treated, to mix a few observations on smoothness with some farther remarks I have to offer on the opposite quality of roughness. I am indeed highly interested in the question, for if this principle of Mr. Burke's should be false, if smoothness should not be an essential quality of beauty, if objects be as generally beautiful where roughness, as where smoothness prevails, and lastly, if, as many have supposed, all that strongly attracts and captivates the eye be included in the sublime and the beautiful, my distinction of course must fall to the ground. I cannot help flattering myself, however, that the having considered and compared the three characters together, has thrown a reciprocal light on each; and that the picturesque fills up a vacancy between the sublime and the beautiful, and accounts for the pleasure we receive from many objects, on principles distinct from them both; which objects should therefore be placed in a separate class.

In the last chapter I have endeavoured

to shew how nature has blended a certain portion of the qualities of the picturesque, of roughness, sharpness, &c. in many objects generally allowed to be beautiful, and that the same mixture has been adopted in many of the most approved works of art: and that although smoothness be the ground-work of beauty, yet that roughness is its fringe and ornament, and that which preserves it from insipidity. I shall now try to point out, what, according to my notions, is the most usual effect of the two qualities, and in what manner roughness and smoothness act upon the organs and upon the mind.

One principal charm of smoothness, whether in a literal or a metaphorical sense, is, that it conveys the idea of repose; roughness, on the contrary, conveys that of irritation, but at the same time of animation, spirit, and variety. This is very strongly exemplified in the sense of hear ing. Smooth and flowing strains in music, give a pleasing and voluptuous repose to the ear and the mind; an effect which is

beautifully described on the well-known lines of Dryden's ode,

Softly sweet in Lydian measures,

Soon he soothed his soul to pleasures.

On the other hand, the character of martial music, which rouses and animates the soul, is finely characterized by

The spirit-stirring drum, th' ear-piercing fife. And the notes of the trumpet, which rends the air with its harsh and sudden blasts, bears no small degree of analogy to all that is rude, broken, and abrupt, in visible objects.

That in speaking, a smooth and even tone of voice indicates inward calm and repose, and sharp, broken, irregular accents irritation, is too obvious to be dwelt upon.

In the sense of seeing, with which we are more immediately concerned, the position may be shortly exemplified in the instances already given of buildings and columns if the whole, or a considerable part of them were to be covered with sharp

projecting ornaments, the eye would be harassed and distracted, and there would be a want of repose; on the other hand, if the whole were smooth and even, there would be a want of spirit and animation.

It may be objected to this notion of the effects of smoothness and roughness, that the most highly polished, and consequently the smoothest of all surfaces, are those which most strongly reflect the light, and of course most powerfully irritate the organ. But here likewise roughness, in which term I mean to include whatever is sharp, pointed, angular, or in any way contrary to smoothness, produces the effect I have ascribed to it: for when smooth polished surfaces are cut into sharp angles, the irritation is infinitely encreased. A table diamond, for instance, like other highly polished objects, has a considerable degree of stimulus; but it is only when cut into a number of sharp points and angles, that it acquires the distinguished title of a brilliant. Light itself, when broken in its passage, though the quantity be

diminished, is rendered more irritating; we can bear the full uninterrupted splendour of the setting sun, nay can gaze on the orb itself with little uneasiness; but when its rays are broken by passing through a thin screen of leaves and branches, no eye is proof against the irritation.

In all cases where there is a strong effect of light, whether immediate or reflected, there is of course a real irritation on the organ and it probably will be admitted, that there is a greater degree of it when the rays strike on pointed or angular, than on smooth and even surfaces; but it may be said, that when there is no particular light upon objects, as on a sunless day, their roughness or abruptness causes no irritation in the organs of sight. I imagine, however, that besides the real irritation which is produced by means of broken lights, all broken, rugged, and abrupt forms and surfaces, have also by sympathy somewhat of the same effect on the sight, as on the touch. Indeed as it is generally admitted, that the sense of