lence as the beauty that appears in our proper fpecies; but is apt however to raife in us a fecret delight, and a kind of fondness for the places or objects in which we difcover it. This confifts either in the gaiety or variety of colours, in the fymmetry and proportion of parts, in the arrangement and difpofition of bodies, or in a just mixture and concurrence of all together. Among thefe feveral kinds of beauty the eye takes most delight in colours. We no where meet with a more glorious or pleafing how in nature, than what appears in the heavens at the rifing and fetting of the fun, which is wholly made up of thofe different ftains of light that fhow themselves in clouds of a different fituation. For this reason we find the poets, who are always addreffing themselves to the imagination, borrowing more of their epithets from colours than from any other topic. As the fancy delights in every thing

THO

that is great, ftrange, or beautiful, and is ftill more pleafed the more it finds of thefe perfections in the fame object, so it is capable of receiving a new fatisfaction by the affiftance of another fenfe. Thus any continued found, as the mufic of birds, or a fall of water, awakens every moment the mind of the beholder, and makes him more attentive to the feveral beauties of the place that lie before him. Thus if there arifes a fragrancy of fmells 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 fenfes recommend each other, and are pleafanter together, than when they enter the mind feparately; as the different colours of a picture, when they are well difpofed, fet off one another, and receive an additional beauty from the advantage of their fituation, Q

OVID. MET. L. IV. V. 207.

HOUGH in yesterday's paper we confidered how every thing that is great, new, or beautiful, is apt to affect the imagination with pleasure, we muft own that it is impoffible for us to affign the neceflary cause of this pleafure, because we know neither the nature of an idea, nor the fubftance of a human foul, which might help us to difcover the conformity or difagreeablenefs of the one to the other; and therefore, for want of fuch a light, all that we can do in fpeculations of this kind, is to reflect on thofe operations of the foul - that are most agreeable, and to range under their proper heads what is pleafing or difpleafing to the mind, without being able to trace out the feveral neceffary and efficient caufes from whence the pleafure or displeasure arifes.

ADDISON.

One of the final caufes of our delight in any thing that is great, may be this. The Supreme Author of our being has fo formed the foul of man, that nothing but himself can be it's laft, adequate and proper happiness. Becaufe, therefore, a great part of our happiness mult arife from the contemplation of his Being, that he might give our fouls a just relish of fuch a contemplation, he has made them naturally delight in the apprehenfion of what is great or unlimited. Our admiration, which is a very pleafing motion of the mind, immediately rifes at the confideration of any object that takes up a great deal of room in the fancy, and, by confequence, will improve into the highest pitch of aftonifhment and devotion when we contemplate his nature, that is neither circumfcribed by time nor place, nor to be comprehended by the largest capacity of a created being.

He has annexed a fecret pleasure to the idea of any thing that is new or uncommon, that he might encourage us in

his

his creation for every new idea brings fuch a pleasure along with it as rewards any pains we have taken in it's acquifition, and confequently ferves as a motive to put us upon fresh difcoveries.

He has made every thing that is beautiful in our own fpecies' pleafant, that all creatures may be tempted to multiply their kind, and fill the world with inhabitants; for it is very remarkable, that wherever Nature is croft in the productions of a moniter, (the refult of any unnatural mixture) the breed is incapable of propagating it's likeness, and of founding a new order of creatures; fo that unless all animals were allured by the beauty of their own fpecies, generation would be at an end, and the earth unpeopled.,

In the last place, he has made every thing that is beautiful in all other objects pleasant, or rather has made fo many objects appear beautiful, that he might render the whole creation more gay and delightful. He has given almolt every thing about us the power of raifiug an agreeable idea in the imagination: fo that it is impoffible for us to behold his works with coldness or indifference, and to furvey fo many beauties without a secret fatisfaction and complacency. Things would make but a poor appearance to the eye, if we faw them only in their proper figures and motions; and what reafon can we affign for their exciting in us many of thofe ideas which are different from any thing that exits in the objects them felves, (for fuch are light and colours) were it not to add fupernumerary orna ments to the universe, and make it more agreeable to the imagination? We are every where entertained with pleafing fhows and apparitions, we difcover imaginary glories in the heavens, and in the earth, and fee fome of this vifionary

