effect of genius than judgment, and a kind of natural reason wrought up to perfection by study. It serves in composition to guide and direct the understanding. It makes use of the imagination, but without submitting to it, and keeps it always in subjection. It consults nature universally, follows it step by step, and is a faithful image of it. Reserved and sparing in the midst of abundance and riches, it dispenses the beauties and graces of discourse with temper and wisdom. It never suffers itself to be dazzled with the false, how glittering a figure soever it may make. "Tis equally offended with too much and too little. It knows precisely where it must stop, and cuts off, without regret or mercy, whatever exceeds the beautiful and perfect. 'Tis the want of this quality which occasions the various species of bad style; as bombast, conceit, and witticism; in which, as Quinctilian says, the genius is void of judgment, and suffers itself to be carried away with an appearance of beauty, quoties ingenium judicio caret, et specie boni fallitur.

Taste, simple and uniform in its principle, is varied and multiplied an infinite number of ways, yet so as under a thousand different forms, in prose or verse, in a declamatory or concise, sublime or simple, jocose or serious style, 'tis always the same, and carries with it a certain character of the true and natural, immediately perceived by all persons of judgment. We cannot say the style of Terence, Phædrus, Sallust, Cæsar, Tully, Livy, Virgil, and Horace, is the same. And yet they have all, if I may be allowed the expression, a certain tincture of a common spirit, which in that diversity of genius and style makes an affinity between them, and the sensible difference also betwixt them and the other writers, who have not the stamp of the best age of antiquity upon them.

I have already said, that this distinguishing faculty was a kind of natural reason wrought up to perfection by study. In reality all men bring the first principles of taste with them into the world, as well as those of rhetoric and logic. As a proof of this, we may urge, that every good orator is almost always infallibly approved of by the people, and that there is no dif. ference of taste and sentiment upon this point, as Tully observes, between the ignorant and the learned.

The case is the same with music and painting. A concert, that has all its parts

well composed and well executed, both as to instruments and voices, pleases universally. But if any discord arises, any ill tone of voice be intermixed, it shall displease even those who are absolutely ignorant of music. They know not what it is that offends them, but they find somewhat grating in it to their ears. And this proceeds from the taste and sense of harmony implanted in them by nature. In like manner, a fine picture charms and transports a spectator, who has no idea of painting. Ask him what pleases him, and why it pleases him, and he cannot easily give an account, or specify the real reasons; but natural sentiment works almost the same effect in him as art and use in connoisseurs.

The like observations will hold good as to the taste we are here speaking of. Most men have the first principles of it in themselves, though in the greater part of them they lie dormant in a manner, for want of instruction or reflection; as they are often stifled or corrupted by vicious education, bad customs, or reigning prejudices of the age and country.

But how depraved soever the taste may be, it is never absolutely lost. There are certain fixed remains of it, deeply rooted in the understanding, wherein all men agree. Where these secret seeds are cultivated with care, they may be carried to a far greater height of perfection. And if it so happens that any fresh light awakens these first notions, and renders the mind attentive to the immutable rules of truth and beauty, so as to discover the natural and necessary consequences of them, and serves at the same time for a model to facilitate the application of them; we generally see, that men of the best sense gladly cast off their ancient errors, correct the mistakes of their former judgments, and return to the justness, and delicacy, which are the effects of a refined taste, and by degrees draw others after them into the same way of thinking.

To be convinced of this, we need only look upon the success of certain great orators and celebrated authors, who, by their natural talents, have recalled these primitive ideas, and given fresh life to these seeds, which lie concealed in the mind of every man. In a little time they united the voices of those who made the best use of their reason, in their favour; and soon after gained the applause of every age and condition, both ignorant and learned. It

would be easy to point out amongst us the date of the good taste, which now reigns in all arts and sciences; by tracing each up to its original, we should see that a small number of men of genius have aequired the nation this glory and advantage.

Even those who live in the politer ages, without any application to learning or study, do not fail to gain some tincture of the prevailing good taste, which has a share, without their perceiving it themselves, in their conversation, letters, and behaviour. There are few of our soldiers at present, who would not write more correctly and elegantly than Ville-Hardouin, and the other officers who lived in a ruder and more barbarous age.

From what I have said, we may conclude, that rules and precepts may be laid down for the improvement of this discerning faculty; and I cannot perceive why Quinctilian, who justly set such a value upon it, should say that it is no more to be obtained by art, than the taste or smell; Non magis arte traditur, quam gustus aut odor; unless he means, that some persons are so stupid, and have so little use of their judgment as might tempt one to believe that it was in reality the gift of nature alone.

