T is one thing to make an idea clear, and another to make it Secting to the imagination. If I make a drawing of a palace, or a temple, or a landſcape, I preſent a very clear idea of thoſe ob- jects; but then (allowing for the effect of imitation which is ſomething) my picture can at moſt affect only as the palace, H 3 temple, 102 On the SUBLIME temple, or landſcape would have affected in- the reality. On the other hand, the moſt lively and ſpirited verbal deſcription I can give, raiſes a very obſcure and imperfect idea of ſuch objects; but then it is in my power to raiſe a ſtronger emo- rion by the deſcription than I could do by the beſt painting. This experience conſtantly evinces. The proper manner of conveying the affetions of the mind - From one to another, is by words; there is a great inſufficiency in all other methods of communication; and ſo far is a clearneſs of imagery from being abſolutely neceſſary to an influence upon the paſ- ſions, that they may be conſiderably ope- rated upon without preſenting any image at all, by certain ſounds adapted to that purpoſe; of which we have a ſufficient proof in the acknowledged and powerful effects of inſtrumental muſic. In rea- lity a great clearneſs helps but little to- wards Wang the ales, as it is in ſome 2 E e mmm r — cert and BEAUTIFUL. 103 ſome ſort an enemy to all enthuſiaſms Whatſoever. | S.E C T. IV). The fame ſubject continued.
HERE are two verſes in Horace's art of poetry that ſeem to contra- dier this opinion, for which reaſon T ſhall take a little more pains in clearing | i * re ache we” ee irritant animss N per a. | . guæ _ ocults cus og On this. * as Bos nde a criticiſm, wherein he gives painting the preference - to poetry in the article | of moving the paſſions; principally on account of the greater c/earneſs of the ideas it repreſents. I believe this excel- lent judge was led into this miſtake (if it be a miſtake) by his ſyſtem, to which he found it more conformable than I > imagine 104 On. the SUBLIME imagine it will be found to experience. L know ſeveral who admire and love painting, and yet who regard the objects of their admiration in that art, with coolneſs enough, in compariſon. of that warmth with which they are animated by affecting pieces of poetry or rhetoric. Among the common ſort of people, I never could perceive that painting had much influence on cheir paſſions. It is true that the beſt ſorts of Painting, as well as the beſt ſorts of poetry, are not much underſtood in that ſphere. But it is moſt certain, that their paſſions are very ſtrongly rouſed by a fanatic preacher, or by the ballads of Chevy-chaſe, or the children in the wood, and by other little popular poems and tales that are current in that rank of life. I do not know ef any paintings, bad or good, that pro- duce the ſame effect. So that poetry with all its obſcurity, has a more gene- ral as well as a more powerful dominion over the paſſions than the other art. And and BEAUTIFUL. 105; And I think there are reaſons in nature why the obſcure idea, when properly conveyed, ſhould be more affecting than the clear. It is our ignorance of things that cauſes all our admiration, and chiefly _ excites our paſſions. Knowledge and ac- quaintance make the maſt ſtriking cauſes affect but little. It is thus with the vul- gar, and all men are as the vulgar in what they do not underſtand. The ideas of eternity, and infinity, are among the moſt affecting we have, and yet perhaps there is nothing of which we really un- derſtand ſo little, as of infinity and eter- nity. We do not any where meet a more ſublime deſcription than this juſtly cele- brated one of Milton, wherein he gives the portrait of Satan with a dignity; 1 durable to the ſubject. | In r eminent Stood like a tower; his form bad yet not bf All her original brightneſs, nor appeared in 106 On: the SUB LIME Lefs than archangel ruin d, and th exceſs. Of glory obſeured + as when the fun new rb Laus through the borizamtal mifly air | _ Shorn of his beams; or from behind the moon In dim eclipſe diſaſtrous twilight ſbeds " On half the nations; e {tO 92 * monarchs.
