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common language, no other than a good one, or one well composed. In this sense, it is plain, the word is altogether indefinite, and points at no particular species or kind of Beauty. There is, however, another sense, somewhat more definite, in which Beauty of writing characterizes a particular manner; when it is used to signify a certain grace and amenity, in the turn either of style or sentiment, for which some authors have been peculiarly distinguished. In this sense, it denotes a manner neither remarkably sublime, nor vehemently passionate, nor uncommonly sparkling; but such as raises in the reader an emotion of the gentle placid kind, similar to what is raised by the contemplation of beautiful objects in nature; which neither lifts the mind very high, nor agitates it very much, but diffuses over the imagination an agreeable and pleasing serenity. Mr. Addison is a writer altogether of this character; and is one of the most proper and precise examples that can be given of it. Fenelon, the author of the Adventures of Telemachus, may be given as another example. Virgil too, though very capable of rising on occasions into the sublime, yet, in his general manner, is distinguished by the character of Beauty and Grace, rather than of Sublimity. Among orators, Cicero has more of the Beautiful than Demosthenes, whose genius led him wholly towards vehemence and strength.

This much it is sufficient to have said upon the subject of Beauty. We have traced it through a variety of forms; as next to Sublimity, it is the most copious source of the pleasures of Taste; and as the consideration of the different appearances, and principles of Beauty, tends to the improvement of Taste in many subjects.

But it is not only by appearing under the forms of Sublime or Beautiful, that objects delight the imagination. From several other principles also they derive their power of giving it pleasure.

Novelty, for instance, has been mentioned by Mr. Addison, and by every writer on this subject. An object which has no merit to recommend it, except its being uncommon or new, by means of this quality alone, produces in the mind a vivid and an agreeable emotion. Hence that passion of curiosity, which prevails so generally among mankind. Objects and ideas which have been long familiar, make too faint an impression to give an agreeable exercise to our faculties. New and strange objects rouse the mind from its dormant state, by giving it a quick and pleasing impulse. Hence in a great measure, the entertainment afforded us by fiction and romance. The emotion raised by Novelty is of a more lively and pungent nature than that produced by Beauty; but much shorter in its continuance. For if the object have in itself no charms to hold our attention, the shining gloss thrown upon it by Novelty soon wears off.

Besides Novelty, Imitation is another source of Pleasure to

Taste. This gives rise to what Mr. Addison terms, the Secondary Pleasures of Imagination; which form, doubtless, a very extensive class. For all Imitation affords some pleasure: not only the Imitation of beautiful or great objects, by recalling the original ideas of Beauty or Grandeur which such objects themselves exhibited; but even objects which have neither Beauty nor Grandeur, nay, some which are terrible or deformed, please us in a secondary or represented view.

The Pleasures of Melody and Harmony belong also to Taste. There is no agreeable sensation we receive either from Beauty or Sublimity, but what is capable of being heightened by the power of musical sound. Hence the delight of poetical numbers; and even of the more concealed and looser measures of prose. Wit, Humour, and Ridicule, likewise open a variety of Pleasures to Taste, quite distinct from any that we have yet considered.

At present it is not necessary to pursue any further the subject of the Pleasures of Taste. I have opened some of the general principles; it is time now to make the application to our chief subject. If the question be put, To what class of those Pleasures of Taste which I have enumerated, that Pleasure is to be referred, which we receive from poetry, eloquence, or fine writing? My answer is, Not to any one, but to them all. This singular advantage writing and discourse possess, that they encompass so large and rich a field on all sides, and have power to exhibit, in great perfection, not a single set of objects only, but almost the whole of those which give Pleasure to Taste and Imagination: whether that Pleasure arise from Sublimity, from Beauty in its different forms, from Design and Art, from Moral Sentiment, from Novelty, from Harmony, from Wit, Humour, and Ridicule. To whichsoever of these the peculiar bent of a person's Taste lies, from some writer or other, he has it always in his power to receive the gratification of it.

