Of The Standard Of Taste / Hume, David

   [TABLE NOT SHOWN]

   [TABLE NOT SHOWN]

   Copyright 1997, Julie Van Camp (jvancamp@csulb.edu). See end note for
   details on copyright and editing conventions. This is a working draft;
   please report errors.[1]

   Editor's note: " Of the Standard of Taste" appeared in 1757 in Hume's
   Four Dissertations. The text file here is based on the 1875 Green and
   Grose edition of Hume's Writings. Spelling and punctuation have not
   been modernized.

   ---------------------------------------------------------------------

   Of the Standard of Taste



           The great variety of Taste, as well as of opinion, which
           prevails in the world, is too obvious not to have fallen under
           every one's observation. Men of the most confined knowledge
           are able to remark a difference of taste in the narrow circle
           of their acquaintance, even where the persons have been
           educated under the same government, and have early imbibed the
           same prejudices. But those, who can enlarge their view to
           contemplate distance nations and remote ages, are still more
           surprised at the great inconsistence and contrariety. We are
           apt to call barbarous whatever departs widely from our own
           taste and apprehension: But soon find the epithet of reproach
           retorted on us. And the highest arrogance and self-conceit is
           at last startled, on observing an equal assurance on all
           sides, and scruples, amidst such a contest of sentiment, to
           pronounce positively in its own favour.

           As this variety of taste is obvious to the most careless
           enquirer; so will it be found, on examination, to be still
           greater in reality than in appearance. The sentiments of men
           often differ with regard to beauty and deformity of all kinds,
           even while their general discourse is the same. There are
           certain terms in every language, which import blame, and
           others praise; and all men, who use the same tongue, must
           agree in their application of them. Every voice is united in
           applauding elegance, propriety, simplicity, spirit in writing;
           and in blaming fustian, affectation, coldness and a false
           brilliancy: But when critics come to particulars, this seeming
           unanimity vanishes; and it is found, that they had affixed a
           very different meaning to their expressions. In all matters of
           opinion and science, the case it opposite: The difference
           among men is there oftener found to lie in generals than in
           particulars; and to be less in reality than in appearance. An
           explanation of the terms commonly ends the controversy; and
           the disputants are surprised to find, that they had been
           quarreling, while at bottom they agreed in their judgment.

           Those who found morality on sentiment, more than on reason,
           are inclined to comprehend ethics under the former
           observation, and to maintain, that, in all questions, which
           regard conduct and manners, the difference among men is really
           greater than at first sight it appears. It is indeed obvious,
           that writers of all nations and all ages concur in applauding
           justice, humanity, magnanimity, prudence, veracity; and in
           blaming the opposite qualities. Even poets and other authors,
           whose compositions are chiefly calculated to please the
           imagination, are yet found, from HOMER down to FENELON, to
           inculcate the same moral precepts, and to bestow their
           applause and blame on the same virtues and vices. This great
           unanimity is usually ascribed to the influence of plain
           reason; which, in all these cases, maintains similar
           sentiments in all men, and prevents those controversies, to
           which the abstract sciences are so much exposed. So far as the
           unanimity is real, this account may be admitted as
           satisfactory: But we must also allow that some part of the
           seeming harmony in morals may be accounted for from the very
           nature of language. The word virtue, with its equivalent in
           every tongue, implies praise; as that of vice does blame: And
           no one, without the most obvious and grossest impropriety,
           could affix reproach to a term, which in general acceptation
           is understood in a good sense; or bestow applause, where the
           idiom requires disapprobation. HOMER's general precepts, where
           he delivers any such will never be controverted; but it is
           obvious, that, when he draws particular pictures of manners,
           and represents heroism in ACHILLES and prudence in ULYSSES, he
           intermixes a much greater degree of ferocity in the former,
           and of cunning and fraud in the latter, than FENELON would
           admit of . The same ULYSSES in the GREEK poet seems to delight
           in lies and fictions; and often employs them without any
           necessity of even advantage: But his more scrupulous son, in
           the FRENCH epic writer, exposes himself to the most imminent
           perils, rather than depart from the most exact line of truth
           and veracity.

           The admirers and follows of the ALCORAN insist on the
           excellent moral precepts interspersed throughout that wild and
           absurd performance. But it is to be supposed, that the ARABIC
           words, which correspond to the ENGLISH, equity, justice,
           temperance, meekness, charity, were such as, from the constant
           use of that tongue, must always be taken in a good sense; and
           it would have argued the greatest ignorance, not of morals,
           but of language, to have mentioned them with any epithets,
           besides those of applause and approbation. But would we know,
           whether the pretended prophet had really attained a just
           sentiment of morals? Let us attend to his narration; and we
           shall soon find, that he bestows praise on such instances of
           treachery, inhumanity, cruelty, revenge, bigotry, as are
           utterly incompatible with civilized society. No steady rule of
           right seems there to be attended to; and every action is
           blamed or praised, so far only as it is beneficial or hurtful
           to the true believers.

