with dislike:" this is too narrow still: for Taste is concerned with many things beside authors.

6. What then is Taste, in the general meaning of the word? It is certainly a faculty of the mind, analagous to the sense of taste. By the external sense we relish various foods, and distinguish one from the other. By the internal, we relish and distinguish from each other various foods offered to the mind. Taste is, therefore, that internal sense, which relishes and distinguishes its proper object. By relishes, I mean, perceives with pleasure: for in the common acceptation of the word, we are not said, to have a taste for displeasing, but only for pleasing objects. And as various as those objects are, so various are the species of Taste.

7. Some of these are objects of the understanding. Such are all speculative truths; particularly those of a metaphysical or mathematical nature. So we say, a man has a taste for metaphysics; which is more than to say, He has judgment therein. It implies over and above, that he has a relish for them; that he finds a sweetness in the study of them. And when we say, a man has a taste for the mathematics, we mean by that expression, not only that he is capable of understanding them, but that he takes pleasure therein.

8. Another species of Taste, is that which relates to the objects that gratify the imagination. Thus we are accustomed to say, a man has a taste for grandeur, for novelty, or for beauty: 'meaning thereby, that he takes pleasure in grand, in new, or in beautiful objects, whether they are such by nature or by art. And herein there is an unbounded variety. I mean, in the different tastes of men: some having a taste for grandeur, some for beauty. Some again have a taste for one kind of beauty: and others for another. Some have a taste for the beauties of nature; others for those of art. The former for flowers, meadows, fields, or woods; the latter for painting or poetry. But some have a taste both for the one and the other.

9. But is there not likewise a kind of internal sense, whereby we relish the happiness of our fellow-creatures;

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even without any reflection on our own interest, without any reference to ourselves? Whereby we bear a part in the prosperity of others, and rejoice with them that rejoice? Surely there is something still in the human mind, in many, if not in all, (whether by nature, or from a higher principle,) which interests us in the welfare, not only of our relatives, our friends, and our neighbours, but of those who are at the greatest distance from us, whether in time or place. And the most generous minds have most of this taste for human happiness.

10. May we not likewise observe, that there is a beauty in virtue, in gratitude, and disinterested benevolence? And have not many at least a taste for this? Do they not discern and relish it, wherever they find it? Yea, does it not give them one of the most delicate pleasures, whereof the human mind is capable? Is not this taste of infinitely more value, than a taste for any or all the pleasures of imagination? And is not this pleasure infinitely more delicate than any that ever resulted, yea, or can result, from the utmost refinements of music, poetry, or painting?

11. As to Taste in general, internal as well as external Taste seems to belong to all mankind: although infinitely diversified, both as to the objects, and the degrees of it. When therefore we say, "A man has no taste," the words are not to be taken strictly, as if he had absolutely no taste at all, in any of the foregoing senses: seeing, every man living has more or less, an internal, as well as external taste. But they are to be understood in a limited sense. He has no taste, suppose, for metaphysics: he has no discernment, and he has no pleasure in things of this abstracted nature. Another man has no taste for mathematics: he has neither pleasure nor judgment therein. Mean time the mathematician has no taste either for poetry or music. He does not discern, and he does not relish the beauties, either of one or the other. But every one of these has some internal taste, how dull soever it be.

12. A dull Taste is properly one that is faint and languid, that has no lively perception of its object. But sometimes,

by a man of a dull taste, we mean one that relishes dull things: suppose dull, low compositions in music or poetry, or coarse and worthless pictures. But this is more properly termed a bad taste. So one is hugely pleased with the daubing of a sign-post, another, with doggerel verses, and a third, with the heavenly music of a pair of bag-pipes! Almost every town and every village supplies us with instances of the same kind. We sometimes call this a false taste, as it supposes things to be excellent which are not. In many it is natural: they have had this wrong turn ever since they were born. But in others it is gradually acquired, either by reading or conversation. Then we term it a vitiated taste: of this, too, there are abundant instances.

