earing impress of the exercise of fine thought and high talent in their
design, should yet offend us by perpetual discords with scene and
climate; and if, therefore, we sometimes derive less instruction, and
less pleasure from the columnar portico of the Palace, than from the
latched door of the Cottage.
99. Again: man, in his hours of relaxation, when he is engaged in the
pursuit of mere pleasure, is less national than when he is under the
influence of any of the more violent feelings which agitate everyday
life. The reason of this may at first appear somewhat obscure, but it
will become evident, on a little reflection. Aristotle's definition of
pleasure, perhaps the best ever given, is "an agitation, and settling of
the spirit into its own proper nature;" similar, by the by, to the
giving of liberty of motion to the molecules of a mineral, followed by
their crystallization, into their own proper form. Now this "proper
nature," [Greek: hyparchousan physin], is not the acquired national
habit, but the common and universal constitution of the human soul. This
constitution is kept under by the feelings which prompt to action, for
those feelings depend upon parts of character, or of prejudice, which
are peculiar to individuals or to nations; and the pleasure which all
men seek is a kind of partial casting away of these more active
feelings, to return to the calm and unchanging constitution of mind
which is the same in all.
100. We shall, therefore, find that man, in the business of his life, in
religion, war, or ambition, is national, but in relaxation he manifests
a nature common to every individual of his race. A Turk, for instance,
and an English farmer, smoking their evening pipes, differ only in so
much as the one has a mouthpiece of amber, and the other one of sealing
wax; the one has a turban on his head, and the other a night-cap; they
are the same in feeling, and to all intents and purposes the same men.
But a Turkish janissary and an English grenadier differ widely in all
their modes of thinking, feeling, and acting; they are strictly
national. So again, a Tyrolese evening dance, though the costume, and
the step, and the music may be different, is the same in feeling as that
of the Parisian guinguette; but follow the Tyrolese into their temples,
and their deep devotion and beautiful though superstitious reverence
will be found very different from any feeling exhibited during a mass in
Notre-Dame. This being th
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