           The merit of delivering true general precepts in ethics is
           indeed very small. Whoever recommends any moral virtues,
           really does no more than is implied in the terms themselves.
           That people, who invented the word charity, and use it in a
           good sense, inculcated more clearly and much more
           efficaciously, the precept, be charitable, than any pretended
           legislator or prophet, who should insert such a maxim in his
           writings. Of all expressions, those, which, together with
           their other meaning, imply a degree either of blame or
           approbation, are the least liable to be perverted or mistaken.

           It is natural for us to seek a Standard of Taste; a rule, by
           which the various sentiments of men may be reconciled; at
           least, a decision, afforded, confirming one sentiment, and
           condemning another.

           There is a species of philosophy, which cuts off all hopes of
           success in such an attempt, and represents the impossibility
           of ever attaining any standard of taste. The difference, it is
           said, is very wide between judgment and sentiment. All
           sentiment is right; because sentiment has a reference to
           nothing beyond itself, and is always real, wherever a man is
           conscious of it. But all determinations of the understanding
           are not right; because they have a reference to something
           beyond themselves, to wit, real matter of fact; and are not
           always conformable to that standard. Among a thousand
           different opinions which different men may entertain of the
           same subject, there is one, and but one, that is just and
           true; and the only difficulty is to fix and ascertain it. On
           the contrary, a thousand different sentiments, excited by the
           same object, are all right: Because no sentiment represents
           what is really in the object. It only marks a certain
           conformity or relation between the object and the organs or
           faculties of the mind; and if that conformity did not really
           exist, the sentiment could never possibly have being. Beauty
           is no quality in things themselves: It exists merely in the
           mind which contemplates them; and each mind perceives a
           different beauty. One person may even perceive deformity,
           where another is sensible of beauty; and every individual
           ought to acquiesce in his own sentiment, without pretending to
           regulate those of others. To seek in the real beauty, or real
           deformity, is as fruitless an enquiry, as to pretend to
           ascertain the real sweet or real bitter. According to the
           disposition of the organs, the same object may be both sweet
           and bitter; and the proverb has justly determined it to be
           fruitless to dispute concerning tastes. It is very natural,
           and even quite necessary to extend this axiom to mental, as
           well as bodily taste; and thus common sense, which is so often
           at variance with philosophy, especially with the skeptical
           kind, is found, in one instance at least, to agree in
           pronouncing the same decision.

           But though this axiom, by passing into a proverb, seems to
           have attained the sanction of common sense; there is certainly
           a species of common sense which opposes it, at least serves to
           modify and restrain it. Whoever would assert an equality of
           genius and elegance between OGILBY and MILTON, or BUNYAN and
           ADDISON, would be thought to defend no less an extravagance,
           than if he had maintained a mole-hill to be as high as
           TENERIFFE, or a pond as extensive as the ocean. Though there
           may be found persons, who give the preference to the former
           authors; no one pays attention to such a taste; and we
           pronounce without scruple the sentiment of these pretended
           critics to be absurd and ridiculous. The principle of the
           natural equality of tastes is then totally forgot, and while
           we admit it on some occasions, where the objects seem near an
           equality, it appears an extravagant paradox, or rather a
           palpable absurdity, where objects so disproportioned are
           compared together.

           It is evident that none of the rules of composition are fixed
           by reasonings a priori, or can be esteemed abstract
           conclusions of the understanding, from comparing those
           habitudes and relations of ideas, which are eternal and
           immutable. Their foundation is the same with that of all the
           practical sciences, experience; nor are they any thing but
           general observations, concerning what has been universally
           found to please in all countries and in all ages. Many of the
           beauties of poetry and even of eloquence are founded on
           falsehood and fiction, on hyperboles, metaphors, and an abuse
           or perversion of terms from their natural meaning. To check
           the sallies of the imagination, and to reduce every expression
           to geometrical truth and exactness, would be the most contrary
           to the laws of criticism; because it would produce a work,
           which, by universal experience, has been found the most
           insipid and disagreeable. But though poetry can never submit
           to exact truth, it must be confined by rules of art,
           discovered to the author either by genius or observation. If
           some negligent or irregular writers have pleased, they have
           not pleased by their transgressions of rule or order, but in
           spite of these transgressions: They have possessed other
           beauties, which were conformable to just criticism; and the
           force of these beauties has been able to overpower censure,
           and give the mind a satisfaction superior to the disgust
           arising from the blemishes. ARIOSTO leases; but not by his
           monstrous and improbable fictions, by his bizarre mixture of
           the serious and comic styles, by the want of coherence in his
           stories, or by the continual interruptions of his narration.
           He charms by the force and clearness of his expression, by the
           readiness and variety of his inventions, and by his natural
           pictures of the passions, especially those of the gay and
           amorous kind: And however his faults may diminish our
           satisfaction, they are not able entirely to destroy it. Did
           our pleasure really arise from those parts of his poem, which
           we denominate faults, this would be no objection to criticism
           in general: It would only be an objection to those particular
           rules of criticism, which would establish such circumstances
           to be faults, and would represent them as universally
           blameable. If they are found to please, they cannot be faults;
           let the pleasure, which they produce, be ever so unexpected
           and unaccountable.