13. On the other hand, he has a good, a just, or a true taste, which discerns and relishes whatever, either in the works of nature or of art, is truly excellent in its kind. This is sometimes termed a correct taste: especially when it is delighted more or less, according to the greater or smaller degree of excellence that is in the object. This differs very little, if at all, from a fine taste: especially as Mr. Addison defines it, "That faculty of the mind which discerns with pleasure all the beauties of writing:" should it not be rather, "Which discerns all that is grand or beautiful, in the works both of art and nature?"

14. Such a Taste as this is much to be desired: and that on many accounts. It greatly increases those pleasures of life, which are not only innocent but useful. It qualifies us to be of far greater service to our fellow-creatures. It is more especially desirable for those whose profession calls them to converse with many: seeing it enables them to be more agreeable, and consequently more profitable in conversation.

15. But how shall a man know, whether he is possessed of this faculty or not? Let him, says Mr. Addison, "Read over the celebrated worksof antiquity," (to know whether he has a taste for fine writing,) "which have stood the test for so many ages and countries: or those works among the moderns, which have the sanction of the politer part of our

contemporaries. If, upon the perusal of such writings, he does not find himself delighted in an extraordinary manner, or if, upon reading the admired passages in such authors, he finds a coldness and indifference in his thoughts, he ought to conclude, not (as is most common among tasteless readers,) that the author wants those perfections, which have been admired in them, but that he himself wants the faculty of discerning them.”

16. But how can a man acquire this taste? It" must in some degree be born with us: as it often happens, that those who have other qualities in perfection, are wholly void of this. But though it may, in some measure, be born with us, there are several means of improving it, without which it will be very imperfect and of little use to the person that possesses it. The most natural means is, to be conversant with the writings of the best authors. One that has any taste, either discovers new beauties, or receives stronger impressions from the masterly strokes of a great author, every time he peruses him."

17. "Conversation with men of genius is another means of improving our natural taste. It is impossible for a man of the greatest parts, to consider any thing in its whole extent. Every man, beside general observations upon an author, forms some that are peculiar to his own way of thinking. So that conversation will naturally furnish us with hints which we did not attend to, and make us enjoy other men's parts and reflections as well as our own." Besides, if we converse freely with men of taste, and incite them to "open the window in their breast," we may learn to correct whatever is yet amiss in our taste, as well as to supply whatever we or they perceive to be still wanting: all which may be directed to that glorious end, The pleasing all men, for their good, unto edification.

THOUGHTS ON THE POWER OF MUSIC.

1. BY the Power of Music, I mean, its power to affect the hearers; to raise various passions in the human mind. Of this we have very surprising accounts in ancient history. We are told, the ancient Greek musicians in particular, were able to excite whatever passions they pleased: to inspire love or hate, joy or sorrow, hope or fear, courage, fury, or despair: yea, to raise these one after another, and to vary the passion, just according to the variation of the music.

2. But how is this to be accounted for? No such effects attend the modern music: although it is confessed on all hands, that our instruments excel theirs beyond all degrees of comparison. What was their lyre, their instruments of seven or ten strings, compared to our violin? What were any of their pipes, to our hautboy or German flute? What all of them put together, all that were in use two or three thousand years ago, to our organ? How is it then, that with this inconceivable advantage, the modern music has less power than the ancient?

3. Some have given a very short answer to this, cutting the knot which they could not untie. They have doubted, or affected to doubt the fact: perhaps have even denied it. But no sensible man will do this, unless he be utterly blinded by prejudice. For it would be denying the faith of all history seeing no fact is better authenticated. None is delivered down to us by more unquestionable testimony; such as fully satisfies in all other cases. We have, therefore, no more reason to doubt of the power of Timotheus' music, than that of Alexander's arms: and we may deny his taking Persepolis, as well as his burning it through that sudden rage, which was excited in him by that musician. And the various effects which were successively wrought in his mind, (so beautifully described by Dryden, in his Odę