Tacitus
for his displaying those outward Motives of Safety and Interest, which give Birth to the whole Series of Transactions which he relates.
He may likewise consider, how differently he is affected by the same Thought, which presents it self in a great Writer, from what he is when he finds it delivered by a Person of an ordinary Genius. For there is as much Difference in apprehending a Thought cloathed in
Cicero's
Language, and that of a common Author, as in seeing an Object by the Light of a Taper, or by the Light of the Sun.
It is very difficult to lay down Rules for the Acquirement of such a Taste as that I am here speaking of. The Faculty must in some degree be born with us, and it very often happens, that those who have other Qualities in Perfection are wholly void of this. One of the most eminent Mathematicians of the Age has assured me, that the greatest Pleasure he took in reading
Virgil
, was in examining
Æneas
his Voyage by the Map; as I question not but many a Modern Compiler of History, would be delighted with little more in that Divine Author, than in the bare Matters of Fact.
But notwithstanding this Faculty must in some measure be born with us, there are several Methods for Cultivating and Improving it, and without which it will be very uncertain, and of little use to the Person that possesses it. The most natural Method for this Purpose is to be conversant among the Writings of the most Polite Authors. A Man who has any Relish for fine Writing, either discovers new Beauties, or receives stronger Impressions from the Masterly Strokes of a great Author every time he peruses him; Besides that he naturally wears himself into the same manner of Speaking and Thinking.
Conversation with Men of a Polite Genius is another Method for improving our Natural Taste. It is impossible for a Man of the greatest Parts to consider anything in its whole Extent, and in all its Variety of Lights. Every Man, besides those General Observations which are to be made upon an Author, forms several Reflections that are peculiar to his own Manner of Thinking; so that Conversation will naturally furnish us with Hints which we did not attend to, and make us enjoy other Men's Parts and Reflections as well as our own. This is the best Reason I can give for the Observation which several have made, that Men of great Genius in the same way of Writing seldom rise up singly, but at certain Periods of Time appear together, and in a Body; as they did at
Rome
in the Reign of
Augustus
, and in
Greece
about the Age of
Socrates
. I cannot think that
Corneille, Racine, Moliere, Boileau, la Fontaine, Bruyere, Bossu
, or the
Daciers
, would have written so well as they have done, had they not been Friends and Contemporaries.
It is likewise necessary for a Man who would form to himself a finished Taste of good Writing, to be well versed in the Works of the best Criticks both Ancient and Modern. I must confess that I could wish there were Authors of this kind, who beside the Mechanical Rules which a Man of very little Taste may discourse upon, would enter into the very Spirit and Soul of fine Writing, and shew us the several Sources of that Pleasure which rises in the Mind upon the Perusal of a noble Work. Thus although in Poetry it be absolutely necessary that the Unities of Time, Place and Action, with other Points of the same Nature, should be thoroughly explained and understood; there is still something more essential to the Art, something that elevates and astonishes the Fancy, and gives a Greatness of Mind to the Reader, which few of the Criticks besides
Longinus
have considered.
Our general Taste in
England
is for Epigram, Turns of Wit, and forced Conceits, which have no manner of Influence, either for the bettering or enlarging the Mind of him who reads them, and have been carefully avoided by the greatest Writers, both among the Ancients and Moderns. I have endeavoured in several of my Speculations to banish this
Gothic
Taste, which has taken Possession among us. I entertained the Town, for a Week together, with an
Essay upon Wit,
in which I endeavoured to detect several of those false Kinds which have been admired in the different Ages of the World; and at the same time to shew wherein the Nature of true Wit consists. I afterwards gave an Instance of the great Force which lyes in a natural Simplicity of Thought to affect the Mind of the Reader, from such vulgar Pieces as have little else besides this single Qualification to recommend them. I have likewise examined the Works of the greatest Poet which our Nation or perhaps any other has produced, and particularized most of those rational and manly Beauties which give a Value to that Divine Work. I shall next Saturday enter upon an Essay on the Pleasures of the Imagination, which, though it shall consider that Subject at large, will perhaps suggest to the Reader what it is that gives a Beauty to many Passages of the finest Writers both in Prose and Verse. As an Undertaking of this Nature is entirely new, I question not but it will be received with Candour.
O.
