of fight we are scarce fenfible of any emotion in a quick fucceffion even of the most beautiful objects. And if this hold in the fucceffion of original perceptions, how much more in the fucceffion of ideas?

Tho' all this while, I have been only defcribing. what paffeth in the mind of every one, and what every one must be confcious of, it was neceffary to enlarge upon it; becaufe, however clear in the in ternal conception, it is far from being fo when defcribed in words. Ideal prefence, though of general importance, hath fcarce ever been touched by any writer; and at any rate it could not be overlooked in accounting for the effects produced by fiction. Upon this point, the reader I guess has prevented me. It already must have occurred to him, that if, in reading, ideal prefence be the means by which our paffions are moved, it makes no difference whether the fubject be a fable or a reality. When ideal prefence is complete, we perceive eve ry object as in our fight; and the mind, totally oc cupied with an interefting event, finds no leifure for reflection of ary fort. This reasoning, if any one hefitate, is confirmed by conftant and univerfal experience. Let us take under confideration the meeting of Hector and Andromache in the fixth book of the Iliad, or fome of the paffionate scenes in King Lear. These pictures of human life, when we are fufficiently engaged, give an impreffion of reality not lefs diftin&t than that given by the death of Otho in the beautiful defcription of Tacitus. We never once reflect whether the story be true or feigned. Reflection comes afterward, when we have the scene no longer before our eyes. reasoning will appear in a ftill clearer light, by oppofing ideal prefence to ideas raised by a curfory narrative; which ideas being faint, obfcure, and imperfect, occupy the mind fo little as to folicit reflection.

This

reflection. And accordingly, a curt narrative of feigned incidents is never relifhed. Any flight pleafure it affords, is more than counterbalanced by the difguft it infpires for want of truth.

In fupport of the foregoing theory, I add what I reckon a decifive argument. Upon examination it will be found, that genuine hiftory commands our paffions by means of ideal prefence folely; and therefore that with refpect to this effect, genuine history ftands upon the fame footing with fable. To me it appears clear, that our fympathy must vanish fo foon as we begin to reflect upon the incidents related in either. The reflection that a ftory is a pure fiction, will indeed prevent our sympathy but fo will equally the reflection that the perfons defcribed are no longer exifting. It is prefent diftrefs only that moves my pity. My concern vanishes with the diftrefs; for I cannot pity any person who at present is happy. According to this theory, founded clearly on human nature, a man long dead and infenfible now of paft misfortunes, cannot move our pity more than if he had never exifted. The misfortunes described in a genu→ ine history command our belief: but then we believe alfo, that these misfortunes are at an end, and that the perfons defcribed are at prefent under no diftrefs. What effect, for example, can the belief of the rape of Lucretia have to raife our fympathy, when he died above 2000 years ago, and hath at prefent no painful feeling of the injury done her? The effect of hiftory in point of inftruction, depends in fome measure upon its veracity. But hiftory cannot reach the heart, while we indulge any reflection upon the facts. Such reflection, if it engage our belief, never fails at the fame time to poifon our pleasure, by convincing us that our fympathy for thofe who are dead and gone is abfurd. And if reflection be laid afide, history stands

upon

upon the fame footing with fable. What effect either of them may have to raise our fympathy, depends on the vivacity of the ideas they raise; and with refpect to that circumftance, fable is generally more fuccefsful than history.

Of all the means for making an impreffion of ideal prefence, theatrical representation is the most powerful. That words independent of action have the fame power in a lefs degree, every one of fenfibility must have felt: A good tragedy will extort tears in private, though not so forcibly as upon the stage. This power, belongs alfo to painting. A good hiftorical picture makes a deeper impreffion than can be made by words, though not equal to what is made by theatrical action. And as ideal prefence depends on a lively impression, painting feems to poffefs a middle place betwixt reading and acting. In making an impreffion of ideal prefence, it is not lefs fuperior to the former than inferior to the latter. halo bobom gosh ell:

It must not however be thought, that our paffionis can be raised by painting to fuch a height as can be done by words. Of all the fucceffive incidents that concur to produce a great event, a picture has the choice but of one, because it is confined to a fingle instant of time. And though the im preffion it makes, is the deepest that can be made instantaneously yet seldom can a paffion be raised to any height in an inftant, or by a fingle impreffion. It was obferved above, that our paffions, those especially of the fympathetic kind, require a fucceffion of impreflions; and for that reafon, reading and still more acting have greatly the advantage, by the opportunity of reiterating. impreffions without end.

Upon the whole, it is by means of ideal prefence that our paffions are excited; and till words produce that charm they avail nothing. Even real

pre

events intitled to our belief, must be conceived fent and paffing in our fight before they can move us. And this theory serves to explain several phenomena otherwife unaccountable. A misfortune happening to a stranger, makes a lefs impreffion than happening to a man we know, even where we are no way interested in him: our acquaintance with this man, however flight, aids the conception of his fuffering in our prefence. For the fame reason, we are little moved with any distant event; because we have more difficulty to conceive it prefent, than an event that happened in our neighbourhood.

Every one is fenfible, that defcribing a past event as prefent, has a fine effect in language. For what other reason than that it aids the conception of ideal prefence? Take the following example. And now with fhouts the fhocking armies clos'd To lances lances, fhields to fhields oppos'd; Host against hoft the fhadowy legions drew, The founding darts an iron tempeft flew ;

Victors and vanquifh'd join promifcuous cries,
Triumphing shouts and dying groans arife,
With ftreaming blood the flipp'ry field is dy'd,
And flaughter'd heroes fwell the dreadful tide.
In this paffage we may obferve how the writer in-
flamed with the fubject, infenfibly flips from the
past time to the prefent? led to this form of nar-
ration by conceiving every circumstance as paffing
in his own fight. And this at the fame time has
a fine effect upon the reader, by advancing him
to be as it were a spectator. But this change from
the past to the prefent requires fome preparation;
and is not graceful in the fame fentence where there
is no stop in the fenfe; witnefs the following paf-
fage.

Thy fate was next, O Phæftus! doom'd to feel
The great Idomeneus' protended steel; Whom

Whom Borus fent (his fon and only joy)
From fruitful Tarne to the fields of Troy.
The Cretan jav'lin reach'd him from afar,
And pierc'd his shoulder as he mounts his car.
Iliad, v. 57.

It is ftill worfe to fall back to the paft in the fame period; for this is an anticlimax in de ription: Through breaking ranks his furious course he bends,

And at the goddefs his broad lance extends;
Through her bright veil the daring weapon drove,
Th' ambrofial veil, which all the graces wove :
Her fnowy hand the razing fteel profan'd,
And the transparent skin with crimson ftain'd.
Iliad, v. 415.

Again defcribing the fhield of Jupiter.

Here all the terrors of grim War appear,
Here rages Force, here tremble Flight and Fear,
Here ftorm'd Contention, and here Fury frown'd,
And the dire orb portentous Gorgon crown'd.
Iliad, v. 914.

Nor is it pleasant to be carried backward and forward alternately in a rapid fucceffion :

Then dy'd Scamandrius, expert in the chace,
In woods and wilds to wound the favage race;
Diana taught him all her fylvan arts,
To bend the bow and aim unerring darts:
But vainly here Diana's arts he tries,
The fatal lance arrefts him as he flies;
From Menelaus' arm the weapon fent,

Through his broad back and heaving bofom went:
Down links the warrior with a thund'ring found,
His brazen armor rings against the ground.

Iliad, v. 65.