effect of habits of common-place criticism on an eye blind to the perception of the beautiful. Instances, at the same time, may be conceived, in which this fastidiousness is real; arising from an unfortunate predominance of the secondary pleasures and pains, peculiar to taste, over those primary pleasures and pains which the object is fitted to produce. But this, I apprehend, is a case that can rarely occur in a mind possessed of common sensibility; more especially, if the cultivation of taste has been confined to that subordinate place which belongs to it, among the various other pursuits to which we are led by the speculative and active principles of our nature.

The result of these observations is, that the utmost to be expected from the rules of criticism is a technical correctness of taste; meaning by that phrase, a power of judging, how far the artist has conformed himself to the established and acknowledged canons of his art, without any perception of those nameless excellencies, which have hitherto eluded the grasp of verbal description.

There is another species of Taste, (unquestionably of a higher order than the technical taste we have now been considering) which is insensibly acquired by a diligent and habitual study of the most approved and consecrated standards of excellence; and which, in pronouncing its critical judgments, is secretly, and often unconsciously guided, by an idolatrous comparison of what it sees, with the works of its favourite masters. This, I think, ap. proaches nearly to what La Bruyere calls le Gout de Comparaison. It is that kind of taste which commonly belongs to the connoisseur in painting; and to which something perfectly analogous may be remarked in all the other fine arts.

A person possessed of this sort of taste, if he should be surpassed in the correctness of his judgment by the technical critic, is much more likely to recognize the beauties of a new work, by their resemblance to those which are familiar to his memory; or, if he should himself attempt the task of execution, and possesses powers equal to the task, he may possibly, without any clear conception of his own merits, rival the originals he has been accustomed to admire. It was said by an ancient critic, that, in reading Seneca, it was impossible not to wish, that he had written" with the taste of another person, though "with his own genius;”—suo ingenio, alieno judicio;*— and we find, in fact, that many who have failed as original writers, have seemed to surpass themselves, when they attempted to imitate. Warburton has remarked, and, in my opinion, with some truth, that Burke himself never wrote so well, as when he imitated Bolingbroke. If on other occasions, he has soared higher than in his Vindication of Natural Society, he has certainly nowhere else (I speak at present merely of the style of his composition) sustained himself so long upon a steady wing. I do not, however, agree with Warburton in thinking, that this implied any defect in Mr. Burke's genius, connected with that faculty of imitation which he so eminently pos sessed. The defect lay in his Taste, which, when left to itself, without the guidance of an acknowledged standard of excellence, appears not only to have been warped by some peculiar notions concerning the art of writing; but to have been too wavering and versatile, to keep his ima gination and his fancy (stimulated as they were by an os

* Velles eum suo ingenio dixisse, alieno judicio.-Quinct. Lib. x. cap. 1.

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tentation of his intellectual riches, and by an ambition of Asiatic ornament) under due controul. 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 may 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 surprising to those who consider with attention, the combination of original qualities 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 abservation 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 existence 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 first 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 analogous 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 develop a latent sensibility where none was suspected to exist. In all men, indeed, without exception, whether their natural sensi

bility 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 what is fitted to please.