poury white fleece, its purple more gorgeous than robes of princes, its golden clouds more massy and lustrous than all the treasures of earth, is of surpassing beauty, and yet all these have no connexion with happiness. Should this form of objection to the principle contended for ever be raised, it is subject to refutation.

In respect to a distressed object, the most beautiful and estimable one may be, the more does such a one interest us; we magnify the distress, and the compassion it excites is proportioned to the happiness suitable to the nature of a very sensitive and a very deserving being. Beauty, in descriptive poetry, is like painting. Who that reads Sir Walter Scott's description of Constance, in Marmion, does not represent her to himself as beautiful, and is not the more touched with her misfortunes, on account of her beauty? and, though she was not virtuous, "so young and fair was she," so capable of loving, so elevated to "high resolve and constancy," so foully corrupted, so treacherously forsaken, so cruelly punished, that all she might have been, and not what she was, the felicity she was formed to feel and afford, and not the deeds she did and meditated, make her the interesting creature for whose fate we shudder, and whose beauty is an exquisite and sensible image called up before the mind, at the least intimation of her poetic existence. The sympathetic admiration which gives an elevated character to pity, is always excited by the notions of sensibility and desert in the object.

A flower exhibits great skill in its form, variety, and disposition of parts, and in its relative use to the plant of which it is a part, and all this to regale the sense of man, or not "wasting its sweetness on the desert air," because it does not inhale it, to afford sustenance and pleasure to the insect tribes. Is not the beauty of this class of objects connected, in our perception of it, with the humble yet multiplied and delicate pleasures which they afford? The mosaic requires for its production, patience, skill, industry, and sometimes very fine organs in the artist; it is the result of intellectual means and faculties that are serviceable, and indeed necessary, in the production of whatever is useful in life. Our whole enjoyment of the beautiful is graduated accordingly to the respective degrees of intelligence and benevolent design, connected in our minds with the first creation of the work we admire, or by the faculties of secondary and subsequent causes, which have been employed upon it. For instance, with what very different sentiments will a person of taste behold that noble image, the Apollo, or call up from his memory the descriptions given of man by Mil

ton and Shakspeare, which are as perfect in their kind as the work of the chisel; or look upon the finest piece of French china that ever was made. He undervalues neither, but his admiration of both is regulated by the best and wisest judgment of a sound mind.

In respect to the beauty of the heavens, it is not estranged from the thought of consciousness and felicity in any mind. The vaulted sky is the abode of that glorious light, without which beauty could not exist, and which devotion and poetry make the dwelling-place of celestial and happy natures, with which God, in the imagination of David, was clothed as with a garment; and this sublime arch is hung with those clouds which seemed to him the chariots of divine majesty; and not to him alone,

"As the gilt cloud rolled its glory by,

Chariots and steeds of flame stood harnessed there,

And gods came forth and seized the golden reins." But other men, not taught like him, have seen the " azure fields and starry plains," lit up by the countenance of an infinite deity. Joanna Baillie sees a beautiful white cloud, resting a moment in its pure element, and to her it appears,

"As though an angel, in his upward flight,

Had left his mantle floating in mid air.”

And an English poet, long before Miss Baillie's time, wrote thus:

"I not believe that the great architect,

With all these fires the heavenly arches decked
Only for show, and with these glittering shields
T'amaze poor shepherds watching in the fields.
I not believe that the least flower which pranks
Our garden borders, or our common banks,
And the least stone, that in her warming lap
Our mother earth doth covetously wrap,
Hath some peculiar virtue of its own,

And that the glorious stars of heaven have none.'

The pleasure derived from the beauty of an elegant house, tasteful grounds, expressive or faithful pictures, statues, poetry, or declamation, is a tribute of our minds and hearts to fine powers of other men, because they tend to "fine issues;" because these powers, with adequate instruments, have effected results which produce the comfort and ornament of our lives, and supply us with a high intellectual gratification. If we find any beauty in pictures of disagreeable objects, it is derived from

*

Sylvester. From Campbell's Essay on English poetry.

the success of the representation itself, effected by the genius which is a large capacity of enjoyment.

This brief sketch enumerates, without many particulars it is true, the several classes of the objects called beautiful; there are none in it of which the beauty may not be traced to the utility. If there are objects called beautiful, such as jewels, ribbons, and streamers from ships, that have not been taken notice of, such are tokens of prosperity, and that relation makes them beautiful in their degree; nor can there be found, it is apprehended, a single object in nature and art, that confers pleasure by efficient power, or by happy resemblance, and which is unattended by any disagreeable accompanying circumstance, but what derives its exterior charm from the happiness belonging to it, or proceeding from it, and which is intimated by its appearance.

