may obſerve the ſwell of ſome muſcle not quite juſt in the peculiar action of the figure. Here the anatomiſt obſerves what the painter had not obſerved, and he paſſes by what the ſhoemaker had re- marked. But a want of the laſt critical knowledge in anatomy no more reflected on the natural good Taſte of the painter, or of any common obſerver of his piece, than. the want of an exact knowledge in the formation of a ſhoe. A fine piece of a decollated head of St. John the Bap- tiſt was ſhewn to a Turkiſh emperor; he praiſed many things, but he obſerved one defect; he obſerved that the ſkin did not ſhrink from the wounded part of the neck. The ſultan on this occaſion, though his obſervation was very juſt, diſcovered no more natural Taſte than the painter who executed this piece, or than a thouſand European connoiſſeurs who probably never would have made the ſame obſervation. His Turkiſh majeſty had indeed been well acquainted with that terrible ſpectacle, C 4 which 24 INTRODUCTION.
which the others could only have repre- ſented in their imagination. On the ſubject of their diſlike there is a difference between all theſe people, ariſing from the different kinds and degrees of their knowledge; but there is ſomething in common to the painter, the ſhoemaker, the anatomiſt, and the Turkiſh emperor, the pleaſure ariſing from a natural object, ſo far as each perceives it juſtly imitated; the ſatisfaction in ſeeing an agreeable figure; the ſympathy proceeding from a ſtriking and affecting incident. So far as Taſte is natural, it is nearly common to all. N Srl. 85 ee In poetry, and other pieces of imagina- tion, the ſame parity may be obſerved. It is true, that one man is charmed with Don Bellianis, and reads Virgil coldly; whilſt another is tranſported with the Eneid, and leaves Don Bellianis to children. Theſe two men ſeem to have a Taſte very different from each other; but in fact they differ very little. In both theſe pieces, ON HAD pieces, which inſpire ſuch oppoſite ſentiments, a tale exciting admiration is told; both are full of action, both are paſſionate, in both are voyages, battles, triumphs, and continual changes of fortune.
The admirer of Don Bellianis perhaps does not underſtand the refined language of the Eneid, Who if it was degraded into the ſtyle of the Pilgrim's Progreſs, might feel it in all its energy, on the ſame. principle which made bim an a8 mirer of Don Bellianis. 10 24 In his favourite author he is not an ed with the continual breaches of probability, the confuſion of times, the offences againſt manners, the trampling upon geography; for he knows nothing, of geography and chronology, and he has never examined the grounds of probability. He perhaps reads of a ſhip- wreck on the coaſt of Bohemia; wholly.
taken up with ſo intereſting an event, and only follicitous for the fate of his hero, he is not in the leaſt troubled at this 1 > ory cs. eye oo yr — 26 INTRODUCTION.
this extravagant blunder. For why ſhould he be ſhocked: at a ſhipwreck on the coaſt of Bohemia, who does not know but that Bohemia may be an iſland in the Atlantic ocean? and after all, what reflection is this on the natural good Taſte of the perſon here ſuppoſed? —_ - So far then as Taſte belongs to the imagination, its principle is the ſame in all men; there is no difference in the man- ner of their being affected] nor in the . cauſes of the affection; but in the degree there is 4 difference, which ariſes from two cauſes principally;: either from 'a greater degree of natural ſenſibility, or from a cloſer and longer attention to the object. To illuſtrate this by the proce- dure of the ſenſes in which the ſame difference- is found, let us ſuppoſe a very ſmooth marble: table to be ſet before two men; they both perceive it to be ſmooth, and they are both pleaſed with it, beeauſe of this quality. So far they agree. But ſuppoſe another, and after that another table, 3 "Ip F ON TASTE. 27 table, the latter ſtill ſmoother than the former, to be ſet before them. It is now.
very probable that theſe men, who are ſo agreed upon what is ſmooth, and in the _ pleaſure. from thence, will diſagree when they come to ſettle which. table has the advantage in point of poliſh. Here is in- deed the great difference between Taſtes, when men come to compare the exceſs or diminution of things which are judged by degree and not by meaſure. Nor is it eaſyp.