Now this high power which eloquence and poetry possess, of supplying Taste and Imagination with such a wide circle of pleasures, they derive altogether from their having a greater capacity of Imitation and Description than is possessed by any other art. Of all the means which human ingenuity has contrived for recalling the images of real objects, and awakening, by representation, similar emotions to those which are raised by the original, none is so full and extensive as that which is executed by words and writing. Through the assistance of this happy invention, there is nothing, either in the natural or moral world but what can be represented and set before the mind, in colours very strong and lively. Hence it is usual among critical writers to speak of Discourse as the chief of all the imitative or mimetic arts; they compare it with painting and with sculpture, and in many respects prefer it justly before them.

This style was first introduced by Aristotle in his Poetics;

and, since his time, has acquired a general currency among modern authors. But, as it is of consequence to introduce as much precision as possible into critical language, I must observe, that this manner of speaking is not accurate. Neither discourse in general, nor poetry in particular, can be called altogether imitative arts. We must distinguish betwixt Imitation and Description, which are ideas that should not be confounded. Imitation is performed by means of somewhat that has a natural likeness and resemblance to the thing imitated; and of consequence is understood by all; such are statues and pictures. Description, again, is the raising in the mind the conception of an object by means of some arbitrary or instituted symbols, understood only by those who agree in the institution of them; such are words and writing. Words have no natural resemblance to the ideas or objects which they are employed to signify; but a statue or picture has a natural likeness to the original. And therefore Imitation and Description differ considerably in their nature from each other.

As far, indeed, as the poet introduces into his work persons actually speaking; and, by the words which he puts into their mouths, represents the discourse which they might be supposed to hold: so far his art may more accurately be called Imitative: and this is the case in all dramatic composition. But, in Narrative or Descriptive works, it can with no propriety be called so. Who, for instance, would call Virgil's Description of a tempest, in the first Æneid, an Imitation of a storm? If we heard of the Imitation of a battle we might naturally think of some mock fight, or representation of a battle on the stage, but would never apprehend that it meant one of Homer's Descriptions in the Iliad. I admit, at the same time, that Imitation and Description agree in their principal effect, of recalling, by external signs, the ideas of things which we do not see. But though in this they coincide, yet it should not be forgotten, that the terms themselves are not synonymous; that they import different means of effecting the same end; and of course make different impressions on the mind.*

Though in the execution of particular parts Poetry is certainly Descriptive rather than Imitative, yet there is a qualified sense, in which Poetry, in the general, may be termed an Imitative art. The subject of the Poet (as Dr. Gerard has shown in the Appendix to his Essay on Taste) is intended to be an Imitation, not of things really existing, but of the course of nature; that is, a feigned representation of such events, or such scenes, as, though they never had a being, yet might have existed; and which, therefore, by their probability, bear a resemblance to nature. It was probably in this sense that Aristotle termed Poetry a mimetic art. How far either the Imitation or the Description which Poetry employs, is superior to the Imitative powers of Painting and Music, is well shown by Mr. Harris, in his Treatise on Music, Painting, and Poetry. The chief advantage which Poetry or Discourse in general enjoys, is that whereas, by the nature of his art, the Painter is confined to the representation of a single moment, Writing and Discourse can trace a transaction through its whole progress. That moment, indeed, which the Painter pitches upon for the subject of his picture, he may be said to exhibit with more advantage than the Poet or Orator; inasmuch as he sets before us, in one view, all the minute concurrent circumstances of the event which

Whether we consider Poetry in particular, and Discourse in general, as Imitative or Descriptive; it is evident, that their whole power in recalling the impressions of real objects, is derived from the significancy of words. As their excellency flows altogether from this source, we must, in order to make way for further inquiries, begin at the fountain head. I shall, therefore, in the next Lecture, enter upon the consideration of Language: of the origin, the progress, and construction of which I purpose to treat at some length.

LECTURE VI.

RISE AND PROGRESS OF LANGUAGE.

