complex emotions we feel; and readily attribute to the nature of the architecture itself, the whole pleasure which we enjoy. "But, beside these, there are other associations we have with these forms, that still more powerfully serve to command our admiration, for they are the Grecian orders they derive their origin from those times, and were the ornaments of those countries, which are most hallowed in our imaginations; and it is difficult for us to see them, even in their modern copies, without feeling them operate upon our minds as relics of those polished nations where they first arose, and of that greater people by whom they were afterward borrowed. "While this species of architecture is attended with so many and so pleasing associations, it is difficult, even for a man of reflection, to distinguish between the different sources of his emotion; or, in the moments in which this delight is felt, to ascertain what is the exact portion of his pleasure which is to be attributed to these proportions alone. And two different causes combine to lead us to attribute to the style of architecture itself, the beauty which arises from many other associations. "In the first place, while it is under our eye, this architecture itself is the great object of our regard, and the central object of all these associations. It is the material sign, in fact, of all the various affecting qualities which are connected with it; and it disposes us in this,. as in every other case, to attribute to the sign, the effect which is produced by the qualities signified. "When we reflect, upon the other hand, in our calmer moments, upon the source of our emotion, another motive arises to induce us to consider these proportions as the sole, or the principal, cause of our pleasure; for these proportions are the only qualities of the object which are perfectly or accurately ascertained. They have received the assent of all ages since their discovery; they are the acknowledged objects of beauty; and, having thus got possession of one undoubted principle, our natural love of system induces us to ascribe the whole of the effect to this principle alone, and easily satisfies our minds, by saving us the trouble of a long and tedious investigation. That this cause has had its full effect in this case, will, I believe, appear very evident to those who attend. to the enthusiasm with which, in general, the writers on architecture speak of the beauty of proportion, and compare it with the common sentiments of men, upon the subject of this beauty. Both these causes conspire to mislead our judgment in this point, and to induce us to attribute to one quality, in such objects, that beauty which, in truth, results from many united qualities.' In my next lecture I shall conclude this subject of the beautiful, and sum up all that I have said upon it. If any man feel himself inclined to think that I have pushed this subject of the beautiful too far, and that its importance does not merit such long discussion, I would desire him to reflect upon the immense effect which it produces on human life. What are half the crimes in the world committed for? What brings into action the best virtues? The desire of possessing. Of possessing what?-not mere money, but every species of the beautiful which money can purchase. A man lies hid in a little, dirty, smoky room for twenty years of his life, and sums up as many columns of figures as would reach round half the earth, if they were laid at length;—he gets rich; what does he do with his riches? He buys a large, well-proportioned house: in the arrangement of his furniture, he gratifies himself with all the beauty which splendid colors, regular figures, and smooth surfaces, can convey; he has the beauties of variety and association in his grounds; the cup out of which he drinks his tea is adorned with beautiful figures; the chair in which he sits is covered with smooth, shining leather; his table-cloth is of the most beautiful damask; mirrors reflect the lights from every quarter of the room; pictures of the best masters feed his eye with all the beauties of imitation. A million of human creatures are employed in this country in ministering to this feeling of the beautiful. It is only a barbarous, ignorant people that can ever be occupied by the necessaries of life alone. * Alison, pp. 867–369. If to eat, and to drink, and to be warm, were the only passions of our minds, we should all be what the lowest of us all are at this day. The love of the beautiful calls man to fresh exertions, and awakens him to a more noble life; and the glory of it is, that as painters imitate, and poets sing, and statuaries carve, and architects rear up the gorgeous trophies of their skill, as every thing becomes beautiful, and orderly, and magnificent,-the activity of the mind rises to still greater, and to better objects. The principles of justice are sought out; the powers of the ruler, and the rights of the subject, are fixed; man advances to the enjoyment of rational liberty, and to the establishment of those great moral laws, which God has written in our hearts, to regulate the destinies of the world. LECTURE XV. ON THE BEAUTIFUL-PART III. I WISH, for the completion of the subject on which I have been engaged, to consider what causes produce the feeling of the beautiful in poetry. I must observe here, as I observed before, that there is a lax and general usage of the word beautiful, to which I am not now referring. We might say of Milton's Paradise Lost, that it is a beautiful poem, though its characteristic is rather grandeur and sublimity, than beauty. It is a general term, standing for every species of excellence; but I am speaking now of that which is properly beautiful, as distinguished from what is sublime or excellent in any other kind. The first reason, then, why poetry is beautiful, is, because it describes natural objects, or moral feelings, which are themselves beautiful. For an example, I will read to you a beautiful sonnet of Dr. Leyden's upon the Sabbath morning, which has never been printed :— "With silent awe I hail the sacred morn, Which slowly wakes while all the fields are still; The skylark warbles in a tone less shrill. The sun, a placid yellow luster shows; I Now, there is not a single image introduced into this very beautiful sonnet, which is not of itself beautiful; the soothing calm of the breeze, the noise of the rill, the song of the linnet, the hovering rack of clouds, and the airy drove of rooks floating by, are all objects that would be beautiful in nature, and of course are so in poetry. The notion that the whole appearance of the world is more calm and composed on the Sabbath, and that its sanctity is felt in the whole creation, is unusually beautiful and poetical. There is a pleasure in imitation,this is exactly a picture of what a beautiful placid morning is, and we are delighted to see it so well represented. There is also a certain degree of pleasure from the measure of the poetry,-from the recurrence of certain cadences at certain intervals ;-this makes the distinction between the language of prose and poetry. Now, in which of these two passages are the sounds most agreeably arranged:-" The master saw the madness rising, took notice of his glowing cheeks and his ardent eyes, and, while he defied heaven and earth, changed his own hand, and checked the pride of Alexander. He chose a mournful song, in order to infuse into him soft pity; he sung of Darius, a very great and good man,' and so on. "The master saw the madness rise; His glowing cheeks, his ardent eyes; Soft pity to infuse: He sung Darius great and good, By too severe a fate, Fallen, fallen, fallen, fallen, And welt'ring in his blood; With not a friend to close his eyes. With downcast looks the joyless victor sate, The various turns of Chance below; |