when ſuch a difference ariſes, to ſettle the point, if the exceſs or diminution be not glaring. If we differ in opinion about two quantities, we can have recourſe to a common meaſure, which may decide the queſtion with the utmoſt exactneſs; and this I take it is what gives -mathematical knowledge a greater certainty than any other. But in things whoſe exceſs is not judged by greater or ſmaller, as ſmoothneſs and roughneſs, hardneſs and ſoftneſs, dark- neſs and light, the ſhades of colours, all theſe 28 INTRODUCTION. theſe are very eaſily diſtinguiſhed when the difference is any way confiderable, but not when it is minute, for want of ſome common meaſures which perhaps may never come to be diſcovered. In theſe nice caſes, ſuppoſing the acuteneſs of the ſenſe equal, the greater attention and habit in ſuch things will have the advantage. In the queſtion about the tables, the marble poliſher will un- queſtionably determine the moſt accu- rately. But notwithſtanding this want of a common meaſure for ſettling many diſputes relative to the ſenſes and their repreſentative the imagination, we find that the principles are the ſame in all, and that there is no diſagreement until we come to examine into the preemi- nence or difference of things, which brings us within hb NIGER W the judgment.
So long as we are e with the ſenfible. qualities of things, hardly any more than the imagination ſeems concerned; ON TASTE. 29 cerned; little more alſo than the imagi- nation ſeems concerned when the paſ- ſions. are repreſented, becauſe by the force of natural ſympathy they are felt in all men without any recourſe to reaſon- ing, and their juſtneſs recognized in every breaſt. Love, grief, fear, anger, joy, all theſe paſſions have in their turns affected every mind; and they do not affect it in an arbitrary or caſual manner, but upon certain, natural and uniform principles. But as many of the works of imagination are not confined to the re- preſentation of ſenſible objects, nor to efforts upon the paſſions, but extend themſelves to the manners, the characters, the actions, and deſigns of men, their relations, their virtues and vices, they come within the province of the judgment, which is improved by attention and by the habit of reaſoning. All theſe make a very conſiderable part of what are conſidered as the objects of Taſte; and Wm Yu Eg PPE ps 2 L 30 INTRODUCTION.
and Horace fends us to the ſchools of philofophy and the world for our in- ſtruction in them. Whatever certainty is to be acquired in morality and the ſcience of life; juſt the ſame degree of certainty have we in what relates to them in works of imitation. Indeed it is for the moſt part in our ſkill in manners, and in the obſervances of time and place, and of decency in general, which is only to be learned in thoſe ſchools to which Horace recommends us, that what is called Taſte by way of diſtinction, con- fiſts; and which is in reality no other than a more refined judgment. On the whole it appears to me, that what is called Taſte, in its moſt general accepta- tion, is not a fimple idea, but is partly made up of a perception of the primary pleafures of ſenſe, of the ſecondary plea- ſures of the imagination, and of the con- eluſions of the reaſoning faculty, con- cerning the various relations of theſe, and concerning ON TASTE. 31 concerning the human paſſions, man- ners and actions. All this is requiſite to form Taſte, and the ground- work of all theſe is the ſame in the human mind for as the ſenſes are the great originals of all our ideas, and conſequently of all our pleaſures, if they are not uncertain. and arbitrary, the. whole ground-work of Taſte is common to all, and therefore there is à ſufficient foundation for a con- clufive reaſoning on theſe matters. Whilſt we conſider Taſte, merely ac- cording to its nature and ſpecies, we ſhall find its principles entirely uniform; but the degree in which theſe principles prevail in the ſeveral individuals of man- kind, is altogether as different as the principles themſelves are ſimilar. For ſenſibility and judgment, which are the qualities that compoſe what we commonly. call a 74%, vary exceedingly in various people. From a defect in the former of theſe qualities, ariſes a want of 22 INTRODUCTION.
