There may be certain circumstances that render a sound, that otherwise would be very gentle and beautiful, more strongly sublime than even those sounds that are generally most terrific. Gray describes such a combination of circumstances in a letter to a friend. "Did you never observe," said he, "while rocking winds are piping loud, that pause, as the gust is recollecting itself, and rising upon the ear in a shrill and plaintive note, like the swell of the Æolian harp? I do assure you there is nothing in the world so like the voice of a spirit."
We have another example in Scripture: "And behold, the Lord passed by, and a great and strong wind rent the mountains, and brake in pieces the rocks before the Lord; but the Lord was not in the wind; and after the wind an earthquake; but the Lord was not in the earthquake; and after the earthquake a fire; but the Lord was not in the fire; and after the fire a still small voice. And it was so, when Elijah heard it, he wrapped his face in a mantle." In both these cases, the sudden silence and the still small voice, so contrasted with the tumult around, would awaken the most thrilling emotions of the sublime. In some cases it is the sense which these sounds awaken of the presence of some awful and powerful Being that causes such emotions.
There are a great variety of sounds that are called beautiful. Such are the sound of a distant waterfall, the murmur of a rivulet, the sighing of the wind, the tinkling of the sheepfold, the lowing of distant kine, and the note of the shepherd's pipe. But it must be remarked that it is always a combination of circumstances that make sounds either sublime or beautiful. If we know, by the source from which they originate, that they are caused by no display of power or danger, or if necessarily they have low and mean associations connected with them, the emotions of the sublime or beautiful, which would otherwise recur, are prevented. Thus the rumbling of a cart is sublime when it is believed to be thunder, and loses this character when its true cause is discovered. The sound of the lowing of kine in certain circumstances is very beautiful, and in others very vulgar and displeasing.
Music seems to owe its chief power over the mind to the fact that it can combine all kinds of sounds that have ever been associated with any emotions, either of dignity, awe, and terror; or of joy, sprightliness, and mirth; or of tenderness, melancholy, and grief. Its power depends on the nature of the particular sounds, and also on the nature of their combination and succession in relation to time, and in relation to a certain sound which is called the fundamental or key note.
The art of a musical composer consists in the ability with which he succeeds in producing a certain class of emotions which he aims to awaken. The more finished productions of this art are never relished till long observation and experience enable the listener to judge of the nature of the design, and with how much success the composer has succeeded in effecting it. Music, when adapted to certain words, has its nature and design more clearly portrayed, and in such productions it is easier to judge of the success of the composer.
Of Color.
There are no colors which ordinarily excite so strong an emotion as to be called sublime. The deep black of mourning and the rich purple of royalty approach the nearest to this character. That colors acquire their power in awakening agreeable or disagreeable emotions simply from the emotions which have ordinarily existed in connection with them, appears from the fact that the associations of mankind are so exceedingly diverse on this subject. What is considered a dignified and solemn color in one nation is tawdry and vulgar in another. Thus, with us, yellow is common and tawdry, but among the Chinese it is a favorite color. Black, with us, has solemn and mournful associations, but in Spain and Venice it is an agreeable color. White, in this country, is beautiful, as the emblem of purity and innocence, but in China it is the sorrowful garb of mourning.
Of Forms.
Forms that awaken emotions of sublimity are such as have been associated with emotions of danger, terror, awe, or solemnity. Such are military ensigns, cannon, the hearse, the monument of death, and various objects of this kind. Those forms which distinguish bodies that have great strength, or which are enduring in their nature, awaken the same class of emotions. Thus the Gothic castle, the outline of rocks and mountains, and the form of the oak, are examples. Bodies often appear sublime from the mere circumstance of size, when compared with objects of the same kind. Thus the pyramids of Egypt are an example where relative size, together with their imperishable materials, awakens emotions of sublimity. The ideas of beauty of form depend almost entirely on their fitness to the object for which they are designed, and on many casual associations with which they are connected.