Page images
PDF
EPUB

rance and infirmity. No master so easy to please as God, if men will but serve him with all their heart. To do a wrong thing is difficult, there is no rule nor direction by which to do it, it is all experiment and hazard; to prevaricate, to shuffle, to frame a lie, it is all hard and difficult; and never effected, never made, it is always dropping to pieces, always wants mending; and the farther you go with it the worse it is, and at last it brings shame and defeat. But to do a right thing, to speak the truth, for this, there is a perfect rule, and a Judge that will vindicate you in well doing.-Ib.

[blocks in formation]

They are those different pleasures of the soul which form the

objects of taste, as beauty, goodness, agreeableness, simplicity, delicacy, tenderness, gracefulness, the I know not what, nobleness, greatness, sublimity, majesty, &c. For example: when we find pleasure in seeing a thing which is useful for us, we say that it is good. When we derive pleasure from seeing it, without perceiving in it any present utility, we call it beautiful.

The ancients did not perfectly understand this. They considered

as positive all the relative qualities of the soul, which renders those dialogues in which Plato makes Socrates reason, (dialogues so much admired by the ancients) at present unwarrantable, because they are founded upon false philosophy. For all those arguments drawn from the good, the beautiful, the perfect, the wise, the simple, the hard, the soft, the dry, the wet, treated as things positive, have no real signification.

The sources of beauty, goodness, agreeableness, &c., are then within ourselves; and to ascertain the reasons of it, we must search for the causes of the pleasures of the soul.

*

CHAP. II.

[merged small][ocr errors]

Of the pleasures of the

soul. The soul, besides the pleasures it derives from the senses, has some which must be independent of them, and which are peculiar to itself.

Such are those derived from curiosity, ideas of its greatness, the idea of its existence contrasted with a state of torpor, the pleasure of embracing the whole of a general idea, that of seeing a great number of things at once, &c.; that of comparing, joining, and separating ideas. These pleasures are, in the nature of the soul, independent of the senses.

[blocks in formation]

out of our state of existence, and ascertain what are its pleasures, to be able to measure those pleasures, and sometimes even to perceive them.

If the soul had not been united with a body, it would have had consciousness, but it seems that it would have loved that which it had known. At present, we love scarcely any thing which we have

known.

Our manner of existence is wholly arbitrary. We could have been made as we are, or otherwise. But if we had been made otherwise, we should have had different perceptions. One organ more or less in our machine would have made another thing eloquence, and another thing poetry. One contexture different in the same organs, would have made poetry still a different thing. For example, if the constitution of our organs had rendered us capable of longer attention, all the rules which proportion the disposition of the subject to the measure of our attention, would no longer apply. If we had been made more capable of penetration, all the rules which are founded on the measure of our penetration, would also fail. Finally, all the laws, founded upon the established form of our machine, would have been different, if our machine were not of that particular formation.

If our sight had been more indistinct or confused, less mouldings and more uniformity would have been necessary in the members of architecture. If it had been more distinct, and our soul capable of embracing more things at once, more ornaments in architecture would have been requisite. If our ears had been made like those of certain animals, our instruments of music would have required a different formation.

I know indeed that the conformities which exist between things might have continued, but the con

formity between them and us being changed, those things which in the present state have a certain effect upon us, would have their effect no longer; and as the perfection of the arts is to present things to us in that shape which will give us the most pleasure possible, a change in the arts would be required, since they should be in the form most proper to give us pleasure.

It is believed that it is sufficient to know the various sources of our pleasures, to have taste; and that when one has read what philosophy teaches us on the subject, he will have taste, and can confidently criticise works. But natural taste is not theoretical knowledge. It is a ready and nice application of rules of which one is ignorant. It is not necessary to know that the pleasure we derive from any thing we find beautiful, should come from surprise. It is sufficient that we are surprised; and that we are surprised exactly as much as is necessary.

Thus, all we can say here, and all the rules we can give for forming the taste, regards acquired taste only: that is to say; it directly regards acquired, although at the same time it indirectly relates to natural taste. For the acquired taste affects, changes, augments, and diminishes the natural: so the natural affects, changes, augments, and diminishes the cquired.