Here is 1 noble. us and: in what does this poetical picture conſiſt? in images of. a tower, an archangel, the fun riſing through miſts, or in an eclipſe, the ruin of monarchs, and the revolu- tions of kingdoms.: The mind is hur- ried out of itſelf, by a eroud of great and confuſed images; which affect becauſe they are crouded and confuſed. ' For ſe- parate them, and you loſe much of the greatneſs, and join. them, and you-infal- libly loſe the clearnels. The images raiſed by poetry-are always of this obſcure kind; though in general the effects of poetry, are by no means to be attributed to the images it raiſes; which point we M ſhall and BEAUTIFUL, 107 ſhall examine more at large hereafter. * But painting, when we have allowed for the pleaſure, of imitation, can only affect ſimply by the images it preſents; and even in painting a judicious obſcurity in ſome things contributes to the effect of the picture; becauſe the images in paint- ing are exactly ſimilar to thoſe in na- ture; and in nature dark, confuſed, un- certain images have a greater power on the fancy to form the grander paſſions than thoſe have which are more clear and determinate. But where and when this obſervation may be applied to practice, and how far it ſhall be extended, will be better deduced from the nature of the ſub- je, and from the occaſion, than from any rules that can be given.
- Tam ſenſible that this idea has metwith oppoſition, and is likely ſtill to be rejected by ſeveral. But let it be conſidered that hardly any thing can ſtrike the mind with its greatneſs, which does not make ſome ſort of approach towards infinity;; which nothing 103 On the SUBLIME nothing can do whilſt we are able to perceive its bounds; but to ſee an object diſtinciy, and to perceive its bounds, is one and the ſame thing. A | clear idea 1 therefore another name for a little idea. There is a paſſage in the book of Joh amazingly fablime. * this ſublimity is principally due to the terrible uncertainty of the thing deſcribed. In thoughts from the viſions of the night, when deep ſleep falleth upon men, fear came upon me and trembling, which made all *my bones to ſhake. Then. a ſpirit paſſed before my face. | The hair of my fleſh flood up. It flood ſtill, but I could not diſcern the form thereof; an image was before mine eyes; there was ſilence; and I heard a voice, Shall mortal man be more juſt than God? We are firſt pre- pared with the utmoſt ſolemnity for the viſion; we are firſt terrified, before we are let even into the obſcure cauſe of our emotion; but when this grand cauſe of terror makes its appearance, what is it? is It not, wrapt up in the ſhades of its own incomprehenſible n . 1 k and BEAUTIFUL, 109 incomprehenſible darkneſs, more aweful, more ſtriking, more terrible, than the livelieſt deſcription, than the cleareſt painting could poſſibly repreſent it? When painters have attempted to give us clear repreſentations of theſe very fan- ciful and terrible ideas, they have I think almoſt always failed; inſomuch that I have been at a loſs, in all the pictures I have ſeen of hell, whether the painter did not intend ſomething ludicrous. Se- veral painters have handled a ſubject of this kind, with a view of aſſembling as many horrid phantoms as their imagination could ſuggeſt; but all the deſigns I have chanced to meet of the temptations of St. Anthony, were rather a fort of odd wild groteſques, than any thing capable of producing a ſerious paſſion. In all theſe ſubjects poetry is very happy. Its apparitions, its chimeras, its harpies, its _ allegorical figures, are grand and affecting; and though Virgil's Fame, and ce s Diſcord, are obſcure, they are 2 magni- 110 On the SUBLIME magnificent figures. | Theſe figures in painting would be clear enough, but I fear they might become ridiculous.
N n © o a.
