still more painful are contemplated with eagerness and delight: and therefore we must not be surprised to find, that many of the pleasing sensations of beauty or sublimity resolve themselves ultimately into recollections of feelings that may appear to have a very opposite character. The sum of the whole is, that every feeling which it is agreeable to experience, to recal, or to witness, may become the source of beauty in external objects, when it is so connected with them as that their appearance reminds us of that feeling. Now, in real life, and from daily experience and observation, we know that it is agreeable, in the first place, to recollect our own pleasurable sensations, or to be enabled to form a lively conception of the pleasures of other men, or even of sentient beings of any description. We know likewise, from the same sure authority, that there is a certain delight in the remembrance of our past, or the conception of our future emotions, even though attended with great pain, provided the pain be not forced too rudely on the mind, and be softened by the accompaniment of any milder feeling. And finally, we know, in the same manner, that the spectacle or conception of the emotions of others, even when in a high degree painful, is extremely interesting and attractive, and draws us away, not only from the consideration of indifferent objects, but even from the pursuit of light or frivolous enjoyments. All these are plain and familiar facts; of the existence of which, however they may be explained, no one can entertain the slightest doubt-and into which, therefore, we shall have made no inconsiderable progress, if we can resolve the more mysterious fact, of the emotions we receive from the contemplation of sublimity or beauty.

which are sometimes excited by the spectacle of beauty.

Of the feelings, by their connection with which external objects become beautiful, we do not think it necessary to speak more minutely;—and, therefore, it only remains, under this preliminary view of the subject, to explain the nature of that connection by which we conceive this effect to be produced. Here, also, there is but little need for minuteness, or fulness of enumeration. Almost every tie, by which two objects can be bound together in the imagination, in such a manner as that the presentment of the one shall recal the memory of the other; or, in other words, almost every possible relation which can subsist between such objects, may serve to connect the things we call sublime and beautiful, with feelings that are interesting or delightful. It may be useful, however, to class these bonds of association between mind and matter in a rude and general way.

It appears to us, then, that objects are sublime or beautiful, first, when they are the natural signs, and perpetual concomitants of pleasurable sensations, or, at any rate, of some lively feeling or emotion in ourselves or in some other sentient beings; or, secondly, when they are the arbitrary or accidental concomitants of such feelings; or, thirdly, when they bear some analogy or fanciful resemblance to things with which these emotions are necessarily connected. In endeavouring to illustrate the nature of these several relations, we shall be led to lay before our readers some proofs that appear to us satisfactory of the truth of the general theory.

The most obvious, and the strongest association that can be established between inward feelings and external objects is, where Our proposition then is, that these emotions the object is necessarily and universally conare not original emotions, nor produced di- nected with the feeling by the law of nature, rectly by any material qualities in the objects so that it is always presented to the senses which excite them; but are reflections, or when the feeling is impressed upon the mind images, of the more radical and familiar as the sight or the sound of laughter, with emotions to which we have already alluded; the feeling of gaiety-of weeping, with disand are occasioned, not by any inherent virtue tress-of the sound of thunder, with ideas in the objects before us, but by the accidents, of danger and power. Let us dwell for a if we may so express ourselves, by which moment on the last instance.-Nothing, perthese may have been enabled to suggest or haps, in the whole range of nature, is more recal to us our own past sensations or sympa- strikingly and universally sublime than the thies. We might almost venture, indeed, to sound we have just mentioned; yet it seems lay it down as an axiom, that, except in the obvious, that the sense of sublimity is proplain and palpable case of bodily pain or duced, not by any quality that is perceived pleasure, we can never be interested in any by the ear, but altogether by the impression thing but the fortunes of sentient beings; of power and of danger that is necessarily and that every thing partaking of the nature of made upon the mind, whenever that sound is mental emotion, must have for its object the heard. That it is not produced by any pecufeelings, past, present, or possible, of something liarity in the sound itself, is certain, from the capable of sensation. Independent, therefore, mistakes that are frequently made with reof all evidence, and without the help of any gard to it. The noise of a cart rattling over explanation, we should have been apt to con- the stones, is often mistaken for thunder; and elude, that the emotions of beauty and sub- as long as the mistake lasts, this very vulgar limity must have for their objects the suffer- and insignificant noise is actually felt to be ings or enjoyments of sentient beings;-and prodigiously sublime. It is so felt, however, to reject, as intrinsically absurd and incredi- it is perfectly plain, merely because it is then ble, the supposition, that material objects, associated with ideas of prodigious power and which obviously do neither hurt nor delight undefined danger;-and the sublimity is acthe body, should yet excite, by their mere cordingly destroyed, the moment the assophysical qualities, the very powerful emotions ciation is dissolved, though the sound itself

