Observations on Man (6th edition)/Part I/Chapter IV/Section I
CHAP. IV.
THE SIX CLASSES OF INTELLECTUAL PLEASURES AND PAINS.
I have now dispatched the history and analysis of the sensations, motions, and ideas; and endeavoured to suit them, as well as I could, to the principles laid down in the first chapter. My next business is, to inquire particularly into the rise and gradual increase of the pleasures and pains of imagination, ambition, self-interest, sympathy, theopathy, and the moral sense; and to see how far these can be deduced, in the particular forms and degrees that are found to prevail, in fact, from the sensible pleasures and pains, by means of the general law of association. As to that of vibrations, it seems of little importance in this part of the work, whether it be adopted or not. If any other law can be made the foundation of association, or consistent with it, it may also be made consistent with the analysis of the intellectual pleasures and pains, which I shall here give. I do not think there is any other law that can; on the contrary, there seems to be so peculiar an aptness in the doctrine of vibrations, for explaining many of the phænomena of the passions, as almost excludes all others.
Now it will be a sufficient proof, that all the intellectual pleasures and pains are deducible ultimately from the sensible ones, if we can shew of each intellectual pleasure and pain in particular, that it takes its rise from other pleasures and pains, either sensible or intellectual. For thus none of the intellectual pleasures and pains can be original. But the sensible pleasures and pains are evidently originals. They are therefore the only ones, i.e. they are the common source from whence all the intellectual pleasures and pains are ultimately derived.
When I say, that the intellectual pleasures A and B are deducible from one another, I do not mean, that A receives back again from B that lustre which it had conferred upon it; for this would be to argue in a circle; but that whereas both A and B borrow from a variety of sources, as well as from each other, they may, and indeed must, transfer by association, part of the lustre borrowed from foreign sources upon each other.
If we admit the power of association, and can also shew, that associations, sufficient in kind and degree, concur, in fact, in the several instances of our intellectual pleasures and pains, this will of itself exclude all other causes for these pleasures and pains, such as instinct, for instance. If we cannot trace out associations sufficient in kind and degree, still it will not be necessary to have recourse to other causes, because great allowances are to be made for the novelty, complexness, and intricacy of the subject. However, on the other hand, analogy may perhaps lead us to conclude, that as instinct prevails much, and reason a little, in brutes, so instinct ought to prevail a little in us. Let the facts speak for themselves.
Section I
[edit]I begin with the pleasures and pains of imagination; and shall endeavour to derive each species of them by association, either from those of sensation, ambition, self-interest, sympathy, theopathy, and the moral sense, or from foreign ones of imagination. They may be distinguished into the seven kinds that follow.
First, The pleasures arising from the beauty of the natural world.
Secondly, Those from the works of art.
Thirdly, From the liberal arts of music, painting, and poetry.
Fourthly, From the sciences.
Fifthly, From the beauty of the person.
Sixthly, From wit and humour.
Seventhly, The pains which arise from gross absurdity, inconsistency, or deformity.
The pleasures arising from the contemplation of the beauties of the natural world seem to admit of the following analysis.
The pleasant tastes, and smells, and the fine colours of fruits and flowers, the melody of birds, and the grateful warmth or coolness of the air, in the proper seasons, transfer miniatures of these pleasures upon rural scenes, which start up instantaneously so mixed with each other, and with such as will be immediately enumerated, as to be separately indiscernible.
If there be a precipice, a cataract, a mountain of snow, &c. in one part of the scene, the nascent ideas of fear and horror magnify and enliven all the other ideas, and by degrees pass into pleasures by suggesting the security from pain.
In like manner the grandeur of some scenes, and the novelty of others, by exciting surprise and wonder, i.e. by making a great difference in the preceding and subsequent states of mind, so as to border upon, or even enter the limits of pain, may greatly enhance the pleasure.
Uniformity and variety in conjunction are also principal sources of the pleasures of beauty, being made so partly by their association with the beauties of nature, partly by that with the works of art, and with the many conveniences which we receive from the uniformity and variety of the works of nature and art. They must therefore transfer part of the lustre borrowed from the works of art, and from the head of convenience, upon the works of nature.
Poetry and painting are much employed in setting forth the beauties of the natural world, at the same time that they afford us a high degree of pleasure from many other sources. Hence the beauties of nature delight poets and painters, and such as are addicted to the study of their works, more than others. Part of this effect is indeed owing to the greater attention of such persons to the other sources; but this comes to the same thing, as far as the general theory of the factitious, associated nature of these pleasures is concerned.