YESIDES. theſe things which di- reftly ſuggeſt 'the idea of dangers | and thoſe which produce a ſimilar effect from a mechanical cauſe, I know of no- thing ſublime which is not ſome modi- fication of power. And this branch riſes as naturally as the other two branches, from terror, the common ſtock of every thing that is ſublime. The idea of power at firſt view, ſeems of the claſs of theſe indifferent ones, which may equally be- long to pain or to pleaſure. But in rea- lity, the affection ariſing from the idea of vaſt power, is extremely remote from that neutral character. For firſt, we muſt remember, & that the in of pain, Ik Ik and BEAUTIFUL. 117 in its higheſt degree, is much ſtronger than the higheſt degree of pleaſure; and that it preſerves the ſame ſuperiority through all the ſubordinate gradations. From hence it is, that where the chances for equal degrees of ſuffering or enjoy- ment are in any fort equal, the idea of the ſuffering muſt always be prevalent. And indeed the ideas of pain, and above all of death, are ſo very affecting, that ' whilſt we remain in the preſence of what- ever is ſuppoſed to have the power of in- flicting either, it is impoſſible to be per- fectly free from terror. Again, we know by experience, that for the enjoyment of pleaſure, no great efforts of power are at all neceflary; nay we know, that ſuch - efforts would go a great way towards de- ſtroying our ſatisfaction: for pleaſure muſt be ſtolen, and not forced upon us; pleaſure follows the will; and therefore we are generally affected with it by many things of a force greatly inferior to our own. But pain is always inflicted by a elt 8: power 112 On the SUBLIME power in ſome way ſuperior, becauſe we never ſubmit to pain willingly. So that ſtrength, violence, pain and terror, are ideas that ruſh in upon the mind together. Lock at a man, or any other animal of prodigious ſtrength, and what is your idea before reflection? Is it that this ſtrength will be ſubſervient to you, to your eaſe, to your pleaſure, to your intereſt in any ſenſe?
No; the emotion you feel is, leſt this enormous ſtrength ſhould be employed to the purpoſes of & rapine and deſtruCtion.
That power derives all its ſublimity from the terror with which. it is generally ac- companied, will appear evidently from its effect in the very few caſes, in which it may be poſſible to ſtrip a conſide- rable degree of ſtrength of its ability to hurt. When you do this, you ſpoil it of every thing ſublime, and it immedi- ately becomes contemptible. An ox is a creature of vaſt ſtrength; but he is an innocent creature, extremely ſerviceable, Vie Part 3. ſect. 21, | — . : ; 4 and BEAUTIFUL. 113 N and not at all dangerous; for which reaſon: the idea of an ox is by no means grand. A bull is ſtrong too; but his N ſtrength is of another kind; often very deſtructive, ſeldom (at leaſt amongſt us) of any uſe in our buſineſs; the idea of a bull is therefore great, and it has frequent- lx a place in ſublime deſcriptions, and ele- vating compariſons. Let us look at ano-— ther ſtrong animal in the two diſtinct | lightsin which we may conſider him. The horſe in the light of an uſeful beaſt; fit for the plough, the road, the draft, in every ſocial uſeful light the horſe has nothing of the ſublime; but is it thus that we are affected with him, 4vho/e nec is cloathed- with thunder, rbe glory of -whoſe i noſtrils: ic terrible, aubo favalloweth the ground with \fierceneſs and rage, neither believeth | 3 that it is tbe ſound of the' trumpet? In 4 I this deſeription the uſeful character of : the horſe entirely diſappears, and the ter- rible and ſublime blaze out together. We have continually about us animals of N I a ſtrength P he AS I ER A but to act 114 On the SUBLIME a ſtrength that is conſiderable, but not pernicious. Amongſt theſe we never look for the ſublime: it comes up- on us in the gloomy - foreſt, and in the howling wilderneſs, in the form ok the lion, the tiger, the panther, OT rhinoceros. Whenever ſtrength is only uſeful, and employed for our benefit or our pleaſure, then it is never ſublime; fort nothing. can act agreeably to us, that does not act in conformity to our will; & agreeably to our will, it muſt be ſubject to us; and therefore can never be the cauſe of a grand and command- ing conception. The deſcription of the wild als, in Job, is worked up into no ſmall ſublimity, merely by inſiſting on his freedom, and his ſetting mankind at defiance; otherwiſe the deſeription of ſuch an animal could have had nothing noble in it. Who bath locſed (ſays he) the hunde of the wild aſs? whoſe houſe I have made the wilderneſs; and the barren land bis Ame; He n the multitude e 3 | the 722 SE net i RIG trtogae topo ahem, vb .