ard!

and its effect on the organ, continue exactly of a youthful face, to the richly fretted and the same. This, therefore, is an instance in variegated countenance of a pimpled drunk which sublimity is distinctly proved to consist, not in any physical quality of the object to which it is ascribed, but in its necessary connection with that vast and uncontrolled Power which is the natural object of awe and

veneration.

Such, we conceive, would be the inevita ble effect of dissolving the subsisting connection between the animating ideas of hope and enjoyment, and those visible appearances which are now significant of those emotions, and derive their whole beauty from that signification. But the effect would be still stronger, if we could suppose the moral ex, pression of those appearances to be reversed in the same manner. If the smile, which now enchants us, as the expression of innocence and affection, were the sign attached by nature to guilt and malignity-if the blush which expresses delicacy, and the glance that speaks intelligence, vivacity, and softness, had always been found united with brutal passion or idiot moodiness; is it not certain, that the whole of their beauty would be extinguished, and that our emotions from the sight of them would be exactly the reverse of what they now are?

That the beauty of a living and sentient creature should depend, in a great degree, upon qualities peculiar to such a creature, rather than upon the mere physical attributes which it may possess in common with the inert matter around it, cannot indeed appear a very improbable supposition to any one. But it may be more difficult for some persons to understand how the beauty of mere dead matter should be derived from the feelings and sympathies of sentient beings. It is absolutely necessary, therefore, that we should give an instance or two of this derivation also.

We may now take an example a little less plain and elementary. The most beautiful object in nature, perhaps, is the countenance of a young and beautiful woman;—and we are apt at first to imagine, that, independent of all associations, the form and colours which it displays are, in themselves, lovely and engaging; and would appear charming to all beholders, with whatever other qualities or impressions they might happen to be connected. A very little reflection, however, will probably be sufficient to convince us of the fallacy of this impression; and to satisfy us, that what we admire is not a combination of forms and colours, (which could never excite any mental emotion,) but a collection of signs and tokens of certain mental feelings and affections, which are universally recognised as the proper objects of love and sympathy. Laying aside the emotions arising from difference of sex, and supposing female beauty to be contemplated by the pure and unenvying eye of a female, it seems quite obvious, that, among its ingredients, we should trace the signs of two different sets of qualities, that are neither of them the object of sight, but of a far higher faculty;-in the first place, of youth and health; and in the second place, of innocence, gaiety, sensibility, intelligence, delicacy or vivacity. Now, without enlarging upon the natural effect of these It is easy enough to understand how the suggestions, we shall just suppose that the sight of a picture or statue should affect us appearances, which must be admitted at nearly in the same way as the sight of the all events to be actually significant of the original: nor is it much more difficult to conqualities we have enumerated, had been by ceive, how the sight of a cottage should give the law of nature attached to the very oppo- us something of the same feeling as the sight site qualities; that the smooth forehead, the of a peasant's family; and the aspect of a town firm cheek, and the full lip, which are now raise many of the same ideas as the appearso distinctly expressive to us of the gay and ance of a multitude of persons. We may vigorous periods of youth-and the clear and begin, therefore, with an example a little blooming complexion, which indicates health more complicated. Take, for instance, the and activity, had been in fact the forms and case of a common English landscape-green colours by which old age and sickness were meadows with grazing and ruminating cattle characterised; and that, instead of being found-canals or navigable rivers-well fenced, united to those sources and seasons of enjoyment, they had been the badges by which nature pointed out that state of suffering and decay which is now signified to us by the Livid and emaciated face of sickness, or the wrinkled front, the quivering lip, and hollow cheek of age;-If this were the familiar law of our nature, can it be doubted that we should look upon these appearances, not with rapture, but with aversion-and consider it as absolutely ludicrous or disgusting, to speak of the beauty of what was interpreted by every one as the lamented sign of pain and decrepitude? Mr. Knight himself, though a firm believer in the intrinsic beauty of colours, is so much of this opinion, that he thinks it entirely owing to those associations that we prefer the tame smoothness, and comparatively poor colours

