false. In genuine instances of sublime writing, nothing of this kind appears. "God said, let there be light; and there was light." This is striking and Repeat the passage. By whom is this idea rendered burlesque and ridiculous; and in what way? What inaccuracy of the same kind is found in Virgil's description of mount Etna? What do such instances show? Where are the proper sources of the sublime to be found; and how is this illustrated? Of what is commonly called a sublime style, what is observed? What are writers apt to imagine; why is this false, and what illustration follows? In all good writing, where does the sublime, in general, lie; and what follows? sublime. But put it into what is commonly called the sublime style: "The Sovereign Arbiter of nature, by the potent energy of a single word, commanded the light to exist;" and, as has been well observed, the style indeed is raised, but the thought is fallen. In general it may be observed, that, in all good writing, the sublimé lies in the thought, not in the expression; and when the thought is truly noble, it will, for the most part, clothe itself in a native dignity of language. The faults opposite to the sublime are chiefly two: the frigid and the bombast. The frigid consists, in degrading an object or sentiment, which is sublime in itself, by mean conception of it; or by a weak, low, and childish description of it. This betrays entire absence, or at least, great poverty of genius. Of this there are abundance of examples, and these commented upon with much humor, in the Treatise on the Art of Sinking, by Dean Swift. The bombast lies, in forcing an ordinary or trivial object out of its rank, and endeavoring to raise it into the sublime; or, in attempting to exalt a sublime object beyond all natural and reasonable bounds. Into this error, which is but too common, writers of genius may sometimes fall, by unluckily losing sight of the true point of the sublime. This is also called fustian or rant; and Dryden and Lee, in their tragedies, abound with it. We have treated thus fully of the sublime, because it is so capital an excellency in fine writing, and because clear and precise ideas on this head, are seldom to be met with in critical writers. What are the faults opposite to the sublime? In what does the frigid consist; and what does it betray? Of these what is remarked? In what does the bombast lie? How may writers of genius sometimes fall into this error? What is this also called; and who abound with it? Why have we treated thus fully of the sublime? ANALYSIS. 1. The foundation of the sublime. 2. Instances of sublime writing. C. The works of Ossian. 3. Essentials to the sublime. A. Conciseness and simplicity. B. Strength. 4. The sources of the sublime. 6. A sublime style. 7. Opposites to the sublime. A. Frigid style. B. Bombastic style. LECTURE V. BEAUTY AND OTHER PLEASURES OF TASTE BEAUTY, next to sublimity, affords, beyond doubt, the highest pleasure to the imagination. The emotion which it raises, may be easily distinguished from that of sublimity. It is of a calmer kind; more gentle and soothing; does not elevate the mind so much, but produces an agreeable serenity. Sublimity raises a feeling, too violent to be lasting; the pleasure arising from beauty admits of longer continuance. It extends, also, to a much greater variety of objects than sublimity; to a variety indeed so great, that the feelings which beautiful objects produce, differ considerably, not in degree only, but also in kind, from one another. Hence, no word in the language is used with less discrimination than beauty. It is applied to almost every external object that pleases the eye or the ear; to a great number of the graces of writing; to many dispositions of the mind; and, even to several objects of mere abstract science. We talk currently of a beautiful tree or flower; a beautiful poem; a beautiful character; and, a beautiful theorem in mathematics. Hence, we may easily perceive, that among so great a variety of objects, to find out some one quality in which they all agree, and which is the foundation of that agreeable sensation which they all raise, must be a very difficult, if not a vain attempt. Hypotheses, however, have been framed by ingenious men, for ascertaining the fundamental quality of beauty in all objects. In particular, uniformity amidst variety, has been insisted on as the fundamental quality. This, however, will not apply to color or motion; nor will it apply to all figured objects, since some please which have very little variety, and others, which are various to a degree How may the emotion which beauty raises, be distinguished from that of sublimity? Of the variety of objects to which beauty extends, what is remarked? Hence, to what is it applied; and of what do we currently talk? What must, consequently, among so great a variety of objects, be a very difficult task? For what have hypotheses been framed; and what has been insisted on, as its fundamental quality? To what, however, will not this apply; and why? of intricacy. Laying systems, therefore, aside, we shall give an enumeration of several of those classes of objects in which beauty