           But though all the general rules of art are founded only on
           experience and on the observation of the common sentiments of
           human nature, we must not imagine, that, on every occasion the
           feelings of men will be conformable to these rules. Those
           finer emotions of the mind are of a very tender and delicate
           nature, and require the concurrence of many favourable
           circumstances to make them play with facility and exactness,
           according to their general and established principles. The
           least exterior hindrance to such small springs, or the least
           internal disorder, disturbs their motion, and confounds the
           operation of the whole machine. When we would make an
           experiment of this nature, and would try the force of any
           beauty or deformity, we must choose with care a proper time
           and place, and bring the fancy to a suitable situation and
           disposition. A perfect serenity of mind, a recollection of
           thought, a due attention to the object; if any of these
           circumstances be wanting, our experiment will be fallacious,
           and we shall be unable to judge of the catholic and universal
           beauty. The relation, which nature has placed between the form
           and the sentiment will at least be more obscure; and it will
           require greater accuracy to trace and discern it. We shall be
           able to ascertain its influence not so much from the operation
           of each particular beauty, as from the durable admiration,
           which attends those works, that have survived all the caprices
           of mode and fashion, all the mistakes of ignorance and envy.

           The same HOMER, who pleased at ATHENS and ROME two thousand
           years ago, is still admired at PARIS and at LONDON. All the
           changes of climate, government, religion, and language, have
           not been able to obscure his glory. Authority or prejudice may
           give a temporary vogue to a bad poet or orator, but his
           reputation will never be durable or general. When his
           compositions are examined by posterity or by foreigners, the
           enchantment is dissipated, and his faults appear in their true
           colours. On the contrary, a real genius, the longer his works
           endure, and the more wide they are spread, the more sincere is
           the admiration which he meets with. Envy and jealousy have too
           much place in a narrow circle; and even familiar acquaintance
           with his person may diminish the applause due to his
           performances. But when these obstructions are removed, the
           beauties, which are naturally fitted to excite agreeable
           sentiments, immediately display their energy and while the
           world endures, they maintain their authority over the minds of
           men.

           It appears then, that, amidst all the variety and caprice of
           taste, there are certain general principles of approbation or
           blame, whose influence a careful eye may trace in all
           operations of the mind. Some particular forms or qualities,
           from the original structure of the internal fabric, are
           calculated to please, and others to displease; and if they
           fail of their effect in any particular instance, it is from
           some apparent defect or imperfection in the organ. A man in a
           fever would not insist on his palate as able to decide
           concerning flavours; nor would one, affected with the
           jaundice, pretend to give a verdict with regard to colours. In
           each creature, there is a sound and a defective state; and the
           former alone can be supposed to afford us a true standard of a
           considerable uniformity of sentiment among men, we may thence
           derive an idea of the perfect beauty; in like manner as the
           appearance of objects in daylight, to the eye of a man in
           health, is denominated their true and real colour, even while
           colour is allowed to be merely a phantasm of the senses.

           Many and frequent are the defects in the internal organs,
           which prevent or weaken the influence of those general
           principles, on which depends our sentiment of beauty or
           deformity. Though some objects, by the structure of the mind,
           be naturally calculated to give pleasure, it is not to be
           expected, that in every individual the pleasure will be
           equally felt. Particular incidents and situations occur, which
           either throw a false light on the objects, or hinder the true
           from conveying to the imagination the proper sentiment and
           perception.

           One obvious cause, why many feel not the proper sentiment of
           beauty, is the want of that delicacy of imagination, which is
           requisite to convey a sensibility of those finer emotions.
           This delicacy every one pretends to: Every one talks of it;
           and would reduce every kind of taste or sentiment to its
           standard. But as our intention in this essay is to mingle some
           light of the understanding with the feelings of sentiment, it
           will be proper to give a more accurate definition of delicacy,
           than has hitherto been attempted. And not to draw our
           philosophy from too profound a source, we shall have recourse
           to a noted story in DON QUIXOTE.

           It is with good reason, says SANCHO to the squire with the
           great nose, that I pretend to have a judgment in wine: this is
           a quality hereditary in our family. Two of my kinsmen were
           once called to give their opinion of a hogshead, which was
           supposed to be excellent, being old and of a good vintage. One
           of them tastes it; considers it; and after mature reflection
           pronounces the wine to be good, were it not for a small taste
           of leather, which he perceived in it. The other, after using
           the same precautions, gives also his verdict in favour of the
           wine; but with the reserve of a taste of iron, which he could
           easily distinguish. You cannot imagine how much they were both
           ridiculed for their judgment. But who laughed in the end? On
           emptying the hogshead, there was found at the bottom, an old
           key with a leathern thong tied to it.