well cultivated fields-neat, clean, scattered cottages - humble antique churches, with church-yard elms, and crossing hedgerows-all seen under bright skies, and in good wea ther:-There is much beauty, as every one will acknowledge, in such a scene. But in what does the beauty consist? Not certainly in the mere mixture of colours and forms; for colours more pleasing, and lines more graceful, (according to any theory of grace that may be preferred,) might be spread upon a board, or a painter's pallet, without engaging the eye to a second glance, or raising the least emotion in the mind; but in the picture of human happiness that is presented to our imaginations and affections in the visible and unequivocal signs of comfort, and cheerful and peaceful enjoyment-and of that se

cure and accessful industry that ensures its continuance and of the piety by which it is exalted-and of the simplicity by which it is contrasted with the guilt and the fever of a city life—in the images of health and temperance and plenty which it exhibits to every eye and in the glimpses which it affords to warmer imaginations, of those primitive or fabulous times, when man was uncorrupted by luxury and ambition, and of those humble retreats in which we still delight to imagine that love and philosophy may find an unpolluted asylum. At all events, however, it is human feeling that excites our sympathy, and forms the true object of our emotions. It is man, and man alone, that we see in the beauties of the earth which he inhabits; or, if a more sensitive and extended sympathy connect us with the lower families of animated nature, and make us rejoice with the lambs that bleat on the uplands, or the cattle that repose in the valley, or even with the living plants that drink the bright sun and the balmy air beside them, it is still the idea of enjoyment of feelings that animate the existence of sentient beings-that calls forth all our emotions, and is the parent of all the beauty with which we proceed to invest the inanimate creation around us.

with the monuments of ancient magnificence and extinguished hostility-the feuds, and the combats, and the triumphs of its wild and primitive inhabitants, contrasted with the stillness and desolation of the scenes where they lie interred;-and the romantic ideas attached to their ancient traditions, and the peculiarities of the actual life of their descendants—their wild and enthusiastic poetry their gloomy superstitions-their attachment to their chiefs-the dangers, and the hardships and enjoyments of their lonely huntings and fishings-their pastoral shielings on the mountains in summer-and the tales and the sports that amuse the little groups that are frozen into their vast and trackless valleys in the winter. Add to all this, the traces of vast and obscure antiquity that are impressed on the language and the habits of the people, and on the cliffs, and caves, and gulfy torrents of the land; and the solemn and touching reflection, perpetually recurring, of the weakness and insignificance of perishable man, whose generations thus pass away into oblivion, with all their toils and ambi tion; while nature holds on her unvarying course, and pours out her streams, and renews her forests, with undecaying activity, regardless of the fate of her proud and perishable sovereign.

