mortifying to discover, that, with all its intricate meanderings, it leads absolutely no where. The exercise to be sure, is refreshing; but if only exercise is to be found, common sense will tell us to stop, when we begin to grow fatigued.

The subjects on which Mr. Stewart has entered in the latter part of his volume, are of a description which few will think uninteresting, whatever other objections may be made to them. The first of these essays is on the Beautiful, and the second on the Sublime.

It is now somewhat more than half a century since Mr. Burke attempted to explain, on philosophical principles, the causes of that pleasure which every person of sensibility feels in the perusal of the finest writers, and in the contemplation of animate or inanimate nature. Lord Kames preceded him (we believe) a short time, with his "Elements of Criticism;" but from these Mr. Burke appears to have borrowed little, if any thing; and in this country at least, he may be considered as quite original. His followers have not been very numerous, but, for the most part, they have been select; Sir Joshua Reynolds, Mr. Price, Mr. Payne Knight, and Mr. Alison, are all writers of considerable emi

pence.

It would be an interesting subject of inquiry, whence it happens that certain researches, both literary and philosophical, happen to be omitted (if we may use the expression) for a long series of yearsthough of a nature, when once investigated, to be

po

come exceedingly popular. Both the science of litical economy and the science of philosophical criticism had their birth in the last century; yet poets had sung and commercial intercourse existed from the earliest ages. The ancients were passionately fond of eloquence, poetry, music, sculpture, painting; of all the arts for the enjoyment and the perfecting of which a cultivated taste is peculiarly requisite. Nay, taste is exactly the particular in which their superiority over the moderns is the least disputable. Yet their most celebrated critics (and the race was numerous and of high reputation) rarely attempt any thing beyond a delineation of the rules which are to be observed in all just compositions. The principles into which these rules may be resolved, they rarely mention, and never investigate. They resemble the preceptor of young Cyrus in the art of war, who taught him the whole system of manœuvring, but neglected to instruct him in the method of studying the characters of his soldiers, and acquiring an ascendency over their minds.

It is not very easy to account satisfactorily for this phenomenon. Perhaps the course of sciences which different nations pursue, and the order in which they arise out of each other, depend more upon accidental circumstances, than ordinarily is supposed. If, however, we were obliged to find some probable reason for the neglect of philosophical criticism among the ancients, we should sug gest, as one of the chief causes, that peculiar delicacy

of organization and fineness of natural taste with which they were generally gifted, and which would certainly be sought in vain among our own countrymen. Theophrastus was discovered, at Athens, to be a foreigner by speaking the dialect too correctly. Demosthenes was hissed in one of his earliest speeches for a false accent. Euripides shared the same fate at the theatre because he had crowded too many sigmas () into a verse; and the effect was thought so comical, that Aristophanes more than once made his countrymen merry by mimicking this. unhappy line. But the story told of Crassus the orator is the most singular: he was stopped by thunders of applause on pronouncing the following passage:" Ubi lubido, ibi innocentiæ leve præsidium est:" a sentence, the music of which was thought overpowering; though, probably, the most delicate modern ear cannot catch a single tone of its harmony. Where the taste was naturally so fine, it is not very extraordinary that the principles on which it may be cultivated and improved were not anxiously studied; just as very rich soils are those where agriculture is generally most neglected. The common opposition of nature to art is at least thus far founded in truth, that where the former has been remarkably bountiful the second is apt to be inactive.

Perhaps, too, some additional light will be thrown upon the fact already noticed, if we consider the exquisite feeling which was common in the ancient world for whatever is great or affecting. Of this

abundant evidence is afforded by the classical historians, to which it would be difficult to find any thing parallel in modern writers. When Manlius was arraigned for high treason, though the indignation of the people was extreme, they refused to judge him within sight of the Capitol which he had defended. When Scipio appeared to answer charge of embezzling the public money, he held up to the people the articles of accusation, and, tearing them in pieces, said:" Romans, on this day I vanquished Hannibal: let us go and return thanks to the immortal gods;" and they followed him to the Capitol. The Greek annals are not less rich than the Latin in anecdotes of a like character: and the prodigious power of the orators, as well as the almost divine honours paid to the poets and artists, testify to the same truth. We suspect that a people capable of such lively emotions would not generally be found very patient auditors of a philosophical lecture, upon their feelings. Mr. Burke doubtless is a strong example to the contrary, but Mr. Burke is an exception to all rules. Unless we have mis-read human nature, there is a certain reluctance, almost instinctive, in persons of great sensibility, to the nice dissection of their feelings. The part is too tender to be touched. There are pleasures, the analysis of which is a sort of sacrilege; and pains, on which it would be quite brutal to philosophize. Even where the imagination only is affected, it would be rather mortifying, in the midst of a glow of enthusiasın, to be informed that

nothing could be more just than the emotion, a great part of it being manifestly resolvable into a perception of fitness, or of the sufficient reason.

These last ideas, which, to avoid prolixity, we have hinted rather than developed, open to us the glimpse of a theory not only unworthy of a more steady attention, and which tends to explain why philosophical criticism arose so late among our own countrymen. We can but just touch it, being pressed by other topics.

It is with nations as with individuals; they feel before they think. The progress of society is from fancy to reason, from sensibility to truth. The writers who flourished in this island from the middle of the sixteenth to the middle of the seventeenth century, are distinguished by an originality and extent of imagination, a copiousness of ideas, a strength of colouring, and an eager, vigorous, untaught eloquence, which we now contemplate with amazement. In respect of correctness both of thought and expression, accurate logic, and that orderly system of discussion which conducts us to truth by the shortest process, they are far inferior to their successors of the eighteenth century, Hume's Essays would probably surprize Barrow almost as much as Barrow's Sermons ought to have astonished Hume. The passions, which were formerly felt and delineated, have since been surveyed and analysed. Men do not, perhaps, think more intensely in the present age, but they watch their thoughts more closely; they are more aware of