           The great resemblance between mental and bodily taste will
           easily teach us to apply this story. Though it be certain,
           that beauty and deformity, more than sweet and bitter, are not
           qualities in objects, but belong entirely to the sentiment,
           internal or external; it must be allowed, that there are
           certain qualities in objects, which are fitted by nature to
           produce those particular feelings. Now as these qualities may
           be found in a small degree, or may be mixed and confounded
           with each other, it often happens, that the taste is not
           affected with such minute qualities, or is not able to
           distinguish all the particular flavours, amidst the disorder,
           in which they are presented. Where the organs are so fine, as
           to allow nothing to escape them; and at the same time so exact
           as to perceive every ingredient in the composition: This we
           call delicacy of taste, whether we employ these terms in the
           literal or metaphorical sense. Here then the general rules of
           beauty are of use; being drawn from established models, and
           from the observation of what pleases or displeases, when
           presented singly and in a high degree: And if the same
           qualities, in a continued composition and in a small degree,
           affect not the organs with a sensible delight or uneasiness,
           we exclude the person from all pretensions to this delicacy.
           To produce these general rules or avowed patterns of
           composition is like finding the key with the leathern thong;
           which justified the verdict of SANCHO's kinsmen, and
           confounded those pretended judges who had condemned them.
           Though the hogshead had never been emptied, the taste of the
           one was still equally delicate, and that of the other equally
           dull and languid: But it would have been more difficult to
           have proved the superiority of the former, to the conviction
           of every by-stander. In like manner, though the beauties of
           writing had never been methodized, or reduced to general
           principles; though no excellent models had ever been
           acknowledged; the different degrees of taste would still have
           subsisted, and the judgment of one man had been preferable to
           that of another; but it would not have been so easy to silence
           the bad critic, who might always insist upon his particular
           sentiment, and refuse to submit to his antagonist. But wen we
           show him an avowed principle of art; when we illustrate this
           principle by examples, whose operation, from his own
           particular taste, he acknowledges to be conformable to the
           principle; when we prove, that the same principle may be
           applied to the present case, where he did not perceive or feel
           its influence: He must conclude, upon the whole, that the
           fault lies in himself, and that he wants the delicacy, which
           is requisite to make him sensible of every beauty and every
           blemish, in any composition or discourse.

           It is acknowledged to be the perfection of every sense or
           faculty, to perceive with exactness its most minute objects,
           and allow nothing to escape its notice and observation. The
           smaller the objects are, which become sensible to the eye, the
           finer is that organ, and the more elaborate its make and
           composition. A good palate is not tried by strong flavours;
           but by a mixture of small ingredients, where we are still
           sensible of each part, notwithstanding its minuteness and its
           confusion with the rest. In like manner, a quick and acute
           perception of beauty and deformity must be the perfection of
           our mental taste; nor can a man be satisfied with himself
           while he suspects, that any excellence or blemish in a
           discourse has passed him unobserved. In this case, the
           perfection of the man, and the perfection of the sense or
           feeling, are found to be united. A very delicate palate, on
           many occasions, may be a great inconvenience both to a man
           himself and to his friends: But a delicate taste of wit or
           beauty must always be a desirable quality; because it is the
           source of all the finest and most innocent enjoyments, of
           which human nature is susceptible. In this decision the
           sentiments of all mankind are agreed. Wherever you can
           ascertain a delicacy of taste, it is sure to meet with
           approbation; and the best way of ascertaining it is to appeal
           to those models and principles, which have been established by
           the uniform consent and experience of nations and ages.

           But though there be naturally a wide difference in point of
           delicacy between one person and another, nothing tends further
           to encrease and improve this talent, than practice in a
           particular art, and the frequent survey or contemplation of a
           particular species of beauty. When objects of any kind are
           first presented to the eye or imagination, the sentiment,
           which attends them, is obscure and confused; and the mind is,
           in a great measure, incapable of pronouncing concerning their
           merits or defects. The taste cannot perceive the several
           excellences of the performance; much less distinguish the
           particular character of each excellency, and ascertain its
           quality and degree. If it pronounce the whole in general to be
           beautiful or deformed, it is the utmost that can be expected;
           and even this judgment, a person, so unpracticed, will be apt
           to deliver with great hesitation and reserve. But allow him to
           acquire experience in those objects, his feeling becomes more
           exact and nice: He not only perceives the beauties and defects
           of each part, but marks the distinguishing species of each
           quality, and assigns it suitable praise or blame. A clear and
           distinct sentiment attends him through the whole survey of the
           objects; and he discerns that very degree and kind of
           approbation or displeasure, which each part is naturally
           fitted to produce. The mist dissipates, which seemed formerly
           to hang over the object: the organ acquires greater perfection
           in its operations; and can pronounce, without danger of
           mistake, concerning the merits of every performance. In a
           word, the same address and dexterity, which practice gives to
           the execution of any work, is also acquired by the same means
           in the judging of it.

