id,dictionary,theme,reviewed_on,metaphor,created_at,provenance,comments,work_id,text,context,updated_at
13695,Optics and Rooms,Momus Glass,2011-09-23,"""[I]n the planet Mercury (belike) it may be so, if not better still for [the biographer];--for there the intense heat of the country, which is proved by computators, from its vicinity to the sun, to be more than equal to that of red hot iron,--must, I think, long ago have vitrified the bodies of the inhabitants, (as the efficient cause) to suit them for the climate (which is the final cause); so that, betwixt them both, all the tenements of their souls, from top to bottom, may be nothing else, for aught the soundest philosophy can shew to the contrary, but one fine transparent body of clear glass (bating the umbilical knot);-- so, that till the inhabitants grow old and tolerably wrinkled, whereby the rays of light, in passing through them, become so monstrously refracted,--or return reflected from their surfaces in such transverse lines to the eye, that a man cannot be seen thro';--his soul might as well, unless, for more ceremony,--or the trifling advantage which the umbilical point gave her,--might, upon all other accounts, I say, as well play the fool out o'doors as in her own house.""",2009-09-14 19:39:00 UTC,HDIS (Prose),Mercurians are made of glass,5088,"I Have a strong propensity in me to begin this chapter very nonsensically, and I will not balk my fancy. --Accordingly I set off thus.
If the fixure of Momus's glass, in the human breast, according to the proposed emendation of that arch-critick, had taken place,--first, This foolish consequence would certainly have followed,-- That the very wisest and the very gravest of us all, in one coin or other, must have paid window-money every day of our lives.
And, secondly, That had the said glass been there set up, nothing more would have been wanting, in order to have taken a man's character, but to have taken a chair and gone softly, as you would to a dioptrical bee-hive, and look'd in,-- view'd the soul stark naked;--observ'd all her motions,--her machinations;-- traced all her maggots from their first engendering to their crawling forth;-- watched her loose in her frisks, her gambols, her capricios; and ofter some notice of her more solemn deportment, consequent upon such frisks, & c. --then taken your pen and ink and set down nothing but what you had seen, and could have sworn to: --But this is an advantage not to be had by the biographer in this planet,--in the planet Mercury (belike) it may be so, if not better still for him;--for there the intense heat of the country, which is proved by computators, from its vicinity to the sun, to be more than equal to that of red hot iron,--must, I think, long ago have vitrified the bodies of the inhabitants, (as the efficient cause) to suit them for the climate (which is the final cause); so that, betwixt them both, all the tenements of their souls, from top to bottom, may be nothing else, for aught the soundest philosophy can shew to the contrary, but one fine transparent body of clear glass (bating the umbilical knot);-- so, that till the inhabitants grow old and tolerably wrinkled, whereby the rays of light, in passing through them, become so monstrously refracted,--or return reflected from their surfaces in such transverse lines to the eye, that a man cannot be seen thro';--his soul might as well, unless, for more ceremony,--or the trifling advantage which the umbilical point gave her,--might, upon all other accounts, I say, as well play the fool out o'doors as in her own house.
But this, as I said above, is not the case of the inhabitants of this earth;-- our minds shine not through the body, but are wrapt up here in a dark covering of uncrystalized flesh and blood; so that if we would come to the specifick characters of them, we must go some other way to work.
Many, in good truth, are the ways which human wit has been forced to take to do this thing with exactness.
Some, for instance, draw all their characters with wind instruments. -- Virgil takes notice of that way in the affair of Dido and Æneas ;--but it is as fallacious as the breath of fame;--and, moreover, bespeaks a narrow genius. I am not ignorant that the Italians pretend to a mathematical exactness in their designations of one particular sort of character among them, from the forte or piano of a certain wind instrument they use,--which they say is infallible. --I dare not mention the name of the instrument in this place;--'tis sufficient we have it amongst us,--but never think of making a drawing by it;--this is ænigmatical, and intended to be so, at least, ad populum : -- And therefore I beg, Madam, when you come here, that you read on as fast as you can, and never stop to make any inquiry about it.
