assured that the support is adequate. The obelisk is, in this respect, a grand refinement upon the massive pyramid. The column is a still higher effort, inasmuch as its lofty summit is capable of being crowned with a mass to be sustained by it. The devices that reconcile us to this bold proceeding are principally a widening of the foundation, and an expansion of the summit in the lightest way, that is, with the least material that will answer the purpose. Thus the column has the slightly expanded base, and the spreading capital for receiving the superincumbent weight of the architrave and frieze. The pilaster is lightened by being cut away at the lower part, reserving breadth of base, as being the primary element of stability. A slender stem, on an expanded base, may thus prove an efficient support, and gratify the mind with a large effect produced at a small outlay. All our graceful forms in objects that give support, such as vases, drinking-cups, and table ware in general, proceed upon these principles, affording at the same time the additional pleasure of curved forms, which is not dependent upon this particular association. The noble tree with its slender and yet adequate stem, its spreading roots and ample base, supporting a voluminous and expanded foliage,—is a telling example of the reconciliation of adequate sustaining power with small outlay of material, and a striking contrast to the grossness of the pyramid.* 23. Symmetry is a demand in some cases for mere proportion, and at other times for support. There is a disagree * The light tripod is a good amelioration of the heavy solidity of the pyramidal mass. The artist judges how far it is safe to go in reducing grossness of dimensions, without detracting from the appearance of adequate support. Strict adherence to the perpendicular in a wall owes its urgency to the sentiment now discussed. A tall object declining to one side gives the painful impression of an expected fall. The leaning tower of Pisa is quite stable, from having the centre of gravity within the base; but such a declension from the perpendicular is disagreeable to behold. It was formerly remarked (Contiguity, § 30), that the Architectural proportions that satisfy the mind must differ according to the material; beauty of design is very different in stone, in wood, and in iron. able effect of violated proportions when the two halves of a human face are not alike; a wasted, or unequal limb maims the prop of the figure. A tree with the foliage grown to one side is unsymmetrical in both respects. 24. Beauty of Movement grows out of the cases now considered, in conjunction with the primary susceptibility of the mind to moving objects as seen by the eye. The curved and straight outlines respectively suggest the same emotions in still forms, and in the tracks of moving bodies. A curvilinear movement, as the flight of a projectile, or of a bird, or the paces of a graceful dancer, is intrinsically pleasing; straight movements are rendered artistic only by associations of power, regularity, fitness, or some other circumstance that commends them to our regards. An upward flight is the analogy to support in still life-the putting forth of a power to counteract gravity; and, by giving us an idea of great propulsive energy, becomes a striking spectacle. 25. Fitness, the Esthetic of Utility. The case of Support just discussed is really a case of the fitting of machinery to a mechanical end, namely, counteracting gravity. So much pleasure do we derive from this being effectually, and yet, as it appears to us, lightly done, that we set up structures for the mere sake of seeing them so supported. But all the machinery of human industry is capable of appealing to the same sentiment of power, in the production of effects with a small expenditure of toil. A workman, combining great strength with great skill, will execute with ease what another man finds difficult, and the beholder derives a sympathetic pleasure from his power. The possession of superior tools gives the same agreeable distinction. In consequence of the gratification so derived, an actor on the stage feels bound to suppress all the appearances of labour and fatigue, and to put out of sight, as much as possible, the apparatus of the scenes. In machinery, we desiderate a clean polish and a noiseless action, because rust and noise suggest harsh obstruction and laborious effort. We personify the powers of nature, and sympathize with the apparently easy or difficult attainment of ends. The gentle breeze, giving motion to a huge mass of solid material, affects us with the delightful sentiment of a light finger impelling a heavy body. The noisy thunder, on the other hand, is thought to labour in accomplishing its work. A gunpowder explosion would be grander without the uproar; stillness, or a quiet action, having so much to do with our sentiment of exerted power, unless when the noise is itself a token of the power. The presence of the scaffolding whereby a great work has been reared, takes off from the pleasure of the work itself, by introducing the unacceptable association of painful and protracted labour. Hence the art of concealing art, so long ago announced as a critical maxim. We love to have removed from our sight every aspect of suffering, and none more so than the suffering of toil; we cherish, on the other hand, every appearance, however illusive, that suggests the easy attainment of the ends of toil. 26. There are certain