most remarkably appears; and point out, as far as possible, the separate principles of beauty in each of them. We can Color affords, perhaps, the simplest instance of beauty. Here, neither variety, nor uniformity, nor any other assignable principle, can be considered as its foundation. refer it to no other cause but the structure of the eye, which determines us to receive certain modifications of the rays of light with more pleasure than others. Association of ideas, it is probable, however, has some influence. Green, for instance, may appear more beautiful, by being connected in our ideas with rural scenes and prospects; white, with innocence; blue, with the serenity of the sky. Independent of associations of this kind, all that we can farther observe respecting colors is, that those chosen for beauty are, generally, delicate, rather than glaring. Such are the feathers of several kinds of birds, the leaves of flowers, and the fine variation of colors exhibited by the sky at the rising and setting of the sun. From color we proceed to figure, which opens to us forms of beauty more complex and diversified. Regularity first occurs to be noticed as a source of beauty. By a regular figure, is meant, one which we perceive to be formed according to some certain rule, and not left arbitrary or loose in the construction of its parts. Thus a circle, a square, or a triangle, pleases the eye, by its regularity, as a beautiful figure: yet a certain graceful variety is perceived to be a much more powerful principle of beauty. Regularity appears beautiful to us, chiefly, if not solely, because it suggests the ideas of fitness, propriety, and use, which have always a more intimate connection with orderly and proportionate forms, than with those which appear not constructed according to any certain rule. Nature, who is, doubtless, the most Laying systems, therefore, aside, what is proposed to be done? What, perhaps, affords the simplest instance of beauty; and of it, what is observed? What, perhaps, has some influence; and what illustrations are given? Independent of such associations, what only can we farther observe; and what instances are mentioned? From color, to what do we proceed; and of its beauty what is observed? What first occurs to be noticed as a source of beauty; by it what is meant; and what are the examples? Why does regularity appear beautiful; and of those qualities what is remarked? From the course that nature pursues in this respect, what illustration is given? graceful artist, hath, in all her ornamental works, pursued variety with an apparent neglect of regularity. Cabinets, doors, and windows, are made after a regular form, in cubes and parallelograms, with exact proportion of parts, and by being so formed they please the eye: for this good reason, that, being works of use, they are, by such figures, the better suited to the ends for which they were designed. But plants, flowers, and leaves, are full of variety and diversity. A straight canal is an insipid figure, in comparison of the meanders of rivers. Cones and pyramids are beautiful; but trees growing in their natural wildness, are infinitely more beautiful than when trimmed into pyramids and cones. The apartments of a house must be regular in their dispo sition, for the convenience of its inhabitants; but a garden which is designed merely for beauty, would be extremely disgusting, if it had as much uniformity and order in its parts as a dwelling-house. Motion furnishes another source of beauty, distinct from figure. Motion, of itself, is pleasing; and bodies in motion, are universally preferred to those at rest. It is, however, gentle motion only, that belongs to the beautiful; for when it is very swift, or very forcible, such as that of a torrent, it partakes of the sublime. The motion of a bird gliding through the air, is extremely beautiful; but the swiftness with which lightning darts through the heavens, is magnificent and astonishing. And here, it is proper to observe, that the sensations of sublime and beautiful, are not always distinguished by very distant boundaries; but are capable, in many instances, of approaching towards each other. Thus, a smooth running stream, is one of the most beautiful objects in nature: as it swells gradually into a great river, the beautiful, by degrees, is lost in the sublime. A young tree is a beautiful object; a spreading ancient oak, is a venerable and grand one. The calmness of a fine morning is beautiful; the universal stillness of the evening is highly sublime. But to return to the beauty of motion; it will How are cabinets, doors, and windows, made; and why do they please? But what are full of diversity and variety? How is this subject farther illustrated from a straight canal, cones, and pyramids, the apartments of a house, and a garden? What furnishes another source of beauty, distinct from figure; and of it, what is remarked? What motion, only, belongs to the beautiful; and why? How is this remark illustrated? Here, what is it proper to observe; and what illustrations follow? But to return to the beauty of motion, what will generally hold true; and what instance is mentioned. |