There are others again, who will draw a man's character from no other helps in the world, but merely from his evacuations; --but this often gives a very incorrect out-line,--unless, indeed, you take a sketch of his repletions too; and by correcting one drawing from the other, compound one good figure out of them both.
I should have no objection to this method, but that I think it must smell too strong of the lamp,--and be render'd still more operose, by forcing you to have an eye to the rest of his Non-Naturals . -- Why the most natural actions of a man's life should be call'd his Non-Naturals,-- is another question.
There are others, fourthly, who disdain every one of these expedients;--not from any fertility of his own, but from the various ways of doing it, which they have borrowed from the honourable devices which the Pentagraphic Brethren of the brush have shewn in taking copies. --These, you must know, are your great historians.
One of these you will see drawing a full-length character against the light ;-- that's illiberal,--dishonest,--and hard upon the character of the man who sits.
Others, to mend the matter, will make a drawing of you in the Camera ;--that is most unfair of all,--because, there you are sure to be represented in some of your most ridiculous attitudes.
To avoid all and every one of these errors, in giving you my uncle Toby's character, I am determin'd to draw it by no mechanical help whatever;--nor shall my pencil be guided by any one wind instrument which ever was blown upon, either on this, or on the other side of the Alps ;--nor will I consider either his repletions or his discharges,-- or touch upon his Non-Naturals;--but, in a word, I will draw my uncle Toby's character from his Hobby-Horse.
(Vol I, Chapter xxiii, pp. 165-172)","Vol 1, Chap. 23.",2011-09-23 18:42:25 UTC
14983,Rooms,"",,"""The curious structure of these visual orbs, / The windows of the mind; substance how clear, / Aqueous, or crystalline! through which the soul, / As thro' a glass, all outward things surveys.""",2005-09-08 00:00:00 UTC,"Searching ""mind"" and ""window"" in HDIS (Poetry); found again in Marjorie Nicholson's Newton Demands the Muse (Princeton: Princeton UP, 1946), 152-153.",Confirmed in 1767 in ECCO.,5598,"Requires there aught of learning's pompous aid
To prove that all this outward frame of things
Is what it seems, not unsubstantial air,
Ideal vision, or a waking dream,
Without existence, save what Fancy gives?
Shall we, because we strive in vain to tell
How Matter acts on incorporeal Mind,
Or how, when sleep has lock'd up ev'ry sense,
Or fevers rage, Imagination paints
Unreal scenes, reject what sober sense,
And calmest thought attest? Shall we confound
States wholly diff'rent? Sleep with wakeful life?
Disease with health? This were to quit the day,
And seek our path at midnight. To renounce
Man's surest evidence, and idolize
Imagination. Hence then banish we
These metaphysic subtleties, and mark
The curious structure of these visual orbs,
The windows of the mind; substance how clear,
Aqueous, or crystalline! through which the soul,
As thro' a glass, all outward things surveys.","",2014-07-25 18:55:57 UTC
16242,"","",,"""All, in a word, from which all eyes must start, / That opening sepulchre, the naked heart / Bares with its buried woes--till Pride awake, / To snatch the mirror from the soul, and break.""",2005-10-23 00:00:00 UTC,Searching in HDIS (Poetry),•I've included twice: Mirror and Sepuchre,6162,"'Twere vain to paint to what his feelings grew--
It even were doubtful if their victim knew.
There is a war, a chaos of the mind,
When all its elements convulsed, combined
Lie dark and jarring with perturbéd force,
And gnashing with impenitent Remorse--
That juggling fiend, who never spake before,
But cries ""I warned thee!"" when the deed is o'er.
Vain voice! the spirit burning but unbent,
May writhe--rebel--the weak alone repent!
Even in that lonely hour when most it feels,
And, to itself, all--all that self reveals,--
No single passion, and no ruling thought
That leaves the rest, as once, unseen, unsought,
But the wild prospect when the Soul reviews,
All rushing through their thousand avenues--
Ambition's dreams expiring, Love's regret,
Endangered Glory, Life itself beset;
The joy untasted, the contempt or hate
'Gainst those who fain would triumph in our fate;
The hopeless past, the hasting future driven
Too quickly on to guess if Hell or Heaven;
Deeds--thoughts--and words, perhaps remembered not
So keenly till that hour, but ne'er forgot;
Things light or lovely in their acted time,
But now to stern Reflection each a crime;
The withering sense of Evil unrevealed,
Not cankering less because the more concealed;
All, in a word, from which all eyes must start,
That opening sepulchre, the naked heart
Bares with its buried woes--till Pride awake,
To snatch the mirror from the soul, and break.