Footnote 1:
See note on p. 620, ante [
Footnote 3
of
No. 379
]. This fine taste was the
cultismo
the taste for false concepts, which Addison condemns.
return to footnote mark
Contents
Dum foris sunt, nihil videtur Mundius,Nec magis compositum quidquam, nec magis elegans:Quæ, cum amatore suo cum coenant, Liguriunt,Harum videre ingluviem, sordes, inopiam:Quam inhonestæ solæ sint domi, atque avidæ cibi,Quo pacto ex Jure Hesterno panem atrum varent.Nosse omnia hæc, salus est adolescentulis.Tert.translation
Will. Honeycomb
, who disguises his present Decay by visiting the Wenches of the Town only by Way of Humour, told us, that the last rainy Night he with Sir
Roger De Coverly
was driven into the Temple Cloister, whither had escaped also a Lady most exactly dressed from Head to Foot.
Will
, made no Scruple to acquaint us, that she saluted him very familiarly by his Name, and turning immediately to the Knight, she said, she supposed that was his good Friend, Sir
Roger De Coverly
: Upon which nothing less could follow than Sir
Roger's
Approach to Salutation, with,
Madam the same at your Service
. She was dressed in a black Tabby Mantua and Petticoat, without Ribbons; her Linnen striped Muslin, and in the whole in an agreeable Second-Mourning; decent Dresses being often affected by the Creatures of the Town, at once consulting Cheapness and the Pretensions to Modesty. She went on with a familiar easie Air.
Your Friend, Mr.Honeycomb, is a little surprized to see a Woman here alone and unattended; but I dismissed my Coach at the Gate, and tripped it down to my Council's Chambers, for Lawyer's Fees take up too much of a small disputed Joynture to admit any other Expence but meer Necessaries.
Mr.
Honeycomb
begged they might have the Honour of setting her down, for Sir
Roger's
Servant was gone to call a Coach. In the Interim the Footman returned, with no Coach to be had; and there appeared nothing to be done but trusting herself with Mr.
Honeycomb
and his Friend to wait at the Tavern at the Gate for a Coach, or to be subjected to all the Impertinence she must meet with in that publick Place. Mr.
Honeycomb
being a Man of Honour determined the Choice of the first, and Sir
Roger
, as the better Man, took the Lady by the Hand, leading through all the Shower, covering her with his Hat, and gallanting a familiar Acquaintance through Rows of young Fellows, who winked at Sukey in the State she marched off,
Will. Honeycomb
bringing up the Rear.
Much Importunity prevailed upon the Fair one to admit of a Collation, where, after declaring she had no Stomach, and eaten a Couple of Chickens, devoured a Trusse of Sallet, and drunk a full Bottle to her Share, she sung
the Old Man's Wish
to Sir
Roger
. The Knight left the Room for some Time after Supper, and writ the following Billet, which he conveyed to Sukey, and Sukey to her Friend
Will. Honeycomb. Will
. has given it to Sir
Andrew Freeport
, who read it last Night to the Club.
Madam,I am not so meer a Country-Gentleman, but I can guess at the Law-Business you had at the Temple. If you would go down to the Country and leave off all your Vanities but your Singing, let me know at my Lodgings inBow-street Covent-Garden, and you shall be encouraged byYour humble Servant,Roger De Coverly.
My good Friend could not well stand the Raillery which was rising upon him; but to put a Stop to it I deliverd
Will. Honeycomb
the following Letter, and desired him to read it to the Board.