The many sports and pastimes, which are peculiar to the country, and whose ideas and pleasures are revived by the view of rural scenes, in an evanescent state, and so mixed together as to be separately indiscernible, do farther augment the pleasures suggested by the beauties of nature.
To these we may add, the opposition between the offensiveness, dangers, and corruption of populous cities, and the health, tranquillity, and innocence, which the actual view, or the mental contemplation, of rural scenes introduces; also, the pleasures of sociality and mirth, which are often found in the greatest perfection in country retirements, the amorous pleasures, which have many connexions with rural scenes; and those which the opinions and encomiums of others beget in us, in this, as in other cases, by means of the contagiousness observable in mental dispositions, as well as bodily ones.
Those persons who have already formed high ideas of the power, knowledge, and goodness of the Author of nature, with suitable affections, generally feel the exalted pleasures of devotion upon every view and contemplation of His works, either in an explicit and distinct manner, or in a more secret and implicit one. Hence, part of the general indeterminate pleasures, here considered, is deducible from the pleasures of theopathy.
We must not omit in this place to remind the reader of a remark made above, viz. that green, which is the middle colour of the seven primary ones, and consequently the most agreeable to the organ of sight, is also the general colour of the vegetable kingdom, i.e. of external nature.
These may be considered as some of the principal sources of the beauties of nature to mankind in general. Inquisitive and philosophical persons have some others, arising from their peculiar knowledge and study of natural history, astronomy, and philosophy, in general. For the profusion of beauties, uses, fitnesses, elegance in minute things, and magnificence in great ones, exceeds all bounds of conception, surprise, and astonishment; new scenes, and those of unbounded extent, separately considered, ever presenting themselves to view, the more any one studies and contemplates the works of God.
And upon the whole, the reader may see, that there are sufficient sources for all those pleasures of imagination, which the beauties of nature excite in different persons; and that the differences which are found in different persons in this respect, are sufficiently analogous to the differences of their situations in life, and of the consequent associations formed in them.
An attentive person may also, in viewing or contemplating the beauties of nature, lay hold, as it were, of the remainders and miniatures of many of the particular pleasures here enumerated, while they recur in a separate state, and before they coalesce with the general indeterminate aggregate, and thus verify the history now proposed.
It is a confirmation of this history, that an attentive person may also observe great differences in the kind and degree of the relish which he has for the beauties of nature in different periods of his life; especially as the kind and degree may be found to agree in the main with this history.
To the same purpose we may remark, that these pleasures do not cloy very soon, but are of a lasting nature, if compared with the sensible ones; since this follows naturally from the great variety of their sources, and the evanescent nature of their constituent parts.
When a beautiful scene is first presented, there is generally great pleasure from surprise, from being struck with objects and circumstances which we did not expect. This presently declines; but is abundantly compensated afterwards by the gradual alternate exaltation of the several constituent parts of the complex pleasures, which also do probably enhance one another. And thus we may take several reviews of the same scene, before the pleasure, which it affords, comes to its maximum. After this the pleasure must decline, if we review it often: but if at considerable intervals, so as that many foreign states of mind intervene, also so as that new sources of the pleasures of this kind be broken up, the pleasure may recur for many successions of nearly the same magnitude.
The same observations hold in respect of the pleasures from the beauties of nature in general, and indeed from all the other sources, works of art, liberal arts, sciences, &c. These all strike and surprise the young mind at first, but require a considerable time before they come to their maximum; after which some or other will always be at its maximum for a considerable time. However, the pleasures of imagination in general, as well as each particular set and individual, must decline at last from the nature of our frame. In what manner they ought to decline, so as to be consistent with our summum bonum, by yielding, in due time, to more exalted and pure pleasures, whose composition they enter, I will endeavour to show hereafter.
These pleasures are a principal source of those which are annexed to the view of uniformity with variety, as above noted, i.e. of analogies of various orders; and consequently are a principal incitement to our tracing out real analogies, and forming artificial ones.
The novel, the grand, and the marvellous, are also most conspicuous in the works of nature; and the last strikes us particularly in many of the phænomena of nature, by seeming to exceed all bounds of credibility, at the same time that we are certified by irrefragable evidences of the truth of the facts. The satiety which every pleasure begets in us, after some continuance, makes us thirst perpetually after the grand and novel; and, as it were, grasp at infinity in number and extent; there being a kind of tacit expectation, that the pleasure will be in in proportion to the magnitude and variety of the causes, in the same manner as we observe, in other cases, the effects to be in some degree proportional to their causes.