of Taſte; a weakneſs in the latter, con- ſtitutes a wrong or a bad one. There are ſome men formed with feelings ſo blunt, with tempers ſo cold and phleg- matic, that they can hardly be ſaid to be awake during the whole courſe of their lives. Upon ſuch perſons, the moſt ſtriking objects make but a faint and obſcure impreſſion. There are others fo continually in the agitation of groſs and merely. ſenſual pleaſures, or ſo occupied in the low drudgery of avarice, or ſo heated in the chace of honours and di- ſtinction, that their minds, which had been uſed continually to the ſtorms of theſe. violent and tempeſtuous paſſions, can hardly be put in motion by the deli- cate and refined play of the imagination. Theſe - men, though from a different cauſe, become as ſtupid and inſenſible as the former; but whenever either of theſe happen to be ſtruck. with any natural elegance or greatneſs, or with theſe qua- 70 = ja lities ON TASTE. 33 lities-in any work of art, they are moved upon the ſame principle.
The cauſe of a wrong Taſte is a de- fect of judgment. And this may ariſe from a natural weakneſs of underſtand- ing (in whatever the ſtrength of that fa- culty may conſiſt) or, which is much more commonly the caſe, it may ariſe from a want of a proper and well directed exerciſe, which alone can make it ſtrong and ready. Beſides that ignorance, inattention, prejudice, raſhneſs, levity, obſti- nacy, in ſhort, all thoſe paſſions, and all. _ thoſe vices which pervert the judgment in other matters, / prejudice it no leſs in this its more refined and elegant province. Theſe cauſes produce different opinions upon every thing which is an object of the underſtanding, without inducing us to ſuppoſe, that there are no ſettled prin- ciples of reaſon. And indeed on the Whole one may obſerve, that there is rather leſs difference upon matters of Taſte among mankind, than upon moſt of 34 INTRODUCTION.
of thoſe which depend upon the naked reaſon; and that men are far better agreed on the excellence of a deſcription in Virgil, than on the truth or falſe- hood of a theory of Ariſtotle. A rectitude of judgment in the arts which may be called a good Taſte, does in a great meaſure depend upon ſenſibility; becauſe if the mind has no bent to the pleaſures of the imagination, it will never apply itſelf ſufficiently to works of that ſpecies to acquire a competent know- ledge in them. But, though a degree of ſenſibility is requiſite to form a good judg- ment, yet a good judgment does not ne- ceſſarily ariſe from a quick ſenſibility of _ pleaſure; it frequently happens that a very poor judge, merely by force of a greater complexional ſenſibility, is more affected by a very poor piece, than the beſt judge by the moſt perfect; for as every thing new, extraordinary, grand, or paſſionate is well calculated to affect ſuch a perſon, and that the faults do not affect him, his plea- w | - ſure ON TASTE. 35 ſure is more pure and unmixed; and as it is merely a pleaſure of the imagination, it is much higher than any which is deriv- ed from a rectitude of the judgment; the judgment is for the greater part employed in throwing ſtumbling blocks in the way of the imagination, in diſ- ſipating the ſcenes of its enchantment, and in tying us down to the diſagree- able yoke of our reafon: for almoſt the only pleaſure that men have in judging better than others, conſiſts in a ſort of conſcious pride and ſuperiority, which ariſes from thinking rightly; but then, this is an indirect pleaſure, a plea- ſure which does not immediately reſult from the object which is under contem+ plation. In the morning of our days, when the ſenſes are unworn and ten- der, when the whole man is awake in every part, and the gloſs of novelty freſh upon all the objects that ſurround us, how lively at that time are our ſenſations, but how falſe and inaccurate the judgz6 INTRODUCTION.
z6 INTRODUCTION.
ments we form of things? I deſpair of ever receiving the ſame degree of plea- fure from the moſt excellent perform= ances of genius which I felt at that age, from pieces which my preſent judg- ment regards as trifling and contemp- tible. Every trivial cauſe of pleaſure is apt to affect the man of too ſanguine a complexion: his appetite is too keen to ſuffer his Taſte to be delicate; and he is in all reſpects what Ovid ſays of himſelf in love, |.
Molle meum levibus cor eft violabile telis, Et ſemper cauſa eſt, cur ego ſemper amem.