Mr.Spectator,Having seen a Translation of one of the Chapters in theCanticlesintoEnglishVerse inserted among your late Papers, I have ventured to send you the 7th Chapter of theProverbsin a poetical Dress. If you think it worthy appearing among your Speculations, it will be a sufficient Reward for the Trouble ofYour constant Reader,A. B.My Son, th' Instruction that my Words impart,Grave on the Living Tablet of thy Heart;And all the wholesome Precepts that I give,Observe with strictest Reverence, and live.Let all thy Homage be to Wisdom paid,Seek her Protection and implore her Aid;That she may keep thy Soul from Harm secure,And turn thy Footsteps from the Harlot's Door,Who with curs'd Charms lures the Unwary in,And sooths with Flattery their Souls to Sin.Once from my Window as I cast mine EyeOn those that pass'd in giddy Numbers by,A Youth among the foolish Youths I spy'd,Who took not sacred Wisdom for his Guide.Just as the Sun withdrew his cooler Light,And Evening soft led on the Shades of Night,He stole in covert Twilight to his Fate,And pass'd the Corner near the Harlot's GateWhen, lo, a Woman comes!—Loose her Attire, and such her glaring Dress,As aptly did the Harlot's Mind express:Subtle she is, and practisd in the Arts,By which the Wanton conquer heedless Hearts:Stubborn and loud she is; she hates her Home,Varying her Place and Form; she loves to roam;Now she's within, now in the Street does stray;Now at each Corner stands, and waits her Prey.The Youth she seiz'd; and laying now asideAll Modesty, the Female's justest Pride,She said, with an Embrace, Here at my HousePeace-offerings are, this Day I paid my Vows.I therefore came abroad to meet my Dear,And, Lo, in Happy Hour I find thee here.My Chamber I've adornd, and o'er my BedAre cov'rings of the richest Tapstry spread,With Linnen it is deck'd from Egypt brought,And Carvings by the Curious Artist wrought,It wants no Glad Perfume Arabia yieldsIn all her Citron Groves, and spicy Fields;Here all her store of richest Odours meets,Ill lay thee in a Wilderness of Sweets.Whatever to the Sense can grateful beI have collected there—I want but Thee.My Husband's gone a Journey far away, }Much Gold he took abroad, and long will stay, }He nam'd for his return a distant Day. }Upon her Tongue did such smooth Mischief dwell,And from her Lips such welcome Flatt'ry fell,Th' unguarded Youth, in Silken Fetters ty'd,Resign'd his Reason, and with Ease comply'd.Thus does the Ox to his own Slaughter go,And thus is senseless of th' impending Blow.Thus flies the simple Bird into the Snare,That skilful Fowlers for his Life prepare.But let my Sons attend, Attend may theyWhom Youthful Vigour may to Sin betray;Let them false Charmers fly, and guard their HeartsAgainst the wily Wanton's pleasing Arts,With Care direct their Steps, nor turn astray,To tread the Paths of her deceitful Way;Lest they too late of Her fell Power complain,And fall, where many mightier have been Slain.
T.
Contents
Avia Pieridum peragro loca, nullius anteTrita solo; juvat integros accedere fonteis;Atque haurire:—Lucr.translation
Our Sight is the most perfect and most delightful of all our Senses. It fills the Mind with the largest Variety of Ideas, converses with its Objects at the greatest Distance, and continues the longest in Action without being tired or satiated with its proper Enjoyments. The Sense of Feeling can indeed give us a Notion of Extension, Shape, and all other Ideas that enter at the Eye, except Colours; but at the same time it is very much streightned and confined in its Operations, to the number, bulk, and distance of its particular Objects. Our Sight seems designed to supply all these Defects, and may be considered as a more delicate and diffusive kind of Touch, that spreads it self over an infinite Multitude of Bodies, comprehends the largest Figures, and brings into our reach some of the most remote Parts of the Universe.
It is this Sense which furnishes the Imagination with its Ideas; so that by the Pleasures of the Imagination or Fancy (which I shall use promiscuously) I here mean such as arise from visible Objects, either when we have them actually in our View, or when we call up their Ideas in our Minds by Paintings, Statues, Descriptions, or any the like Occasion. We cannot indeed have a single Image in the Fancy that did not make its first Entrance through the Sight; but we have the Power of retaining, altering and compounding those Images, which we have once received, into all the varieties of Picture and Vision that are most agreeable to the Imagination; for by this Faculty a Man in a Dungeon is capable of entertaining himself with Scenes and Landskips more beautiful than any that can be found in the whole Compass of Nature.
There are few Words in the English Language which are employed in a more loose and uncircumscribed Sense than those of the Fancy and the Imagination. I therefore thought it necessary to fix and determine the Notion of these two Words, as I intend to make use of them in the Thread of my following Speculations, that the Reader may conceive rightly what is the Subject which I proceed upon. I must therefore desire him to remember, that by the Pleasures of the Imagination, I mean only such Pleasures as arise originally from Sight, and that I divide these Pleasures into two Kinds: My Design being first of all to Discourse of those Primary Pleasures of the Imagination,
which
entirely proceed from such Objects as are
before our
1
Eye
s
; and in the next place to speak of those Secondary Pleasures of the Imagination which flow from the Ideas of visible Objects, when the Objects are not actually before the Eye, but are called up into our Memories, or formed into agreeable Visions of Things that are either Absent or Fictitious.