The pleasures of novelty decline not only in this class, but also in all the others, sensible and intellectual, partly from our bodily frame, partly from the intermixture, and consequent association, of neutral circumstances (i.e. such as afford neither pleasure nor pain) in their successive recurrences.
A disposition to a pleasurable state is a general attendant upon health, and the integrity of our bodily faculties; and that in such a degree, as that actual pleasure will spring up from moderate incitements, from the transient introduction of the associated circumstances of former pleasurable states. If the body be indisposed in some degree, it is, however, possible to force it into a state of pleasure by the vivid introduction of various and powerful circumstances: but this unnatural state cannot last long; and, if the indisposition to pleasure be great, it cannot be introduced at all. On the contrary, where the disposition to pleasure is preternaturally prevalent, as after wine and opium, and in certain morbid cases, the least hint will excite profuse joy, leaning chiefly to the pleasures of imagination, ambition, sympathy, or devotion, according to the circumstances.
It is easy to see how the doctrine of vibrations, which appears to be the only one that admits of permanent states of motion, and disposition to motion, in the brain, suits these last remarks in a peculiar manner.
The works of art, which afford us the pleasures of beauty, are chiefly buildings, public and private, religious, civil, and military, with their appendages and ornaments, and machines of the several kinds, from the great ones employed in war, commerce, and public affairs, such as ships, military engines, machines for manufacturing metals, &c. down to clocks, watches, and domestic furniture. The survey of these things, when perfect in their kinds, affords great pleasures to the curious; and these pleasures increase for a certain time, by being cultivated and gratified, till at last they come to their height, decline, and give way to others, as has been already observed of the pleasures arising from the beauties of nature.
The chief sources of the pleasures which the fore-mentioned works of art afford, appear to be the following:—the beautiful illuminations from gay colours: the resemblance which the play-things, that pleased us when we were children, bear to them; the great regularity and variety observable in them; the grandeur and magnificence of some, and the neatness and elegance of others, and that especially if they be small; the fitness to answer useful ends; their answering a multiplicity of these by simple means, or by analogous complex ones, not exceeding certain limits in complexness; the knowledge conveyed in many cases; the strong associations with religion, death, war, justice, power, riches, titles, high birth, entertainments, mirth, &c. fashion, with the opinions and encomiums of persons supposed to be judges; the vain desire of having a taste, and of being thought connoisseurs and judges, &c. &c.
In architecture there are certain proportions of breadths, lengths, depths, and entire magnitudes, to each other, which are by some supposed to be naturally beautiful, just as the simple ratios of 1 to 2, 2 to 3, 3 to 4, &c. in music, yield sounds which are naturally pleasant to the ear. But it rather seems to me, that economical convenience first determined the ratios of doors, windows, pillars, &c. in a gross way, and then that the convenience of the artist fixed this determination to some few exact ratios, as in the proportion between the lengths and breadths of the pillars of the several orders. Afterwards these proportions became associated so often with a variety of beauties in costly buildings, that they could not but be thought naturally beautiful at last. In merely ornamental parts the beauty of the proportions seems to arise entirely either from fashion, or from a supposed resemblance to something already fixed as a beautiful proportion. It is easy from, these principles to account for the prevalency of different proportions, and general tastes, in different ages and countries.
Let us next consider the three liberal and sister arts of music, painting, and poetry.
Now, in respect of music, it is to be observed, that the simple sounds of all uniform sonorous bodies, and particularly the single notes of the several musical instruments, also all the concords, or notes, whose vibrations bear to each other the simple ratios of 1 to 2, 2 to 3, 3 to 4, &c. sounded together, or near to each other, may be considered as originally pleasant to the ear. Discords are originally unpleasant, and therefore, as in other like cases, may be made use of to heighten our pleasures, by being properly and sparingly introduced, so as to make a strong contrast. To which if we add the uniformity and variety observable in all good music, we shall have the chief pleasures affecting children and young persons, upon their being first accustomed to hear music.