HAVING finished my observations on the Pleasures of Taste, which we meant to be introductory to the principal subject of these Lectures, I now begin to treat of Language; which is the foundation of the whole power of eloquence. This will lead to a considerable discussion; and there are few subjects belonging to polite literature which more merit such a discussion. I shall first give a History of the Rise and Progress of Language in several particulars, from its early to its more advanced periods: which shall be followed by a similar History of the Rise and Progress of Writing. I shall next give some account of the Construction of Language, or the Principles of Universal Grammar; and shall, lastly, apply these observations more particularly to the English Tongue.

Language, in general, signifies the expression of our ideas by certain articulate sounds, which are used as the signs of those ideas. By articulate sounds are meant those modulations of

happens in one individual point of time, as they appear in nature; while Discourse is obliged to exhibit them in succession, and by means of a detail, which is in danger of becoming tedious, in order to be clear; or, if not tedious, is in danger of being obscure. But to that point of time which he has chosen, the Painter being entirely confined, he cannot exhibit various stages of the same action or event; and he is subject to this farther defect, that he can only exhibit objects as they appear to the eye, and can very imperfectly delineate characters and sentiments, which are the noblest subjects of Imitation or Description. The power of representing these with full advantage, gives a high superiority to Discourse and Writing above all other imitative arts.

* See Dr. Adam Smith's Dissertation on the Formation of Languages.—Treatise of the Origin and Progress of Language, in three vols.-Harris's Hermes, or a Philosophical Inquiry concerning Language and Universal Grammar.-Essai sur l'Origine des Connoissances Humaines, par l'Abbé Condillac.-Principes de Grammaire, par Marsais. -Grammaire Generale et Raisonée.-Traité de la Formation Mechanique des Langues, par le Presideur de Brosses.-Discours sur l'Inegalité parmi les Hommes, par Rousseau.-Grammaire Generale, par Beauzee.-Principes de la Traduction, par Batteux. Warburton's Divine Legation of Moses, vol. iii.-Sanctii Minerva, cum notis Perizonii. Les Vrais Principes de Langue Françoise, par l'Abbé Girard.

simple voice, or of sound emitted from the thorax, which are formed by means of the mouth and its several organs, the teeth, the tongue, the lips, and the palate. How far there is any

natural connection between the ideas of the mind and the sounds emitted, will appear from what I have afterwards to offer. But as the natural connection can, upon any system, affect only a small part of the fabric of Language; the connexion between words and ideas may, in general, be considered as arbitrary and conventional, owing to the agreement of men among themselves; the clear proof of which is, that different nations have different Languages, or a different set of articulate sounds, which they have chosen for communicating their ideas:

This artificial method of communicating thought we now behold carried to the highest perfection. Language is become a vehicle by which the most delicate and refined emotions of one mind can be transmitted, or, if we may so speak, transfused into another. Not only are names given to all objects around us, by which means an easy and speedy intercourse is carried on for providing the necessaries of life, but all the relations and differences among these objects are minutely marked, the invisible sentiments of the mind are described, the most abstract notions and conceptions are rendered intelligible; and all the ideas which science can discover, or imagination create, are known by their proper names. Nay, Language has been carried so far, as to be made an instrument of the most refined Luxury. Not resting in mere perspicuity, we require ornament also; not satisfied with having the conceptions of others made known to us, we make a farther demand, to have them so decked and adorned as to entertain our fancy; and this demand, it is found very possible to gratify. In this state we now find Language. In this state it has been found among many nations for some thousand years. The object is become familiar; and, like the expanse of the firmament, and other great objects, which we are accustomed to behold, we behold it without wonder.

But carry your thoughts back to the first dawn of Language among men. Reflect upon the feeble beginnings from which it must have arisen, and upon the many and great obstacles which it must have encountered in its progress; and you will find reason for the highest astonishment on viewing the height which it has now attained. We admire several of the inventions of art; we plume ourselves on some discoveries which have been made in latter ages, serving to advance knowledge, and to render life comfortable; we speak of them as the boast of human reason. But certainly no invention is entitled to any such degree of admiration as that of Language; which, too, must have been the product of the first and rudest ages, if indeed it can be considered as a human invention at all.

Think of the circumstances of mankind when Languages

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