and BEAUTIFUL. 115 the city, neither regardeth he the voice of the driver. The range of the mountains 25 bis paſture. The magnificent deſerip- tion of the unicorn and of leviathan in the ſame book, is full of the ſame height- ening circumſtances. Will the unicorn be willing to ſerve thee? canſt thou bind the unicorn with his band in the furrow? wilt thou truſt him becauſe his ſtrength ir great?---Canſt thou draw out le- diat bam with an hook? will he make a covenant with thee? wilt thou take him for a fer vant for ever? ſhall not one be caft down even at the fight of him? In ſhort, whereſoever we find ſtrength, and in what light ſoever we look npon power, we ſhall all along obſerve the ſublime the concomitant of terror, and contempt the attendant on a ſtrength that is ſubſervient and innoxious. The race of dogs in many of their kinds, have generally a competent degree of ſtrength and ſwiftneſs; and they exert theſe, and other valuable qualities which they poſſeſs, greatly to our convenience and pleaſure. Dogs are in- 12 desd n . om bas ney rt nb nes woe of Bs Ew wg alt at ah — es! — — — — — — — n — Ä Ie - .
— I SI Ire. tos OO OOO boon 1 "Ar IEA 116 On the SUBLIME deed the moſt ſocial, affectionate, and amiable animals of the whole brute cre- ation; but love approaches much nearer to contempt than is commonly imagined; and accordingly, though we careſs dogs, we borrow from them an appellation of the moſt deſpicable kind, when we employ terms of reproach; and this appellation is the common mark of the laſt vileneſs and contempt in every language. Wolves have not more ſtrength than ſeveral ſpe- cies of dogs; but on account of their unmanageable fierceneſs, the idea of a wolf is not deſpicable; it is not exclud- ed from grand deſcriptions. and. ſimili- tudes. Thus we are affected by ſtrength, W which is natur al power. The power which ariſes. from, inſtitution in kings and commanders, has the ſame connection with terror. © Sovereigns are frequently addreſſed with title of dread majgſty. And it may be obſerred, hat young perſons little acquainted with the world, and who ate 0 bers. approach men ee idol 5. Ne = and BEAUTIFUL. 117 | in power, are commonly ſtruck with an awe which takes away the free uſe of their faculties. When I prepared my feat in the ſtreet (ſays Job) the young.
men ſaw me, and hid themſelves. Indeed fo natural is this timidity with re- gard to power, and ſo ſtrongly does it inhere in our conſtitution, that very few are able to conquer it, but by mixing much in the buſineſs of the great world, or by uſing no ſmall violence to their na- tural diſpoſitions. I know ſome people are of opinion, that no awe, no degree of terror, accompanies the idea of power, and have hazarded to affirm; that we can contemplate the idea of God himſelf without any ſuch emotion. I purpoſely avoided when I firſt conſidered this ſubject, to introduce the idea of that great and tremendous being, as an example in an argument ſo light as this; though it frequently occurred to me; not as an objeEtion to, but as a ſtrong confirmation of my notions ti: this mat- 1 ter. * * 118 On the SUBLIME ter. I hope, in what Jam going to ſay, I ſhall avoid preſumption, where it is almoſt impoſſible for any mortal to ſpeak with ftrict propriety. I fay then, that whilſt we conſider the Godhead