The most general definition of taste, without considering whether it is good or bad, just or unjust, is, that which attaches us to a thing by feeling; that which may be applied to intellectual things, the knowledge of which gives so much pleasure to the soul, that it was the only happiness which certain philosophers could compre hend.

The soul knows by its ideas and feelings, it receives pleasure from

those ideas and feelings; for although we contrast the idea with the feeling, yet when the soul sees a thing it feels it; and there is nothing so intellectual that the soul does not see, or think it sees it, and consequently feels it.

CHAP. III. Of mind in general. The mind is a genus comprehending many species; genius, good sense, discernment, exactness, talent, taste. The mind consists in having the organs well constituted relative to things where it is applied. If the thing is extremely particular, it is called talent; if it relates more to a certain delicate pleasure of mankind, it is called taste; if the particular thing is unique among a people, the talent is called spirit-as the art of war and agriculture among the Romans, the chase among the savages, &c.

CHAP. IV. Of Curiosity. Our soul is made to think; that is to say, to perceive; but such a being should have curiosity; for as all things are in a chain, where every idea precedes one and follows another; it cannot love to see one thing, without desiring to see another; and if we had not that desire for the latter, we should not have had any pleasure from the former. Thus when one part of a picture has been shown to us, we wish to see that part which is concealed from us in proportion to the pleasure we derived from that which we have seen.

It is, therefore, the pleasure which one object has given us, which bears us on towards another. It is on this account that the soul is ever in search of novelties, and never quiet.

Thus one will always be sure of pleasing the soul, who will present many things to its view, or more than it expected to see: By

this we can explain the reason why we have pleasure in viewing a well regulated garden, and also when we see a rough and rugged place. It is the same cause which produces these effects.

As we love to see a great number of objects, we desire to extend our view, to be in many places, to run over more space; finally, the soul escapes the bounds, and would, so to speak, extend the sphere of its presence; thus it affords it great pleasure to extend its view.

But how shall it be done? In the city? Our view is limited by houses. In the country? It is obstructed by a thousand obstacles. We can scarcely see three or four trees. Art comes to our aid, and discovers nature, who conceals herself. We love art, and we love it better than nature, that is, nature concealed from our eyes. But when we find beautiful situations, when our sight unobstructed can view far and near, brooks, hills, and those dispositions which, so to speak, are purposely created, we are much more enchanted than when looking at the gardens of Nitre; because nature never copies, whereas art always resembles itself.

It is for this that in painting we prefer a landscape to the plan of the most beautiful garden in the world. It is because the painter never takes nature only, except where she is beautiful, where the view may be distant and extensive, where it is variegated, where it may be seen with pleasure.

That which ordinarily consti tutes a great thought, is, when a thing which is spoken brings to view a great number of others, and discloses at once what we could not expect to learn but from much reading.

Florus gives us in a few words all Hannibal's faults: "when he can, (says he,) make use of a victory,

he prefers to enjoy it. Cum victoria posset uti, frui maluit. He gives us an idea of the whole Macedonian war when he says To have entered the territory, was victory-Introisse victoria fuit. He gives the whole view of the life of Scipio, where he says of his youth, This is the Scipio who grows up for the destruction of Africa-Hic erit Scipio qui in exitium Africae crescit. We think we see a child who grows and rises like a giant.-Finally he exhibits the great character of Hannibal, the condition of the world, and all the greatness of the Roman people, when he says, Hannibal, a fugitive from Africa, sought throughout the world, an enemy to the Romans.-Qui profugus ex Africa, hostem populo Romano toto orbe quaerebat.

CHAP. VI.-Of the pleasures of Variety.

But if order in things is necessary, so also is variety. Without this, the soul languishes; for things similar appear to be the same; and if a part of a picture which we see, resembles another which we have seen, that object will be new without appearing to be so, and will give no pleasure; and as the beauties of works of art, like those of nature, consist in the pleasures which they give, they must be made as fit as possible to vary those pleasures, to present to the soul things which it has not seen, that the feelings which they cause may be different from those which it has before experienced. It is thus that histories please us by the variety of narrations; romances, by the variety of wonders; dramatic pieces, by the beauty of passions,

CHAP. V.-Of the pleasures of and that those who know how to

Order.

