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By greatness, I do not only mean the buik of any single object, but the largeness of a whole view confidered as one entire piece. Such are the prospects of an open champaign country, a vast uncultivated defert, of huge heaps of mountains, high rocks and precipices, or a wide expanse of waters; where we are not struck with the novelty or beauty of the fight, but with that rude kind of magnificence which appears in many of these stupendous works of nature. Our imagination loves to be filled with an object, or to grasp at any thing that is too big for its capacity. We are Aung into a pleasing aftonishment at such unbounded views, and feel a delightful stillness and amazement in the soul at the apprehensions of them. The mind of man naturally hates every thing that looks like a restraint upon it, and is apt to fancy ittelf under a sort of confinement, when the fight is pent up in a narrow compass, and shortened on every fide by the neighbourhood of walls or mountains, On the contrary, a spacious horizon is an image of li. berty, where the eye has room to range abroad, to expatiate at large on the immensity of its views, and to lose itself amidst the variety of objects that offer themfelves to its observation. Such wide and undetermined prospects are as pleasing to the fancy as the speculations of eternity or infinitude are to the understanding. But if there be a beauty or uncommonnels joined with this grandeur, as in a troubled ocean, a heaven adorned with Itars and meteors, or a spacious landscape cut out into rivers, woods, rocks, and meadows, the pleasure fill grows upon us, as it rises from more than a single principle,
Every thing that is new or uncominon raises a pleasure in the imagination, because it fills the soul with an a. greeable furprise, gratifies its curiosity, and gives it an idea of which it was not before possessed. We are indeed so often conversant with one set of objects, and tired out with so many repeated shows of the same things, that whatever is new or uncommon contributes a little to vary human life, and to divert our minds for a while with the strangeness of its appearance; it serves us for a kind of refreshinent, and takes off from that latiety we are apt to complain of in our usual and ordinary enter
tainments. It is this that bestows charms on a monster, and makes even the imperfections of nature please us. It is this that recommends variety, where the mind is every instant called off to something new, and the attention not suffered to dwell too long, and waste itself on any particular object : it is this likewise, that improves what is great or beautiful, and makes it afford the mind a double entertainment. Groves, fields, and meadows, are at any season of the year pleasant to look upon; but never so much as in the opening of the spring, when they are all new and fresh, with their first glols upon them, and not yet too miich accustoined and familiar to the eye. For this reason there is nothing that more enlivens a prospect than rivers, jetteaus, or falls of water, where the scene is perpetually shifting, and entertaining the fight every moment with something that is new. We are quickly tired with looking upon hills and valleys, where every thing continues fixed and setiled in the same place and posture, but find our thoughts a little agitated and relieved at the sight of such objects as are ever in motion, and sliding away from beneath the eye of the beholder.
But there is nothing that makes its way more directly to the soul than beauty, which immediately diffufes a secret satisfaction and complacency through the imagination, and gives a finishing to any thing that is great or uncommon. The very first discovery of it strikes the mind with an inward joy, and spreads a cheerfulness and delight through all its faculties. There is not, perhaps any real beauty or deformity more in one piece of matter than another; because we might have been so made, that whatsoever now appears loathsome to us might have fhown itself agreeable ; but we find by experience, that there are several modifications of matter, which the mind, without any previous confideration, pronounces at the first sight beautiful or deformed. Thus we see that every different fpecies of sensible creatures has its different notions of beauty, and that each of them is most affected with the beauties of its own kind. This is no where more remarkable than in birds of the same shape and proportion, where we often see the male de. termined in his courthip by the fingle grain or tincture
of a feather, and never discovering any charms but in the colour of its species.
There is a second kind of beauty that we find in the several products of art and nature, which does not work in the imagination with that warmth and violence as the beauty that appears in our proper species, but is apt, however, to raise in us a secret delight, and a kind of fondness for the places or objects in which we discover it. This confitts either in the gaiety or variety of colours, in the symmetry and proportion of parts, in the arrangement and disposition of bodies, or in a just mixture and concurrence of all together. Among these several kinds of beauty the eye takes most delight in colours. We no where meet with a more glorious or plea. fing show in nature, than what appears in the heavens at the rising and setting of the sun, which is wholly made up of those different ftains of light that show themselves in clouds of a different situation. For this rea. fon we find the poets, who are always addrefsing them. selves to the imagination, borrowing more of their epithets from colours than from any other topic.