By degrees the discords become less and less harsh to the ear, and at last even pleasant, at least by their associations with the concords, that go before or follow them; so that more, and also more harsh discords, are perpetually required to give a relish, and keep the sweetness of the concords from cloying. Particular kinds of air and harmony are associated with particular words, affections, and passions, and so are made to express these; besides which there is often a natural aptitude in the music to represent the affection, as in quick music, and concords to represent mirth. Music in general is connected with gaiety, public rejoicings, the amorous pleasures, riches, high rank, &c. or with battles, sorrow, death, and religious contemplations. There is an ambition to excel in taste, in performance, and in composition, and a difficulty which enhances the pleasure, &c. &c. till by these and such like ways, the judgments and tastes of different persons, in respect of music, become as different as we find them to be in fact.
Our pleasures from pictures are very nearly related to those of imitation, which, as observed above, take up a considerable part of our childhood; and the several playthings representing men, houses, horses, &c. with which children are so much delighted, are to be considered, both as augmenting and gratifying this taste in them.
To this it is to be added, that as the ideas of sight are the most vivid of all our ideas, and those which are chiefly laid up in the memory as keys and repositories to the rest, pictures, which are something intermediate between the real object and the idea, and therefore in cases of sufficient likeness more vivid than the idea, cannot but please us by thus gratifying our desire of raising up a complete idea of an absent object. This an attentive person may observe in himself in viewing pictures.
The surprise and contrast which arise in children, upon their seeing persons and objects present in their pictures, which yet they know to be absent, by striking the mind with the impossible conception of the same thing in two places, are probably the sources of considerable pleasure to them.
To these causes let us add the gay colours, and fine ornaments, which generally go along with pictures; and we shall have the chief sources of the pleasures which painting affords to young persons, and to those who have not yet been much affected with the various incidents of life, and their representations, or acquired a taste and skill in these things.
For, after this, the pleasures arising from pictures are quite of another kind, being derived from the same sources as those that belong to the scenes, affections, and passions represented, from the poetical descriptions of these, from the precise justness of the imitation, from ambition, fashion, the extravagant prices of the works of certain masters, from association with the villas and cabinets of the noble, the rich, and the curious, &c. &c.
The nature of the caricatura, burlesque, grotesque, picturesque, &c. may be understood from what is delivered in other parts of this Section, concerning laughter, wit, humour, the marvellous, absurd, &c. to which they correspond.
Painting has a great advantage over verbal description, in respect of the vividness and number of ideas to be at once excited in the fancy; but its compass is, upon the whole, much narrower; and it is also confined to one point of time.
The representations of battles, storms, wild beasts, and other objects of horror, in pictures, please us peculiarly, partly from the near alliance which the ideas suggested bear to pain, partly from the secret consciousness of our own security, and partly because they awaken and agitate the mind sufficiently to be strongly affected with the other pleasures, which may then be offered to it.
The beauties and excellencies of good poetry are deducible from three sources. First, The harmony, regularity, and variety of the numbers or metre, and of the rhyme. Secondly, The fitness and strength of the words and phrases. Thirdly, The subject matter of the poem, and the invention and judgment exerted by the poet in regard to his subject. And the beauties arising from each of these are much transferred upon the other two by association.
That the versification has of itself a considerable influence, may be seen by putting good poetical passages into the order of prose. And it may be accounted for from what has been already observed of uniformity and variety, from the smoothness and facility with which verses run over the tongue, from the frequent coincidence of the end of the sentence, and that of the verse, at the same time that this rule is violated at proper intervals in all varieties, lest the ear should be tired with too much sameness, from the assistance which versification affords to the memory, from some faint resemblance which it bears to music, and its frequent associations with it, &c. &c.
The beauties of the diction arise chiefly from the figures; and therefore it will be necessary here to inquire into the sources of their beauties.
Now figurative words seem to strike and please us chiefly from that impropriety which appears at first sight, upon their application to the things denoted by them, and from the consequent heightening of the propriety as soon as it is duly perceived. For when figurative words have recurred so often as to excite the secondary idea instantaneously, and without any previous harshness to the imagination, they lose their peculiar beauty and force; and in order to recover this, and make ourselves sensible of it, we are obliged to recall the literal sense, and to place the literal and figurative senses close together, that so we may first be sensible of the inconsistency, and then be more affected with the union and coalescence.
Besides this, figurative expressions illuminate our discourses and writings by transferring the properties, associations, and emotions, belonging to one thing upon another, by augmenting, diminishing, &c. and thus, according as the subject is ludicrous or grave, they either increase our mirth and laughter, or excite in us love, tenderness, compassion, admiration, indignation, terror, devotion, &c.
