Congruity and Propriety.

MAn is distinguished from the brute creation, not more remarkably by the superiority of his rational faculties, than by the greater delicacy of his perceptions and feelings. With respect to the gross pleasures of sense, man probably has little superiority over other animals. Some obscure perception of beauty may also fall to their share. But they are probably not acquainted with the more delicate conceptions of regularity, order, uniformity, or congruity. Such refined conceptions, being connected with morality and religion, are reserved to dignify the chief of the terrestrial creation. Upon this account, no discipline is more suitable to man, or more congruous to the dignity of his nature, than that by which his taste is refined, to distinguish in every subject, what is regular, what is orderly, what is suitable, and what is fit and proper[1].

No discerning person can be at a loss about the meaning of the terms congruity and propriety, when applied to dress, behaviour, or language; that a decent garb, for example, is proper for a judge, modest behaviour for a young woman, and a lofty style for an epic poem. In the following examples every one is sensible of an unsuitableness or incongruity: a little woman sunk in an overgrown farthingale, a coat richly embroidered covering coarse and dirty linen, a mean subject in an elevated style, or an elevated subject in a mean style, a first minister darning his wife’s stocking, or a reverend prelate in lawn sleeves dancing a hornpipe.

But it is not sufficient that these terms be understood in practice; the critical art requires, that their meaning be traced to its foundation in human nature. The relations that connect objects together, have been examined in more than one view. Their influence in directing the train of our perceptions, is handled in the first chapter; and in the second, their influence in generating passion. Here they must be handled in a new view; for they are clearly the occasion of congruity and propriety. We are so framed by nature, as to require a certain suitableness or correspondence among things connected by any relation. This suitableness or correspondence is termed congruity or propriety; and the want of it, incongruity or impropriety. Among the many principles that compose the nature of man, a sense of congruity or propriety is one. Destitute of this sense, we could have no notion of congruity or propriety: the terms to us would be unintelligible[2].

As this sense is displayed upon relations, it is reasonable beforehand to expect, that we should be so formed, as to require among connected objects a degree of congruity proportioned to the degree of the relation. And upon examination we find this to hold in fact. Where the relation is strong and intimate as betwixt a cause and its effect, a body and its members, we require that the things be suited to each other in the strictest manner. On the other hand, where the relation is slight, or accidental, as among things jumbled together in the same place, we demand little or no congruity. The strictest propriety is required in behaviour and manner of living; because a man is connected with these by the relation of cause and effect. The situation of a great house ought to be lofty; for the relation betwixt an edifice and the ground it stands upon, is of the most intimate kind. Its relation to neighbouring hills, rivers, plains, being that of propinquity only, demands but a small share of congruity. Among members of the same club, the congruity ought to be considerable, as well as among things placed for show in the same niche. Among passengers in a stage-coach, we require very little congruity; and less still at a public spectacle.

Congruity is so nearly allied to beauty, as commonly to be held a species of it. And yet they differ so essentially, as never to coincide. Beauty, like colour, is placed upon a single subject; congruity upon a plurality. Further, a thing beautiful in itself, may, with relation to other things, produce the strongest sense of incongruity.

Congruity and propriety are commonly reckoned synonymous terms; and hitherto in opening the subject they are used indifferently. But they are distinguishable; and the precise meaning of each must be ascertained. Congruity is the genus, of which propriety is a species. For we call nothing propriety, but that congruity or suitableness which ought to subsist betwixt sensible beings and their thoughts, words, and actions.

In order to give a full view of this subject, I shall trace it through some of the most considerable relations. The relation of a part to the whole, being extremely intimate, demands the utmost degree of congruity. For that reason, the slightest deviation is disgustful. Every one must be sensible of a gross incongruity in the Lutrin, a burlesque poem, being closed with a serious and warm panegyric on Lamoignon, one of the King’s judges:

No relation affords more examples of congruity and incongruity, than that betwixt a subject and its ornaments. A literary performance intended merely for amusement, is susceptible of much ornament, as well as a music-room or a play-house. In gaiety, the mind hath a peculiar relish for show and decoration. The most gorgeous apparel, however unsuitable to an actor in a regular tragedy, disgusts not at an opera. The truth is, an opera, in its present form, is a mighty fine thing; but as it deviates from nature in its capital circumstances, we look not for any thing natural in those which are accessory. On the other hand, a serious and important subject, admits not much ornament[3]: nor a subject that of itself is extremely beautiful. And a subject that fills the mind with its loftiness and grandeur, appears best in a dress altogether plain.