I

beauty poured out upon the whole crea tion; but what a rough unfightly sketch of Nature fhould we be entertained with, did all her colouring difappear, and the feveral diftinctions of light and shade vanish? In short, our fouls are at prefent delightfully loft and bewildered in a pleafing delufion, and we walk about like the enchanted hero in a romance, who fees beautiful cattles, woods and meadows; and at the fame time hears the warbling of birds, and the purling of ftreams, but upon the finishing of Yome fecret fpell, the fantaltic fcene breaks up, and the disconsolate knight finds himself on a barren heath, or in a folitary defart. It is not improbable that fomething like this may be the state of the foul after it's firft feparation, in refpe&t of the images it will receive from matter, though indeed the ideas of colours are fo pleafing and beautiful in the imagination, that it is poffible the foul will not be deprived of them, but perhaps find them excited by fome other occafional caufe, as they are at present by the different impreffions of the fubtle matter on the organ of fight.

I have here fuppofed that my reader is acquainted with that great modern difcovery, which is at prefent univerfally acknowledged by all the enquirers into natural philofophy: namely, that light and colours, as apprehended by the imagination, are only ideas in the mind, and not qualities that have any exiftence in matter. As this is a truth which has been proved incontestably by many modern philofophers, and is indeed one of the finest speculations in that' fcience, if the English reader would fee the notion explained at large, he may find it in the eighth chapter of the Econd book of Mr. Locke's Elay on Human Understanding.

ALTERIUS SIC

HOR. ARS PORT. V. 411.

F we confider the works of nature

and art, as they are qualified to entertain the imagination, we shall find

RosCOMMON.

the last very defective, in comparison of the former; for though they may fometimes appear as beautiful or strange,

they

might, indeed, be of ill confequence to the public, as well as unprofitable to private perfons, to alienate fo much ground from pafturage, and the plough, in many parts of a country that is fo well peopled, and cultivated to a far greater advantage. But why may not a whole eftate be thrown into a kind of garden by frequent plantations, that may turn as much to the profit as the pleasure of the owner? A marth overgrown with willows, or a mountain haded with oaks, are not only more beautiful, but more beneficial, than when they lie bare and unadorned. Fields of corn make a pleafant profpect; and if the walks were a little taken care of that lie between them, if the natural embroidery of the meadows were helped and improved by fome fmall additions of art, and the feveral rows of hedges fet off by trees and flowers, that the foil was capable of receiving, a man might make a pretty landskip of his own poffeflions.

Writers, who have given us an account of China, tell us the inhabitants of that country laugh at the plantations of our Europeans, which are laid out by the rule and line; becaufe they fay, any one may place trees in equal rows and uniform figures. They chufe rather to fhew a genius in works of this

nature, and therefore always conceal the art by which they direct themselves. They have a word, it feems, in their language, by which they express the particular beauty of a plantation that thus ftrikes the imagination at first fight, without discovering what it is that has so agreeable an effect. Our British gardeners, on the contrary, instead of humouring nature, love to deviate from it as much as poffible. Our trees rife in cones, globes, and pyramids. We fee the marks of the fciffars upon every plant and buth. I do not know whether I am fingular in my opinion, but for my own part, I would rather look upon a tree in all it's luxuriancy and diffufion of boughs and branches, than when it is thus cut and trimmed into a mathematical figure; and cannot but fancy that an orchard in flower looks infinitely more delightful, than all the little labyrinths of the most finished parterre. But as our great modellers of gardens have their magazines of plants to difpofe of, it is very natural for them to tear up all the beautiful plantations of fruittrees, and contrive a plan that may moit turn to their own profit, in taking off their evergreens, and the like moveable plants, with which their fhops are plentifully stocked.

VIRG. GEORG. II. V. 155.

AVING already fhewn how the works of

nature, and afterwards confidered in general both the works of nature and of art, how they mutually affift and compleat each other in forming fuch fcenes and profpects as are moft apt to delight the mind of the beholder; I fhall in this paper throw together fome reflections on that particular art, which has a more immediate tendency, than any other, to produce thofe primary pleatures of the imagination, which have hitherto been the fubject of this difcourfe. The art I mean is that of architecture, which I

all confider only with regard to the

DRYDEN.

light in which the foregoing fpeculations placed it,

thofe rules and maxims which the great mafters of architecture have laid down, and explained at large in numberlets treatifes upon that fubject.