merely as he is an object of the underſtanding, which forms a complex idea of power, wiſdom, Juſtice, goodneſs, all ſtretched to a de- gree far exceeding the bounds of our comprehenſion, whilſt we conſider the di- vinity in this refined and abſtracted light, the imagination and paſſions are little or nothing affected. But becauſe we are bound by the condition of our nature to aſcend to theſe pure and intellectual ideas, through the medium of ſenſible images, and to judge of theſe divine qualities by their evident acts and exer- tions, it becomes extremely bard to diſ- entangle our idea of the cauſe from the effect by which we are led to know it, Thus when we contemplate the Deity, * attributes and * operation coming united united on the mind, form a ſort of ſen- fible image, and as ſuch are capable of affecting the imagination. Now, though in a juſt idea of the Deity, perhaps none of his attributes are predominant, yet to our imagination, his power is by far the moſt ſtriking. Some refle- ion, ſome comparing is neceſſary to ſa> tisfy us of his wiſdom, his juſtice, and power, it is only neceſſary ' that we ſhould open our eyes. But whilſt we contemplate ſo vaſt an object, under the arm, as it were, of almighty power, and inveſted upon every fide with omnipre- ſence, we ſhrink into the minuteneſs of our own nature, and are, in a manner, annihilated before him. And though a conſideration of his other attributes may relieve in ſome meaſure our apprehen- ſions; yet no conviction of the juſtice with which it is exerciſed, nor the mercy with which it is tempered, can 120 -On the SUBLIME wholly remove the terror that naturally ariſes from a force which nothing can withſtand. If we rejoice, we "rejoice with trembling; and even whilſt we are receiving benefits, we cannot but ſhudder at a power which can confer benefits of ſuch mighty importance. When the prophet David ee the won- ders of wiſdom and power, which are diſplayed in the œconomy of man, he ſeems to be ſtruck with'a ſort of. divine horror, and cries out, fearfully and wonder Fully am I made! An heathen poet has a ſentiment of a ſimilar nature; Ho- race looks upon it as the laſt effort of philoſophical fortitude, to behold with- out terror and amazement, this immenſe — fabric nn univerſe.
T * © Hon ſelem, et fellas, et decedentia certis - Tamjra momentis, * qui formidine nulla j Sr ang Lucretius ELIT 7 and BEAUTIFUL. 121 Lucretius is a poet not to be ſuſpected of giving way to ſuperſtitious terrors; yet when he ſuppoſes the whole me- chaniſm of nature laid open by the maſtter of his philoſophy, his tranſport on this magnificent view which he has re- preſented in the colours of ſuch bold and lively poetry, is overcaſt with a ſhade ob ſecret dread and been 5 "His 8555 me rer e Divina AG 6 Percipit, atgue horror, quod fic Natura tua vi Tam manifeſta patet ex omni parte retecia.
But the ſcripture alone can ſupply ideas anſwerable to the majeſty of this ſubjet. In the ſcripture, wherever God is repreſented as appearing or ſpeaking, every thing terrible in nature is called up to heighten the awe and ſolemnity of the divine preſence. The palms, and the prophetical books, are crouded with inſtances of this Rind. The earth Hool 122 On the SUBLIME ſhook (ſays the pſalmiſt) the heavens alſo dropped at the preſence of the Lord.