things, subordinate to the successful prosecution of work, that have an interest to the spectator. We have seen already that regularity and proportion appeal to a primary sensibility of the mind. They come also to be valued, and greatly extended, from considerations of utility. Under the general name Order, we include all the precision, regularity, and suitability, in the array of separate objects, so eminently favourable to the march of industrial operations. Straight forms become æsthetic from their manifold subservience to useful ends. The agreeable sentiment that fills the mind of the mere looker-on is cultivated in many seats of industry, where a degree of orderliness and finish beyond the actual necessities of the case, is given to all the apparatus concerned. We see this in the trimness of a well-kept house, a cotton-mill, or a shop, and in the rigorous discipline and high condition of a man-of-war. Cleanliness is based originally upon the removal of matters intrinsically injurious, and loathsome to the view. Going one step farther, it aims at giving lustre, brilliancy, or pure whiteness of surface, where those constitute pleasing effects, taking care to wipe off what SUBLIMITY ALLIED TO POWER. 247 ever stains a naturally fine surface. The polishing of tools has both an original effect of brilliancy, and the derived pleasure of suggested ease. The neat, tidy, and trim, gratifies us as a part of Order, and, even when non-essential to practical industry, gives evidence of a mind alive to the importance of this great subsidiary. It would be absurd to go the length of some writers in affirming that beauty always implies mind; but it is a fact of sober observation, that objects are often interesting from their suggesting to the beholder useful mental qualities. The reverse also holds. Two or three pieces of chopped straw on a carpet, or a small hole in a stocking, would not interfere with any useful operation, or impair the lustre of any other present beauty; but by suggesting a mind loose and indifferent to orderly qualities, on which so much is dependent on the whole, a great offence may be given to the observer. 27. The Sublime. This quality has been generally accounted more simple than Beauty. And so in one point of view it is, being principally a result of the single attribute of superior power. But then power, as we have often seen, is a very complex fact; it comprises the delights of maleficent action, the pleasures of protectorship (a form of tender sentiment), and the relief from toil in all its ramifications. Now, for the purposes of Art, these modes of power are considered not as actually possessed, but as sympathetically viewed. There is a pleasure in merely entering in, as eye-witnesses, to the spectacle of manifested power. The most direct influence of the situation is our being ideally raised to a fictitious notion of greater power in ourselves. The remark has already been made, that the sight of others manifesting any capability that we ourselves possess, recalls our consciousness in the same act. As a recall, this is pleasing; it makes a fraction of our agreeable interest in our fellow-workers, present and past. Yet the attendant circumstances may be such as to qualify the pleasure. For one thing, we may have the pleasing illusion of being equal or superior to the exalted person that we witness; this is the most acceptable form of the sympathetic feeling of power. Or, we may be humbled and mortified by conscious inferiority, in which case the spectacle is positively repugnant. There is a third case, where we cheerfully admit that we are surpassed, and yet enjoy the idea of so great power in a region where we are at home. This is disinterested admiration, and contains an element of genuine sympathy or fellow-feeling, with renunciation of rivalry; it is an emotion based on friendship and love. The homage that we give to superior qualities, intellectual or moral, has this congenial character. A fourth case demands more special consideration. We look at overpowering strength in the consciousness of our own littleness, weakness, or infirmity; and, instead of being lifted by the spectacle, we feel humbled and depressed. This is not the agreeable sentiment of the sublime, but very much the reverse. The worst form is being in dangerous subjection; in which case we can experience only unmitigated terror. The favourable side is to be under protection; in that situation, our feeling assumes the aspect of tenderness, verging on awe. This is the emotion suited to a benign earthly power, and to an object of worship. 28. Human might is the true and literal sublime, and the point of departure for the sublimity of other things. A man that towers above his fellows in force, will, endurance, courage, self-denial,-strikes the spectator with an exalted idea of power, which may take any of the forms just mentioned; most of them being pleasures of considerable amount. Maleficent human power is sublime, and agreeable to behold, if our natural delight in the production of suffering has free course; but, according as there is danger to ourselves, or as our pity is aroused towards the victims, it becomes an object of horror and loathing. Still, constituted as we are, the highest charm of power supposes painful infliction in the distance; the mind scarcely avows the fact to itself, but yet cannot help a latent reference to it. The deities of the ancient world owed their lofty grandeur more to the |