           So advantageous is practice to the discernment of beauty,
           that, before we can give judgment of any work of importance,
           it will even be requisite, that that very individual
           performance be more than once perused by us, and be surveyed
           in different lights with attention and deliberation. There is
           a flutter or hurry of thought which attends the first perusal
           of any piece, and which confounds the genuine sentiment of
           beauty. The relation of the parts is not discerned: The true
           characters of style are little distinguished: The several
           perfections and defects seem wrapped up in a species of
           confusion, and present themselves indistinctly to the
           imagination. Not to mention, that there is a species of
           beauty, which, as it is florid and superficial, pleases at
           first; but being found incompatible with a just expression
           either of reason or passion, soon palls upon the taste, and is
           then rejected with disdain, at least rated at a much lower
           value.

           It is impossible to continue in the practice of contemplating
           any order of beauty, without being frequently obliged to form
           comparisons between the several species and degrees of
           excellence, and estimating their proportion to each other. A
           man, who has had no opportunity of comparing the different
           kinds of beauty, is indeed totally unqualified to pronounce an
           opinion with regard to any object presented to him. By
           comparison alone we fix the epithets of praise or blame, and
           learn how to assign the due degree of each. The coarsest
           daubing contains a certain lustre of colours and exactness of
           imitation, which are so far beauties, and would affect the
           mind of a peasant or Indian with the highest admiration. The
           most vulgar ballads are not entirely destitute of harmony or
           nature; and not but a person, familiarized to superior
           beauties, would pronounce their numbers harsh, or narration
           uninteresting. A great inferiority of beauty gives pain to a
           person conversant in the highest excellence of the kind, and
           is for that reason pronounced a deformity: As the most
           finished object, with which we are acquainted, is naturally
           supposed to have reached the pinnacle of perfection, and to be
           entitled to the highest applause. One accustomed to see, and
           examine, and weigh the several performances, admired in
           different ages and nations, can only rate the merits of a work
           exhibited to his view, and assign its proper rank among the
           productions of genius.

           But to enable a critic the more fully to execute this
           undertaking, he must preserve his mind free from all
           prejudice, and allow nothing to enter into his consideration,
           but the very object which is submitted to his examination. We
           may observe, that every work of art, in order to produce its
           due effect on the mind, must be surveyed in a certain point of
           view, and not be fully relished by persons, whose situation,
           real or imaginary, is not conformable to that which is
           required by the performance. An orator addresses himself to a
           particular audience, and must have a regard to their
           particular genius, interests, opinions, passions, and
           prejudices; otherwise he hopes in vain to govern their
           resolutions, and inflame their affections. Should they even
           have entertained some prepossessions against him, however
           unreasonable, he must not overlook this disadvantage; but,
           before he enters upon the subject, must endeavour to
           conciliate their affection, and acquire their good graces. A
           critic of a different age or notion, who should peruse this
           discourse, must have all these circumstances in his eye, and
           must place himself in the same situation as the audience, in
           order to form a true judgment of the oration. In like manner,
           when any work is addressed to the public, though I should have
           a friendship or enmity with the author, I must depart from
           this situation; and considering myself as a man in general,
           forget, if possible, my individual being and my peculiar
           circumstances. A person influenced by prejudice, complies not
           with this condition; but obstinately maintains his natural
           position, without placing himself in that point of view, which
           the performance supposes. If the work be addressed to persons
           of a different age or nation, he makes no allowance for their
           peculiar views and prejudices; but, full of the manners of his
           own age and country, rashly condemns what seemed admirable in
           the eyes of those for whom alone the discourse was calculated.
           If the work be executed for the public, he never sufficiently
           enlarges his comprehension, or forgets his interest as a
           friend or enemy, as a rival or commentator. By this means, his
           sentiments are perverted; nor have the same beauties and
           blemishes the same influence upon him, as if he had imposed a
           proper violence on his imagination, and had forgotten himself
           for a moment. So far his taste evidently departs from the true
           standard; and of consequence loses all credit and authority.

           It is well known, that in all questions, submitted to the
           understanding, prejudice is destructive of sound judgment, and
           perverts all operations of the intellectual faculties: It is
           no less contrary to good taste; nor has it less influence to
           corrupt our sentiment of beauty. It belongs to good sense to
           check its influence in both cases; and in this respect, as
           well as in many others, reason, if not an essential part of
           taste, is at least requisite to the operations of this latter
           faculty. In all the nobler productions of genius, there is a
           mutual relation and correspondence of parts; nor can either
           the beauties or blemishes be perceived by him, whose thought
           is not capacious enough to comprehend all those parts, and
           compare then with each other, in order to perceive the
           consistence and uniformity of the whole. Every work of art has
           also a certain end or purpose, for which it is calculated; and
           is to be deemed more or less perfect, as it is more or less
           fitted to attain this end. The object of eloquence is to
           persuade, of history to instruct, of poetry to please by means
           of the passions and the imagination. These ends we must carry
           constantly in our view, when we peruse any performance; and we
           must be able to judge how far the means employed are adapted
           to their respective purposes. Besides, every kind of
           composition, even the most poetical, is nothing but a chain of
           propositions and reasonings; not always, indeed, the justest
           and most exact, but still plausible and specious, however
           disguised by the colouring of the imagination. The persons
           introduced in tragedy and epic poetry, must be represented as
           reasoning, and thinking, and concluding, and acting, suitably
           to their character and circumstances; and without judgment, as
           well as taste and invention, a poet can never hope to succeed
           in so delicate an undertaking. Not to mention, that the same
           excellence of faculties which contributes to the improvement
           of reason, the same clearness of conception, the same
           exactness of distinction, the same vivacity of apprehension,
           are essential to the operations of true taste, and are its
           infallible concomitants. It seldom, or never happens, that a
           man of sense, who has experience in any art, cannot judge of
           its beauty; and it is no less rare to meet with a man who has
           a just taste without a sound understanding.