The Pleasures of the Imagination, taken in the full Extent, are not so gross as those of Sense, nor so refined as those of the Understanding. The last are, indeed, more preferable, because they are founded on some new Knowledge or Improvement in the Mind of Man; yet it must be confest, that those of the Imagination are as great and as transporting as the other. A beautiful Prospect delights the Soul, as much as a Demonstration; and a Description in
Homer
has charmed more Readers than a Chapter in
Aristotle
. Besides, the Pleasures of the Imagination have this Advantage, above those of the Understanding, that they are more obvious, and more easie to be acquired. It is but opening the Eye, and the Scene enters. The Colours paint themselves on the Fancy, with very little Attention of Thought or Application of Mind in the Beholder. We are struck, we know not how, with the Symmetry of any thing we see, and immediately assent to the Beauty of an Object, without enquiring into the particular Causes and Occasions of it.
A Man of a Polite Imagination is let into a great many Pleasures, that the Vulgar are not capable of receiving. He can converse with a Picture, and find an agreeable Companion in a Statue. He meets with a secret Refreshment in a Description, and often feels a greater Satisfaction in the Prospect of Fields and Meadows, than another does in the Possession. It gives him, indeed, a kind of Property in every thing he sees, and makes the most rude uncultivated Parts of Nature administer to his Pleasures: So that he looks upon the World, as it were in another Light, and discovers in it a Multitude of Charms, that conceal themselves from the generality of Mankind.
There are, indeed, but very few who know how to be idle and innocent, or have a Relish of any Pleasures that are not Criminal; every Diversion they take is at the Expence of some one Virtue or another, and their very first Step out of Business is into Vice or Folly. A Man should endeavour, therefore, to make the Sphere of his innocent Pleasures as wide as possible, that he may retire into them with Safety, and find in them such a Satisfaction as a wise Man would not blush to take. Of this Nature are those of the Imagination, which do not require such a Bent of Thought as is necessary to our more serious Employments, nor, at the same time, suffer the Mind to sink into that Negligence and Remissness, which are apt to accompany our more sensual Delights, but, like a gentle Exercise to the Faculties, awaken them from Sloth and Idleness, without putting them upon any Labour or Difficulty.
We might here add, that the Pleasures of the Fancy are more conducive to Health, than those of the Understanding, which are worked out by Dint of Thinking, and attended with too violent a Labour of the Brain. Delightful Scenes, whether in Nature, Painting, or Poetry, have a kindly Influence on the Body, as well as the Mind, and not only serve to clear and brighten the Imagination, but are able to disperse Grief and Melancholy, and to set the Animal Spirits in pleasing and agreeable Motions. For this Reason
Sir Francis Bacon
, in his
Essay upon Health
, has not thought it improper to prescribe to his Reader a Poem or a Prospect, where he particularly dissuades him from knotty and subtile Disquisitions, and advises him to pursue Studies that fill the Mind with splendid and illustrious Objects, as Histories, Fables, and Contemplations of Nature.
I have in this Paper, by way of Introduction, settled the Notion of those Pleasures of the Imagination which are the Subject of my present Undertaking, and endeavoured, by several Considerations, to recommend to my Reader the Pursuit of those Pleasures. I
shall
, in my next Paper, examine the several Sources from whence these Pleasures are derived
2
.
O.
Footnote 1:
present to the
return to footnote mark
Footnote 2:
From a MS. Note-book of Addison's, met with in 1858, Mr. J. Dykes Campbell printed at Glasgow, in 1864, 250 copies of some portions of the first draught of these papers on Imagination with the
Essay on Jealousy
([Volume 1 link:
No. 176
]) and that on Fame (
No. 255
). The MS. was an old calf bound 8vo volume obtained from a dealer. There were about 31 pages written on one side of each leaf in a beautiful print-like hand, which contained the Essays in their first state. Passages were added by Addison in his ordinary handwriting upon the blank pages opposite to this carefully-written text, and there are pieces in a third hand-writing which neither the keeper of the MSS. Department of the British Museum nor the Librarian of the Bodleian could identify. The insertions in this third hand form part of the paper as finally published. Thus in the paper on Jealousy ([Volume 1 link:
No. 171
]) it wrote the English verse translation added to the quotation from Horace's
Ode
I. xiii. The MS. shows with how much care Addison revised and corrected the first draught of his papers, especially where, as in the series of eleven upon
Imagination
here commenced, he meant to put out all his strength. In Blair's
Rhetoric
four Lectures (20-23) are given to a critical
Examination of the Style of Mr. Addison
in Nos.
