This enumeration of cases, which is only a selection from those of Mr. Alison, is far more than 239 sufficient for the purpose, as indeed it is one defect of his book that his propositions are overlaid with evidence.
That these sounds, as sensations, do not constitute the pleasures enjoyed, he demonstrates, by shewing that on many occasions, on which the sensations exist as perfectly as on any other occasion, no pleasure is felt. He also shews, that when the pleasures are felt, a train of pleasurable ideas is introduced by association.
“The sound of Thunder, he says, is perhaps of all others in Nature, the most Sublime.” Yet the rolling of stones from a cart, produces a sound so exactly the same, that it is often mistaken for thunder. While the mistake lasts, the feeling of sublimity lasts. When the mistake is corrected, it instantly vanishes; that is, the association is dissolved.
“There is scarcely in nature,” says Mr. Alison, “a more trifling sound than the buzz of Flies; yet, I believe, there is no man of common Taste, who, in the deep silence of a summer’s noon, has not found something strikingly sublime, in this inconsiderable sound. The falling of a drop of water, produces in general a very insignificant and unexpressive sound; yet sometimes in Vaults, and in large Cathedrals, a single drop is heard to fall, at distant intervals, from the roof; than which, I know not if there is a single sound more strikingly sublime.”
Mr. Alison further remarks, that to those who have no trains of pleasurable ideas associated with sounds, “or who consider them simply as sounds, they have no beauty. It is long before children shew any sensibility to the beauty of sounds. To the greater 240 number of the sounds which we denominate beautiful, the common people, in the same manner, are altogether indifferent. To the peasant, the Curfew is only the mark of the hour of the evening,—the Sheep-bell, the sign of the neighbourhood of the flock,—the sound of a Cascade, the sign of the falling of water, &c. Give him the associations which men of cultivated imagination have with such sounds, and he will infallibly feel their beauty.”
Mr. Alison shews, that when the notes or cries of animals are stripped of certain associations, they are unproductive of Emotions of sublimity or beauty. “There is not one of these sounds,” he says, “which may not be imitated in some manner or other; and which, while we are ignorant of the deception, does not produce the same Emotion with the real sound: when we are undeceived, however, we are conscious of no other Emotion, but that, perhaps, of simple pain from its loudness. The howl of the Wolf is little distinguished from the howl of the Dog, either in its tone or in its strength, but there is no comparison between their sublimity. Few, if any, of the sounds felt as sublime are so loud as the most common of all sounds, the lowing of a Cow; yet this is the very reverse of sublimity. Imagine this sound, on the contrary, expressive of Fierceness and Strength, and there can be no doubt, that it would become sublime. The scream of the Eagle is simply disagreeable, when the bird is either tamed or confined; it is Sublime, only when it is heard amid Rocks and Deserts, and when it is expressive to us, of Liberty and Independence, and savage Majesty. The noise of the Rattlesnake (that most dangerous animal of all his tribe) 241 is very little different from the noise of a child’s play-thing; yet who will deny its sublimity? The growl of the Tiger, resembles the purring of a Cat; the one is sublime, the other insignificant.”
Mr. Alison, with great propriety, adds, “Upon the principle of the absolute and independent Sublimity or Beauty of Sounds, it is very difficult to account for the different sounds which have been mentioned as productive of these Emotions. There is certainly no resemblance, as sounds, between the noise of Thunder, and the hissing of a Serpent,—between the growling of a Tiger, and the explosion of Gunpowder,—between the scream of an Eagle, and the shouting of a multitude; yet all of these are sublime. In the same manner, there is as little resemblance, between the tinkling of the Sheepfold-bell, and the murmuring of the Breeze; between the hum of the Beetle and the song of the Lark; between the twitter of the Swallow, and the sound of the Curfew; yet all of these are beautiful. Upon the principle of association, they are all perfectly accountable.”
I shall not follow Mr. Alison in his illustrations of the beauty and sublimity felt in the tones of the human voice, or in the composition of sounds, called Music; because I have no doubt but it will be allowed that they derive the whole of what is called their expression,—in other words, their power of pleasing,—from the associations connected with them.[46] I 242 shall also produce a very few specimens of the illustrations which he adduces to show that what is called the Beauty and Sublimity of objects of sight, is derived wholly from association.
[46] What the author thinks himself dispensed from either proving or illustrating because he has no doubt that it will be allowed, is, on the contrary, one of the most disputable parts of his theory. That very much of the pleasure afforded by Music is the effect of its expression, i.e. of the associations connected with sound, most people will admit: but it can scarcely be doubted that there is also an element of direct physical and sensual pleasure. In the first place, the quality of some single sounds is physically agreeable, as that of others is disagreeable. Next, the concord or harmony of pleasant sounds adds a further element of purely physical enjoyment. And thirdly, certain successions of sounds, constituting melody or tune, are delightful, as it seems to me, to the mere sense. With these pleasures those of the associated ideas and feelings are intimately blended, but may, to a certain extent, be discriminated by a critical ear. It is possible to say, of different composers, that one (as Beethoven) excels most in that part of the effect of music which depends on expression, and another (as Mozart) in the physical part.
That the full physical pleasure of tune is often not experienced at the first hearing, is a consequence of the fact, that the pleasure depends on succession, and therefore on the coexistence of each note with the remembrance of a sufficient number of the previous notes to constitute melody: a remembrance which, of course, is not possessed in perfection, until after a number of repetitions proportioned to the complexity and to the unfamiliar character of the combination.—Ed.