           Thus, though the principles of taste be universal, and,
           nearly, if not entirely the same in all men; yet few are
           qualified to give judgment on any work of art, or establish
           their own sentiment as the standard of beauty. The organs of
           internal sensation are seldom so perfect as to allow the
           general principles their full play, and produce a feeling
           correspondent to those principles. They either labour under
           some defect, or are vitiated by some disorder; and by that
           means, excite a sentiment, which may be pronounced erroneous.
           When the critic has no delicacy, he judges without any
           distinction, and is only affected by the grosser and more
           palpable qualities of the object: The finer touches pass
           unnoticed and disregarded. Where he is not aided by practice,
           his verdict is attended with confusion and hesitation. Where
           no comparison has been employed, the most frivolous beauties,
           such as rather merit the name of defects., are the object of
           his admiration. Where he lies under the influence of
           prejudice, all his natural sentiments are perverted. Where
           good sense is wanting, he is not qualified to discern the
           beauties of design and reasoning, which are the highest and
           most excellent. Under some or other of these imperfections,
           the generality of men labour; and hence a true judge in the
           finer arts is observed, even during the most polished ages, to
           be so fare a character; Strong sense, united to delicate
           sentiment, improved by practice, perfected by comparison, and
           cleared of all prejudice, can along entitle critics to this
           valuable character; and the joint verdict of such, wherever
           they are to be found, is the true standard of taste and
           beauty.

           But where are such critics to be found? By what marks are they
           to be known? How distinguish them from pretenders? These
           questions are embarrassing; and seem to throw us back into the
           same uncertainty, from which, during the course of this essay,
           we have endeavoured to extricate ourselves.

           But if we consider the matter aright, these are questions of
           fact, not of sentiment. Whether any particular person be
           endowed with good sense and a delicate imagination, free from
           prejudice, may often be the subject of dispute, and be liable
           to great discussion and enquiry: but that such a character is
           valuable and estimable will be agreed in by all mankind. Where
           these doubts occur, men can do no more than in other
           disputable questions, which are submitted to the
           understanding: They must produce the best arguments, that
           their invention suggests to them; they must acknowledge a true
           and decisive standard to exist somewhere, to wit, real
           existence and mater of fact; and they must have indulgence to
           such as differ from them in their appeals to this standard. It
           is sufficient for our present purpose, if we have proved, that
           the taste of all individuals is not upon an equal footing, and
           that some men in general, however difficult to be particularly
           pitched upon, will be acknowledge by universal sentiment to
           have a preference above others.

           But in reality the difficulty of finding, even in particulars,
           the standard of taste, is not so great as it is represented.
           Though in speculation, we may readily avow a certain criterion
           in science and deny it in sentiment, the matter is found in
           practice to be much more hard to ascertain in the former case
           than in the latter. Theories of abstract philosophy, systems
           of profound theology, have prevailed during one age: In a
           successive period, these have been universally exploded: Their
           absurdity has been detected: Other theories and systems have
           supplied their place, which again gave place to their
           successors: And nothing has been experienced more liable to
           the revolutions of chance and fashion than these pretended
           decisions of science. The case is not the same with the
           beauties of eloquence and poetry. Just expressions of passion
           and nature are sure, after a little time, to gain public
           applause, which they maintain for ever. ARISTOTLE, and PLATO,
           and EPICURUS, and DESCARTES, may successively yield to each
           other: But TERENCE and VIRGIL maintain an universal,
           undisputed empire over the minds of men. The abstract
           philosophy of CICERO has lost its credit: The vehemence of his
           oratory is still the object of our admiration.

           Though men of delicate taste be rare, they are easily to be
           distinguished in society, by the soundness of their
           understanding and the superiority of their faculties above the
           rest of mankind. The ascendant, which they acquire, gives a
           prevalence to that lively approbation, with which they receive
           any productions of genius, and renders it generally
           predominant. Many men, when left to themselves, have but a
           faint and dubious perception of beauty, who yet are capable of
           relishing any fine stroke, which is pointed out to them. Every
           convert to the admiration of the real poet or orator is the
           cause of some new conversion. And though prejudices may
           prevail for a time, they never unite in celebrating any rival
           to the true genius, but yield at last to the force of nature
           and just sentiment. Thus, though a civilized nation may easily
           be mistaken in the choice of their admired philosopher, they
           never have been found long to err, in their affection for a
           favorite epic or tragic author.