One of this character can never be a refined judge; never what the comic poet calls elegans formarum, ſpectator. The excellence and force of a compoſition muſt always be imperfectly eſtimated from its effect on the minds of any, ex- cept we know the temper and character of thoſe minds. The moſt powerful ef- ; fects „ TE — - ON- TASTE: 37 fects of poetry and muſic have been diſ-; played, and perhaps are ſtill: diſplayed, where theſe arts are but in a very low and imperfect ſtate. The rude hearer is affected by the principles which operate in theſe arts even in their rudeſt con- dition; and he is not ſkilful enough to perceive the defects. But as the arts ad- vance towards their perfection, the ſci- ence of criticiſm advances with equal pace, and the pleaſure of judges is fre- quently interrupted by the faults which are diſcovered i in ne maſt * com- poſitions.. Before I leave this is ſübjeck I cannot © help king notice of an opinion which many perſons entertain, as if the Taſte were a ſeparate faculty of the mind, and diſtinct from the judgment and imagination; a ſpecies of inſtinct by which we are ſtruck naturally, and at the firſt glance, with- out any previous reaſoning with the ex- cellencies, or the defects of a compoſi- $3 tion.
$8 INTRODUCTION. tion. So far as the imagination and the paſſions are concerned, I believe it true, that the reaſon is little conſulted z but where diſpoſition, where'decorum, where congruity are concerned, in ſhort where< ever the beſt Taſte differs from the worſt, I ham convinced that the underſtanding operates and nothing elſe; and its opera- tion is in reality far from being always ſudden, or when it is ſudden, it is often far from being right. Men of the beſt Taſte by conſideration, come frequently to change theſe early and precipitate judgments which the mind from its averſion to neu- trality and doubt loves to form on the ſpot. It is known that the Taſte (what- ever it is) is improved exactly as we im- prove our judgment, by extending our knowledge, by a ſteady attention to our object, and by frequent exerciſe. They who have not taken theſe methods, if their Taſte decides quickly, it is always uncertainly; and their quickneſs is owe- 5 ing ONO DASTE: ': 99 ONO DASTE: ': 99 ing to their preſumption and raſhneſs, and not to any ſudden irradiation that in a moment diſpels all darkneſs from their minds. But they who have cultivated that ſpecies of knowledge which makes the object of Taſte, by degrees and ha- bitually attain not only a ſoundneſs, but a readineſs of judgment, as men do by the ſame methods on all other occaſions. At firſt they are obliged to ſpell, but at laſt they read with caſe and with celerity: but this celerity of its operation is no proof, that the Taſte is a diſtinct faculty. Nobody I believe has attended the courſe of a diſcuſſion, which turned upon mat- ters within the ſphere of mere naked rea- ſon, but muſt have obſerved the extreme _ readineſs with which the whole proceſs of the argument is carried on, the grounds diſcovered, the objections raiſed and an- ſwered, and the concluſions drawn from premiſes, with a quickneſs altogether as great as the Taſte can be ſuppoſed to work D 4 with; 40 INTRODUCTION.
with; and yet where nothing» but plain reaſon either is or can be ſuſpected to operate. To multiply principles for every different appearance, is uſeleſs, and unphiloſophical too in a high degre.
This matter might be purſued much further; but it is the extent of the ſubject which muſt preſcribe our bounds, for what ſubject does not branch out to infinity? it is the nature of our particu- lar ſcheme, and the ſingle point of view in which we conſider it, which _—_— to Lara” © Ones of cr 16 as o on THE Satz and BragriFUL.
— * > H E fr and the amel.. 4, which we diſcover in the human mincd, is Curioſity. By curioſity, I ado whatever deſire we have for, or whatever pleaſure we take in novelty.