When figures are too distant, or too obscure, when they augment or diminish too much, we are displeased; and the principal art in the use of figures is to heighten, as far as the imagination will permit, the greatest beauty lying upon the confines of what disgusts by being too remote or bombast. And this extreme limit for figurative expressions shews evidently, that the pleasure arising from them is nearly allied to pain; and their beauty owing to a certain kind and degree of inconsistency.
However, as the various figures used in speaking and writing have great influences over each other, alter, and are much altered, as to their relative energy, by our passions, customs, opinions, constitutions, educations, &c. there can be no fixed standard for determining what is beauty here, or what is the degree of it. Every person may find, that his taste in these things receives considerable changes in his progress through life; and may, by careful observation, trace up these changes to the associations that have caused them. And yet, since mankind have a general resemblance to each other, both in their internal make and external circumstances, there will be some general agreements about these things common to all mankind. The agreements will also become perpetually greater, as the persons under consideration are supposed to agree more in their genius, studies, external circumstances, &c. Hence may be seen, in part, the foundation of the general agreements observable in critics, concerning the beauties of poetry, as well as that of their particular disputes and differences.
It may also be proper to remark here, that the custom of introducing figures in a copious manner into poetry, together with the transpositions, ellipses, superfluities, and high-strained expressions, which the laws of the versification have forced the best poets upon in some cases, have given a sanction to certain otherwise unallowable liberties of expression, and to a moderate degree of obscurity, and even converted them into beauties. To which it may be added, that a momentary obscurity is like a discord in music properly introduced.
The pleasure which we receive from the matter of the poem, and the invention and judgment of the poet, in this respect, arises from the things themselves described or represented. It is necessary therefore, that the poet should choose such scenes as are beautiful, terrible, or otherwise strongly affecting, and such characters as excite love, pity, just indignation, &c. or rather, that he should present us with a proper mixture of all these. For, as they will all please singly, so a well-ordered succession of them will much enhance these separate pleasures, by the contrasts, analogies, and coincidences, which this may be made to introduce. In all these things the chief art is to copy nature so well, and to be so exact in all the principal circumstances relating to actions, passions, &c. i.e. to real life, that the reader may be insensibly betrayed into a half belief of the truth and reality of the scene.
Verses well pronounced affect us much more, than when they merely pass over the eye, from the imitation of the affections and passions represented, by the human voice; and still much more, when acted well, and heightened by the proper conjunction of realizing circumstances.
Since poetry makes use of words, which are the principal channel of mutual communication for our thoughts and affections, and has by this means an unlimited compass in respect of time, place, &c. it must, upon the whole, have great advantages over painting.
As the pleasures of imagination are very prevalent, and much cultivated, during youth; so, if we consider mankind as one great individual, advancing in age perpetually, it seems natural to expect, that in the infancy of knowledge, in the early ages of the world, the taste of mankind would turn much upon the pleasures of this class. And agreeably to this it may be observed, that music, painting, and poetry, were much admired in ancient times; and the two last brought to great perfection. What was the real perfection of the ancient Grecian music, also how far the modern very artificial compositions ought to be allowed to excel them, must be left to those who are judges of these matters.
The beauties of oratory are very nearly allied to those of poetry, arising partly from an harmonious flow and cadence of the periods, so that uniformity and variety may be properly mixed, partly from the justness and nervousness of the expressions, and partly from the force of the arguments and motives brought together by the invention of the orator, and so disposed as to convince the judgment, excite and gain the affections. In both cases it is very necessary, that the reader or hearer should conceive favourably of the design and author, in a moral light. Poetry has the advantage of oratory, in respect of the sweetness of the numbers, and boldness of the figures; but oratory, being a real thing, and one which has great influence in many the most important transactions, does, by this reality, affect some persons more than poetry; I mean persons that are mere readers or hearers; for, as to those that are interested in the debate, to whom it is a reality, there can be no doubt.
The beauties of history will easily be understood from what is said of poetry and oratory.
It is to be observed, that poetry, and all fictitious history, borrow one chief part of their influence from their being imitations of real history, as this again does from the strong affections and passions excited by the events of life, and from the contagiousness of our tempers and dispositions.
The same kind of contrasts and coincidences, which, in low and comic things, would be wit or humour, become the brilliant passages that affect and strike us most eminently in grave poetry, in oratory, and history.