Instead of this quiet and tame English landscape, let us now take a Welch or a We have said enough, we believe, to let Highland scene; and see whether its beau- our readers understand what we mean by ties will admit of being explained on the external objects being the natural signs or same principle. Here, we shall have lofty concomitants of human sympathies or emomountains, and rocky and lonely recesses tions. Yet we cannot refrain from adding tufted woods hung over precipices-lakes one other illustration, and asking on what intersected with castled promontories-am- other principle we can account for the beauty ple solitudes of unploughed and untrodden of Spring? Winter has shades as deep, and valleys-nameless and gigantic ruins and colours as brilliant; and the great forms of mountain echoes repeating the scream of the nature are substantially the same through all eagle and the roar of the cataract. This, the revolutions of the year. We shall seek too, is beautiful;-and, to those who can in vain, therefore, in the accidents of mere interpret the language it speaks, far more organic matter, for the sources of that "verbeautiful than the prosperous scene with nal delight and joy," which subject all finer which we have contrasted it. Yet, lonely as spirits to an annual intoxication, and strike it is, it is to the recollection of man and the home the sense of beauty even to hearts that suggestion of human feelings that its beauty seem proof against it under all other aspects. also is owing. The mere forms and colours And it is not among the Dead but among the that compose its visible appearance, are no Living, that this beauty originates. It is the more capable of exciting any emotion in the renovation of life and of joy to all animated mind, than the forms and colours of a Turkey beings, that constitutes this great jubilee of carpet. It is sympathy with the present or nature;-the young of animals bursting into the past, or the imaginary inhabitants of such existence-the simple and universal pleasures a region, that alone gives it either interest or which are diffused by the mere temperature beauty; and the delight of those who behold of the air, and the profusion of sustenanceit, will always be found to be in exact pro- the pairing of birds-the cheerful resumption portion to the force of their imaginations, and of rustic toils-the great alleviation of all the the warmth of their social affections. The miseries of poverty and sickness-our symleading impressions, here, are those of ro-pathy with the young life, and the promise mantic seclusion, and primeval simplicity; and the hazards of the vegetable creation-lovers sequestered in these blissful solitudes, the solemn, yet cheering, impression of the "from towns and toils remote,"-and rustic constancy of nature to her great periods of poets and philosophers communing with na-renovation-and the hopes that dart spontature, and at a distance from the low pursuits neously forward into the new circle of exerand selfish malignity of ordinary mortals;- tions and enjoyments that is opened up by her then there is the sublime impression of the hand and her example. Such are some of Mighty Power which piled the massive cliffs the conceptions that are forced upon us by upin each other, and rent the mountains the appearances of returning spring; and that asunder, and scattered their giant fragments seem to account for the emotions of delight at their base; and all the images connected with which these appearances are hailed, by

C

every mind endowed with any degree of sen- sympathies or emotions, and external objects,

may be either such as occur to whole classes of men, or are confined to particular individuals. Among the former, those that apply to different nations or races of men, are the most important and remarkable; and constitute the basis of those peculiarities by which national tastes are distinguished.— Take again, for example, the instance of female beauty-and think what different and inconsistent standards would be fixed for it in the different regions of the world;-in Africa, in Asia, and in Europe;-in Tartary and in Greece; in Lapland, Patagonia, and Circassia. If there was any thing absolutely or intrinsically beautiful, in any of the forms thus distinguished, it is inconceivable that men should differ so outrageously in their conceptions of it: if beauty were a real and independent quality, it seems impossible that it should be distinctly and clearly felt by one set of persons, where another set, altogether as sensitive, could see nothing but its opposite; and if it were actually and inseparably

