have been warped by some peculiar notions concerning the art of writing; but to have been too wavering and versatile, to keep his imagination and his fancy (stimulated, as they were, by an ostentation of his intellectual riches, and by an ambition of Asiatic ornament,) under due control. With the composition of Bolingbroke present to his thoughts, he has shewn with what ease he could equal its most finished beauties; while, on more than one occasion, a consciousness of his own strength has led him to display his superiority, by brandishing, in his sport, still heavier weapons than his master was able to wield.

"To one or other of these two classes, the taste of most professed critics will be found to belong: and it is evident, that they both exist where there is little or no sensibility to beauty. That genuine and native taste, the origin and growth of which I attempted to describe in the last chapter, is perhaps one of the rarest acquisitions of the human mind: nor will this appear surprizing to those who consider with attention the combination of original quali→ ties which it implies; the accidental nature of many of the circumstances which must conspire to afford due opportunities for its improvement; and the persevering habits of discriminating observation by which it is formed. It occurs, indeed, in its most perfect state, as seldom as originality of genius; and when united with industry, and with moderate powers of execution, it will go farther in such an age as the present, to secure success in the arts with which it is conversant, than the utmost fertility of invention, where the taste is unformed or perverted.

"With respect to this native or indigenous taste, it is particularly worthy of observation, that it is always more strongly disposed to the enjoyment of beauties than to the detection of blemishes. It is, indeed, by a quick and lively perception of the former, accompanied with a spirit of candour and indulgence towards the latter, that its ex

istence in the mind of any individual is most unequivocally marked. It is this perception which can alone evince that sensibility of temperament, of which a certain portion, although it does not of itself constitute taste, is nevertheless, the just and most essential element in its composition; while it evinces, at the same time, those habits of critical observation and cool reflection, which, allowing no impression, how slight soever, to pass unnoticed, seem to awaken a new sense of beauty, and to create that delicacy of feeling which they only disclose. We are told of Saunderson, the blind mathematician, that in a series of Roman medals he could distinguish, by his hand, the true from the counterfeit, with a more unerring discrimination than the eye of a professed virtuoso; and we are assured by his biographer, Mr. Colson, that when he was present at the astronomical observations, in the garden of his college, he was accustomed to remark every cloud that passed over the sun. The effect of the blindness of this extraordinary person was not surely to produce any organical change in his other perceptive powers. It served only to quicken his attention to those slighter perceptions of touch, which are overlooked by men to whom they convey no useful information. The case, I conceive, to be perfectly analagous in matters which fall under the cognizance of intellectual taste. Where nature has denied all sensibility to beauty, no study or instruction can supply the defect; but it may be possible, nevertheless, by awakening the attention to things neglected before, to develope a latent sensibility where none was suspected to exist. In all men, indeed without exception, whether their natural sensibility be strong or weak, it is by such habits of attention alone to the finer feelings of their own minds, that the power of taste can acquire all the delicacy of which it is susceptible.

"While this cultivated sensibility enlarges so widely, to

the man who possesses it, the pleasures of taste, it has a tendency, wherever it is gratified and delighted in a high degree, to avert his critical eye from blemishes and imperfections;-not because he is unable to remark them, but because he can appreciate the merits by which they are redeemed, and loves to enjoy the beauties in which they are lost. A taste thus awake to the beautiful, seizes eagerly on every touch of genius with the sympathy of kindred affection; and in the secret consciousness of a congenial inspiration, shares, in some measure, the triumph of the artist. The faults which have escaped him, it views with the partiality of friendship; and willingly abandons the censorial office to those who exult in the errors of superior minds, as their appropriate and easy prey.

"Nor is this indulgent spirit towards the works of others at all inconsistent with the most rigid severity in an author towards his own. On the contrary, both are the natural consequences of that discriminating power of taste, on which I have already enlarged as one of its most important characteristics. Where men of little discernment attend only to general effects, confounding beauties and blemishes, flowers and weeds, in one gross and undistinguishing perception, a man of quick sensibility and cultivated judgment, detaches, in a moment, the one from the other; rejects, in imagination, whatever is offensive in the prospect; and enjoys, without alloy, whatever is fitted to please. His taste, in the mean time, is refined and confirmed by the exercise: and, while it multiplies the sources of his gratification, in proportion to the latent charms which it detects, becomes itself, as the arbiter and guide of his own genius, more scrupulous and inflexible than before.

"The tragedy of Douglas' (says Gray in one of his letters) has infinite faults; but there is one scene (that between Matilda and the old peasant) so masterly, that it

strikes me blind to all the defects of the piece.' These, I apprehend, are the natural impressions of genuine taste in pronouncing on the merits of works of genuine excellence; impressions, however, which they who are conscious of them have not always the courage either to indulge or to avow.-Such, also, was the feeling which dictated the memorable precept of la Bruyere, of which I will not impair the force by attempting a translation: "Quand une lecture vous éléve l'esprit, et qu'elle vous inspire des sentimens nobles et courageux, ne cherchez pas une autre règle pour juger de l'ouvrage; il est bon, et fait de main d'ouvrier.'-How different both sentiments from that fastidiousness of taste, by an affectation of which, it is usual for little minds to court the reputation of superior refinement! "In producing, however, this fastidiousness, whether affected or real, various moral causes such as jealousy, rivalship, personal dislike, or the spleen of conscious inferiority-may conspire with the intellectual defects which have been mentioned: nay, the same moral causes may be conceived to be so powerful in their influence, as to produce this unfortunate effect, in spite of every intellectual gift which nature and education can bestow. It is observed by Shenstone, that 'good taste and good nature are inseparably united;" and although the observation is by no means true, when thus stated as an unqualified proposition, it will be found to have a sufficient foundation in fact, to deserve the attention of those who have a pleasure in studying the varieties of human character. One thing is certain, that as an habitual deficiency in good humour is sufficient to warp the decisions of the soundest taste, so the taste of an individual, in proportion as it appears to be free from capricious biases, affords a strong presumption that the temper is unsuspicious, open, and generous. As the habits besides, which contribute spontaneously to the formation of taste, all originate in the desire of intellectual

gratification, this power, where it is possessed in an eminent degree, may be regarded as a symptom of that general disposition to be pleased and happy, in which the essence of good-nature consists. • In those vernal seasons of the year, (says Milton in one of the finest sentences of his prose writings,) when the air is soft and pleasant, it were an injury and sullenness against nature, not to go out and see her riches, and partake of her rejoicings with heaven and earth. Such is the temper of mind, by which, in our early years, those habits which form the ground work of taste are most likely to be formed; and such precisely is the temper which, in our intercourse with our fellow-creatures, disposes us, both for their sakes and for our own, to view their actions and characters on the fairest side. I need scarcely add, in confirmation of some remarks formerly made, that the same temper, when transferred from the observation of nature to the study of the fine arts, can scarcely fail to incline the taste more strongly to the side of admiration than of censure."-pp. 481-488.

There is a great deal of moral instruction, as well as of just critical observation, contained in the passages which we have here extracted. Reviewers perhaps, of all men, need most to be reminded of the intimate union which exists between good taste and good nature. We hope to be able to recollect this truth ourselves; and we earnestly recommend it to the attention of all other journalists.

Mr. Stewart's fourth Essay, on "the Culture of certain intellectual Habits connected with the first Elements of Taste," though considerably shorter than those which precede it, is by no means less valuable in proportion to its length; but this