And what is remarkable, the painting preſerves the ſame character, not only when he is ſuppoſed deſcending to take vengeance upon the wicked, but even when he exerts the like plenitude of power in acts of beneficence to man- kind. Tremble, thou earth! at the pre- fence of the Lord; at the preſence of the God of Jacob; which turned the rock into ſtanding water, the flint into a fountain of waters! It were endleſs to enumerate all the paſſages both in the ſacred and profane writers, which eſtabliſh the general ſentiment of mankind, concerning the inſeparable union of a ſacred and re- verential awe, with our ideas of the di- vinity. Hence the common maxim, prinos ix orbe deus fecit timar, This maxim may be, as I believe it is, falſe with regard to the origin of reli- _ The maker. of. the maxim ſaw how 4 nn —— and BEAUTIFUL. 123 ho inſeparable theſe ideas were, with» out conſidering that the notion of ſame great power mult be always precedent to our dread of it. But this dread. muſt neceſſarily follow the idea of ſuch a power. when it is once excited in the mind. It is on this principle that true religion has, and muſt have, ſo large a mixture of ſalutary fear; and that falſe religiens have generally nothing elſe. but fear. tg ſupport them. Refore the chriſtian re- ligion had, as it were, humanized the idea of the divinity, and brought it ſomewhat nearer to us, there was very little ſaid of the love of God. The followers of Plato have ſomething of it, and only ſomething. The other writers of pagan antiquity, whether poets or philoſophers, nothing at all. And they who conſider with what infinite atten- tion, by what a diſregard of every pe- riſhable object, through what long habits of piety and e it is, _— 124 On the SUBLIME any man is able to attain an entire love and devotion to the Deity, will eaſily perceive, that. it is not the firſt, the moſt natural, and the moſt ſtriking ef- fect which proceeds from that idea. Thus we have traced power through its ſeveral gradations unto the higheſt of all, where our imagination is finally loſt; and we find terror quite- through- out the progreſs, its inſeparable com- panion, and growing along with it, as far as we can poſſibly trace them. Now as power is undoubtedly a capi- tal ſouroe of the ſublime, this will point out evidently from whence its energy is derived, and to what claſs oh ideas we ought to unite - 7 *? * 985 CTECGL f I De EET . HD PEI err PPP and BE AUT IF UL. 125 PRIVATION. . L general privations are great, I becauſe they are all terrible; Va- cuity, Darkneſs, Solitude and Silence.
With what a fire of imagination, yet with what ſeverity of judgment, has Virgil. amaſſed all theſe circumſtances where he knows that all the images of a tremendous dignity ought to be united, at the mouth of hell! where before he unlocks the ſecrets of the great deep, he ſeems to be ſeized with a religious horror, and to retire aſtoniſhed at the g ane of his own deſign.
Du quibus imperium ęſt animarum, umbreg; ſilentes!
Et Chaos, et Phlegeton! loca nocte ſilentia late? Sit mihi fas audita logui! fit numine veſtro Pandere res alta terra et caligine merſas J rz6 On the SUBLIME ant obſcuri, ſola ſub nocte, per umbram, Pergue dumos Ditis vacuas, et inania regna.
Ye ſubterraneaus gods ( whoſe aweful" fway The gliding ghofts, and ſilent ſhades obey; Moi folemn empire Hretches wid around; Gina me, je great tramendluis anwers, to tell : Of ſcenes an wonders in the depth of bas - Give me your mighty focrets to diſplay. — black aner, n. the bake PIT. Obleive RP wont cis dug Rades that e er Revere 1 | » - f * 1 N N a i nn | SECT, F and BEAUTIFUL, 127 SECT. VIL VASTNESS.
