Of the Standard of Taste
David Hume
1757
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Copyright 1997, Julie Van Camp (jvancamp@csulb.edu). See end note for details
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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.
Clowney's kibbitzing: phrases appearing in this brick
color are my "shoulder notes". They're designed to help you follow
the essay. Links to other relevant material appear in blue. If you want an unmodified
version of the text, go to the source where I found this, at The
Hume Archives.
Of the Standard of Taste
Taste really varies!
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.
The variation is even greater than it appears, because
people use the same value-words, but mean different things by them.
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.
Some people say the same thing is true for morals, and
not just for what kind of art or ice-cream you like. They say right and wrong
are a matter of what we feel good or bad about, not something we can demonstrate
rationally like the answer to a math problem. And, they say, since people have
different feelings about right and wrong, there is not really any standard of
morals, any more than there is a standard of taste. Likewise, when they talk
about right and wrong, people again use the same words, but mean different things
by them.
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.
So is there a Standard of Taste?
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.
One possible answer: there can't be a Standard, because
taste is just how people feel about things, and you feel the way you feel; there's
no right and wrong about it. There would be no rational way to tell which taste
was better. That makes Taste completely different from matters of the understanding,
like for example, whether two plus two equals four.
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. (Or in other words, Beauty is in the
eye of the beholder; it's a feeling we have when we experience certain
things.) 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 (for?) 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.
That's all well and good, and it seems like common sense.
But do you really think that a street corner Elvis-on-velvet is as great as
a Rembrandt, or that Shakespeare is no better than the poetry on a Hallmark
card? That's what you're saying when you say there's no standard of Taste; and
when you put it that way, it doesn't seem like common sense any more.
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.
From here on, Hume tries to resolve the dilemma he
has just created. He starts by saying that he thinks both of the positions he
has just put forward are correct. The "rules" of Taste (for
example, the rules of composition) are really a report of what pleases us; there
are no rational rules for it, as there are for math or physics. But Hume thinks
there is still a way to arrive at a standard for taste. See if you think he
pulls it off!
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.
The rules of Taste summarize reactions of "the
finer emotions of the mind." Not everyone has the temperament, the time,
the freedom from distraction, or the training to respond to a work of art with
these finer emotions.
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.
Over time, the finer sentiments tend to win out. A
work that stands the test of time is a great work, i.e., it pleases the finer
emotions.
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.
(And actually, there must be something in objects which
stirs these reactions in us. Remove the obstacles, and the reaction will emerge.)
So it would seem that there actually is a standard of taste!
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.
Now Hume details the reasons why not everyone follows
the Standard of Taste. In the process, he develops rules for being a good
art critic.
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.
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