Habit, novelty, power, knowledge, and the operation of wealth, which is power, modify some of our notions of beauty; but adventitious circumstances do not alter its intrinsic nature, or the principles of our admiration. By association, objects appear beautiful to us, and not to others; they are beautiful, relatively, to us, under the single aspect in which we regard them, and they would be so regarded, universally, could all persons see them from the same point of view. Mr. Rogers, in his poem of Human Life, has a note annexed, in which he says, that in the domestic circle, under the influence of certain feelings, some individuals, mutually endeared, appear in each other's eyes with extraordinary beauty; and he subjoins, "they not only appear to be more beautiful, but they are so." The light of love, at some seasons, sheds a lustre and softness over the features of the fond and the amiable, which is the soul of beauty. Those "eyes" of Campbell's, "which seemed to love what e'er they looked upon," must have been beautiful. To an affectionate child, an ugly old nurse may appear beautiful, and she has, to his sympathetic sight, a single beam of beauty playing over her wrinkled and faded countenance; patient affection has given this attraction to the young eyes, which have only lived in the smiles of her favour. Objects of habitual affection are more beautiful to those who love them, than to ordinary acquaintance. Habit makes us more exclusively regard the indications of any moral excellence belonging to the objects of our affection, and proportionately withdraw our attention from its imperfections. The whole moral excellence of any human being is not disclosed at once, nor is the real beauty; both are seen in detail, and our ultimate judgment of beauty, as well as worth, is an aggregate of successive impres

sions. Our last judgment will seldom be found to agree with the first, which we pronounce upon the beauty of a living individual. Our first impression from beauty is made by certain proportions and colourings, and by the capacity and moral disposition, which afford indications obvious to slight examination. We fix our attention upon points, lines, and expressions, usually characteristic of amiable and agreeable qualities, and the imagination supplies the rest according to our particular notions of correspondence. Experience is a teacher which, sooner or later, enlightens the imagination. In time, all that belongs to the object of our judgment developes itself, the genuine and characteristic expression is revealed to us; the less important traits of the individual fade into faint indications of defect or blemish, and the expressions of the better nature glow in the warmth of affection, or stamp their fine traces in the characters of sincerity and wisdom. Our last judgment usually forgets and loses much of our prepossession, but it has gained a multitude of recollections that affect our perception and enjoyment of the familiar beauty which we love. The pleasure of novelty modifies our first judgment of beauty, the influences of knowledge and of habit endear the ultimate and the enduring. Objects of art are, in some measure, subject to the same influence; long observation establishes their character and their worth in our esteem.

Fashionable embellishments, and known expense of certain articles, give them artificial value, and make them appear beautiful to persons of superficial knowledge and feelings; to good common sense these things are matters of indifference; to superior knowledge they are regarded according to their proper adaptation to the circumstances of those who make use of them, and are auxiliaries which blend very properly with natural beauty. But where fashion is only becoming because it is fashion, on account of association; and when the fashionable article is only acknowledged to be beautiful, at first from the influence of novelty, and afterwards from that of habit; when it has no proper relation to climate, convenience, or any natural want, as soon as it is obsolete it becomes ugly, ungraceful, and disgusting. The ancient costumes are graceful and becoming their convenience and simplicity make them sobut hoops, wigs, and cocked hats, take away all poetic effect from pictures in which they are seen.

“There are certain stands of excellence which every generation of civilized men, subsequent to their first production, has uniformly recognised in theory, how variously soever they have departed from them in practice. Such are the precious remains of Grecian sculpture, which

afford standards of real beauty, grace, and elegance in the human form, and in the modes of adorning it, the truth and perfection of which have never been questioned, although divers other modes of producing and exhibiting the same qualities have prevailed in different ages and countries.”—Essay on the Principles of Taste, by Richard Payne Knight.

Intelligence, sensibility, benevolence, enthusiasm, in its several expressions of poetical and devotional feeling, and physical power, are essential traits of perfect man, therefore the combined indications of them constitute the beauty of the human face and figure, which men of all ages recognise and feel, though all men surely cannot feel it with equal effect. Dr. Johnson said, should a man of the lowest order meet Mr. Burke, and hear his conversation for a few minutes, he would pronounce him to be the finest man he had ever seen; but it cannot be presumed, that this untaught man would have had any other than an undefined notion of Burke's superiority; it would require some affinity with his genius, and some more than ordinary knowledge of mankind, to discern and admire all the talent of this extraordinary person. It requires not only unperverted, but highly cultivated faculties, to enable the human mind to distinguish and enjoy what is most excellent in human nature, either in conduct, or in the productions of genius, to understand and appreciate the excellence of high motives, expanded views, disinterestedness and generosity in action, and by a refinement of the understanding and the moral sense, to comprehend the beautiful in literature and the arts. Hence it follows, that according to the established order of civilized society, some, and not all men, may come to the light, which displays all that is beautiful in human knowledge; while others, less favoured, are not therefore in outer darkness, but only keep their allotted places, and take their respective portions from the abundance of God's goodness. It is surely commendable in any man to endeavour to exalt himself by intelligence and taste; for, except under very unhappy circumstances, he not only refines his nature, but infinitely multiplies his pleasures; all his recollections, perceptions, and judgments, afford him gratifications, in which the cold, the callous, and the sordid have no part, and he becomes, from the employments of his mind, not only more happy, but more amiable, more attractive and interesting, more wise, more just, more devout, than others, self-neglectful men!