We ſee children perpetually running from place to place to hunt out ſomething new 3 hey catch with great eagerneſs, and 7 — cer rearagts menos — 42 On the SUBLIME and with very little choice, at whatever comes before them; their attention is engaged. by every thing, becauſe every thing has, in that ſtage of life; the chdrm of novelty to recommend it. But as thoſe things which engage us merely by their novelty, cannot attach us for any Jength of time, curioſity is the moſt ſuperficial of all the affections; jit changes its ob- ject perpetually; it has an appetite which is very ſharp, but very eaſily ſatisfied; and it has always an appearance of gid- dineſs, reſtleſineſs and anxiety. Curio- ſity from its nature is a very active prin- ciple; it quickly runs over the greateſt part of its objects, and ſoon exhauſts the variety which is commonly to be met with in nature; the ſame things make frequent returns, and they return with leſs and leſs of any agrecable effect. In ſhort, the occurrences of life, by the time we come to know it a little, would be incapable of affecting the mind with * other. than thoſe of f loath- Ae TEE ID) Wh gf hy: pag and BEAUTIFUL. 43 ing and wearineſs, if many things were not adapted to affect the mind by means of other powers beſides novelty in them, and of other paſſions beſides curioſity in ourſelves. Theſe powers and paſſions ſhall be conſidered in their place. But whatever theſe powers are, or upon what principle ſoever they affect the mind, it is abſolutely neceſſary that they ſhould not be exerted in thoſe things which a daily and vulgar ue have brought into a gree of; novelty muſt be one of the ma- terials in every inſtrument which works upon the mind; and curioſity blends: _ 0 more or leſs with all our nnn SECT. n. 2 PAIN and PLE as UE.
T bens then eee ee ing the paſſions of people advanced in life to any conſiderable degree, that the objects w—_— — or is AA 9 6 on Ine — — . ¶⁰¶ te GA ET RT - 44 On che SUBLIME objects deſigned for that purpoſe, beſides their being in ſome meaſure new, ſhould be capable of exciting pain or pleaſure | from other cauſes. Pain and pleaſure are ſimple ideas, incapable of definition.
People are not liable to be miſtaken in their feelings, but they are very frequently wrong in the names they give them, and in tlieir reaſonings about them. Many are of opinion, that pain ariſes ne- ceſſarily from the removal of ſome plea- ſute; as they think pleaſure does from the ceaſing or diminution of ſome pain.
For my part I am rather inclined to ima- gine, that pain and pleaſure in their moſt ſimple and natural manner of affecting, are each of a poſitive nature, and by no means neceſſarily dependent on each other for their exiſtence. The human mind is often, and J think it is for the moſt part, in a ſtate neither of pain nor pleaſure, which I call a ſtate of indiffe-.
ſtate into à iſtate of actual pleaſure, a it 5 Ms bt Ta and BEAUTIFUL. 45 does not appear neceſſary that I ſhould paſs through the medium of any ſort of pain. If in ſuch a ſtate of indifference, or eaſe, or tranquility, or call it what you pleaſe, you were to be ſuddenly en- tertained with a concert of muſic; or ſuppoſe ſome object of a fine ſhape, and bright lively colours to be preſented be- fore you; or imagine your ſmell is grati- fied with the fragrance of a roſe; or if without any previous thirſt you were to. drink of ſome pleaſant kind of wine; or to taſte of ſome ſweetmeat without being hungry; in all the ſeveral ſenſes, of hear- ing, ſmelling, and taſting, you undoubt- edly find a pleaſure; yet if I enquire into the ſtate of your mind previous to theſe gratifications, you will hardly tell me that they found you in any kind of pain; or having ſatisfied theſe ſeveral ſenſes with their ſeveral pleaſures, will you ſay that any pain has ſucceeded, though the pleaſure is abſolutely over? Suppoſe on the other hand, a man in the fame ſtate of 7 indifference, 46 On the SUBLIME Indifference, to receive a violent blow, or to drink of ſome bitter potion, or to have his ears wounded with ſome harſh and grating found; here is no removal of pleaſure; and yet here is felt, in every ſenſe which is affected, a pain very diſtin- guiſhable. It may be ſaid perhaps, that the pain in theſe caſes had its riſe from the removal of the pleaſure which the man enjoyed before, though that pleaſure was of ſo low a degree as to be perceived only by the removal. But this ſeems to me a ſubtilty, that is not diſcoverable in nature. For if, previous to the pain, I do not feel any actual pleaſure, I have no reaſon to judge that any ſuch thing exiſts; ſince pleaſure is only pleaſure as it is felt. The ſame may be ſaid of pain, and with equal reaſon. I can never per- ſuade myſelf that pleaſure and pain are mere relations, which can only exiſt as they are contraſted: but I think I can diſcern clearly that there are poſitive pains and pleaſures, which do not at all | depend and BEAUTIFUL. 47 depend upon each other. Nothing is more certain to my own feelings than this. There is nothing which I can di- ſinguiſh'in my mind with more clear- neſs than the three ſtates, of indifference, of pleaſure, and of pain. Every one of theſe I can perceive without any fort of idea of its relation to any thing elſe. Caius is afflicted with a fit of the cholic; this man is actually in pain; ſtretch Caius upon the rack, he will fecl a much great- er pain; but does this pain of the rack ariſe from the removal of any pleaſure? or is the fit of the cholic a pleaſure or a pain juſt as we are pleaſed to con- 3 ECT: The difference between the removal of PAIN and poſitive PLEASURE.