           But notwithstanding all our endeavours to fix a standard of
           taste, and reconcile the discordant apprehensions of men,
           there still remain two sources of variation, which are not
           sufficient indeed to confound all the boundaries of beauty and
           deformity, but will often serve to produce a difference in the
           degrees of our approbation or blame. The one is the different
           humours of particular men; the other, the particular manners
           and opinions of our age and country. The general principles of
           taste are uniform in human nature: where men vary in their
           judgments, some defect or perversion in the faculties may
           commonly be remarked; proceeding either from prejudice, from
           want of practice, or want of delicacy; and there is just
           reason for approving one taste, and condemning another. But
           where there is such a diversity in the internal frame or
           external situation as is entirely blameless on both sides, and
           leaves no room to give one the preference above the other; in
           that case a certain degree of diversity in judgment is
           unavoidable, and we seek in vain for a standard, by which we
           can reconcile the contrary sentiments.

           A young man, whose passions are warm, will be more sensibly
           touched with amorous and tender images, than a man more
           advanced in years, who take pleasure in wise, philosophical
           reflections concerning the conduct of life and moderation of
           the passions. At twenty, OVID may be the favourite author;
           HORACE at forty; and perhaps TACITUS at fifty. Vainly would
           we, in such cases, endeavour to enter into the sentiments of
           others, and divest ourselves of those propensities, which are
           natural to us. We choose our favourite author as we do our
           friend, from a conformity of humour and disposition. Mirth or
           passion, sentiment or reflection; whichever of these most
           predominates in our temper, it gives us a peculiar sympathy
           with the writer who resembles us.

           One person is more pleased with the sublime; another with the
           tender; a third with raillery. One has a strong sensibility to
           blemishes, and is extremely studious of correctness: Another
           has a more lively feeling of beauties, and pardons twenty
           absurdities and defects for one elevated or pathetic stroke.
           The ear of this man is entirely turned towards conciseness and
           energy; that man is delighted with a copious, rich, and
           harmonious expression. Simplicity is affected by one; ornament
           by another. Comedy, tragedy, satire, odes, have each its
           partisans, who prefer that particular species of writing to
           all others. It is plainly an error in a critic, to confine his
           approbation to one species or style of writing, and condemn
           all the rest. But it is almost impossible not to feel a
           predilection for that which suits our particular turn and
           disposition. Such preferences are innocent and unavoidable,
           and can never reasonably be the object of dispute, because
           there is no standard, by which they can be decided.

           For a like reason, we are more pleased, in the course of our
           reading, with pictures and characters, that resemble objects
           which are found in our own age or country, than with those
           which describe a different set of customs. It is not without
           some effort, that we reconcile ourselves to the simplicity of
           ancient manners, and behold princesses carrying water from the
           spring, and kings and heroes dressing their own victuals. We
           may allow in general, that the representation of such manners
           is no fault in the author, nor deformity in the piece; but we
           are not so sensibly touched with them. For this reason, comedy
           is not easily transferred from one age or nation to another. A
           FRENCHMAN or ENGLISHMAN is not pleased with the ANDRIA of
           TERENCE, or CLITIA of MACHIAVEL; where the fine lady, upon
           whom all the play turns, never once appears to the spectators,
           but is always kept behind the scenes, suitably to the reserved
           humour of the ancient GREEKS and modern ITALIANS. A man of
           learning and reflection can make allowance for these
           peculiarities of manners; but a common audience can never
           divest themselves so far of their usual ideas and sentiments,
           as to relish pictures which in no wise resemble them.

           But here there occurs a reflection, which may, perhaps, be
           useful in examining the celebrated controversy concerning
           ancient and modern learning; where we often find the one side
           excusing any seeming absurdity in the ancients from the
           manners of the age, and the other refusing to admit this
           excuse, or at least, admitting it only as an apology for the
           author, not for the performance. In my opinion, the proper
           boundaries in this subject have seldom been fixed between the
           contending parties. Where any innocent peculiarities of
           manners are represented, such as those above mentioned, they
           ought certainly to be admitted; and a man, who is shocked with
           them, gives an evident proof of false delicacy and refinement.
           The poet's monument more durable than brass, must fall to the
           ground like common brick or clay, were men to make no
           allowance for the continual revolutions of manners and
           customs, and would admit of nothing but what was suitable to
           the prevailing fashion. Muse we throw aside the pictures of
           our ancestors, because of their ruffs and fardingales? But
           where the ideas of morality and decency alter from one age to
           another, and where vicious manners are described, without
           being marked with the proper characters of blame and
           disapprobation; this must be allowed to disfigure the poem,
           and to be a real deformity. I cannot, nor is it proper I
           should, enter into such sentiments; and however I may excuse
           the poet, on account of the manners in his age, I never can
           relish the composition. The want of humanity and of decency,
           so conspicuous in the characters drawn by several of the
           ancient poets, even sometimes by HOMER and the GREEK
           tragedians, diminishes considerably the merit of their noble
           performances, and gives modern authors an advantage over them.
           We are not interested in the fortunes and sentiments of such
           rough heroes: We are displeased to find the limits of vice and
           virtue so much confounded: And whatever indulgence we may give
           to the writer on account of his prejudices, we cannot prevail
           on ourself to enter into his sentiments, or bear an affection
           to characters, which we plainly discover to be blameable.

