ing of many parts variously adorned, or an extensive field embellished with trees, lakes, temples, statues, and other ornaments, will appear new oftener than once the memory of an object so complex is soon lost, of its parts at least, or of their arrangement. Absence will give an air of novelty to an object once familiar The mind balances between two things equally new and singular; but when told one of them is from a distant quarter of the world, it soon makes its election. Hence the preference for foreign luxuries and curiosities. The next degree of novelty, mounting upwards, is found in objects of which we have some information at second-hand; for description never comes up to actual sight. A new object that bears some distant resemblance to a known species, is an instance of a third degree of novelty: a strong resemblance among individuals of the same species, prevents almost entirely the effect of novelty, unless distance of place, or some other circumstance, concur; but where the resemblance is faint, some degree of wonder is felt, and the emotion rises in proportion to the faintness of the resemblance. The highest degree of wonder arises from unknown objects that have no analogy to any species we are acquainted with. Shakspeare, in a simile, introduces that species of novelty: As glorious to the sight As is a winged messenger from heaven ROMEO AND Juliet. Love of novelty prevails in children, in idlers, and in men of shallow understanding. It reigns chiefly among persons of mean taste, who are ignorant of refined and elegant pleasures. One final cause of wonder is, that this emotion is intended to stimulate our curiosity: another is, to prepare our mind for receiving deep impressions of new objects. Now, in order to make a deep impression, it is wisely contrived, that things should be introduced to our acquaintance with a certain pomp and solemnity, productive of a vivid emotion. When the impression is once fairly made, the emotion of novelty, being no longer necessary, vanisheth almost instantaneously, never to return, unless where the impression happens to be obliterated by length of time or other means; in which case the second introduction hath nearly the same solemnity with the first. Designing wisdom is nowhere more legible than in this part of the human frame. If new objects did not affect us in a very peculiar manner, their impressions would be so slight as scarcely to be of any use in life: on the other hand, did objects continue to affect us as deeply as at first, the mind would be totally engrossed with them, and have no room left either for action or reflection. The final cause of surprise is still more evident than of novelty. Self-love makes us vigilantly attentive to self-preservation; but self-love, which operates by means of reason and reflection, and impels not the mind to any particular object, or from it, is a principle too cool for a sudden emergency. An object breaking in unexpectedly, affords no time for deliberation; and in that case, the agitation of surprise comes in seasonably to rouse self-love into action; surprise gives the alarm, and if there be any appearance of danger, our whole force is instantly summoned up to shun oi prevent it. REVIEW. What are the effects of novelty? When does a familiar object produce surprise? What is the difference between surprise and wonder? Does novelty increase our terror at a threatening object? Does this prove novelty itself to be disagreeable? Illustrate this. How is the pleasure of novelty distinguished from that of variety? In what is the lowest degree of novelty found? What are the effects of absence and distance? Where is the second degree of novelty found?-the third?-tbe highest? In what sort of persons does the love of novelty prevail? Why does it not last? What is the use of surprise? CHAPTER VII. Risible Objects. To amuse us in our waking hours, nature has kindly provided many objects distinguished by the epithet risible, because they raise in us a peculiar emotion, expressed externally by laughter, or pleasant and mirthful exertion, that unbends the mind, and recruits the spirits. Ludicrous signifies what is playsome, sportive, or jocular; and it is the genus of which risible is the species. No object is risible but what appears slight, little, or trivial; for we laugh at nothing that is of importance to our own interest, or to that of others. A real distress raises pity, and therefore cannot be risible; but a slight or imaginary distress, which moves not pity, is risible. The adventure of the fulling-mills in Don Quixote is extremely risible; so is the scene where Sancho, in a dark night, tumbling into a pit, and attaching himself to the side. by hand and foot, hangs there in terrible dismay till the morning, when he discovers himself to be within a foot of the bottom. A nose remarkably long or short, is risible; to want it is horrible. Hence nothing just, proper, decent, beautiful, proportioned or grand, is Iisible. The laugh of derision or of scorn, is occasioned by improper acts replete with blunders and absurdities.. Hence objects that cause laughter are either risible or ridiculous; the former is mirthful, the latter both mirthful and contemptible. The first raises an emotion altogether pleasant; the pleasant emotion of laughter raised by the other, is blended with the painful emotion of contempt, and the mixed emotion is termed the emotion of ridicule. The pain a ridiculous object gives me is resented and punished by a laugh of derision. A risible object, on the other hand, gives me no pain: it is altogether pleasant by a certain sort of titillation, which is expressed externally by mirthful laughter. Ridicule will be more fully explained afterward: the present chapter is appropriated to the other emotion. Risible objects are so common, and so well understood, that it is unnecessary to consume paper or time upon them. REVIEW. What is the meaning of risible?—of ludicrous? What objects are risible? Give an example from Don Quixote. Explain the emotion of ridicule. CHAPTER VIII. Resemblance and Dissimilitude. NATURE has given us a vigorous propensity to compare new objects and discover their resemblance and difference. We are gratified most by discovering difference among things where resemblance prevails, and resemblance where difference prevails. A comparison may be too far stretched; when difference or resemblance are carried beyond certain bounds, they appear slight and trivial, and cannot be relished by a man of taste. That resemblance and dissimilitude have an enlivening effect upon objects of sight, is sufficiently evident; and that they have the same effect upon objects of the other senses, is also certain. Nor is that law confined to the external senses; for characters contrasted make a greater figure by the opposition: Iago, in the tragedy of Othello, says, He hath a daily beauty in his life, That makes me ugly. The character of a fop, and of a rough warrior, are nowhere more successfully contrasted than in Shakspeare's First Part of Henry IV. Act I. Sc. 3. Passions and emotions are also inflamed by comparison. A man of high rank humbles the bystanders, even to annihilate them in their own opinion: Cæsar, beholding the statue of Alexander, was greatly mortified that now, at the age of thirty-two, when Alexander died, he had not performed one memorable action. Our opinions also are much influenced by comparison. A man whose opulence exceeds the ordinary standard, is reputed richer than he is in reality; and wisdom or weakness, if at all remarkable in an individual, is generally carried beyond the truth. The opinion a man forms of his present distress is heightened by contrasting it with his former happi ness. The distress of a long journey makes even an indifferent inn agreeable; and in travelling when the road is good, and the horseman well covered, a bad day may be agreeable by making him sensible how snug he is. The same effect is equally remarkable, when a man opposes his condition to that of others. A ship tossed about in a storm, makes the spectator reflect upon his own ease and security, and puts these in the strongest light. A man in grief cannot bear mirth: it makes him unhappy, by giving him a lively notion of his unhappiness. The appearance of danger gives sometimes pleasure, sometimes pain. A timorous person upon the battle G |