like a tempest that outrides the wind,
Made a just battle ere the bodies join’d.
Abdalla. His victories we scarce could keep in view,
Or polish ’em so fast as he rough drew.
Abdemelech. Fate after him below with pain did move,
And victory could scarce keep pace above.
Death did at length so many slain forget,
And lost the tale, and took ’em by the great.
Conquest of Granada, act 2. at beginning.
The gods of Rome fight for ye; loud Fame calls ye,
Pitch’d on the topless Apenine, and blows
To all the under world, all nations,
The seas, and unfrequented deserts, where the snow dwells,
Wakens the ruin’d monuments, and there
Where nothing but eternal death and sleep is,
Informs again the dead bones.
Beaumont and Fletcher, Bonduca, act 3. sc. 3.27<248>
An actor on the stage may be guilty of bombast as well as an author in his closet: a certain manner of acting, which is grand when supported by dignity in the sentiment and force in the expression, is ridiculous where the sentiment is mean and the expression flat.
This chapter shall be closed with some observations. When the sublime is carried to its due height and circumscribed within proper bounds, it enchants the mind, and raises the most delightful of all emotions: the reader, engrossed by a sublime object, feels himself raised as it were to a higher rank. Considering that effect, it is not wonderful, that the history of conquerors and heroes, should be universally the favourite entertainment. And this fairly accounts for what I once erroneously suspected to be a wrong bias originally in human nature; which is, that the grossest acts of oppression and injustice scarce blemish the character of a great conqueror: we, nevertheless, warmly espouse his interest, accompany him in his exploits, and are anxious for his success: the splendor and enthusiasm of the hero transfused into the readers, elevate their minds far above the rules of justice, and render them in a great measure insensible of the wrongs that are committed:
For in those days might only shall be admir’d,
And valour and heroic virtue call’d;
To overcome in battle, and subdue
Nations, and bring home spoils with infinite<249>
Manslaughter, shall be held the highest pitch
Of human glory, and for glory done
Of triumph, to be styl’d great conquerors,
Patrons of mankind, gods, and sons of gods;
Destroyers rightlier call’d, and plagues of men.
Thus fame shall be atchiev’d, renown on earth,
And what most merits fame in silence hid.
Milton, b. 11.28
The irregular influence of grandeur reaches also to other matters: however good, honest, or useful, a man may be, he is not so much respected as is one of a more elevated character, tho’ of less integrity; nor do the misfortunes of the former affect us so much as those of the latter. And I add, because it cannot be disguised, that the remorse which attends breach of engagement, is in a great measure proportioned to the figure that the injured person makes: the vows and protestations of lovers are an illustrious example; for these commonly are little regarded when made to women of inferior rank.<250>
That motion is agreeable to the eye without relation to purpose or design, may appear from the amusement it gives to infants: juvenile exercises are relished chiefly on that account.
If a body in motion be agreeable, one will be apt to conclude that at rest it must be disagreeable: but we learn from experience, that this would be a rash conclusion. Rest is one of those circumstances that are neither agreeable nor disagreeable, being view’d with perfect indifferency. And happy is it for mankind to have the matter so ordered: if rest were agreeable, it would disincline us to motion, by which all things are performed: if it were disagreeable, it would be a source of perpetual uneasiness; for the bulk of the things we see appear to be at rest. A similar instance of designing wisdom I have had occasion to explain, in opposing grandeur to littleness, and elevation to lowness of place.* Even in the simplest matters, the finger of God is conspicuous: the happy adjustment of the internal na-<251>ture of man to his external circumstances, display’d in the instances here given, is indeed admirable.
Motion is agreeable in all its varieties of quickness and slowness; but motion long continued admits some exceptions. That degree of continued motion which corresponds to the natural course of our perceptions, is the most agreeable. The quickest motion is for an instant delightful; but soon appears to be too rapid: it becomes painful by forcibly accelerating the course of our perceptions. Slow continued motion becomes disagreeable from an opposite cause, that it retards the natural course of our perceptions.*
There are other varieties in motion, beside quickness and slowness, that make it more or less agreeable: regular motion is preferred before what is irregular; witness the motion of the planets in orbits nearly circular: the motion of the comets in orbits less regular, is less agreeable.
Motion uniformly accelerated, resembling an ascending series of numbers, is more agreeable than when uniformly retarded: motion upward is agreeable by tendency to elevation. What then shall we say of downward motion regularly accelerated by the force of gravity, compared with upward motion regularly retarded by the same<252> force? Which of these is the most agreeable? This question is not easily solved.
Motion in a straight line is agreeable: but we prefer undulating motion, as of waves, of a flame, of a ship under sail; such motion is more free, and also more natural. Hence the beauty of a serpentine river.1
The easy and sliding motion of a fluid, from the lubricity of its parts, is agreeable upon that account: but the agreeableness chiefly depends on the following circumstance, that the motion is perceived, not as of one body, but as of an endless number moving together with order and regularity. Poets struck with that beauty, draw more images from fluids in motion than from solids.
Force is of two kinds; one quiescent, and one exerted in motion. The former, dead weight for example, must be laid aside; for a body at rest is not by that circumstance either agreeable or disagreeable. Moving force only is my province; and tho’ it is not separable from motion, yet by the power