Greatnefs, in the works of architecture, may be confidered as relating to the bulk and body of the structure, or to the manner in which it is built. As for the firft, we find the ancients, efpecially among the eaftern nations of the world, infinitely fuperior to the moderns.

Not to mention the tower of Babel, of which an old author fays, there were

the

the foundations to be feen in his time, which looked like a spacious mountain; what could be more noble than the walls of Babylon, it's hanging gardens, and it's temple to Jupiter Belus, that rofe a mile high by eight several stories, each ftory a furlong in height, and on the top of which was the Babylonian obfervatory? I might here, likewife, take notice of the huge rock that was cut into the figure of Semiramis, with the finaller rocks that lay by it in the fhape of tributary kings; the prodigious bafon, or artificial lake, which took in the whole Euphrates, till fuch time as a new canal was formed for it's reception, with the feveral trenches through which that river was conveyed. I know there are perfons who look upon fome of thefe wonders of art as fabulous, but I cannot find any ground for fuch a fufpicion, unless it be that we have no fuch works among us at prefent. There were indeed many greater advantages for build ing in thofe times, and in that part of the world, than have been met with ever fince. The earth was extremely fruitful, men lived generally on pafturage, which requires a much fmaller number of hands than agriculture: there were very few trades to employ the bufy part of mankind, and fewer arts and fciences to give work to men of fpeculative tempers; and what is more than all the reft, the prince was abfolute; fo that when he went to war, he put himself at the head of a whole people: as we find Semiramis leading her three millions to the field, and yet overpowered by the number of her enemies. It is no wonder, therefore, when fhe was at peace, and turning her thoughts on building, that he could accomplish fo great works, with fuch a prodigious multitude of labourers: befides, that in her climate, there was fmall interruption of frofts and winters, which make the northern workmen lie half the year idle. I might mention too, among the benefits of the climate, what hiftorians fay of the earth, that it fweated out a bitu men or natural kind of mortar, which is doubtlefs the fame with that mentioned in Holy Writ, as contributing to the structure of Babel. Slime they

ufed inftead of mortar." In Egypt we ftill fee their pyramids, which anfwer to the defcriptions that have been made of them; and I queftion not but a traveller might find out fome

remains of the labyrinth that covered a whole province, and had a hundred temples difpofed among it's feveral quarters and divifions.

The wall of China is one of thefe eaftern pieces of magnificence, which makes a figure even in the map of the world, although an account of it would have been thought fabulous, were not the wall itfelf ftill extant.

We are obliged to devotion for the nobleft buildings that have adorned the feveral countries of the world. It is this which has fet men at work on temples and public places of worship, not only that they might, by the magnificence of the building, invite the Deity to refide within it, but that fuch ftupendous works might, at the fame time, open the mind to vaft conceptions, and fit it to converfe with the divinity of the place. For every thing that is majestic imprints an awfulness and reverence on the mind of the beholder, and ftrikes in with the natural greatnefs of the foul.

In the fecond place, we are to confider greatnefs of manner in architecture, which has fuch force upon the imagination, that a fmall building, where it appears, fhall give the mind nobler ideas than one of twenty times the bulk, where the manner is ordinary or little. Thus, perhaps, a man would have been more aftonished with the majestic air that appeared in one of Lyfippus's ftatues of Alexander, though no bigger than the life, than he might have been with mount Athos, had it been cut into the figure of the hero, according to the propofal of Phidias, with a river in one hand, and a city in the other.

Let any one reflect on the difpofition of mind he finds in himself, at his firft entrance into the Pantheon at Rome, and how the imagination is filled with something great and amazing; and, at the fame time, confider how little, in proportion, he is affected with the infide of a Gothic cathedral, though it be five times larger than the other; which can arife from nothing elfe but the greatness of the manner in the one, and the meannefs in the other.

I have feen an obfervation upon this fubject in a French author, which very much pleafed me. It is in Monfieur Freart's parallel of the ancient and modern architecture. I fhall give it the reader with the fame terms of art which he has made ufe of. I am obferving,'

fays