calm and gentle: both are pleasing; both lose their character of the beautiful, the moment that they hurry the mind into any tumultuous sensation, or afflict it with any degree of pain. What was the intention of Providence, in creating this affinity between our minds and the planet on which we dwell, it would be rash, perhaps, to conjecture. The effects of it, however, I cannot help thinking, are often very perceptible. The mind, composed by the beauty of natural objects, is brought into that state, in which the beautiful in morals spontaneously rises up to its notice, and, amid the fragrance and verdure of the earth, is still more refreshed by the feeling of the mild and amiable virtues. In the stillness of an evening in the summer, when every sense is gratified by the beauties of the creation, we have all felt the kindred beauties of the mind; we have all felt disposed to forgiveness on such moments, to pity, to kindness, to be gracious and merciful to every created being; we have felt ourselves drawn towards virtue by some invisible power, and betrayed into the gentlest and happiest tenor of mind. If the very form and colour of things have a tendency to guide the mind of man to rectitude of thought, and propriety of action, it is a new proof of the goodness of Providence, and gives fresh dignity to that class of feelings which have hitherto been considered to exist for pleasure alone.

"For as old Memnon's image, long renown'd
By fabling Nilus, to the quivering touch
Of Titan's ray, with each repulsive string
Consenting, sounded through the warbling air
Unbidden strains; even so did Nature's hand
To certain species of external things,
Attune the finer organs of the mind:
So the glad impulse of congenial powers,
Or of sweet sounds, or fair-proportion'd form,
The grace of motion, or the bloom of light,
Thrills through Imagination's tender frame,
From nerve to nerve: all naked and alive
They catch the spreading rays; till now the soul
At length discloses every tuneful spring,

To that harmonious movement from without
Responsive. Then the inexpressive strain
Diffuses its enchantment: Fancy dreams
Of sacred fountains and Elysian groves,
And vales of bliss: the intellectual power
Bends from his awful throne a wondering ear,
And smiles: the passions, gently sooth'd away,
Sink to divine repose, and love and joy
Alone are waking; love and joy, serene
As airs that fan the summer.' ""*

There is another class of objects -the picturesque which have given rise to various controversies between some very ingenious gentlemen; and which have, from the elegance of the subject, and the very pleasing manner in which it has been discussed, attracted a considerable share of attention.

Mr. Gilpin defines picturesque objects to be those which please from some quality capable of being illustrated in painting, or such objects as are proper for painting. Mr. Price attempts to show that the picturesque has a character no less separate and distinct, than either the sublime, or the beautiful; and quite as much independent of the art of painting. The characteristics of the beautiful, are smoothness and gradual variation; those of the picturesque, directly the reverse,— roughness, and sudden variation. A temple of Grecian architecture in its smooth state, is beautiful; in its ruin, is picturesque. Symmetry, which, in works of art, accords with the beautiful, is in the same degree adverse to the picturesque. Many old buildings, such as hovels, cottages, mills, ragged insides of old barns and stables, whenever they have any peculiar effect of light, form, tint, or shadow, are eminently picturesque; though they have not a pretension to be called either grand or beautiful. Smooth water is beautiful, rough water picturesque. The smooth young ash, the fresh tender beach, are beautiful; the rugged old oak, and knotty whych

* Akenside's Pleasures of Imagination, book 1.

elm, picturesque. In animals, the same distinction prevails. The ass is more picturesque than the horse. Of horses, the wild forester, with his rough coat, his mane, and tail, ragged and uneven, or the worn-out cart-horse, with his staring bones, are the most picturesque. The picturesque abhors sleekness, plumpness, smoothness, and convexity, in animals. Among our own species, beggars, gypsies, and all such rough, tattered figures as are merely picturesque, bear a close analogy, in all the qualities that make them so, to old hovels and mills, to the wild forest horse, and other objects of the same kind. "If we ascend," adds Mr. Price, "to the highest "order of created beings, as painted by the grandest "of our poets, they, in their state of glory and happiแ ness, raise no ideas but those of beauty and sublimity. "The picturesque, (as in earthly objects,) only shows "itself when they are in a state of ruin; when shadows have obscured their original brightness, and that uni"form, though angelic, expression of pure love and joy, "has been destroyed by a variety of warring passions.

