object exclusively of others, there is the fairest prospect of eminence in that, whatever it may be. Extreme heat can be produced, only when the rays converge to a single point. Young persons are highly interested in this remark; since it may teach them to examine with care, and to pursue with ardour, that path, which nature has marked out for their peculiar exertions.

The nature of taste, the nature and importance of criticism, and the distinction between taste and genius, being thus explained; the sources of the pleasures of taste shall next be considered. Here a very extensive field is opened: no less, than all the pleasures of the imagination, as they are generally called, whether af forded us by natural objects, or by imitations and descriptions of them. It is not however necessary to the purpose of the present work, that all these be examined fully; the pleasure which we receive from discourse or writing, being the principal object of them. Our design is to give some opening into the pleasures of taste in general, and to insist more particularly upon sublimity and beauty.

We are far from having yet attained any system concerning this subject. A regular inquiry into it was first attempted by Mr. Addison in his Essay on the Pleasures of the Imagination. By him these pleasures are ranged under three heads, beauty, grandeur, and novelty. His speculations on this subject, if not remarkably profound, are very beautiful and entertaining; and he has the merit of having discovered a track, which was before untrodden. Since his time the advances, made in this part of philosophical criticism, are not considerable; which is owing doubtless to that thinness and subtilty, which are discovered to be properties of all the feelings of taste. It is difficult to enumerate the several objects, which give pleasure to taste; it is more difficult to define all those which have been discovered, and to range them in proper classes; aud, when we would proceed farther, and investigate the efficient causes of the pleasure, which we receive from such objects, here we find ourselves at the greatast loss. For example, we all learn by experience that

some figures of bodies appear more beautiful than others; on farther inquiry we discover that the regularity of some figures and the graceful variety of others are the foundation of beauty, which we discern in them; but when we endeavour to go a step beyond this, and inquire, why regularity and variety produce in our minds the sensation of beauty; any reason we can assign, is extremely imperfect. Those first principles of internal sensation nature appears to have studiously concealed.

It is some consolation however, that, although the efficient cause is obscure, the final cause of those sensations lies commonly more open; and here we must observe the strong impression, which the powers of taste and imagination are calculated to give us of the benevolence of our Creator. By these powers he hath widely enlarged the sphere of the pleasures of human life; and those too of a kind the most pure and innocent. The necessary purposes of life might have been answered, though our senses of seeing and hearing had only served to distinguish external objects, without giving us any of those refined and delicate sensations of beauty and grandeur, with which we are now so much delighted.

The pleasure which arises from sublimity or grandeur, deserves to be fully considered; because it has a character more precise and distinctly marked, than any other of the pleasures of the imagination, and because it coincides more directly with our main subject. The simplest form of external grandeur is seen in the vast and boundless prospects, presented to us by nature; such as widely extended plains, of which the eye can find no limits; the firmament of heaven; or the boundless expanse of the ocean. All vastness produces the impression of sublimity. Space, however, extended in length, makes not so strong an impression, as height or depth. Though a boundless plain is a grand object; yet a lofty mountain, to which we look up, or an awful precipice or tower, whence we look down on objects below is still more so. The excessive grandeur of the firmament arises from its height, ad

object exclusively of others, there is the fairest pre of eminence in that, whatever it may be. Exe heat can be produced, only when the rays conver a single point. Young persons are highly intes in this remark; since it may teach them to exa with care, and to pursue with ardour, that path, nature has marked out for their peculiar exertion

The nature of taste, the nature and importa criticism, and the distinction between taste and being thus explained; the sources of the pleas taste shall next be considered. Here a very e field is opened: no less, than all the pleasu imagination, as they are generally called, w forded us by natural objects, or by imitation criptions of them. It is not however necess purpose of the present work, that all these ed fully; the pleasure which we receive fro or writing, being the principal object of design is to give some opening into the taste in general, and to insist more pa sublimity and beauty.

We are far from having yet atta concerning this subject. A regular first attempted by Mr. Addison Pleasures of the Imagination. B are ranged under three heads, novelty. His speculations on and he has theit of ha markably profound are very be

Moes heaven's aH-ruling Sire
ry unobscur'd;
darkness round

le to the sublime. The desappearances of supernatural beimity; though the conception, he confused and indistinct. Their the ideas which they always conand might connected with awful it is evident, are so sublime, as the Supreme Being, the most unatest of all objects; the infinity of he eternity of whose duration, added e of his power, though they surpass yet exalt them to the highest. overy compatible with grandeur; nay, tens it. Few things, which are exactmethodical, appear sublime. We see wery side; we feel ourselves confined; om for any considerable exertion of the ugh exact proportion of parts enters often utiful, it is much disregarded in the subgreat mass of rocks, thrown together by the ture, with wildness and confusion, strikes the more grandeur, than if they had been adjusch other, with the most accurate symmetry. eyet remains one class of sublime objects to ioned, which may be termed the moral or sensublime, arising from certain exertions of the from certain affections and actions of our fellow es. These will be found to be chiefly of that which comes under the name of magnanimity or

; and they produce an effect very similar to is produced by a view of grand objects in nature, the mind with admiration, and raising it above Wherever in some critical and dangerous situbehold a man uncommonly intrepid, and restly upon himself! superior to passion and to imated by some great principle to contempt

ded to its boundless extent; and that of the ocean, not from its extent alone, but from the continual motion and irresistible force of that mass of waters. Wher ever space is concerned, it is evident that amplitude or greatness of extent in one dimension or other is necessary to grandeur. Remove ali bounds from any object and you immediately render it sublime. Hence infinite space, endless numbers, and eternal duration fill the mind with great ideas

The most copious source of sublime ideas seems to be derived from the exertion of great power and force. Hence the grandeur of earthquakes, and burning mountains; of great conflagrations; of the boisterous ocean; of the tempestuous storm; of thunder and lightning; and of all the unusual viclence of elements. A stream which glides along gently within its banks, is a beautiful object; but when it rushes down with the impetuosity and noise of a torrent, it immediately becomes a sublime one. A race-horse is viewed with pleasure ; but it is the war-horse," whose neck is clothed with thunder," that conveys grandeur in its idea. The engagement of twe powerful armies, as it is the highest exertion of human strength, combines various sources of the sublime; and has consequently been ever considered, as one of the most striking and magnificent spectacles, which can be either presented to the eye, or exhibited to the imagination in description.

All ideas of the solemn and awful kind, and even bordering on the terrible, tend greatly to assist the sublime; such as darkness, solitude, and silence. The firmament, when filled with stars, scattered in infinite numbers, and with splendid profusion, strikes the imagination with more awful grandeur, than when we behold it enlightened by all the splendour of the sun. The deep sound of a great bell, or the striking of a great clock, is at any time grand and awful; but when heard amid the silence and stillness of night, they become doubly so. Darkness is very generally applied for adding sublimity to all our ideas of the Deity. "He maketh darkness his pavilion ; he dwelleth in the thick cloud." Thus Milton: