From the various combinations of the feveral endearing paffions and lofty fentiments, arife the variety of pleafing characters that beautify human fociety. There is a different fource of pleafure in converfation from what I have spoken of, called wit; which diverts the world fo much, that I cannot venture to omit it, although delicacy and a refined taste hefitate a little, and will not allow its value to be equal to its currency. Wit deals large. ly in allufion and whimfical fimilitudes; its countenance is always double, and it unites the true and the fantastic by a nice gracation of colouring that cannot be perceived. You obferve that I am only ipeaking of the ready wit of converfa tion. Wit is properly called in to fupport a converfation where the heart or affections are not concerned; and its proper bufinefs is to relieve the mind from folitary inattention, where there is no room to move it by paffion; the mind's eye, when difengaged, is diverted by being fixed upon a vapour, that dances, as it were, on the furface of the imagination, and continually alters its afpect: the motley image, whofe comic fide we had only time to furvey, is too unimportant to be attentively confidered, and luckily variches before we can view it on every fide. Shallow folks expect that thofe who diverted them in converfation, and made happy bon mots, ought to write well; and imagine that they themselves were made to laugh by the force of genius: but they are generally difappointed when they fee the admired character defcend upon paper. The truth is, the frivolous turn and habit of a comic companion, is almoft diametrically oppofite to true genius, whofe natural exercife is deep and flow-paced reflection. You may as well expect that a man should, like Cæfar, form confiftent fchemes for fubduing the world, and emFloy the principal part of his time in catching flies. I have often heard people exprefs a furprise, that Swift and Addifon, the two greatest mafters of humour of the laft age, were eafily put out of countenance, as if pun, mimicry, or rapartee, were the offspring of genius. Whatever fimilitude may be between humour in writing, and humour in converfation, they are generally found to require different talents. Humour in writing is the offspring of reflection, and is by nice touches and labour brought to wear the negligent air of nature; whereas, wit in converfation is an enemy to reflection, and glows brighteft when the imagination flings off the thought the moment it arifes, in its genuine new-born drefs. Men a little elevated by liquor, feem to have a peculiar facility at ftriking out the capricious and fantastic images that raise our mirth; in fact, what we generally admire in fallies of wit, is the nicety with which they touch upon the verge of folly, indifcretion, or malice, while at the fame time they preferve thought, fubtlety, and goodhumour; and what we laugh at is the motley appearance, whofe whimfical confiftency we cannot account for. People are pleafed at wit for the fame reafon that they are fond of diverfion of any kind, not for the worth of the thing, but because the mind is not able to bear an intenfe train of thinking; and yet the ceafing of thought is infufferable, or rather impoffible. In fuch an uneafy dilemma, the unfleady excurtions of wit give the mind its natural action, without fatigue, and relieve it delightfully, by employing the imagination without requiring any reflection. Thofe who have an eternal appetite for wit, like thofe who are ever in queft of diverfion, betray a frivolous minute genius, incapable of thinking. $221. On Mufic. Usher. There are few who have not felt the charms of mufic, and acknowledged its expreffions to be intelligibe to the heart. It is a language of delightful fenfations, that is far more eloquent than words: it breathes to the ear the clearest intimations; but how it was learned, to what origin we owe it, or what is the meaning of fome of its most affecting ftrains, we know not. We feel plainly that mufic touches and gently agitates the agreeable and fublime paffions; that it wraps us in melancholy, and elevates in joy; that it diffolves and inflames; that it melts us in tendernets, and roufes to rage: but its ftrokes are fo fine and delicate, that, like a tragedy, even the paffions that are wounded please; its forrows are charming, and its rage heroic and delightful; as people feel the particular paffions with different degrees of force, their taste of harmony must proportionably vary. Mufic then is a language directed to the paffions; but the rudeft paflions put on a new nature, and L13 become become pleafing in harmony: let me add, alfo, that it awakens fome paffions which we perceive not in ordinary life. Particularly the most elevated fenfation of mufic arifes from a confufed perception of ideal or vifionary beauty and rapture, which is fufficiently perceivable to fire the imagination, but not clear enough to become an object of knowledge. This fhadowy beauty the mind attempts, with a languifhing curiofity, to collect into a dif tinct object of view and comprehenfion; but it finks and efcapes, like the diffolving ideas of a delightful dream, that are neither within the reach of the memory, nor yet totally fled. The nobleft charm of mufic then, though real and affeting, feems too confused and fluid to be collected into a diftin&t idea. Harmony is always underflood by the crowd, and almoft always mistaken by muficians; who are, with hardly any exception, fervile followers of the tafe of mode, and who having expended much time and pains on the mechanic and practical part, lay a ftrefs on the dexterities of hand, which yet have no real value, but as they ferve to produce thofe collections of found that move the paffions. The prefent Italian tafte for mufic is exactly correfpondent to the taste of tragi-comedy, that about a century ago gained ground upon the ftage. The muficians of the prefent day are charmed at the union they form between the grave and the fantaftic, and at the furprifing tranfitions they make between extremes, while every hearer who has the leaft remainder of the taste of nature left, is thocked at the ftrange jargon. If the fame tate fhould prevail in painting, we muft foon expect to fee the woman's head, a horfe's body, and a fith's tail, united by foft gradations, greatly admired at our public exhibitions. Mufical gentlemen fhould take particular care to preferve in its full vigour and fenfibility their original natural taite, which alone feels and discovers the true beauty of mufic. If Milton, Shakespeare, or Dryden, had been born with the fame genius and infpiration for mufic as for poetry, and had paffed through the practical part without corrupting the natural talle, or blending with it prepoffeffion in favour of the flights and dexterities of hand, then would their notes be tuned to paffions and to fentiments as natural and expreffive as the tones and modulations of the voice in difcourfe. The mufic and the thought would not make different expreffions: the hearers would only think impetuouly; and the effect of the mufic would be to give the ideas a tumultuous violence and divine impulfe upon the mind. Any per fon converfant with the claffic poets, fees inftantly that the paffionate power of mufic I fpeak of, was perfectly understood and practifed by the ancients; that the mufes of the Greeks always fung, and their fong was the echo of the subject, which swelled their poetry into enthufiafm and rapture. An enquiry into the nature and merits of the ancient mufic, and a comparison thereof with modern compofition, by a perfon of poetic genius and an admirer of harmony, who is free from shackles of prac tice, and the prejudices of the mode, aided by the countenance of a few men of rank, of elevated and true tafte, would probably lay the prefent half-Gothic mode of mufic in ruins, like thofe towers of whofe little laboured ornaments it is a exact picture, and restore the Grecian tafte of paffionate harmony once more, to the delight and wonder of mankind. But as from the difpofition of things, and the force of fashion, we cannot hope in our time to refcue the facred lyre, and fee it put into the hands of men of genius, I can only recall you to your own natural feeling of harmony, and obferve to you, that its emotions are not found in the laboured, fantastic, and furprising compofi tions that form the modern style of mufic but you meet them in some few pieces that are the growth of wild unvitiated taste: you discover them in the swelling founds that wrap us in imaginary grandeur; in those plaintive notes that make us in love with woe; in the tones that utter the lover's fighs, and fluctuate the breaft with gentle pain; in the noble ftrokes that coil up the courage and fury of the foal, or that lull it in confufed vi fions of joy: in fhort, in thofe affecting ftrains that find their way to the inward recefies of the heart: Untwisting all the chains that tie 222. On Sculpture and Painting. Sculpture and painting have their fandard in nature; and their principles differ only according to the different materia's made ufe of in these arts. The variety of his colours, and the flat furface on which the painter is at liberty to raise his magic objects, objects, give him a vaft fcope for ornament, variety, harmony of parts, and oppofition, to please the mind, and divert it from too ftrict an examination. The fculptor being fo much confined, has nothing to move with but beauty, paffion, and force of attitude; fculpture therefore admits of no mediocrity; its works are either intolerable, or very fine. In Greece, the finishing of a fingle ftatue was often the work of many years. Sculpture and painting take their merit from the fame fpirit that poetry does; a justnefs, a grandeur, and force of expreffion and their principal objects are, the fublime, the beautiful, and the paffionate. Painting, on account of its great latitude, approaches also very near to the variety of poetry; in general their principles vary only according to the different materials of each. Poetry is capable of taking a series of fucceffive facts, which comprehend a whole action from the beginning. It puts the paffions in motion gradually, and winds them up by fucceffive efforts, that all eonduce to the intended effect; the mind could never be agitated fo violently, if the torm had not come on by degrees: befides, language, by its capacity of reprefenting thoughts, of forming the communication of mind with mind, and defcribing emotions, takes in feveral great, awful, and paffionate ideas that colours cannot reprefent; but the painter is confined to objects of vifion, or to one point or initant of time: and is not to bring into view any events which did not, or at leaft might not happen, at one and the fame initant. The chief art of the hiftorypainter, is to hit upon a point of time, that unites the whole fucceffive action in one view, and strikes out the emotion you are defirous of raifing. Some painters have had the power of preferving the traces of a receding paffion, or the mixed difturbed emotions of the mind, without impairing the principal paffion. The Medea of Timomachus was a miracle of this kind; her wild love, her rage, and her maternal pity, were all poured forth to the eye, in one portrait. From this mixture of paffions, which is in nature, the murderess appeared dreadfully affect ing. It is very neceflary, for the union of defign in painting, that one principal figure appear eminently in view, and that all the reft be fubordinate to it; that is, the paffion or attention of that principal object fhould give a caft to the whole piece: for inftance, if it be a wrestler, or a courfer in the race, the whole scene fhould not only be active, but the attentions and paffions of the rest of the figures fhould all be directed by that object. If it be a fisherman over the ftream, the whole fcene must be filent and meditative; if ruins, a bridge, or waterfall, even the living perfons must be fubordinate, and the traveller fhould gaze and look back with wonder. This strict union and concord is rather more necessary in painting than in poetry; the reafon is, painting is almoft palpably a deception, and requires the utmost skill in selecting a vicinity of probable ideas, to give it the air of reality and nature. For this reafon alfo nothing ftrange, wonderful, or shocking to credulity, ought to be admitted in paintings that are defigned after real life. The principal art of the landfcapepainter lies in felecting those objects of view that are beautiful or great, provided there be a propriety and a juft neighbourhood preferved in the affemblage, along with a careless diftribution that folicits your eye to the principal object where it refts; in giving fuch a glance or confufed view of those that retire out of profpect, as to raise curiofity, and create in the imagination affecting ideas that do not appear; and in bestowing as much life and action as poffible, without overcharging the piece. A landscape is enlivened by putting the animated figures into action; by flinging over it the chearful aspect which the fun beftows, either by a proper difpofition of fhade, or by the appearances that beautify his rifing or fetting; and by a judicious profpect of water, which always conveys the ideas of motion: a few difhevelled clouds have the fame effect, but with fomewhat less vivacity. The excellence of portrait-painting and fculpture fprings from the fame principles that affect us in life; they are not the perfons who perform at a comedy or tragedy we go to fee with fo much pleasure, but the paffions and emotions they display: in like manner, the value of ftatues and pictures rifes in proportion to the ftrength and clearness of the expreffion of the paffions, and to the peculiar and distinguishing air of character. Great painters almost always chufe a fine face to exhibit the paffions in. If you recollect what I faid on beauty, you will eafily conceive the reason L14 why why the agreeable paffions are moft lively in a beautiful face; beauty is the natural vehicle of the agreeable paffions. For the fame reafon the tempeftuous paffions appear strongest in a fine face; it fuffers the most violent derangement by them. To which we may add, upon the fame principle, that dignity or courage cannot be mixed in a very ill-favoured countenance; and that the painter after exerting his whole fkill, finds in their ftead pride and terror. Thefe obfervations, which have been often made, ferve to illuftrate our thoughts on beauty. Befides the ftrict propriety of nature, fculpture and figure-painting is a kind of defcription, which, like poetry, is under the direction of genius; that, while it preferves nature, fometimes, in a fine flight of fancy, throws an ideal fplendor over the figures that never exifted in real life. Such is the fublime and celeflial character that breathes over the Apollo Belvedere, and the inexpreffible beauties that dwell upon the Venus of Medici, and feem to fhed an illumination around her. This fuperior beauty must be varied with propriety, as well as the paffions; the elegance of Juno, must be decent, lofty, and elated; of Minerva, mafculine, confident, and chafte; and of Venus, winning, foft, and confcicus of pleafing. Thefe filler arts, painting and flatuary, as well as poetry, put it out of all doubt, that the imagination carries the ideas of the beautiful and the fublime far beyond visible nature; fince no mortal ever poffeffed the blaze of divine charms that furrourds the Apollo Belvedere, or the Venus of Medici, I have just mentioned. A variety and flush of colouring is generally the refuge of painters, who are not able to animate their defigns. We may call a luftre of colouring, the rant and fuitian of painting, under which are hid the want of ftrength and nature. None but a painter of real genius can be fevere and modeft in his colouring, and pleafe at the fame time. It must be obferved, that the glow and variety of colours give a pleafure of a very different kind from the object of painting. When foreign ornaments, gilding, and carving come to be confidered as neceflary to the beauty of pictures, they are a plain diagnolic of a decay in tafte and power. Ujker. § 223. On Architecture. A free and eafy proportion, united with fimplicity, feem to conftitute the elegance of form in building. A fubordination of parts to one evident defign forms fimpli city; when the members thus evidently related are great, the union is always very great. In the proportions of a noble edifice, you fee the image of a creating mind refult from the whole. The evident uniformity of the rotunda, and its unparal leled fimplicity, are probably the fources of its fuperior beauty. When we look up at a vaulted roof, that feems to rest upon our horizon, we are aftonished at the magnificence, more than at the vifible extent When I am taking a review of the ob jects of beauty and grandeur, can I pafs by unnoticed the fource of colours and vifible beauty? When the light is withdrawa all nature retires from view, vilible bodies are annihilated, and the foul mourns the univerfal abfence in folitude; when it returns, it brings along with it the creation, and reftores joy as well as beauty. Ibid. § 224. Thoughts on Colours and Light. If I fhould diftinguish the perceptions of the fenfes from each other, "according to the ftrength of the traces left on the ima gination, I fhould call thofe of hearing, feeling, fmelling, and tafting, notions, which imprefs the memory but weakly; while thofe of colours I fhould call ideas, to denote their ftrength and peculiar clearness upon the imagination. This diftinction deferves particular notice. The author of nature has drawn an impenetrable veil over the fixed material world that furrounds us; folid matter refufes our acquaintance, and will be known to us only by refifting the touch; but how obfcure are the informations of feeling light comes like an intimate acquaintance to relieve us: it introduces all nature to us, the fields, the trees, the flowers, the cryftal ftreams, and azure fky. But all this beauteous diverfity is no more than an agreeable enchantment formed by the light that spreads itself to view; the fixed parts of nature are eternally entombed beneath the light, and we fee nothing in fact but a creation of colours, Schoolmen, with their ufual arrogance, will tell you their ideas are transcripts of nature, and affure you that the veracity of God requires they fhould be fo, because we cannot well avoid thinking fo: but nothing is an object of vifion but light; the picture we fee is not annexed to the earth, but comes with angelic celerity to meet our eyes. That which is called body or fubfance, fiance, that reflects the various