The study of the sciences has a great connexion with the natural and artificial beauties already considered, and receives great lustre from them in consequence thereof.
But besides this, there are many original sources of pleasure in the study of the sciences: as, First, From the many instances of uniformity with variety: Secondly, From the marvellous and seemingly impossible which occur in all parts of knowledge: Thirdly, From the great advantages respecting human life, which accrue to mankind in general from the pursuit of knowledge, also from the honours, riches, &c. which are the rewards conferred upon particular persons that are eminent; Lastly, From the numerous connexions of truth of all kinds with those most amiable and important doctrines, which religion, natural and revealed, teaches us. And when these pleasures, in the several subordinate kinds and degrees, have been sufficiently associated with the favourite study, they render it at last pleasant in itself, as we usually term it, i.e. these several particular pleasures coalesce into a single general one, in which the compounding parts cannot be discerned separately from each other, and which consequently appears to have no relation to its several compounding parts; unless when by a particular attention to, and examination of, what passes in our minds, we lay hold of the last compounding parts before their entire coalescence, or reason upon the causes of these pleasures, by comparing their growth, and the changes made in them, with the concomitant circumstances. Thus if it be observed as a general fact, that persons grow fond of particular studies, remarkably after having received some great present advantage, or hope of a future one from them, we may reasonably presume, that the pleasure which they take in these studies, is in part derived from this source, even though it cannot be felt to arise from it explicitly.
The copiousness and quickness of the invention being principal requisites for the cultivation of the arts and sciences with success, I will say something concerning invention here, my subject being now sufficiently opened for that purpose.
Invention then may be defined the art of producing new beauties in works of imagination, and new truths in matters of science. And it seems to depend, in both cases, chiefly upon these three things. First, A strong and quick memory: Secondly, An extensive knowledge in the arts and sciences; and particularly in those that are contiguous to, or not far distant from, that under consideration: and, Thirdly, The habit of forming and pursuing analogies, the deviations from these and the subordinate analogies in many of these first deviations, &c. &c.
First, A strong and quick memory is necessary, that so the ideas of the poet or philosopher may depend upon, and be readily suggested by, each other.
Secondly, He must have a large stock of ideas for the purposes of figures, illustrations, comparisons, arguments, motives, criterions, &c. And it is evident that the ideas taken from such parts of knowledge, as are pretty nearly allied to his particular study, will be of most use to him in it.
Thirdly, Analogy will lead him by degrees, in works of fancy, from the beauties of celebrated masters to others less and less resembling these, till at last he arrives at such as bear no visible resemblance. Deviations, and the subordinate analogies contained within them, will do this in a much greater degree; and all analogies will instruct him how to model properly such entirely new thoughts as his memory and acquaintance with things have suggested to him. In science analogy leads on perpetually to new propositions; and being itself some presumption of truth, is a guide much preferable to mere imagination.
It may be observed, that the trains of visible ideas, which accompany our thoughts, are the principal fund for invention, both in matters of fancy and in science.
As invention requires the three things here spoken of, so, conversely, no person who is possessed of them, and who applies himself to any particular study either of the imaginative or abstract kind, with sufficient assiduity, can fail for want of invention. And the nature of this faculty seems as reconcilable with, and deducible from, the power of association, and the mechanism of the mind here explained, as that of any other.
The word beauty is applied to the person, particularly in the female sex, in an eminent manner; and the desires and pleasures arising from beauty, in this sense, may be considered as an intermediate step between the gross sensual ones, and those of pure esteem and benevolence; for they are, in part, deduced from both these extremes; they moderate, spiritualize, and improve the first, and, in the virtuous, are ultimately converted into the last.
But they arise also from many other sources in their intermediate state, particularly from associations with the several beauties of nature and art already mentioned, as of gay colours, rural scenes, music, painting, and poetry; from associations with fashion, the opinions and encomiums of others, riches, honours, high birth, &c. from vanity and ambition, &c. Besides which, the pleasure of gratifying a strong desire, and the pain of disappointment, are to be considered here, as being evidently distinguishable from all the rest in some cases.
That part of beauty which arises from symmetry, may perhaps be said to consist in such proportions of the features of the face, and of the head, trunk, and limbs, to each other, as are intermediate in respect of all other proportions, i.e. such proportions as would result from an estimation by an average: one may say at least, that these proportions would not differ much from perfect symmetry.