It is not sufficient to show the mind many things, but they must be presented with order; for then we remember what we have seen, and begin to imagine what we shall see. Our soul congratulates itself on its extension and penetration. But in a work where there is no order, the mind seems constantly uneasy, because there is something wanting. The order which the author has pursued, and that which we adopt, confuse each other. The mind retains nothing and foresees nothing. It is humbled by the confusion of its ideas, by the emptiness which remains. It is fatigued in vain, and finds no pleasure. It is on that account, when the design is not to express or show confusion, there is always order in confusion itself. Thus painters group their figures; thus those who paint battles put those things which the eye should see distinctly, in front of the picture, and confused objects in the rear and at a remote distance

instruct may regulate as much as possible the uniform mode of education.

A continued uniformity renders every thing insupportable. The same order of periods long continued, is tedious in an oration. The same numbers and the same cadence, fatigue in a long poem. So it is true that in travelling the famous road from Moscow to Petersburgh, the traveller must perish with fatigue of being enclosed between the two bounds of the road; and he who shall have travelled a long time in the Alps will descend from them disgusted with situations the most happy, and prospects the most charming.

The soul loves variety, but it loves it we are told because it is made to know and to perceive. It must then be able to perceive, and the variety must be visible. That is to say, it is necessary that a thing should be so plain as to be perceived, and so diversified as to be perceived with pleasure.

There are things which appear diversified and are not so-others which appear uniform and yet are very different from each other. Gothic architecture appears great ly variegated, but the confusion of ornaments fatigues by their littleness; for this reason we cannot distinguish one from another, and their number prevents the eye from fixing upon any one; wherefore it displeases by those very parts which are chosen to make it agreeable. A building of the Gothic order is a kind of enigma to the eye which views it, and the soul is embarrassed as in reading an obscure poem.

Grecian architecture on the contrary appears uniform, but as it has divisions which are necessary, and as many as are needed for the soul to see precisely as much as it can see without being fatigued. But that it may see enough to be occupied with, there is that variety, the view of which gives pleasure.

It is necessary that great things have great parts; great men have great arms, great trees have great branches, and great mountains are composed of other mountains which are piled one above another such is the nature of things.

Grecian architecture, which has small divisions and large divisions, imitates great things. The soul perceives a certain majesty which every where prevails. It is thus that painting divides into groups of three or four figures, those which it represents in a picture. It imitates nature a numerous troop is always divided into plattoons, and it is also thus that painting in the great mass of the subject, presents distinct lights and shades.

CHAPTER VII.-The pleasures of Symmetry.

I have said that the soul loves variety, nevertheless in most things it loves to see a kind of symmetry.

This seems to include some contradiction. See how I shall explain it.

One of the principal causes of pleasure in our souls, when they see objects, is the facility with which they are perceived; and the reason why symmetry is pleasing to the soul, is, that it prevents pain, that it gives relief, that it cuts, so to speak, the work into moieties. Hence follows a general rule; wherever symmetry is useful to the soul, and can aid its functions, it is pleasing. But wherever it is useless it is disgusting, because it destroys variety. But things which we see in succession should have variety; for the soul has no difficulty in seeing them. Those on the contrary which we perceive with a glance ought to have symmetry. Thus as we see with a glance the front of a building, a parterre, a temple, there is a symmetry which pleases the soul by enabling it easily to comprehend the whole object at first sight.

As it is necessary that the object which we would see at a glance should be single, it must be unique, and the parts should all correspond with the principal object. It is on this account we like symmetry: it makes a whole. It is in nature, that a whole should be perfect; and the soul which sees that whole, desires that there should be no part of it imperfect. It is also on that account that we love symmetry. There must be a kind of ponderation or poising; and a building with one wing, or one wing shorter than another, is as unfinished as a body with one arm, or with one arm tod short.*

*The remainder of the essay was seeing this portion may choose to fornever sent. Perhaps the translator on ward it.

« PreviousContinue »