colours of the light, and lies hid beneath the appearance, is wrapt in impenetrable obfcurity; it is fatally fhut out from our eyes and imagination, and only caules in us the ideas of feeling, tafting, or fmelling, which yet are not refemblances of any part of matter. I do not know if I appear too ftrong when I call colours the expreflion of the Divinity. Light ftrikes with fuch vivacity and force, that we can hardly call it inanimate or unintelligent. §225. On Uniformity. Uber. Shall we admit uniformity into our lift of beauty, or first examine its real merits? When we look into the works of nature, we cannot avoid obferving that uniformity is but the beauty of minute objects. The oppofite fides of a leaf divided in the middie, and the leaves of the fame fpecies of vegetables, retain a ftriking uniformity; but the branch, the tree, and foreft, defert this fimilarity, and take a noble irregularity with vast advantage. Cut a tree into a regular form, and you change its lofty port for a minute prettinefs. What forms the beauty of country fcenes, but the want of uniformity? No two hills, vales, rivers, or profpects, are alike; and you are charmd by the variety. Let us now fuppofe a country made up of the most beautiful hills and defcents imaginable, but every hill and every vale alike, and at an equal distance; they foon tire you, and you find the delight vanishes with the novelty. There are, I own, certain affemblages that form a powerful beauty by their union, of which a fine face is inconteftible evidence. But the charm does not feem by any means to refide in the uniformity, which in the human countenance is not very exact. The human countenance may be planned out much more regularly, but I fancy without adding to the beauty, for which we muft feek another fource. In truth, the finest eye in the world without meaning, and the fineft mouth without a inile, are infipid. An agreeable countenance includes in the idea thereof an agreeale and gentle difpofition. How the countenance, and an arrangement of colours and features, can exprefs the idea of an unfeen mind, we know not; but fo the fact is, and to this fine intelligent picture, whether it be falfe or true, certain I am, that the beauty of the human countenance is owing, more than to uniformity. Shall we then lay, that the greatest uniformity, along with the greatest variety, forms beauty? But this is a repetition of words without diftinét ideas, and explicates a well-known effect by an obfcure caufe. Uniformity, as far as it extends, excludes variety; and variety, as far as it reaches, excludes uniformity. Variety is by far more pleafing than uniformity, but it does not constitute beauty; for it is impoffible that can be called beauty, which, when well known, ceafes to pleafe: whereas a fine piece of mufic fhall charm after being heard a hundred times; and a lovely countenance makes a ftronger impreffion on the mind by being often feen, because there beauty is real. I think we may, upon the whole, conclude, that if uniformity be a beauty, it is but the beauty of minute objects; and that it pleases only by the viable defign, and the evident footsteps of intelligence it difco vers. $226. On Novelty. Ibid. I muft fay fomething of the evanefcent charms of novelty. When our curiosity is excited at the opening of new scenes, our ideas are affecting and beyond life, and we fee objects in a brighter hue than they after appear in. For when curiofity is fated, the objects grow dull, and our ideas fall to their diminutive natural fize. What I have faid may account for the raptured profpe& of our youth we fee backward; novelty always recommends, because expectations of the unknown are ever high; and in youth we have an eternal novelty; unexperienced credulous youth gilds our young ideas, and ever meets a fresh luftre that is not yet allayed by doubts. In age, experience corrects our hopes, and the imagination cools; for this reafon, wisdom, and high pleasure do not refide together. I have obferved through this difcourfe, that the delight we receive from the visible objects of nature, or from the fine arts, may be divided into the conceptions of the fublime, and conceptions of the beautiful. Of the origin of the fublime I spoke hypothetically, and with diffidence; all we certainly know on this head is, that the fenfations of the fublime we receive from external objects, are attended with obfcure ideas of power and immenfity; the origin of our fenfations of beauty are ftill more unintelligible; however, I think there is fome foundation for claffing the objects of beauty under different heads, by a correfpondence or fimilarity, that may be obferved between feveral particulars. Ibid. |