The desires excited by the beauty of the person increase for some time, especially if the sensible ones are not gratified, and there be also a mixture of hope and fear, in the relation to the attainment of the affections of the beloved person. But they sometimes decrease, like other desires, from mere want of novelty, after the affections are gained; and must always do so after gratification. Nevertheless, if there be the proper foundation for esteem and religious affection in each party, mutual love, with the pleasures arising from it, may increase upon the whole, the real circumstances of life affording more than sufficient opportunity for gaining in one respect what is lost in another.
The beauty of the air, gesture, motions, and dress, has a great connexion with the beauty of the person, or rather makes a considerable part of it, contributing much to the sum total; and when considered separately, receiving much from the other part of the beauties of the person. The separate beauty of these things arises from some imitation of a natural or artificial beauty already established, from fashion, high birth, riches, &c. or from their being expressive of some agreeable or amiable quality of mind. The reciprocal influences of our ideas upon each other, and the endless variety of their combinations, are eminently conspicuous in this article; the strength of desire here rendering the associations, with the several steps previous to the perfect coalescence of the ideas associated, more visible than most other cases.
I come now to examine the pleasures of mirth, wit, and humour.
But, first, it will be necessary to consider the causes of laughter, and particularly the mental ones.
Now it may be observed, that young children do not laugh aloud for some months. The first occasion of doing this seems to be a surprise, which brings on a momentary fear first, and then a momentary joy in consequence of the removal of that fear, agreeably to what may be observed of the pleasures that follow the removal of pain. This may appear probable, inasmuch as laughter is a nascent cry, stopped of a sudden; also because if the same surprise, which makes young children laugh, be a very little increased, they will cry. It is usual, by way of diverting young children, and exciting them to laughter, to repeat the surprise, as by clapping the hands frequently, reiterating a sudden motion, &c.
This is the original of laughter in children, in general; but the progress in each particular is much accelerated, and the occasions multiplied, by imitation. They learn to laugh, as they learn to talk and walk; and are most apt to laugh profusely, when they see others laugh; the common cause contributing also in a great degree to produce this effect. The same thing is evident even in adults; and shews us one of the sources of the sympathetic affections.
To these things it is to be added, that the alternate motions of the chest follow the same degrees of mental emotion with more and more facility perpetually, so that at last children (who are likewise more exquisitively sensible and irritable than adults) laugh upon every trifling occasion.
By degrees they learn the power of suspending the actions both of laughing and crying, and associate this power with a variety of ideas, such as those of decency, respect, fear, and shame: the incidents and objects, which before occasioned emotion sufficient to produce laughter, now occasion little or none, from the transmutation of their associations: their new associated pleasures and pains are of a more sedate kind, and do not affect them so much by surprise; and, which is a principal cause in respect of individuals, their equals laugh less, and, by forming them to the same model with themselves, make the disposition to laughter decrease still faster. For whatever can be shewn to take place at all in human nature, must take place in a much higher degree than according to the original causes, from our great disposition to imitate one another, which has been already explained.
It confirms this account of laughter that it follows tickling, as noted above, i.e. a momentary pain and apprehension of pain, with an immediately succeeding removal of these, and their alternate recurrency; also that the softer sex, and all nervous persons, are much disposed both to laugh and cry profusely, and to pass quickly from one state to the other. And it may deserve to be inquired, how far the profuse, continued laughter and mirth on one hand, sorrow, hanging the lip, and crying, on the other, which occur in madness, agree with it.
As children learn the use of language, they learn to laugh at sentences or stories, by which sudden alarming emotions and expectations are raised in them, and again dissipated instantaneously. And as they learnt before by degrees to laugh at sudden unexpected noises, or motions, where there was no fear, or no distinguishable one, so it is, after some time, in respect of words. Children, and young persons, are diverted by every little jingle, pun, contrast, or coincidence, which is level to their capacities, even though the harshness and inconsistency, with which it first strikes the fancy, be so minute as scarce to be perceived. And this is the origin of that laughter which is excited by wit, humour, buffoonery, &c.
But this species of laughter abates also by degrees, as the other before considered did, and, in general, for the same causes; so that adults, and especially those that are judges of politeness and propriety, laugh only at such strokes of wit and humour, as surprise by some more than ordinary degree of contrast or coincidence; and have at the same time a due connexion with pleasure and pain, and their several associations of fitness, decency, inconsistency, absurdity, honour, shame, virtue, and vice; so as neither to be too glaring on the one hand, nor too faint on the other. In the first case, the representation raises dislike and abhorrence; in the last, it becomes insipid.
