PART II.

Of the Notes of Animals.

THERE are instances, I believe, both of sublimity and beauty in the notes of animals. That such sounds are associated with the qualities of the animals to which they belong, and become expressive of these qualities, cannot, I think, be denied. There are besides other associations we have with them, from their manner of life, the scenes which they usually inhabit, and the countrics from which they come.

I.

That the notes or cries of some animals are sublime, every one knows: the roar of the lion, the growling of bears, the howling of wolves, the scream of the eagle, &c. In all those cases, these are the notes of animals remarkable for their strength, and formidable for their ferocity. It would seem very natural, therefore, that the sublimity of such sounds should arise from the qualities of which they are expressive; and which are of a nature fitted to excite very powerful emotions in our minds.

That this is in reality the case, and that it is not the sounds themselves which have this effect, appears to be obvious from the two following considerations.

1. When we have no associations of this kind, such sounds are productive of no such emotion. There is not one of these sounds 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. There are few, if any of these sounds 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 or strength, and there can be no doubt that it would become sublime. The hooting of the owl at midnight, or amid ruins, is strikingly sublime. The same sound at noon, or during the day, is very far from being so. 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 neighing of a war-horse in the field of battle, or of a young and untamed horse when at large among mountains, is powerfully sublime. The same sound in a cart-horse, or a horse in the stable, is simply indifferent, if not disagreeable. No sound is more absolutely mean, than the grunting of swine. The same sound in the wild boar, an animal remarkable both for fierceness and strength, is sublime. The memory of the reader will supply many other instances.

2. The sublimity of such sounds corresponds not to their nature, as sounds, but to the nature of the qualities they signify. Sounds of all kinds are sublime, in proportion as they are expressive of power or fierceness, or strength, or any other quality capable of producing strong emotions in the animals which they distinguish. There are many instances undoubtedly where loud cries are sublime, but there are many also, where such notes are very far from being so. The lowing of cows, the braying of the ass, the scream of the peacock, and many other inoffensive birds, are only mean or disagreeable.

Low or feeble sounds, in the same manner, are gen

erally considered as the contrary of sublime; yet there are also many instances where such sounds are strongly sublime, when they distinguish the notes of fierce, or dangerous, or powerful animals. There is not a sound so generally contemptible as that which we distinguish by the name of hissing, yet this is the sound appropriated to serpents, and the greater part of poisonous reptiles; and, as such, is extremely sublime. The noise of the rattlesnake (that most dangerous animal of all his tribe) is very little different from the noise of a child's plaything, yet who will deny its sublimity! The growl of the tyger resembles the purring of a cat: the one is sublime, the other insignificant. Nothing can be more trifling than the sound produced by that little animal, which among the common people is called the deathwatch; yet many a bold heart hath felt its power. The inhabitants of modern Europe would smile, if they were asked, if there were any sublimity in the notes of chickens, or swallows, or magpies; yet under the influence of ancient superstition, when such animals were considered as ominous, the bravest among the people have trembled at their sound. The superstitions of other countries afford innumerable instances of the same kind.

If these illustrations are just, it should seem, that the sublimity of the notes of animals is to be ascribed to the associations we connect with them, and not to any original fitness in the mere sounds themselves, to produce this emotion.

II.

That the BEAUTY of the notes or cries of animals arises from the same cause, or from the qualities of which they are expressive to us, may perhaps be obvious from considerations equally familiar.

It seems at least very difficult to account for the in

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stances of such sounds which are universally reckoned beautiful, if we consider the sounds themselves as the causes of this emotion. The number of notes is as various as the different species of animals, and amid these there are a thousand instances, where similar sounds are by no means productive of similar effects; and where, although the difference to the ear is extremely small, there is yet a great difference in their capacity of producing such emotions. If, on the contrary, we consider the source of their beauty as consisting in the pleasing or affecting qualities with which such sounds are associated, we have an easy solution of the difficulty, and which will be found at the same time perfectly to agree with the facts.

It would lead to a very long, and very unnecessary inquiry, if I were to attempt to enumerate the various notes of this kind that are beautiful, and the different associations we have with them. That with many such sounds we have in fact such associations, is a matter, I apprehend, so conformable to every man's experience, that it would be superfluous to attempt to prove it.

There is indeed one class of animals, of which the notes are in a singular degree objects of beauty-I mean birds; and for this we may assign very sufficient reasons. 1st, Such notes approach much nearer than any other, to the tones of the human voice, and are therefore much more strongly expressive to us of such qualities as we are affected by. 2dly, These animals are, much more than any other, the objects of our interest and regard; not only from our greater acquaintance with them, and from the minuteness and delicacy of their forms, which renders them in some measure the objects of tenderness; but chiefly from their modes of life, and from the little domestic arrangements and attachments which

we observe among them so much more strongly than among any other animals, and which indicate more affecting and endearing qualities in the animals themselves, than in any others we know. That we have such associations with birds, is very obvious, from the use which is made of their instincts and manner of life, in the poetical compositions of all nations.

That it is from such associations the beauty of the notes of animals arises, may appear from the following considerations:

1. They who have no such associations, feel no emotion of beauty from them. A peasant would laugh, if he were asked, if the call of a goat, or the bleat of a sheep, or the lowing of a cow were beautiful; yet in certain situations, all of these are undoubtedly so. A child shows no symptom of admiration at those sounds which are most affecting in natural scenery to other people. Every one will recollect, in what total indifference his early years were passed, to that multitude of beautiful sounds which occur in the country; and I believe, if we attend to it sufficiently, it will be found, that the period when we became sensible to their beauty, was when we first began to feel them as expressive, either from our own observation of nature, or from the perusal of books of poetry. In the same manner, they who travel into very distant countries, are at first insensible to the beauty which the natives of these countries ascribe to the notes of the animals belonging to them, obviously from their not having yet acquired the associations which are the foundation of their beauty. The notes which are sacred from any kind of superstition, are beautiful only to those who are under the dominion of that superstition. A foreigner does not distinguish any beauty in the note of the stork. To the Hollander, however, to whom that bird