Aye, Pride can veil, and Courage brave it all--
All--all--before--beyond--the deadliest fall.
Each hath some fear, and he who least betrays,
The only hypocrite deserving praise:
Not the loud recreant wretch who boasts and flies;
But he who looks on Death--and silent dies:
So, steeled by pondering o'er his far career,
He half-way meets Him should He menace near!",Stanza X,2009-09-14 19:46:09 UTC
16516,"","",,"""When Raphael went, / His heavenly face the mirror of his mind, / His mind a temple for all lovely things / To flock to and inhabit""",2005-10-21 00:00:00 UTC,"Searching ""mind"" and ""mirror"" in HDIS (Poetry)",•I've included twice: Mirror and Temple,6233,"Seen thus destitute,
What are the greatest? They must speak beyond
A thousand homilies. When Raphael went,
His heavenly face the mirror of his mind,
His mind a temple for all lovely things
To flock to and inhabit--when He went,
Wrapt in his sable cloak, the cloak he wore,
To sleep beneath the venerable Dome,
By those attended, who in life had loved,
Had worshipped, following in his steps to Fame,
('Twas on an April-day, when Nature smiles)
All Rome was there. But, ere the march began,
Ere to receive their charge the bearers came,
Who had not sought him? And when all beheld
Him, where he lay, how changed from yesterday,
Him in that hour cut off, and at his head
His last great work; when, entering in, they looked
Now on the dead, then on that master-piece,
Now on his face, lifeless and colourless,
Then on those forms divine that lived and breathed,
And would live on for ages--all were moved;
And sighs burst forth, and loudest lamentations.","",2009-09-14 19:47:08 UTC
17220,"","",,"""We now perceive every [idea], as it passes, through a small aperture separately, as in the camera obscura, and this we call time; but at the conclusion of this state we may probably exist in a manner quite different; the window may be thrown open, the whole prospect appear at one view, and all this apparatus, which we call time, be totally done away.""",2009-01-26 00:00:00 UTC,Reading,I've included twice: Camera Obscura and Window,6477,"With the other mode of existence we are sufficiently acquainted, being that in which Providence has placed us, and all things around us, [end page 65] during our residence on this terrestrial globe; in which all ideas follow each other in our minds in a regular and uniform succession, not unlike the tickings of a clock; and by that means all objects are presented to our imaginations in the same progressive manner: and if any vary much from that destined pace, by too rapid, or too slow a motion, they immediately become to us totally imperceptible. We now perceive every one, as it passes, through a small aperture separately, as in the camera obscura, and this we call time; but at the conclusion of this state we may probably exist in a manner quite different; the window may be thrown open, the whole prospect appear at one view, and all this appa- [end page 66] ratus, which we call time, be totally done away: for time is certainly nothing more, than the shifting of scenes necessary for the performance of this tragi-comical farce, which we are here exhibiting, and must undoubtedly end. with the conclusion of the drama. It has no more a real essence, independent of thought and action, than sight, hearing, and smell have, independent of their proper organs, and the animals to whom they belong; and when they cease to exist, time can be no more. There are also several passages in the scriptures, declaring this annihilation of time, at the consummation of all things: And the Angel, which I saw stand vpon, the sea and the earth, lifted up his hand [end page 67] towards heaven, and swore by him that liveth for ever and ever, &c. that there should be time no longer*.