Neither do I think that Quinctilian is absolutely in the right in the instance he produces, at least with respect to taste. We need only imagine what passes in certain nations, in which long custom has introduced a fondness for certain odd and extravagant dishes. They readily commend good liquors, elegant food, and good cookery. They soon learn to discern the delicacy of the seasoning, when a skilful master in that way has pointed it out to them, and to prefer it to the grossness of their former diet. When I talk thus, I would not be understood to think those nations had great cause to complain, for the want of knowledge and ability in what is become so fatal to us. But we may judge from hence the resemblance there is between the taste of the body and mind, and how proper the first is to describe the character of the second. The good taste we speak of, which is that of literature, is not limited to what we eall the sciences, but extends itself imperceptibly to other arts, such as architecture, painting, sculpture, and music. 'Tis the same discerning faculty which introduces universally the same elegance, the

same symmetry, and the same order, in the disposition of the parts; which inclines us to noble simplicity, to natural beauties, and a judicious choice of ornaments. On the other hand, the depravation of taste in arts has been always a mark and consequence of the depravation of taste in literature. The heavy, confused, and gross ornaments of the old Gothic buildings, placed usually without elegance, contrary to all good rules, and out of all true proportions, were the image of the writings of the authors of the same age.

The good taste of literature reaches also to public customs and the manner of living. An habit of consulting the best rules upon one subject, naturally leads to the doing it also upon others. Paulus Æmilius, whose genius was so universally extensive, having made a great feast for the entertainment of all Greece upon the con quest of Macedon, and observing that his guests looked upon it as conducted with more elegance and art than might be expected from a soldier, told them they were much in the wrong to be surprised at it; for the same genius, which taught how to draw up an army to advantage, naturally pointed out the proper disposition of a table.

But by a strange, though frequent revolution, which is one great proof of the weakness, or rather the corruption of human understanding, this very delicacy and elegance, which the good taste of literature and eloquence usually introduces into common life, for buildings for instance, and entertainments, coming by little and little to degenerate into excess and luxury, introduces in its turn the bad taste of literature and eloquence. This Seneca informs us, in a very ingenious manner, in one of his epistles, where he seems to have drawn a good description of himself, though he did not perceive it.

One of his friends had asked him, whence the alteration could possibly arise which was sometimes observable in eloquence, and which carried most people into certain general faults; such as the affectation of bold and extravagant figures, metaphors struck off without measure or caution, sentences so short and abrupt, that they left people rather to guess what they meant, than conveyed a meaning.

Seneca answers this question by a common proverb among the Greeks; "As is their life, so is their discourse," Talis homi

nibus fait oratio, qualis vita. As a private person lets us into his character by his discourse, so the reigning style is oft an image of the public manners. The heart carries the understanding away with it, and communicates its vices to it, as well as its virtues. When men strive to be distinguished from the rest of the world by novelty, and refinement in their furniture, buildings, and entertainments, and a studious search after every thing that is not in common use; the same taste will prevail in eloquence, and introduce novelty and irregularity there. When the mind is once accustomed to despise rules in manners, it will not follow them in style. Nothing will then go down but what strikes by its being new and glaring, extraordinary and affected. Trifling and childish thoughts will take place of such as are bold and overstrained to an excess. We shall affect a sleek and florid style, and an elocution pompous indeed, but with little more than mere sound in it.

And this sort of faults is generally the effect of a single man's example, who, having gained reputation enough to be followed by the multitude, sets up for a master, and gives the strain to others. "Tis thought honourable to imitate him, to observe and copy after him, and his style becomes the rule and model of the public

taste.

As then luxury in diet and dress is a plain indication that the manners are not under so good a regulation as they should be; so a licentiousness of style, when it becomes public and general, shews evidently a depravation and corruption of the understandings of mankind.

To remedy this evil, and reform the thoughts and expressions used in style, it will be requisite to cleanse the spring from whence they proceed. 'Tis the mind that must be cured. When that is sound and vigorous, eloquence will be so too; but it becomes feeble and languid when the mind is enfeebled and enervated by pleasures and delights. In a word, it is the mind which presides and directs, and gives motion to the whole, and all the rest follows its impressions.

He has observed elsewhere, that a style too studied and far-fetched is a mark of a little genius. He would have an orator, especially when upon a grave and serious subject, be less curious about words, and the manner of placing them, than of his matter, and the choice of his thoughts.

When you see a discourse laboured and polished with so much carefulness and study, you may conclude, says he, that it comes from a mean capacity, that busies itself in trifles. A writer of great genius will not stand for such minute things. He thinks and speaks with more nobleness and grandeur, and we may discern, in all he says, a certain easy and natural air, which argues a man of real riches, who does not endeavour to appear so. He then compares this florid prinked eloquence to young people curled out and powdered, and continually before their glass and the toilet: Barba et coma nitidos, de capsula totos. Nothing great and solid can be expected from such characters. So also with orators. The discourse is in a manner the visage of the mind. If it is decked out, tricked up, and painted, it is a sign there is some defect in the mind, and all is not sound within. So much finery displayed with so much art and study, is not the proper ornament of eloquence. Non est ornamentum virile, concinnitas.