'Darken'd so, yet shone

Above them all the Archangel; but his face

Deep scars of thunder had entrench'd, and care
Sat on his faded cheek, and under brows

Of dauntless courage and considerate pride
Waiting revenge; cruel his eye, but cast
Signs of remorse and passion.'

Mr. Price then goes on to show, that these two cha racters of the picturesque and beautiful, are perfectly distinguishable in painting and in grounds. He traces it in colour; and maintains that there is a picturesque in taste and in smell. One principal effect of smoothness, according to Mr. Burke and Mr. Price, the essential characteristic of beauty, is, that it gives an appearance of quiet and repose to all objects: roughness, on the contrary, a spirit and animation. Hence, where

* Price on the Picturesque, p. 71.

there is a want of smoothness, there will be a want of repose; and where there is no roughness, there is a want of spirit and stimulus. Picturesqueness, therefore, appears in this theory to hold a station between beauty and sublimity; and, on that account, to be more frequently and happily blended with them both, than they are with each other: it is, however, distinct from either. It is not the beautiful, because it is founded on qualities totally opposite to the beautiful-on roughness, and sudden variation; on that of age, and even of decay. It is not the sublime, because it has nothing to do with greatness of dimensions, and is found in the smallest as well as the largest objects; it inspires no feelings of awe and terror, like the sublime: the picturesque loves boundaries, infinity is one of the efficient causes of the sublime. Lastly: uniformity, which is so great an enemy to the picturesque, is not only compatible with the sublime, but often the cause of it. Concerning the elegance with which this dissertation on the picturesque is expressed, and the ingenuity with which it is conceived, there can, I should think, be but one opinion; it is not often, in such difficult investigations, that perspicuity, acuteness, good taste, and admirable writing, are so eminently united. But, however, it is not quite so easy to determine upon the real truth and justice. which the system contains. One thing seems quite clear, that Mr. Price has chosen a very bad word for the class of feelings which he conceives himself to have discovered; nor does he, in my humble opinion, at all justify it, by what he says of its etymology. The word will naturally be taken by every body for that which is fit to make a good picture; and so, according to the genius of our language, it ought to be taken; and one of the most considerable difficulties Mr. Price's theory will have to encounter, will be that of affixing any other meaning to this expression of the picturesque. With respect to the theory itself, the first question seems to

be, Is there any class of objects, to be distinguished by any assignable circumstances, which inspire the mind. with a common feeling? This Mr. Price has, I think, proved clearly enough. All the objects he has mentioned the old horse, the jackass, the mill, the beggar - do arrest the attention, and arrest it in a similar manner; and not merely with a reference to the art of painting, for a person wholly unacquainted with pictures, but who had leisure to contemplate the appearances of natural objects, would probably notice these, which I have mentioned, and refer them to one class, from the similar manner in which they affected his mind. They all rouse the mind agreeably, and provoke instant attention. After the first sensation is over, the different objects lead the mind into a different set of feelings, according to the particular nature of each object; but there is, I think, one common sensation they excite at first, which establishes a common nature, and justifies the classification of Mr. Price. These are very difficult subjects to speculate upon, and not quite as important as they are difficult; but I should rather think it might be the very faintest feeling of grandeur or sublimity which Mr. Price distinguishes under the appellation of picturesque. Sudden variation, for instance, in a great scale, is most commonly either grand or sublime; it sets all the faculties up in arms, and communicates that feeling of faint danger, which is so necessary an ingredient to the sublime. To come upon a sudden on a yawning abyss, unless the danger be imminent, is sublime. The sudden variation from the hill country of Gloucestershire to the Vale of Severn, as observed from Birdlip, or Frowcester Hill, is strikingly sublime. You travel for twenty or five-and-twenty miles over one of the most unfortunate, desolate countries under heaven, divided by stone walls, and abandoned to screaming kites and larcenous crows: after travelling really twenty, and to appearance ninety miles, over this region of stone and