411
,
412
,
413
, and
414
of the
Spectator
. Akenside's poem on the
Pleasures of the Imagination
, published in 1744, when he was 23 years old, was suggested by these papers. Many disquisitions upon Taste were written towards the close of the last century. They formed a new province in literature, of which Addison here appears as the founder and first lawgiver.
return to footnote mark
Contents
—Divisum sic breve fiet Opus.Mart.translation
I shall first consider those Pleasures of the Imagination, which arise from the actual View and Survey of outward Objects: And these, I think, all proceed from the Sight of what is Great, Uncommon, or Beautiful. There may, indeed, be something so terrible or offensive, that the Horror or Loathsomeness of an Object may over-bear the Pleasure which results from its Greatness, Novelty, or Beauty; but still there will be such a Mixture of Delight in the very Disgust it gives us, as any of these three Qualifications are most conspicuous and prevailing.
By Greatness, I do not only mean the Bulk of any single Object, but the Largeness of a whole View, considered as one entire Piece. Such are the Prospects of an open Champain Country, a vast uncultivated Desart, 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 Sight, 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 flung into a pleasing Astonishment at such unbounded Views, and feel a delightful Stillness and Amazement in the Soul at the Apprehension[s] of them. The Mind of Man naturally hates every thing that looks like a Restraint upon it, and is apt to fancy it self under a sort of Confinement, when the Sight is pent up in a narrow Compass, and shortned on every side by the Neighbourhood of Walls or Mountains. On the contrary, a spacious Horizon is an Image of Liberty, where the Eye has Room to range abroad, to expatiate at large on the Immensity of its Views, and to lose it self amidst the Variety of Objects that offer themselves 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 Uncommonness joined with this Grandeur, as in a troubled Ocean, a Heaven adorned with Stars and Meteors, or a spacious Landskip cut out into Rivers, Woods, Rocks, and Meadows, the Pleasure still grows upon us, as it rises from more than a single Principle.
Every thing that is new or uncommon raises a Pleasure in the Imagination, because it fills the Soul with an agreeable Surprize, gratifies its Curiosity, and gives it an Idea of which it was not before possest. 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 Refreshment, and takes off from that Satiety we are apt to complain of in our usual and ordinary Entertainments. It is this that bestows Charms on a Monster,
and
makes even the Imperfections of Nature
please
1
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 it self on any particular Object. It is this, likewise, that improves what is great or beautiful, and make 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 Gloss upon them, and not yet too much accustomed 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 Sight every Moment with something that is new. We are quickly tired with looking upon Hills and Vallies, where every thing continues fixed and settled 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 diffuses 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 Chearfulness 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 shewn it self agreeable; but we find by Experience, that there are several Modifications of Matter which the Mind, without any previous Consideration, pronounces at first sight Beautiful or Deformed. Thus we see that every different Species 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 determined in his Courtship by the single Grain or Tincture of a Feather, and never discovering any Charms but in the Colour of its Species.
Scit thalamo servare fidem, sanctasque vereturConnubii leges, non illum in pectore candorSollicitat niveus; neque pravum accendit amoremSplendida Lanugo, vel honesta in vertice crista,Purpureusve nitor pennarum; ast agmina latèFœminea explorat cautus, maculasque requiritCognatas, paribusque interlita corpora guttis:Ni faceret, pictis sylvam circum undique monstrisConfusam aspiceres vulgò, partusque biformes,Et genus ambiguum, et Veneris monumenta nefandæ.Hinc merula in nigro se oblectat nigra marito,Hinc socium lasciva petit Philomela canorum,Agnoscitque pares sonitus, hinc Noctua tetramCanitiem alarum, et glaucos miratur ocellos.Nempe sibi semper constat, crescitque quotannisLucida progenies, castos confessa parentes;Dum virides inter saltus lucosque sonorosVere novo exultat, plumasque decora JuventusExplicat ad solem, patriisque coloribus ardet2
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 consists 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 pleasing 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 Stains of Light that shew themselves in Clouds of a different Situation. For this Reason we find the Poets, who are always addressing themselves 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 still more pleased the more it finds of these Perfections in the same Object, so is it capable of receiving a new Satisfaction by the Assistance of another Sense. Thus any continued Sound, as the Musick of Birds, or a Fall of Water, awakens every moment the Mind of the Beholder, and makes him more attentive to the several Beauties of the Place that lye before him. Thus if there arises a Fragrancy of Smells or Perfumes, they heighten the Pleasures of the Imagination, and make even the Colours and Verdure of the Landskip appear more agreeable; for the Ideas of both Senses 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.