To a person of a mean appearance, gorgeous apparel is unsuitable: which, beside the incongruity, has a bad effect; for by contrast it shows the meanness of appearance in the strongest light. Sweetness of look and manner, requires simplicity of dress joined with the greatest elegance. A stately and majestic air requires sumptuous apparel, which ought not to be gaudy, or crowded with little ornaments. A woman of consummate beauty can bear to be highly adorned, and yet shows best in a plain dress:

In judging of the propriety of ornament, we must attend, not only to the nature of the subject that is to be adorned, but also to the circumstances in which it is placed. The ornaments that are proper for a ball, will appear not altogether so decent at public worship; and the same person ought to dress differently for a marriage-feast and for a burial.

Nothing is more intimately related to a man, than his sentiments, words, and actions; and therefore we require here the strictest conformity. When we find what we thus require, we have a lively sense of propriety: when we find the contrary, our sense of impropriety is not less lively. Hence the universal distaste of affectation, which consists in making a shew of greater delicacy and refinement than is suited either to the character or circumstances of the person. Nothing hath a worse effect in a story than impropriety of manners. In Corneille’s tragedy of Cinna, Æmilia, a favourite of Augustus, receives daily marks of his affection, and is loaded with benefits; yet all the while is laying plots to assassinate her benefactor, directed by no other motive but to avenge her father’s death[4]. Revenge against a benefactor founded solely upon filial piety, will never suggest unlawful means; because it can never exceed the bounds of justice. And yet the crime here attempted, murder under trust reposed, is what even a miscreant will scarce attempt against his bitterest enemy.

What is said may be thought sufficient to explain the qualities of congruity and propriety. But the subject is not exhausted. On the contrary, the prospect enlarges upon us, when we take under view the effects these qualities produce in the mind. Congruity and propriety, where-ever perceived, appear agreeable; and every agreeable object produceth in the mind a pleasant emotion. Incongruity and impropriety, on the other hand, are disagreeable; and consequently produce painful emotions. An emotion of this kind sometimes vanisheth without any consequence; but more frequently is the occasion of other emotions. When any slight incongruity is perceived in an accidental combination of persons or things, as of passengers in a stage-coach or of individuals dining at an ordinary, the emotion of incongruity, after a momentary existence, vanisheth without producing any effect. But this is not the case of propriety and impropriety. Voluntary acts, whether words or deeds, are imputed to the author: when proper, we reward him with our esteem: when improper, we punish him with our contempt. Let us suppose, for example, an heroic action suitable to the character of the author, which raises in him and in every spectator the pleasant emotion of propriety. This emotion generates in the author both self-esteem and joy; the former when he considers his relation to the action, and the latter when he considers the good opinion that others will entertain of him. The same emotion of propriety, produceth in the spectators, esteem for the author of the action: and when they think of themselves, it also produceth, by means of contrast, an emotion of humility. To discover the effects of an unsuitable action, we must invert each of these circumstances. The painful emotion of impropriety, generates in the author of the action both humility and shame; the former when he considers his relation to the action, and the latter when he considers what others will think of him. The same emotion of impropriety, produceth in the spectators, contempt for the author of the action; and it also produceth, by means of contrast when they think of themselves, an emotion of self-esteem. Here then are many different emotions, derived from the same action considered in different views by different persons; a machine provided with many springs, and not a little complicated. Propriety of action, it would seem, is a chief favourite of nature, or of the author of nature, when such care and solicitude is bestowed upon it. It is not left to our own choice; but, like justice, is required at our hands; and, like justice, inforced by natural rewards and punishments. A man cannot, with impunity, do any thing unbecoming or improper. He suffers the chastisement of contempt inflicted by others, and of shame inflicted by himself. An apparatus so complicated and so singular, ought to rouse our attention. Nature doth nothing in vain; and we may conclude with great certainty, that this curious branch of the human constitution is intended for some valuable purpose. To the discovery of this purpose I shall with ardor apply my thoughts, after discoursing a little more at large upon the punishment, for I may now call it so, that Nature hath provided for indecent or unbecoming behaviour. This, at any rate, is necessary, in order to give a full view of the subject; and who knows whether it may not, over and above, open some track that will lead us to what we are in quest of?