Who would not think, upon hearing Seneca talk thus, that he was a declared enemy of bad taste, and that no one was more capable of opposing and preventing it than he? And yet it was he, more than any other, that contributed to the depravation of taste, and corruption of eloquence. I shall take an occasion to speak upon this subject in another place, and shall do it the more freely, as there is cause to fear lest the bad taste for bright thoughts, and turns of expression, which is properly the character of Seneca, should prevail in our own age. And I question whether this be not a mark or presage of the ruin of eloquence we are threatened with, as the immoderate luxury that now reigns more than ever, and the almost general decay of good manners, are perhaps also the fatal harbingers of it.

One single person of reputation sometimes, as Seneca observes, and he himself is an instance of it, who by his eminent qualifications shall have acquired the esteem of the public, may suffice to introduce this bad taste and corrupt style. Whilst moved by a secret ambition, a man of this character strives to distinguish himself from the rest of the orators and writers of his age, and to open a new path, where he thinks it better to march alone at the head of his new disciples, than follow at the heels of the old masters; whilst he prefers the reputation of wit to that of so

lidity, pursues what is bright rather than what is solid, and sets the marvellous above the natural and true; whilst he chooses rather to apply to the fancy than to the judgment, to dazzle reason than convince it, to surprise the hearer into an approbation, rather than deserve it; and by a kind of delusion and soft enchantment carry off the admiration and applauses of superficial minds (and such the multitude always are); other writers, seduced by the charms of novelty, and the hopes of a like success, will suffer themselves insensibly to be hurried down the stream, and add strength to it, by following it. And thus the old taste, though better in itself, shall give way to the new one without redress, which shall presently assume the force of law, and draw a whole nation after it.

This should awaken the diligence of the masters in the university, to prevent and hinder, as much as in them lies, the ruin of good taste; and as they are intrusted with the public instruction of youth, they should look upon this care as an essential part of their duty. The customs, manners, and laws of the ancients have changed; they are often opposite to our way of life, and the usages that prevail amongst us, and the knowledge of them may be therefore less necessary for us. Their actions are gone and cannot return; great events have had their course, without any reason left for us to expect the like; and the revolutions of states and empires have perhaps very little relation to their present situation and wants, and therefore become of less concern to us. But good taste, which is grounded upon immutable principles, is always the same in every age: and it is the principal advantage that young persons should be taught to obtain from reading of ancient authors, who have ever been Looked upon with reason as the masters, depositories, and guardians of sound eloquence and good taste. In fine, of all that may anywise contribute to the cultivating the mind, we may truly say this is the most essential part, and what ought to be preferred before all others.

This good taste is not confined to literature; it takes in also, as we have already suggested, all arts and sciences, and branches of knowledge. It consists therefore in a certain just and exact discernment, which points out to us, in each of the sciences and branches of knowledge, whatever is most curious, beautiful, and useful,

whatever is most essential, suitable, or necessary to those who apply to it; how far consequently we should carry the study of it; what ought to be removed from it; what deserves a particular application and preference before the rest. For want of this discernment a man may fall short of the most essential part of his profession, without perceiving it; nor is the case so rare as one might imagine. An instance taken from the Cyropædia of Xenophon will set the matter in a clear light.

The young Cyrus, son of Cambyses King of Persia, had long been under the tuition of a master in the art of war, who was without doubt a person of the greatest abilities and best reputation in his time. One day, as Cambyses was discoursing with his son, he took occasion to mention his master, whom the young Prince had in great veneration, and from whom he pretended he had learnt in general whatever was necessary for the command of an army. Has your master, says Cambyses, given you any lectures of economy; that is, has he taught you how to provide your troops with necessaries, to supply them with provisions, to prevent the distempers that are incident to them, to cure them when they are sick, to strengthen their bodies by frequent exercise, to raise emulation among them, how to make yourself obeyed, esteemed, and beloved by them? Upon all these points, answered Cyrus, and several others, the King ran over to him, he has not spoke one word, and they are all new to meAnd what has he taught you then? To exercise my arms, replies the young Prince, to ride, to draw the bow, to cast the spear, to form a camp, to draw the plan of a fortification, to range my troops in order of battle, to make a review, to see that they march, file off, and encamp. byses smiled, and let his son see, that he had learnt nothing of what was most essential to the making of a good officer, and an able general; and taught him far more in one conversation, which certainly deserves well to be studied by young gen. tlemen that are designed for the army, than his famous master had done in many years.

Cam

Every profession is liable to the same inconvenience, either from our not being sufficiently attentive to the principal end we should have in view in our applications to it, or from taking custom for our guide, and blindly following the footsteps of