           The case is not the same with moral principles, as with
           speculative opinions of any kind. These are in continual flux
           and revolution. The son embraces a different system from the
           father. Nay, there scarcely is any man, who can boast of great
           constancy and uniformity in this particular. Whatever
           speculative errors may be found in the polite writings of any
           age or country, they detract but little from the value of
           those compositions. There needs but a certain turn of thought
           or imagination to make us enter into all the opinions, which
           then prevailed, and relish the sentiments or conclusions
           derived from them. But a very violent effort is requisite to
           change our judgment of manners, and excite sentiments of
           approbation or blame, love or hatred, different from those to
           which the mind from long custom has been familiarized. And
           where a man is confident of the rectitude of that moral
           standard, by which he judges, he is justly jealous of it, and
           will not pervert the sentiments of his heart for a moment, in
           complaisance to any writer whatsoever.

           Of all speculative errors, those, which regard religion, are
           the most excusable in compositions of genius; nor is it ever
           permitted to judge of the civility or wisdom of any people, or
           even of single persons, by the grossness or refinement of
           their theological principles. The same good sense, that
           directs men in the ordinary occurrences of life, is not
           harkened to in religious matters, which are supposed to be
           placed altogether above the cognizance of human reason. On
           this account, all the absurdities of the pagan system of
           theology must be overlooked by every critic, who would pretend
           to form a just notion of ancient poetry; and our posterity, in
           their turn, must have the same indulgence to their
           forefathers. No religious principles can ever be imputed as a
           fault to any poet, while they remain merely principles, and
           take not such strong possession of his heart, as to lay him
           under the imputation of bigotry or superstition. Where that
           happens, they confound the sentiments of morality, and alter
           the natural boundaries of vice and virtue. They are therefore
           eternal blemishes, according to the principle above mentioned;
           nor are the prejudices and false opinions of the age
           sufficient to justify them.

           It is essential to the ROMAN catholic religion to inspire a
           violent hatred of every other worship, and to represent all
           pagans, mahometans, and heretics as the objects of divine
           wrath and vengeance. Such sentiments, though they are in
           reality very blameable, are considered as virtues by the
           zealots of that communion, and are represented in their
           tragedies and epic poems as a kind of divine heroism. This
           bigotry has disfigured two very fine tragedies of the FRENCH
           theatre, POLIEUCTE and ATHALIA; where an intemperate zeal for
           particular modes of worship is set off with all the pomp
           imaginable, and forms the predominant character of the heroes.
           'What is this,' says the sublime JOAD to JOSABET, finding her
           in discourse with MATHAN, the priest of BAAL, 'Does the
           daughter of DAVID speak to this traitor? Are you not afraid,
           lest the earth should open and pour forth flames to devour you
           both? Or lest these holy walls should fall and crush you
           together? What is his purpose? Why comes that enemy of God
           hither to poison the air, which we breath, with his horrid
           presence?' Such sentiments are received with great applause on
           the theatre of PARIS; but at LONDON the spectators would be
           full as much pleased to hear ACHILLES tell AGAMEMNON, that he
           was a dog in his forehead, and a dear in his heart, or JUPITER
           threaten JUNO with a sound drubbing, if she will not be quiet.

           RELIGIOUS principles are also a blemish in any polite
           composition, when they rise up to superstition, and intrude
           themselves into every sentiment, however remote from any
           connection with religion. It is no excuse for the poet, that
           the customs of his country had burthened life with so many
           religious ceremonies and observances, that no part of it was
           exempt from that yoke. It must for ever be ridiculous in
           PETRARCH to compare his mistress LAURA, to JESUS CHRIST. Nor
           is it less ridiculous in that agreeable libertine, BOCCACE,
           very seriously to give thanks to GOD ALMIGHTY and the ladies,
           for their assistance in defending him against his enemies.

           -------------------------------------------------------------

           [1][COPYRIGHT: (c) 1997, Julie Van Camp (jvancamp@csulb.edu),
           all rights reserved. Unaltered copies of this computer text
           file may be freely distribute for personal and classroom use.
           Alterations to this file are permitted only for purposes of
           computer printouts, although altered computer text files may
           not circulate. Except to cover nominal distribution costs,
           this file cannot be sold without written permission from the
           copyright holder. ]

   [TABLE NOT SHOWN]
   © 1997