hicle of tastes is oil. This too, when simple, is insipid, inodorous, colorless, and smooth to the touch and taste. It is smoother than water, and, in many cases, yet more relaxing. Oil is, in some degree, pleasant to the eye, the touch, and the taste, insipid as it is. Water is not so grateful; which I do not know on what principle to account for, other than that water is not so soft and smooth. Suppose, that to this oil, or water, were added a certain quantity of a specific salt, which had a power of putting the nervous papilla of the tongue in a gentle vibratory motion; as suppose sugar dissolved in it; the smoothness of the oil, and the vibratory power of the salt, cause the sense we call sweetness. In all sweet bodies, sugar, or a substance very little different from sugar, is constantly found; every species of salt, examined by the microscope, has its own distinct, regular, invariable form. That of nitre is a pointed oblong; that of sea-salt an exact cube; that of sugar a perfect globe. If you have tried how smooth globular bodies, as the marbles with which boys amuse themselves, have affected the touch, when they are rolled backward and forward, and over one another, you will easily conceive, how sweetness, which consists in a salt of such nature, affects the taste; for a single globe, (though somewhat pleasant to the feeling) yet, by the regularity of its form, and the somewhat too sudden deviation of its parts from a right line, it is nothing near so pleasant to the touch as several globes, where the hand gently rises to one, and falls to another; and this pleasure is greatly increased, if the globes are in motion, and sliding over one another; for this soft variety prevents that weariness, which the uniform disposition of the several globes would otherwise produce. Thus, in sweet liquors, the parts of the fluid vehicle, though most probably round, are yet so minute, as to conceal the figure of their component parts from the nicest inquisition of the microscope; and, consequently, being so excessively minute, they have a sort of flat simplicity to the taste, resembling the effects of plain smooth bodies to the touch; for if a body be composed of round parts, excessively small, and packed pretty closely together, the surface will be, both to the

sight and touch, as if it were nearly plain and smooth. It is clear, from their unveiling their figure to the microscope, that the particles of sugar are considerably larger than those of water or oil; and, consequently, that their effects, from their roundness, will be more distinct and palpable to the nervous papillæ of that nice organ the tongue. They will induce that sense, called sweetness, which, in a weak manner, we discover in oil, and in a yet weaker in water; for, insipid as they are, water and oil are, in some degree, sweet; and it may be observed, that insipid things of all kinds approach more nearly to the nature of sweetness, than to that of any other taste.

"In the other senses, we have remarked that smooth things are relaxing. Now, it ought to appear, that sweet things, which are the smooth of taste, are relaxing too." "That sweet things are generally relaxing, is evident, because all such, especially those which are most oily, taken frequently, and in a large quantity, very much enfeeble the tone of the stomach. Sweet smells, which bear a great affinity to sweet tastes, relax very remarkably. The smell of flowers disposes people to drowsiness; and this relaxing effect is further apparent from the prejudice which people of weak nerves receive from their use."

If this theory of Mr. Burke had led to no practical consequences, I should not have thought it worth while, notwithstanding its repugnance to my own opinions, to have made any reference to it here; but as it is intimately connected with some of his subsequent conclusions concerning Beauty, which I consider as not only unsound in their logical foundation, but as calculated to bias and mislead the Taste, I was anxious, before proceeding to an examination of these, to satisfy my readers, how little support they derive from the hypothetical disquisitions premised to them, in order to prepare the way for their more easy admission. As for the physiological discussion itself, I am inclined to think, that few, even of Mr. Burke's most partial admirers, will now be disposed to estimate its merits very highly. By some others, I would willingly believe, that it may be valued

chiefly as an illustration of the absurdities in which men of the most exalted genius are sure to involve themselves, the moment they lose sight, in their inquiries concerning the human mind, of the sober rules of experimental science.

CHAPTER FOURTH.

CONTINUATION OF THE CRITICAL STRICTURES ON MR. BURKE'S FUNDAMENTAL PRINCIPLES CONCERNING BEAUTY.-INFLUENCE OF THESE PRINCIPLES ON THE SPECULATIONS OF MR. PRICE.