From hence may be seen, that in different persons the occasions of laughter must be as different as their opinions and dispositions; that low similitudes, allusions, contrasts, and coincidences, applied to grave and serious subjects, must occasion the most profuse laughter in persons of light minds; and, conversely, increase this levity of mind, and weaken the regard due to things sacred; that the vices of gluttony, lewdness, vain-glory, self-conceit, and covetousness, with the concomitant pleasures and pains, hopes, fears, dangers, &c. when represented by indirect circumstances, and the representation heightened by contrasts and coincidences, must be the most frequent subject of mirth, wit, and humour, in this mixed degenerate state, where they are censured upon the whole; and yet not looked upon with a due degree of severity, distance, and abhorrence; that company, feasting, and wine, by putting the body into a pleasurable state, must dispose to laughter upon small occasions; and that persons who give themselves much to mirth, wit, and humour, must thereby greatly disqualify their understandings for the search after truth; inasmuch as by the perpetual hunting after apparent and partial agreements and disagreements, as in words, and indirect accidental circumstances, whilst the true natures of the things themselves afford real agreements and disagreements, that are very different, or quite opposite, a man must by degrees pervert all his notions of things themselves, and become unable to see them as they really are, and as they appear to considerate sober-minded inquirers. He must lose all his associations of the visible ideas of things, their names, symbols, &c. with their useful practical relations and properties; and get, in their stead, accidental, indirect, and unnatural conjunctions of circumstances, that are really foreign to each other, or oppositions of those that are united; and after some time, habit and custom will fix these upon him.
The most natural occasions of mirth and laughter in adults seem to be the little mistakes and follies of children, and the smaller inconsistencies and improprieties which happen in conversation, and the daily occurrences of life; inasmuch as these pleasures are, in great measure, occasioned, or at least supported, by the general pleasurable state, which our love and affection to our friends in general, and to children in particular, put the body and mind into. For this kind of mirth is always checked where we have a dislike; also where the mistake or inconsistency rises beyond a certain limit; for then it produces concern, confusion, and uneasiness. And it is useful not only in respect of the good effects which it has upon the body, and the present amusement and relaxation that it affords to the mind; but also because it puts us upon rectifying what is so amiss, or any other similar error, in one another, or in children; and has a tendency to remove many prejudices from custom and education. Thus we often laugh at children, rustics, and foreigners, when yet they act right, according to the truly natural, simple, and uncorrupted dictates of reason and propriety, and are guilty of no other inconsistency than what arises from the usurpations of custom over nature; and we often take notice of this, and correct ourselves, in consequence of being diverted by it.
Having now considered, in a short and general way, all the pleasures that seem properly to belong to the head of imagination, I will say something concerning the pains of this class, viz. those which arise from the view of gross inconsistency, absurdity, and deformity. Here we may observe,
First, That these pains are the root and source of many of the fore-mentioned pleasures, particularly those arising from figurative expressions, and of wit and humour, as has been shewn in treating of these things.
Secondly, That the disgust and uneasiness here considered never rise to any very great height, unless some of the pains of sympathy, or of the moral sense, mix themselves with them. From whence it seems to follow, that the mere pleasures of imagination and beauty are also of a kind much inferior to those of sympathy, and the moral sense.
The perplexity, confusion, and uneasiness, which we labour under in abstruse inquiries, philosophical, moral, and religious, ought, perhaps, to be referred to this head. Also the secondary perplexity which arises from our being subject to this perplexity, confusion, and uneasiness. However, all this is to be accounted for as any other evil, and does not seem to be attended either with greater or less difficulties. No perplexity can give us more than a limited degree of pain; and all our perplexities have probably both the same general good effects as our other pains; and also, like each of these, some good effects peculiar to themselves.
We may now observe upon the whole, that according to the foregoing history of the pleasures of imagination, there must be great differences in the tastes and judgments of different persons; and that no age, nation, class of men, &c. ought to be made the test of what is most excellent in artificial beauty; nor, consequently, of what is absurd. The only things that can be set up as natural criterions here, seem to be uniformity with variety, usefulness in general, and the particular subserviency of this or that artificial beauty to improve the mind, so as to make it suit best with our present circumstances, and future expectations. How all these criterions consist with each other, and unite in the single criterion of religion, of the love of God, and of our neighbour, understood in the comprehensive sense of these words, I shall endeavour to shew hereafter.