'E ſhall carry this propoſition yet a ſtep further, We ſhall venture roo 48 On the SUBLIME ture to propoſe, that pain and pleaſure are not only, not neceſſarily dependent for their exiſtence on their mutual dinji- nution or removal, but that, in reality, the diminution or ceaſing of pleaſure does not operate like poſitive pain; and that the removal or diminution of pain, in its effect has very little reſemblance to. poſi- tive pleaſure. * The former of theſe pro- poſitions will, I believe, be much more readily allowed than the latter; becauſe it is very evident that pleaſure, when it has run its career, ſets us down very nearly where it found us. Pleaſure of every kind quickly ſatisfies; and when it is over, we relapſe into indifference, or rather we fall into a ſoft tranquility, which is tinged with the agreeable co- Jour of the former ſenſation. I oven, it is not at firſt view ſo apparent, that the re- * Mr. Locke [eſſay on human underſtanding, J. 2. c. 20. ſect. 16-] thinks that the removal or leiſening of a pain is conſidered and operates as a pleature, and the loſs or diminiſhing of pleaſure as a pain. It is this opinion which we conſider here.
moval of a great pain does not reſemble poſitive pleaſure: but let us recollect in what ſtate we have found our minds up- on eſcaping ſome imminent danger, or on being releaſed from the ſome cruel pain. We have caſions found, if I. am not taken, the temper of ur tenor very remote from that tends; the preſence. of poſitive. _; ſeverity of on ſuch oc- much miſ- minds. in a ich atwe haye found them in.z;ſtate.of much ſobriety, impreſſed, yith a ſanſe of awe, in, a, ſort of tranquility ſhadowed with horror, The He of the I and ghe. geſture of f, the body « caſions is ſo correſpondent to this of mind, that any perſon, a ſtranger 0 che: cauſe of the appearance, would rather; judge us under ſome conſternation,; G than in the — of * s like gs or — "fs: Fvnuvn | x@Cn, * "baſs Marſarat 4000 Enes b, In tier, it A1 21 * bs e ac ap dancer e Nei eic ois.
G E Inad. 24.
49 I 7 e 50 On the SUBLIME A. when a wretch, who conſcious of his crime, Purfued for murder from bis natiue lime, Jill gains ſome frontier, breathleſs, pale, awd 40; gere, all wonder!
This firiking appearance of the man whom Homer ſuppoſes to have juſt eſcaped: an imminent danger, the fort of mixt pafſion of terror and furprize, with which he affects the ſpectators; paints very ſtrongly the manner in Which we find ourſelves affected upon beca- fions any way ſimilar.” For when we have ſuffered from any violent emotion, the mind naturally continues in ſomething like the ate condition, after the Cue which firſt produced it has ceaſed to pe rate. The toffitg of the ſea remains after the form; and When this remain of horror Has efifirely fubfided, alf the paf- fion, which the accident raifed,! ſubſides along With it; and the mind returns to its uſual ſtate of indifference, In In ſhort, pleaſure 3 any thing either in the in ward and BEAUTIFUL, 57 inward ſenſation, or in the outward ap- pearance like pleaſure from a poſitive cauſe) has never, I imagine, its origin from the removal of _ or * 8 E C T. IV.
Of DELIGHT and PLEASURE, as _ oppoſed to each other.