A gross impropriety is punished with contempt and indignation, which are vented against the offender by every external expression that can gratify these passions. And even the slightest impropriety raises some degree of contempt. But there are improprieties, generally of the slighter kind, that provoke laughter; of which we have examples without end in the blunders and absurdities of our own species. Such improprieties receive a different punishment, as will appear by what follows. The emotions of contempt and of laughter occasioned by an impropriety of this kind, uniting intimately in the mind of the spectator, are expressed externally by a peculiar sort of laugh, termed a laugh of derision or scorn[5]. An impropriety that thus moves not only contempt but laughter, is distinguished by the epithet of ridiculous; and a laugh of derision or scorn is the punishment provided for it by nature. Nor ought it to escape observation, that we are so fond of inflicting this punishment, as sometimes to exert it even against creatures of an inferior species; witness a Turkycock swelling with pride, and strutting with displayed feathers. This object appears ridiculous, and in a gay mood is apt to provoke a laugh of derision.

We must not expect that the improprieties to which these different punishments are adapted, can be separated by any precise boundaries. Of improprieties, from the slightest to the most gross, from the most risible to the most serious, a scale may be formed ascending by degrees almost imperceptible. Hence it is, that in viewing some unbecoming actions, too risible for anger and too serious for derision, the spectator feels a sort of mixt emotion partaking both of derision and of anger. This accounts for an expression, common with respect to the impropriety of some actions, That we know not whether to laugh or be angry.

It cannot fail to be observed, that in the case of a risible impropriety, which is always slight, the contempt we have for the offender is extremely faint, though derision, its gratification, is extremely pleasant. This disproportion betwixt a passion and its gratification, seems not conformable to the analogy of nature. In looking about for a solution, I reflect upon what is laid down above, that an improper action, not only moves our contempt for the author, but also, by means of contrast, swells the good opinion we have of ourselves. This contributes, more than any other article, to the pleasure we feel in ridiculing the follies and absurdities of others. And accordingly, it is well known, that they who put the greatest value upon themselves, are the most prone to laugh at others. Pride is a vivid passion, as all are which have self for their object. It is extremely pleasant in itself, and not less so in its gratification. This passion singly would be sufficient to account for the pleasure of ridicule, without borrowing any aid from contempt. Hence appears the reason of a noted observation, That we are the most disposed to ridicule the blunders and absurdities of others, when we are in high spirits; for in high spirits, self-conceit displays itself with more than ordinary vigor.

Having with wary steps traced an intricate road, not without danger of wandering; what remains to complete our journey, is to account for the final cause of congruity and propriety, which make so great a figure in the human constitution. One final cause, regarding congruity, is pretty obvious. The sense of congruity, as one of the principles of the fine arts, contributes in a remarkable degree to our entertainment. This is the final cause assigned above for our sense of proportion[6], and need not be enlarged upon here. Congruity indeed with respect to quantity, coincides with proportion. When the parts of a building are nicely adjusted to each other, it may be said indifferently, that it is agreeable by the congruity of its parts, or by the proportion of its parts. But propriety, which regards voluntary agents only, can never in any instance be the same with proportion. A very long nose is disproportioned, but cannot be termed improper. In some instances, it is true, impropriety coincides with disproportion in the same subject, but never in the same respect. I give for an example a very little man buckled to a long toledo. Considering the man and the sword with respect to size, we perceive a disproportion. Considering the sword as the choice of the man, we perceive an impropriety.

The sense of impropriety with respect to mistakes, blunders, and absurdities, is happily contrived for the good of mankind. In the spectators it is productive of mirth and laughter, excellent recreation in an interval from business. The benefit is still more extensive. It is not agreeable to be the subject of ridicule; and to punish with ridicule the man who is guilty of an absurdity, tends to put him more upon his guard in time coming. Thus even the most innocent blunder is not committed with impunity; because, were errors licensed where they do no hurt, inattention would grow into a habit, and be the occasion of much hurt.