As the fancy delights in every thing that is great, strange, or beautiful, and is fill more pleased the more it finds of these perfections in the fame object; fo it is capable of receiving a new satisfaction by the affistance of another sense. Thus any continued found, as the music of birds, or a fall of water, awakens every mos ment the mind of the beholder, and makes him more attentive to the several beauties of the place that lie before him. Thus, if there arise a fragrancy of smells or perfumes, they heighten the pleasures of the imagination, and make even the colours and sverdure of the landscape appear more agreeable : for the ideas of both fenfes recommend each other, and are pleasanter together than when they enter the mind separately; as the different colours of a picture, when they are well disposed, set off one another, and receive an additional beauty from the advantage of their situation.
X. Liberty and Slavery. Disguise thyself as thou wilt, still Slavery! still thou art a bitter drauglit; and though thousands in all ages have been made to drink of thee, thou art no less bitter on that account. It is thou, Liberty! thrice sweet and gracious goddess ! whom all, in public or in private, worthip ; whole taste is grateful, and ever will be fo till nature herself Mall change. No tint of words can spot thy fnowy mantle, or chymic power turn thy fceptre into iron. With thee to smile upon him as he eats his crust, the fwain is happier than his monarch, from whose court thou art exiled. Gracious Heaven! grant ine but health, thou great beltower of it! and give me but this fair goddess as my companion ; and shower down thy mitres, if it seem good unto thy divine Providence, upon those heads which are aching for them.
Pursuing these ideas, I sat down close by my table; and, leaning my head upon my hand, I began to figure to myself the miseries of confinement. I was in a right frame for it, and fo I gave full scope to my imagination. I was going to begin with the millions of
fellow. creatures, born to no inheritance but Navery; but, finde ing, however affecting the picture was, that I could not bring it near me, and that the multitude of sad groups in it did but distract me, I took a single captive; and, having firft fhut him up in his dungeon, I then looked through the twilight of his grated door, to take his. picture.
I beheld his body half wasted away with long expectation and confinement; and felt what kind of fickness of the heart it is which arises from hope deferred. Upon looking nearer, I saw him pale and feverith. In thirty years, the western breeze had not once fanned his blood --he had seen ilo sun, no moon, in all that time-nor, had the voice of friend or kinsman breathed through his lattice. His children-But here my heart began to bleed and I was forced to go on with another part of the portrait.
He was sitting upon the ground, upon a little straw in the farthest corner of his dungeon, which was alternately his chair and bed. A little calendar of small sticks was laid at the head, notched all over with the dismal days and nights he had passed there. He had one of these little sticks in his hand; and, with a rusty nail, he
was etching another day of 'misery, to add to the heap. As I darkened the little light he had, he lifted up a hopeless eye towards the door-then cast it down- siook his head and went on with his work of affliction. I heard his chains upon his legs, as he turned his body to lay his little stick upon the bundle. He gave a deep ligh.--I faw the iron enter into his soul.-I burst into tears. I could not fustain the picture of confinement which my fancy had drawn.
XI. The Cant of Criticisms.-
night!--Oh, against all rule, my Lord ; molt ungrammatically! Betwixt the substantive and adjective (which should agree together, in number, cale, and gender) he made a breach thus-stopping as if the point wanted settling. And after the nominative case (which your Lordship knows should govern the verb) he sufpended his voice in the epilogue, a dozen' times, three seconds and three fifths, by a Itop-watch, my Lord, each time-Admirable grammarian !-But, in fufpending his voice, was the sense suspended likewise ? Did no expression of attitude or countenance fill up the chasın?: Was the eye silent ? Did you narrowly look! I looks ed only at the ftop-watch, my Lord. Excellent obser-ver !
And what of this new book the whole world'makes fuch a rout about ?-Oh! 'tis out of all plumb, my Lord, --quite an irregular thing !-- not one of the angles at the four corners was a right angle.--I had my rule and compasses, my Lord, in my pocket. Excellent critic!
And, for the epic poem your Lordihip bid me look atz--upon taking the length, breadth; height, and depth of it, and trying them at home upon an exact scale of Bollu’s'tis out, my Lord, in every one of its dimenfions.-Admirable connoisseur !
And did you step in to take a look at the grand pic ture in your way back !--Tis a melancholy daub, my Lord: not one principle of the pyramid in any one group !-And what a price !--for there is nothing of the colouring of Titian--the expression of Rubens-the grace of Raphael--the purity of Dominiching