UT ſhall we 3 ſay, that the j removal of pain or its diminution is always ſimply painful? or affirm that the ceſſation or the leſſening of pleaſure ãs always attended itſelf with a pleaſure? by no means. What I advance is no more than this; firſt, that there are pleaſures and pains of a poſitive and in- dependent nature; and ſecondly, that the feeling which reſults from the ceaſ- ing or diminution of pain does not bear a ſufficient reſemblance to poſitive plea- ſure to have it conſidered as of the ſame nature, or to entitle it to be known by — W. 2 the 52 On the SUBLIME the ſame name; and thirdly, that upon the fame principle the removal or qualification of pleaſure has no reſemblance to poſitive pain. It is certain that the former feel- ing (the removal or moderation of pain) has ſomething in it far from diſtreſſing, or diſagreeable in its nature. This feel- ing, in many caſes ſo agreeable, but in all ſo different from poſitive pleaſure, has no name which I know; but that hinders not. its being à very real one Ad very different from all others. It is moſt certain, that every ſpecies of ſatisfaction or pleaſure, how different ſoever in its ture in: the mind of him who feels it. The affection is undoubtedly poſitiye 3 but the cauſe may be, as in this caſe it certainly is, a ſort of Priuation. And it is very reaſonable that We ſhould. diſtin- guiſh by ſome term two things ſo diſtinct in nature, as a pleaſure that is ſuch fun- -ply; arid without any relation, from that RO which: camiat exiſt without a relation, and BEAUTIFUL.” 53 relation, and that too a relation to pain. Very extraordinary it would be, if theſe affections, ſo diſtinguiſhable in, their cauſes, ſo different in their effects, ſhould. be confounded with each other, becauſe vulgar uſe has ranged them under the ſame general title. Whenever I have occaſion to ſpeak of this ſpecies' of rela- tive pleaſure, I call it Delight; and I ſhall take the beſt care I can, to uſe that word in no other ſenſe. I am ſatisfied the word is not commonly uſed in this appropriated ſignification; but I thou ght it better to take up a word already known, and to limit its ſignification, than to introduce a new one which would not perhaps incorporate ſo well, with the language. I ſhould never have preſumed the leaſt alteration in our words, if the nature of the language, framed for. the purpoſes of buſineſs rather chan thoſe of philoſophy, and che nature of my ſubject that leads me out of the common track of diſcourſe, did not in a . E 3 | manner -_ 54 On the SUBLIME manner neceſſitate me to it. I ſhall make uſe of this liberty with all poſſible caution. As I make uſe of the word De- Eght to expreſs the ſenſation which accompanies the removal of pain or danger; ſo when I ſpeak of poſitive plea- =. I ſhall for the moſt part call it SECT. v. Joy and GRIEF.
'T muſt 1 N that the W of pleaſure affects the mind three ways. If it ſunply ceaſes, after having continued a proper time, the effect is in- difference; if it be abruptly broken off, there enſues an unealy ſenſe called 4iſappointment; if the ohject be ſo totally loſt that there is no chance of enjoying it again, a paſſion ariſes in the mind, which is called grief Now there is none of us” not even grief, which is the moſt violent, . 45 N * 77 5 ?
[2 1 E. 1 1 i" {7 Iv and BEAUTIFUL. 55 violent, that I think has any reſemblance to poſitive pain. The perſon who grieves, ſuffers his paſſion to grow upon him; he indulges it, he loves it: but this never happens in the caſe of actual pain, which no man ever willingly endured for any conſiderable time. That grief ſhould be willingly endured, though far from a ſimply pleaſing ſenſation, is not fo diffi- cult to be underſtood. It is the nature of grief to keep-its object perpetually in its eye, to preſent it in its moſt pleaſu- rable views, to repeat all the circum- ſtances that attend it, even to the laſt minuteneſs; to go back to every particu- lar enjoyment, to dwell upon each, and to find a thouſand new perfections in all, that were not ſuffleiently underſtood before; in grief, the pleaſure is ill upper- _ moſt; and the affliction we ſuffer has no reſemblance to abſolute pain, w which is always odious, and which we 2 to ſhake off as ſoon as poſſible.
