oblige us to admit also, that mankind are equally divided in their sense of the beauty of all other objects. Mr. Knight would, therefore, gain but little from this admission, as a theory is never weakened by one exception. The laws of nature frequently cross each other, and though each of them continues to exert its own original and inherent energies, it is only the more powerful law that seems operative to us. If, then, I were obliged to admit one exception in favour of Mr. Knight's scepticism, (an admission which I by no means promise,) I could still maintain, that the sense of beauty is universal, though its influence is not sensibly felt when overpowered by the stronger influence of a more powerful law of nature. Men are naturally attached to the place of their nativity, yet if it be made the scene of perpetual misery and distress to any individual in his youth, this law of natural attachment loses its influence, and he never thinks of it but with aversion and disgust. The laws of nature, therefore, sometimes combat with each other in the breast of man, and the more powerful law must necessarily prevail. If two men, moving in opposite directions, come in contact, the stronger will force the weaker in the same direction with himself. The philosopher, however, will not conclude, that the force by which he endeavours to move eastward has ceased, because he perceives

him moving to the west: he admits the operation of both powers at the same time, and proves their existence by shewing, that he would move still quicker to the west, than he actually does, if he had not exerted all his strength to move eastward. The sense of beauty must not, therefore, be considered extinct whenever it ceases to exert its sensible influence over the heart and its affections. With these observations I must conclude this chapter; hoping I shall be able to give my readers more ample satisfaction regarding the difference of feeling that exists between the Europeans and Africans, relative to the beauty of their respective females, in my Inquiry into the Sublime and Beautiful.

CHAP. VI

On the Alliance of Taste and Criticism.

To discover the principles by which an author should be guided in the conduct and disposition of his work, is to discover the rules by which the critic should judge of it. Criticism may be defined, the art of investigating the general and particular merits and defects of literary productions, particularly works of taste and imagination. The latter works alone are those in which the critic can properly and successfully exert his discriminating acumen, because it is only in these works that a writer of genius can exert all the powers of mind and intellect, with which he is endowed by nature. Here he can display whatever is exquisite in sensibility, pathetic in feeling, sublime in conception, vigorous in expression, rich in imagery, luxuriant in fancy, ennobled in sentiment, chaste in imagination, luminous in perception, elegant in diction, bold in description, judicious in selection, beautiful in design, and harmonious in combination. All these elements

of intellectual beauty are, in a great measure, excluded from works of rigid and abstract science, that have no connexion with the pleasures and the pains, the enjoyments and privations, of human life. The geometrical writer seeks only to discover truth, and to communicate it in simple and perspicuous language. The grace of diction is not what he aims at; nor is it sought for by those who peruse his works; Ornari præcepta negent, contenta doceri. The critic, consequently, is not at liberty to censure the want of beauties which were never intended by the author, nor expected by his readers. Pope's precept is particularly applicable to works of this nature:

"In every work regard the writer's end,

Since none can compass more than they intend."

The solution of a geometrical problem depends on principles immutable in their own nature; and when the geometrician has explained these principles to his readers, and arrived at demonstration, he should pursue it no farther. He cannot create a stronger conviction of its truth by new illustrations, or arguments; for demonstration is only weakened by these slighter props of certainty and truth. He may not, therefore, like the writer of taste and imagination, discuss his subject as he pleases; nor has he different ways of teaching it to different people, to render it more

easy and agreeable to their different tastes, and intellects. When Ptolemy became a pupil of Euclid, he found the science in which he wished to be instructed so abstruse, that he expressed a wish to have it rendered more easy and obvious; but his celebrated master informed him, that kings should learn it like other people, or remain ignorant of it, as a particular way of communicating geometrical knowledge could not be invented for them. Not so in works which are proper subjects of critical investigation: we expect something more than simple and homespun truth, because we know, that other objects are aimed at, and other beauties intended by their authors. So far as truth alone is concerned, the poet and the mathematician are both governed by the same laws:-both are amenable to its principles, whenever these principles can be ascertained; but there is this difference, that the principles of mathematical, as of all rigid science, are fixed and incontrovertible, and therefore, like immovable pillars, that equally defy the rage of time and of conflicting elements, they set the power of criticism at nought, and triumph over the ruins of scepticism and incredulity; while the principles of truth, in works of imagination and the elegant arts, are often involved in doubt and perplexity; and though as fixed and immutable as those of science, are not, however,