YREATNESS: + of dimenſion, is 2 powerful cauſe of the ſublime.: This is too evident, and the obſervation too common, to need any illuſtration; it is not ſo common, to confider in what ways greatneſs of dimenſion, vaſtneſs of extent, or quantity, has the-moſt ſtrik- ing effect. For certainly, there are ways, and modes, wherein the ſame quantity of extenſion ſhall produce greater effects than it is found to do in others. Exten- ſton is either in length, height, or depth.” 5 Of theſe the length ſtrikes leaſt; an hun- dred yards of even ground will never work ſuch an effect as a tower an hundred yards high, or a rock or mountain of that altitude. I am apt to imagine rar that re grand than depth;; 128 On the SUBLIME depth; and that we are more ſtruck at looking down from. a precipice, than at looking up at an object of equal height, but of that I am not very poſitive. A perpendicular has more force in forming the ſublime, than an inclined plaie; and the effects of x rugged and broken ſurface ſeem ſtronger than where it is ſmooth and poliſhed. It would carry us out of our way to enter in this place into the cauſe of theſe appearances; but certain it is they afford a large and fruitful field of ſpeculation...However, it: may not be [ - amiſs to add to theſe remarks upon mag-. nitude; that, as the great extreme of dimenſion is ſublime, ſo the laſt ex- treme of littleneſs ĩs in ſome meaſure ſub- lime like wiſe; When we attend to the infinite diviſibility o f matter, when e purſur animal life into theſe exceſſtyely ſmall, and yet organized beings, that eſcape the niceſt inquiſition of the ſenſe, when we-puſh Hur diſcoveries: yet de ward, and conſider thoſe creatures ſo 1 Hegg | many . 24 U N rm OBA F many degrees yet ſmaller, and the Mill diminiſhing ſcale of exiſtence, in tracing which the imagination is loſt as well as the ; * ſenſe, we become amazed and confound- b 1 ed at the wonders of minuteneſs; nor nn | l we diſtinguiſh in its effect this extreme l of littleneſs from the vaſt itſelf.; For 1 diviſion: muſt be infinite as well as ad- 3 1 dition; becauſe | the idea of a perfect | unity can no more be arrived at, than 1 that of a 'compleat whole | to which g | a may be added. 1 | NOTHER ſource of the ſublimb,!
is infinity; if it does not rather belong to the laſt. Infinity has a ten- dency to filli the mind with that ſort of delightful horror, which is the moſt genuine effect, and trueſt teſt of the ſub- lime. There are ſcarce any things which * f SS tf £5 ” 4. FA {3 Ws 9 Wil 1 8 4 *W im x 3 130 On the SUBLIME.
can become the objects of our ſenſes that are really, andi in their own nature infinite. But the eye not being able to per-; ceive the. bounds., of many things, they ſeem to be infinite, and they produce the lame, effects as if they were really o.
We are deceived i in the like manner, if the parts f ſome large object are ſo continued to any indefinite number, that the imagination meets no check which may hinder, its extending them at pleaſure. Whenever we repeat any idea frequently, the mind by a ſort of mechaniſm repeats it long after the firſt cauſe has ceaſed to operate. After whirling about; when we fſit / down, the objects | about us ſtill ſeem to whirl. After a | long ſucceſſion of noiſes, as the fall a waters, or the beating of forge hammers).
the hammers beat and the water roars in the imagination long after the firſt ſounds have ceaſed to affect it; and they die away; at laſt by-gradations AN and BEAUTIFUL. 131 ſcarcely perceptible. If you hold up a ſtrait pole, with your eye to one end, it will ſeem extended to a length almoſt ineredible. Place a number of uniform and equidiſtant marks on this pole, they will cauſe the fame deception, and ſem multi tiplie ed without end. The'fe ſtrongly affected in ſome one manner, cannot quickly © change their tenor, of adapt themfelves to other things; but they continue in their old channel until the ength of the firſt mover” decays! This is the reafoh of an appearance very frequent” in madmen; that they remain whole days and nights, ſometimes whole years, III the conſtant repetition 'of: fore remark, ſome: complaint, or ſong; which having ſtruck powerfully on their dior dered imagination, in the ing bf their renly, every repetition. reinforces It with new ſtrength; and the Hurry of their ſpirits, nreftrained by the curb of Ck Wen Rey their lives v4 * "Mr Ore Er. N.
wo.