sibility, somewhat better than the brightness of the colours, or the agreeableness of the smells that are then presented to our senses. They are kindred conceptions that constitute all the beauty of childhood. The forms and colours that are peculiar to that age, are not necessarily or absolutely beautiful in themselves; for, in a grown person, the same forms and colours would be either ludicrous or disgusting. It is their indestructible connection with the engaging ideas of innocence -of careless gaiety-of unsuspecting confidence ;-made still more tender and attractive by the recollection of helplessness, and blameless and happy ignorance of the anxious affection that watches over all their ways -and of the hopes and fears that seek to pierce futurity, for those who have neither fears nor cares nor anxieties for themselves. These few illustrations will probably be sufficient to give our readers a general conception of the character and the grounds of that theory of beauty which we think affords the only true or consistent account of its na-attached to certain forms, colours, or proporture. They are all examples, it will be observed, of the First and most important connection which we think may be shown to exist between external objects and the sentiments or emotions of the mind; or cases, in which the visible phenomena are the natural and universal accompaniments of the emotion, and are consequently capable of reviving that emotion, in some degree, in the breast of every beholder. If the tenor of those illustrations has been such as to make any impression in favour of the general theory, we conceive that it must be very greatly confirmed by the slightest consideration of the Second class of cases, or those in which the external object is not the natural and necessary, but only the occasional or accidental concomitant of the emotion which it recals. In the former instances, some conception of beauty seems to be inseparable from the appearance of the objects; and being impressed, in some degree, upon all persons to whom they are presented, there is evidently room for insinuating that it is an independent and intrinsic quality of their nature, and does not arise from association with any thing else. In the instances, however, to which we are now to allude, this perception of beauty is not universal, but entirely dependent upon the opportunities which each individual has had to associate ideas of emotion with the object to which it is ascribed:-the same thing appearing beautiful to those who have been exposed to the influence of such associations, and indifferent to those who have not. Such instances, therefore, really afford an experimentum crucis as to the truth of the theory in question; nor is it easy to conceive any more complete evidence, both that there is no such thing as absolute or intrinsic beauty, and that it depends altogether on those associations with which it is thus found to come and to disappear.

The accidental or arbitrary relations that may thus be established between natural

tions, it must appear utterly inexplicable that it should be felt and perceived in the most opposite forms and proportion, in objects of the same description. On the other hand, if all beauty consist in reminding us of certain natural sympathies and objects of emotion, with which they have been habitually connected, it is easy to perceive how the most different forms should be felt to be equally beautiful. If female beauty, for instance, consist in the visible signs and expressions of youth and health, and of gentleness, vivacity, and kindness; then it will necessarily happen, that the forms, and colours and proportions which nature may have connected with those qualities, in the different climates or regions of the world, will all appear equally beautiful to those who have been accustomed to recognise them as the signs of such qualities; while they will be respectively indifferent to those who have not learned to interpret them in this sense, and displeasing to those whom experience has led to consider them as the signs of opposite qualities.

The case is the same, though, perhaps to a smaller degree, as to the peculiarity of national taste in other particulars. The style of dress and architecture in every nation, if not adopted from mere want of skill, or penury of materials, always appears beautiful to the natives, and somewhat monstrous and absurd to foreigners; and the general character and aspect of their landscape, in like manner, if not associated with substantial evils and inconveniences, always appears more beautiful and enchanting than the scenery of any other region. The fact is still more striking, per haps, in the case of music;-in the effects of those national airs, with which even the most uncultivated imaginations have connected so many interesting recollections; and in the delight with which all persons of sensibility catch the strains of their native melodies in strange or in distant lands. It is owing chiefly to the same sort of arbitrary and national as

sociation, that white is thought a gay colour history of this great people, open at once bein Europe, where it is used at weddings-fore his imagination, and present him with a and a dismal colour in China, where it is used field of high and solemn imagery, which can for mourning;-that we think yew-trees never be exhausted. Take from him these gloomy, because they are planted in church- associations-conceal from him that it is yards and large masses of powdered horse- Rome that he sees, and how different would hair majestic, because we see them on the be his emotion!" heads of judges and bishops.

