ities which accord with the emotions they are accustomed to cherish, and in which their imaginations delight to indulge.

The same observation is equally applicable to the different tastes of men in poetry, and the rest of the fine arts; and the productions that all men peculiarly admire, are those which suit that peculiar strain of emotion, to which, from their original constitution, they are most strongly disposed. The ardent and gallant mind sickens at the insipidity of pastoral, and the languor of elegetic poetry, and delights only in the great interests of the tragic and the epic muse. The tender and romantic peruse, with indifference, the Iliad and the Paradise Lost, and return with gladness to those favourite compositions, which are descriptive of the joys or sorrows of love. The gay and the frivolous, on the contrary, alike insensible to the sentiments either of tenderness or magnanimity, find their delight in that cold but lively style of poetry, which has been produced by the gallantry of modern times, and which, in its principal features, is so strongly characteristic of the passion itself. In general, those kinds of poetry only are delightful, or awaken us to any very sensible emotions of sublimity or beauty, which fall in with our peculiar habits of sentiment or feeling; and if it rarely happens, that one species of poetry is relished to the exclusion of every other, it arises only from this, that it is equally rare, that one species of emotion should have so completely the dominion of the heart, as to exclude all emotions of

any other kind. In proportion, however, as our sensibility is weak, with regard to any class of objects, it is observable, that our sense of sublimity or beauty in such objects, is weak in the same proportion; and wherever it happens (for it sometimes does happen), that men, from

their original constitution, are incapable of any one species of emotion, I believe it will also be found, that they are equally insensible to all the sublimity or beauty which the rest of the world find in the objects of such emotion.

5. Besides the influence of permanent habits of thought, or of the diversities of original disposition upon our sentiments of beauty, every man must have had opportunity to observe, that the perception of beauty depends also on the temporary sensibility of his mind; and that even objects of the most experienced beauty, fail in exciting their usual delight, when they occur to him in moments, when he is under the dominion of different emotions from those with which he usually regards them. In our seasons of gaiety, we behold with indifference the same objects, which delight our imaginations when we are under the impressions of tenderness or melancholy. In our seasons of despondence, we turn, with some kind of aversion, from the objects or the reflections that enchant us in our hours of gaiety. In the common hours of life, in the same manner, when we are either busy, or unoccupied, and when our minds are free from every kind of sensibility, the objects of taste make but a feeble impression upon us; and are either altogether neglected, or tacitly reserved to another time, when we may be more in the temper to enjoy them. The husbandman who goes out to observe the state of his grounds, the man of business who walks forth to ruminate about his affairs, or the philosopher, to reason or reflect, whatever their natural sensibilities may be, are at such times insensible to every beauty that the scenery of nature may exhibit; nor do they begin to feel them, until they withdraw their attention from the particular ob.. jects of their thought, and abandon themselves to the emotions which such scenes may happen to inspire.

There are even moments of listlessness and languor, in which no objects of taste whatever can excite their usual delight, in which our favourite landscapes, our favourite airs, cease altogether to affect us; and when sometimes we almost wonder what is the secret spell that hangs over our minds, and prevents us from enjoying the pleasures that are within our reach. It is not that the objects of such pleasures are changed; it is not even that we have not the wish to enjoy them, for this we frequently attempt, and attempt in vain; but it is because we come to them either with minds fatigued, and with spirits below their usual tone, or under the influence of other feelings than are necessary for their enjoyment. Whenever we return to that state of mind which is favourable to such emotions, our delight returns with it, and the objects of such pleasures become as favourite as before.

II.

It is further observable, that our sense of the beauty or sublimity of every object depends upon that quality, or those qualities of it which we consider; and that objects of the most acknowledged beauty, cease to affect us with such emotions, when we make any of their indifferent or uninteresting qualities the object of our consideration. There is no production of taste whatever, which has not many qualities of a very indifferent kind; and there can be no doubt, both that we have it in our power to make any of these qualities the object of our attention, and that we very often do so, without regarding any of those qualities of emotion, upon which its beauty or its sublimity is founded. In such cases, I believe every one has felt, that the effect upon his mind corresponds to the quality he considers.

1. It is difficult, for instance, to enumerate the va

rious qualities which may produce the emotion of beauty, in the statues of the Venus de Medicis, or the Apollo Belvidere; yet it is undoubtedly possible for any man to see these masterpieces of statuary, and yet feel no emotion of beauty. The delicacy, the modesty, the ti midity of the one, the grace, the dignity, the majesty of the other, and in both, the inimitable art with which these characters are expressed, are, in general, the qualities which first impress themselves upon the imagination of the spectator; yet the man of the best taste may af terwards see them, without thinking of any such expressions. He may observe their dimensions, he may study their proportions, he may attend to the particular state of their preservation, the history of their discovery, or even the nature of the marble of which they are made. these are as truly qualities of these statues, as their majesty or their grace, and may certainly, at particular times, happen to engage the attention of the man of the most refined taste. That in such cases, no emotion of beauty would be felt, and that before it could be felt, it would be necessary for the spectator to withdraw his mind from the consideration of such unaffecting qualities, is too obvious to require any illustration.

All

The same observation is applicable to every other production of taste. There is no poem, no painting, no musical composition, however beautiful or sublime, that has not many qualities or attributes, that are altogether uninteresting, and which may not be made the object of attention at particular times, although in general they are left out of consideration. The inversions of Milton, the compound epithets of Thomson, are as really qualities of their compositions, as the sublimity of the one, or the tenderness of the other. The person who should make such qualities alone the object of his attention, in the pe

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rusal of the Seasons, or the Paradise Lost, though he might certainly receive some instruction, would doubt. less receive little delight; and if he were really capable. of feeling the sublimity or beauty which distinguish these compositions, it must be to other and more affecting qualities of them that he must turn his regard. While these minute and unaffecting circumstances were the objects of his attention, he could be conscious of no greater emotion than what he might receive from the perusal of the most unanimated prose. It is in consequence of this, that the exercise of criticism never fails to destroy, for the time, our sensibility to the beauty of every composition, and that habits of this kind so generally end in destroying the sensibility of taste. They accus

tom us to consider every composition in relation only to rules; they turn our attention from those qualities upon which their effect is founded as objects of taste, to the consideration of the principles by which this effect is attained; and instead of that deep and enthusiastic delight which the perception of beauty or sublimity bestows, they afford us at last no higher enjoyment, than what arises from the observation of the dexterity of art.

2. The effect of familiarity, which has so often been observed, in diminishing our sensibility to the objects of taste, may serve also as an illustration of the same prin ciple. This effect indeed is generally resolved into the influence of habit, which in this, as in every other case, is supposed to diminish the strength of our emotions; yet that it is not solely to be ascribed to habit, seems evident from the following consideration, that such indifference is never permanent, and that there are times when the most familiar objects awaken us to the fullest sense of their beauty. The necessity which we are under of considering all such objects when familiar, in very