The final cause of propriety as to moral duties, is of all the most illustrious. To have a just notion of it, the two sorts of moral duties must be kept in view, viz. those that respect others, and those that respect ourselves. Fidelity, gratitude, and the forbearing injury, are examples of the first sort; temperance, modesty, firmness of mind, are examples of the other. The former are made duties by means of the moral sense; the latter, by means of the sense of propriety. Here is a final cause of the sense of propriety, that must rouse our attention. It is undoubtedly the interest of every man, to regulate his behaviour suitably to the dignity of his nature, and to the station allotted him by Providence. Such rational conduct contributes in every respect to happiness: it contributes to health and plenty: it gains the esteem of others: and, which is of all the greatest blessing, it gains a justly-founded self-esteem. But in a matter so essential to our well-being, even self-interest is not relied on. The sense of propriety superadds the powerful authority of duty to the motive of interest. The God of nature, in all things essential to our happiness, hath observed one uniform method. To keep us steady in our conduct, he hath fortified us with natural principles and feelings. These prevent many aberrations, which would daily happen were we totally surrendered to so fallible a guide as is human reason. The sense of propriety cannot justly be considered in another light, than as the natural law that regulates our conduct with respect to ourselves; as the sense of justice is the natural law that regulates our conduct with respect to others. I call the sense of propriety a law, because it really is so, not less than the sense of justice. If by law be meant a rule of conduct that we are conscious ought to be obeyed, this definition, which I conceive to be strictly accurate, is applicable undoubtedly to both. The sense of propriety includes this consciousness; for to say an action is proper, is, in other words, to say, that it ought to be performed; and to say it is improper, is, in other words, to say, that it ought to be forborn. It is this very consciousness of ought and should included in the moral sense, that makes justice a law to us. This consciousness of duty, when applied to propriety, is perhaps not so vigorous or strong as when applied to justice: but the difference is in degree only, not in kind: and we ought, without hesitation or reluctance, to submit equally to the government of both.

But I have more to urge upon this head. It must, in the next place, be observed, that to the sense of propriety as well as of justice are annexed the sanctions of rewards and punishments; which evidently prove the one to be a law as well as the other. The satisfaction a man hath in doing his duty, joined with the esteem and good-will of others, is the reward that belongs to both equally. The punishments also, though not the same, are nearly allied; and differ in degree more than in quality. Disobedience to the law of justice, is punished with remorse; disobedience to the law of propriety, with shame, which is remorse in a lower degree. Every transgression of the law of justice raises indignation in the beholder; and so doth every flagrant transgression of the law of propriety. Slighter improprieties receive a milder punishment: they are always rebuked with some degree of contempt, and frequently with derision. In general, it is true, that the rewards and punishments annexed to the sense of propriety are slighter in degree than those annexed to the sense of justice. And that this is wisely ordered, will appear from considering, that to the well-being of society, duty to others is still more essential than duty to ourselves; for society could not subsist a moment, were individuals not protected from the headstrong and turbulent passions of their neighbours.

Reflecting coolly and carefully upon the subject under consideration, the constitution of man, admirable in all its parts, appears here in a fine light. The final cause now unfolded of the sense of propriety, must, to every discerning eye, appear delightful; and yet hitherto we have given but a partial view of it. The sense of propriety reaches another illustrious end; which is, to co-operate with the sense of justice in inforcing the performance of social duties. In fact, the sanctions visibly contrived to compel a man to be just to himself, are equally serviceable to compel him to be just to others. This will be evident from a single reflection, That an action, by being unjust, ceases not to be improper. An action never appears more eminently improper, than when it is unjust. It is obviously becoming and suitable to human nature, that each man do his duty to others; and accordingly every transgression of duty with respect to others, is at the same time a transgression of duty with respect to self. This is an undisguised truth without exaggeration; and it opens a new and delightful view in the moral landscape. The prospect is greatly enriched, by the multiplication of agreeable objects. It appears now, that nothing is overlooked, nothing left undone, that can possibly contribute to the enforcing social duty. For to all the sanctions that belong to it singly, are superadded the sanctions of self-duty. A familiar example shall suffice for illustration. An act of ingratitude considered in itself, is to the author disagreeable as well as to every spectator: considered by the author with relation to himself, it raises self-contempt: considered by him with relation to the world, it makes him ashamed. Again, considered by others, it raises their contempt and indignation against the author. These feelings are all of them occasioned by the impropriety of the action. When the action is considered as unjust, it occasions another set of feelings. In the author it produces remorse, and a dread of merited punishment; and in others, the benefactor chiefly, indignation and hatred directed upon the ungrateful person. Thus shame and remorse united in the ungrateful person, and indignation united with hatred in the hearts of others, are the punishments provided by nature for injustice. Stupid and insensible must he be in extreme, who, in a contrivance so exquisite, perceives not the hand of the Sovereign Architect.