7 of Homer, which abounds = CCT. ̃ A 56 on the SUBLIME ſo many natural and affecting images, has none more ſtriking than thoſe which Menelaus raiſes of the calamitous fate of his friends, and his own manner of feel- ing it. He owns indeed, that he often gives himſelf fome intermiſſion from ſuch melancholy reflections, but he obſerves too, that melancholy as _ are, they give him Pe. Sant 80 - AAA. 15258 males od ueseros Y exever, © TIoAAGxI5 60 u, xabyusrcs uu,?’ Anadls wer Ts 7e pn Teroper, GAA & dt ee. hd ey D i ee ö ; Still 6 in CG N ee woe, 151 Kegardſul of. the friendly dues I owe, —_— "Wwe 1 to the glorious dead, fer ever dar. ne. tribute 770 a. Oey teur. 2 2 the 3 5 hand, — we recover 25 health, when we eſcape. an imminent danger, is it with Joy. tat we are affectal 5 Cn, ed?
and BEAUTIFUL, 37 ed? The ſenſe on theſe occaſions is far. from that ſmooth and voluptuous ſatisfac- tion which the aſſured proſpect of-plea— ſure beſtows. The delight which ariſes from the modifications of pain, confeſſes, the ſtock from whence it Rig in ite folid, 1 _ een ne.::oillF int 8E OT. vi.
of 40 ben which belong to. SELF- - PRESERVATION.
OST of the ideas which are ca- pable of making a powerful im- preſſion on the mind, whether ſimply of Pain or Pleaſure, or of: the modificas _ tions of thoſe, may be reduced very nearly to theſe two heads, /e/f-preſerva- ton and ſociety; to the ends of one or the other of which all our paſſions are calculated to anſwer. The paſſions which ee e turn moſtly on c Pain 58: On the SUBLIME pain or danger. The ideas of pain, /ich- neſs, and death, fill the mind with ſtrong emotions of horror; but /ife and health, though they put us in a capacity of be- ing affected with pleaſure, they make no ſuch impreſſion by the ſimple enjoyment.
The paſſions therefore which are conver- ſant about the preſervation of the indivi- dual, turn chiefly on pain ant danger, and they are the moſt powerful of all the * SECT: VII.
ee SUBLI ME. SIE 7 FT Abe fort to ex- Vs cite the ideas of pain, and danger, that is to ſay, whatever is in any fort terrible, or is converſant- about ter- rible objects, or operates in a manner analogous to terror, is a ſource of the 9 We { It fl g AC N LW Wo $7 IF tion, | becauſe I am ſatisfied the ideas ef and BEAUTIFUL. 39 ſtrongeſt emotion which the mind is ca- pable of feeling. 1 ſay the ſtrongeſt emo | pain are much more powerful than thoſe which enter on the part of pleaſure. Without all doubt, the torments which we may be made to fuffer, are much greater in their effect on the body and learned voluptuary could ſuggeiti or than the livelieſt imagination, and the moſt ſound and exquiſitely ſenſible body could enjoy. Nay I am in great doubt, whether any man could be found who would earn a life of the moſt perfect ſatisfaction, at the price of ending it in the torments, which juſtice inflicted in a ſei hours on the late unfortunate regicide in France, | Uu is ſtronger in its operation an pleaſure, ſo death is in general a — more affecting iden than pain i bocauſe there are very few! pains; ' hows | ever exquiſite, ' which are not pre- * to death; nay, what "generally makes 6 On the SUBLIME makes pain Itſelf,; if | T: a may 'fay ſo, more painful, is, that it is confidered as an emiſſary of this king of terrors. When danger or pain preſs too nearly, they are incapable of giving any delight, and are ſimply terrible; but at certain diſtances, and with certain modifications, they may be, and they are delightful, as we every day experience. The cauſe of this I ſhall yn to mn der rtr: 4 ug ell & ] bod: E: C. VIII.
of the re 8 belong to 178 - SOCIETY. | Jer WS mv HE. * hack, under * 1 i3 claſs our paſſions, is that of /@ ciety. which may be divided into two ſorts.. T. The: ſoeiety of the ſexes, which anfivers the purpoſes of propagation; and 4 next, that more general. | ſociety, lich we haye;with men and with other animals, and which we may in ſome ſort 25 Fa A and BEAUTIEUL. 61