SUCCESSION and UNIP ORMITY. YN UCCESSION and uniformity of parts are what conſtitute, the artificial in- —. Succeſſion 3, which is requiſite that the parts may be continued fo long, and in ſuch a direction, as by their fre- quent impulſes on the ſenſe to impreſs the imagination with an idea of their progreſs beyond their actual limits. 43. Unifarmity;, becauſe.if the figures of the parts ſhould be chan ed, the imagina- tion. at eyery change ETON. A check; n are preſented at every alteratiqn w N with Iu termination of one idea, and the b ning. of another; by which, means ir be comes: impoſſible to continue that unin- x6rrupted.progreflion, which. alone can Namp on, bounded objects the Eb inkigh „ lt i in this kind of artifi t Mr. Addiſon, in the Spectators concerning, the pleaſures of the imagination, thinks it is, becauſe in the ratund atone glance yu ſet half the building. This I do not imagine to be the real cauſe.
cial and BEAUTIFUL: 137 ficial infinity, Io believe, we ought to look for the cauſe why a rotund has ſuch a noble effect. For in a rotund, whether it be a building or a plantation, you can way you will, the ſame object ſtill ſeems! tõ continue, and the imagination give this figure its full force; bedauſe any difference, whether it be in the diſpoſi- tion, or in the figure, or even in the co- lout:iof the; parts, is highly prejudicial to the idea of infinity, which every change muſt enge at every alte - ration: commenci ing a new. ſerięs. i On the: fame Diincigle of ſucoeſſiond an. uniſortnity, the grand appearance af the ancient heathen temples, which e generally oblong form, with.a range of uhiforts pillarsd ono every ſide, e will be eaſily ahr arr. Rram the fame enuſe alſoi may he deriyed che grad ef ſect fu the iſles in many of our n old 1:34. On the SUBLIME _ cathedrals. >The: foi of a croſs uſed in ſome churches ſeems to me not ſoeligible, as: the parallelogram of the aneientꝰ at leaſt Lümagine it is not o proper for the qutſide. For, ſuppoſing the arms of the crolk ẽN1.N a/ equal, if ydu/ ſtand in a direction parallel to any of the ſido walls, ori eoehnades, inſtead of a deception chat. tmalces the büilding more extended than it ic dyou ara out off from ai conſi- derable” part (two thirds) of its rau lengthy and to preventzall-pofſfibility::o6 progreſſion, the arms of the ereſs taking: e direction, malte a right angle wier the beam, and thereby wholly turn the imagination from ihe repetitiowidf the former idea. Or ſuppeſe che fpeftatot! pliteÞwhere hejmaynake atire@viewtof ſucva building 5 vhatwilbbe:the vonſe-- quenee:?: thei necefſiry® conſequence; will bs; Git a. gd part of che biiis of uh angle, formedÞby the ihterſection of the am- ef Aheferbſt ruf betindvitably loft "the Wadde tnuſt of edrſe uſſtnne 4 Albee | 5 4 broken | and IBEW UT LB UL 133 broken unconnected figure; the lights muſt be unequal, here-ſtrong, and there weak; without that noble gradation, which the perſpective always effects on parts diſpoſed uninterruptedly in a right line. Some or all of theſe ohjections, will lie: againſt every figure of à croſs, in whatever view you-take'it.. I exemplified them in the Greek erofs in which theſe faults appear the meſtRrongly;> but they appear in ſome degree in all fbrts of croſſes Indeed tliere is nothing more prejudicial: tothe grandeur of buildings} than to abound in angles; a fault Obvi⸗ vious in many; and owing to an in- ordinats thirſt" for variety, which; Whencvet it prevails, iefare 0 E little true tate!!! 119g ft 1 Js 11 gar " bas 2100 f me nigh, T tg od 15 ron Bn mit e SUTQO odd oi gain Mog $ D 3181 £7; Ai Ronge Ky ONT Dann 0 na B Oi aas ann inan VI16 tus 10 91 TO Het DAS zb TR] QIv7 K 4 SECT, tt, 5 2 136 On/the SUBLIME bene RAN Magnitude in BULL D LN 6. Mis E een eee Tr! No che fublime in building, a = of dimenſion! ſeems requiſite:; for on a few parts, and thoſe ſmall, the ima gination cannot riſe, to any. idea of infi- nity. No greatneſs in the manner can effectually compenſate for the want of proper dimenſions. There is no danger of drawing men into extravagant deſigns