(pp. 65-7)","4. ""On The Nature of Time""",2009-09-14 19:49:27 UTC
21540,"Animals, Optics, and Rooms","",,"""An antient philosopher indeed, full of real or pretended honesty, declared it to be his wish that there were a window in his breast that every body might see the integrity and purity of his thoughts. It would be truly be very pretty and amusing if our bodies were transparent, so that we could see one anothers sentiments and passions working as we see bees in a glass-hive.""",2013-07-09 03:05:47 UTC,"Reading Ann Jessie van Sant's Sensibility and the Novel (Cambridge UP, 1993), p. 60.","",7513,"I am not unacquainted with the reasonings of materialists, that the whole of man is composed of one substance. But whoever can really bring himself to believe, that the consciousness of power is an attribute of matter, is, I am pretty certain, not composed of the same substance that I am; for I have an immediate impression of that proposition being as impossible to believe, as that my eyes are shut when I feel they are wide open, and perceive by them a number and diversity of objects. To reason or even fancy, concerning what we do not see, from what we have seen, is pleasing to the mind. And my similitude between a watch in its case, and the soul in its material frame, will, I persuade myself, be agreeable to all my readers, whose dispositions are mild, and like better to be pleased with what they read, than to attack it. An antient philosopher indeed, full of real or pretended honesty, declared it to be his wish that there were a window in his breast that every body might see the integrity and purity of his thoughts. It would be truly be very pretty and amusing if our bodies were transparent, so that we could see one anothers sentiments and passions working as we see bees in a glass-hive.
(I, p. 143 in SUP edition)","",2013-07-09 03:05:47 UTC
21543,Optics and Rooms,"",,"""How then can we represent, by a sensible image, the mind as a theatre to its own actings? Let us conceive a spacious saloon, in which our thoughts and passions exert themselves, and let its walls be encrusted with mirrour, for the purpose of reflection, in the same manner that rooms in voluptuous oriental countries are said to be finished for the purposes of increasing sensual delight.""",2013-07-09 03:11:58 UTC,Reading,INTEREST. USE IN ENTRY,7514,"The construction of the human mind is a mystery which there seems to be no probability will ever be known in this state of human existence. Of its operations we have many registers, as we have many meteorological journals. But of itself we know no more than of the original substance of the planets. He, ""who spake as never man spake,"" saith of one well-known quality in the natural world, ""The wind bloweth where it listeth, and thou hearest the sound thereof; but cannot tell whence it cometh, and whither it goeth."" The sound of the mind we hear; but what it is we cannot tell. The music which it utters, its melody, its harmony, its discord, its variety of notes, have been written by Shakespeare with a wonderful degree of perfection, so as to be themselves to every cultivated reader. We have even gamuts and treatises of the grounds of its music--witness a Locke and other metaphysicians. But the instrument is as much concealed from our intelligence, as the spheres of which the delightful music has been fancied by romantic imaginations. Models enough of this unknown instrument have been framed, as portraits have been drawn of personages whom the painters never saw; but such models being ""fabrics of a vision,"" have faded away, and been succeeded by others as vain as images in the clouds, painted with light, melt into air, and are succeeded by other forms as fleeting. How then can we represent, by a sensible image, the mind as a theatre to its own actings? Let us conceive a spacious saloon, in which our thoughts and passions exert themselves, and let its walls be encrusted with mirrour, for the purpose of reflection, in the same manner that rooms in voluptuous oriental countries are said to be finished for the purposes of increasing sensual delight.
(I, pp. 151-3 in SUP edition)","",2013-07-09 03:11:58 UTC
22861,Rooms,"",,"""The imagination becomes a camera obscura, only with this difference, that the camera represents objects as they really are; while the imagination, impressed with the most beautiful scenes, and chastened by rules of art, forms it's pictures, not only from the most admirable parts of nature; but in the best taste.""",2013-09-25 16:07:50 UTC,Searching in ECCO-TCP,INTEREST. USE IN ENTRY.,7690,"There is still another amusement arising from the correct knowledge of objects; and that is the power of creating, and representing scenes of fancy; which is still more a work of creation, than copying from nature. The imagination becomes a camera obscura, only with this difference, that the camera represents objects as they really are; while the imagination, impressed with the most beautiful scenes, and chastened by rules of art, forms it's pictures, not only from the most admirable parts of nature; but in the best taste.
(p. 52)",Essay II,2013-09-25 16:08:16 UTC