IN enumerating the qualities constantly observable in beautiful objects, Mr. Burke lays a peculiar stress on that of smoothness; "a quality," he observes, "so essential to beauty, that he cannot recollect any thing beautiful that is not smooth. In trees and flowers, smooth leaves are beautiful; smooth slopes of earth in gardens; smooth streams in landscapes; smooth coats of birds and beasts in animal beauty; in fine women, smooth skins; and, in several sorts of ornamental furniture, smooth and polished surfaces. A very considerable part of the effect of beauty is owing to this quality; indeed the most considerable. For, take any beautiful object, and give it a broken and rugged surface, and however well formed it may be in other respects, it pleases no longer. Whereas, let it want ever so many of the other constituents, if it wants not this, it becomes more pleasing than almost all the others without it. This seems to me," continues Mr. Burke, "so evident, that I am a good deal surprised that none who have handled the subject, have made any mention of the quality of smoothness, in the enumeration of those that go to the forming of beauty. For, indeed, any rugged, any sudden projection, any sharp angle, is, in the highest degree, contrary to that idea."

These observations contain the whole of Mr. Burke's doctrine on this essential constituent of beauty; and, I confess, I cannot recollect any philosophical conclusion whatever, more erroneous in itself, or more feebly supported.

That the smoothness of many objects is one constituent of their beauty, cannot be disputed. In consequence of that intimate association which is formed in the mind between the perceptions of sight and those of

touch, it is reasonable to expect, that those qualities which give pleasure to the latter sense, should also be agreeable to the former. Hence the agreeable impression which the eye receives from all those smooth objects about which the sense of touch is habitually conversant; and hence, in such instances, the unpleasant appearance of ruggedness, or of asperity. The agreeable effect, too, of smoothness is often heightened by its reflecting so copiously the rays of light; as in the surface of water, in polished mirrors, and in the fine kinds of wood employed in ornamental furniture. In some instances, besides, as in the last now mentioned, smoothness derives an additional recommendation from its being considered as a mark of finished work, and of a skilful artist.*

To all this we may add, that the ideas of beauty formed by our sex, are warped, not a little, by the notions we are led to entertain concerning the charms of the other. That in female beauty, a smooth skin is an essential ingredient, must be granted in favor of Mr. Burke's theory: Nor is it at all difficult to conceive how this association may influence our taste in various other instances.†

*In general, we consider roughness as characterizing the productions of nature; smoothness, as the effect of human industry. I speak of those natural productions which were intended to furnish the materials of our various arts. In other cases, as in the plumage of birds, the glossy skins of many quadrupeds, &c. &c. Nature has given to her own work a finished perfection, which no art can rival.

By an easy, metaphor, we transfer these words to human character. We speak of rough good sense as familiarly as of a rough diamond; while to the artificial manners formed by the intercourse of the world, we apply the epithets smooth, polished, polite.

The idea of female beauty was evidently uppermost in Mr. Burke's mind, when he wrote his book; and it is from an induction, confined almost exclusively to the qualities which enter into its composition, that he draws the whole of his inferences with respect to beauty in general. Even in treating of the beauty of Nature, his imagination always delights to repose on her softest and most feminine features; or, to use his own language, on "such qualities as induce in us a sense of tenderness and affection, or some other passion the most nearly resembling these." So far as this particular application of the word is concerned, the induction appears to me just and comprehensive; and I readily subscribe to the opinion of Mr. Price, when he assumes it "as perfectly clear, that Mr. Burke's general principles of beauty-smoothness, gradual variation, delicacy of make, tender colors, and such as insensibly melt into each other, are strictly applicable to female beauty; so much so, that not one of them can be changed or diminished without a manifest diminution of beauty."-(Essay on Beauty, prefixed to Mr. Price's Dialogue, p. 22.)

In speculating on the idea of the beautiful in general, it seems evident, that we ought to begin with selecting our instances from objects intended to produce their effect on the eye alone; and afterwards proceed to examine the various modifications