The influences of the same studies may be traced, indeed, through almost all our impressions of beauty-and especially in the feelings which we receive from the contemplation of rural scenery; where the images and recollections which have been associated with such

Next to those curious instances of arbitrary or limited associations that are exemplified in the diversities of national taste, are those that are produced by the differences of instruction or education. If external objects were sublime and beautiful in themselves, it is plain, that objects, in the enchanting strains of the poets, they would appear equally so to those who are perpetually recalled by their appearance, were acquainted with their origin, and to those and give an interest and a beauty to the prosto whom it was unknown. Yet it is not easy, pect, of which the uninstructed cannot have perhaps, to calculate the degree to which our the slightest perception. Upon this subject, notions of beauty and sublimity are now influ- also, Mr. Alison has expressed himself with enced, over all Europe, by the study of clas- his usual warmth and elegance. After obsical literature; or the number of impressions serving, that, in childhood, the beauties of of this sort which the well-educated conse- nature have scarcely any existence for those quently receive, from objects that are utterly who have as yet but little general sympathy indifferent to uninstructed persons of the same with mankind, he proceeds to state, that they natural sensibility. We gladly avail ourselves, are usually first recommended to notice by upon this subject, of the beautiful expressions the poets, to whom we are introduced in the of Mr. Alison. course of education; and who, in a manner, create them for us, by the associations which they enable us to form with their visible appearance.

"The delight which most men of education receive from the consideration of antiquity, and the beauty that they discover in every object which is connected with ancient times, is, in a great measure, to be ascribed to the same cause. The antiquarian, in his cabinet, surrounded by the relics of former ages, seems to himself to be removed to periods that are long since past, and indulges in the imagination of living in a world, which, by a very natural kind of prejudice, we are always willing to believe was both wiser and better than the present. All that is venerable or laudable in the history of these times, present themselves to his memory. The gallantry, the heroism, the patriotism of antiquity, rise again before his view, softened by the obscurity in which they are involved, and rendered more seducing to the imagination by that obscurity itself, which, while it mingles a sentiment of regret amid his pursuits, serves at the same time to stimulate his fancy to fill up, by its own creation, those long intervals of time of which history has preserved no record.

"And what is it that constitutes that emotion of sublime delight, which every man of common sensibility feels upon the first prospect of Rome? It is not the scene of destruction which is before him. It is not the Tiber, diminished in his imagination to a paltry stream, flowing amid the ruins of that magnificence which it once adorned. It is not the triumph of superstition over the wreck of human greatness, and its monuments erected upon the very spot where the first honours of humanity have been gained. It is ancient Rome which fills his imagination. It is the country of Cæsar, and Cicero, and Virgil, which is before him. It is the Mistress of the world which he sees, and who seems to him to rise again from her tomb, to give laws to the universe. All that the labours of his youth, or the studies of his maturer age have acquired, with regard to the

"How different, from this period, become the sentiments with which the scenery of nature is contemplated, by those who have any imagination! The beautiful forms of ancient mythology, with which the fancy of poets peopled every element, are now ready to appear to their minds, upon the prospect of every scene. The descriptions of ancient authors, so long admired, and so deserving of admiration, occur to them at every moment, and with them, all those enthusiastic ideas of ancient genius and glory, which the study of so many years of youth so naturally leads them to form. Or, if the study of modern poetry has succeeded to that of the ancient, a thousand other beautiful associations are acquired, which, instead of destroying, serve easily to unite with the former, and to afford a new source of delight. The awful forms of Gothic superstition, the wild and romantic imagery, which the turbulence of the middle ages, the Crusades, and the institution of chivalry have spread over every country of Europe, arise to the imagination in every scene; accompanied with all those pleasing recollections of prowess, and adventure, and courteous manners, which distinguished those memorable times. With such images in their minds, it is not common nature that appears to surround them. It is nature embellished and made sacred by the memory of Theocritus and Virgil, and Milton and Tasso; their genius seems still to linger among the scenes which inspired it, and to irradiate every object where it dwells; and the creation of their fancy seem the fit inhabitants of that nature, which their descriptions have clothed with beauty."

It is needless, for the purpose of mere illustration, to pursue this subject of arbitrary or