The science of criticism tends to improve the heart not less than the understanding. I observe, in the first place, that it hath a fine effect in moderating the selfish affections. A just taste in the fine arts, by sweetening and harmonizing the temper, is a strong antidote to the turbulence of passion and violence of pursuit. Elegance of taste procures to a man so much enjoyment at home, or easily within reach, that in order to be occupied, he is, in youth, under no temptation to precipitate into hunting, gaming, drinking; nor, in middle age, to deliver himself over to ambition; nor, in old age, to avarice. Pride, a disgustful selfish passion, exerts itself without control, when accompanied with a bad taste. A man of this stamp, upon whom the most striking beauty makes but a faint impression, feels no joy but in gratifying his ruling passion by the discovery of errors and blemishes. Pride, on the other hand, finds in the constitution no enemy more formidable than a delicate and discerning taste. The man upon whom nature and culture have bestowed this blessing, feels great delight in the virtuous dispositions and actions of others. He loves to cherish them, and to publish them to the world. Faults and failings, it is true, are to him not less obvious: but these he avoids, or removes out of sight, because they give him pain. In a word, there may be other passions, which, for a season, disturb the peace of society more than pride: but no other passion is so unwearied an antagonist to the sweets of social intercourse. Pride, tending assiduously to its gratification, puts a man perpetually in opposition to others; and disposes him more to relish bad than good qualities, even in a bosom friend. How different that disposition of mind, where every virtue in a companion or neighbour, is, by refinement of taste, set in its strongest light; and defects or blemishes, natural to all, are suppressed, or kept out of view?
In the next place, delicacy of taste tends not less to invigorate the social affections, than to moderate those that are selfish. To be convinced of this tendency, we need only reflect, that delicacy of taste necessarily heightens our sensibility of pain and pleasure, and of course our sympathy, which is the capital branch of every social passion. Sympathy in particular invites a communication of joys and sorrows, hopes and fears. Such exercise, soothing and satisfactory in itself, is productive necessarily of mutual good-will and affection.
One other advantage of criticism is reserved to the last place, being of all the most important, that it is a great support to morality. I insist on it with entire satisfaction, that no occupation attaches a man more to his duty than that of cultivating a taste in the fine arts. A just relish of what is beautiful, proper, elegant, and ornamental, in writing or painting, in architecture or gardening, is a fine preparation for discerning what is beautiful, just, elegant, or magnanimous, in character and behaviour. To the man who has acquired a taste so acute and accomplished, every action, wrong or improper, must be highly disgustful. If, in any instance, the overbearing power of passion sway him from his duty, he returns to it upon the first reflection, with redoubled resolution never to be swayed a second time. He has now an additional motive to virtue, a conviction derived from experience, that happiness depends on regularity and order, and that a disregard to justice or propriety never fails to be punished with shame and remorse[5].
Rude ages exhibit the triumph of authority over reason. Philosophers anciently were divided into sects: they were either Epicureans, Platonists, Stoics, Pythagoreans, or Sceptics. Men relied no farther upon their own judgement than to chuse a leader, whom they implicitly followed. In later times, happily, reason hath obtained the ascendant. Men now assert their native privilege of thinking for themselves, and disdain to be ranked in any sect, whatever be the science. I must except criticism, which, by what fatality I know not, continues to be not less slavish in its principles, nor less submissive to authority, than it was originally. Bossu, a celebrated French critic, gives many rules; but can discover no better foundation for any of them, than the practice merely of Homer and Virgil, supported by the authority of Aristotle. Strange, that in so long a work, the concordance or discordance of these rules with human nature, should never once have entered his thoughts! It could not surely be his opinion, that these poets, however eminent for genius, were intitled to give laws to mankind, and that nothing now remains but blind obedience to their arbitrary will. If in writing they followed no rule, why should they be imitated? If they studied nature, and were obsequious to rational principles, why should these be concealed from us?
With respect to the present undertaking, it is not the author’s intention to give a regular treatise upon each of the fine arts in particular; but only, in general, to apply to them some remarks and observations drawn from human nature, the true source of criticism. The fine arts are calculated for our entertainment, or for making agreeable impressions; and, by that circumstance, are distinguished from the useful arts. In order then to be a critic in the fine arts, it is necessary, as above hinted, to know what objects are naturally agreeable, and what naturally disagreeable. A complete treatise on that subject would be a field by far too extensive to be thoroughly cultivated by any one hand. The author pretends only to have entered upon the subject so far as necessary for supporting his critical remarks. And he assumes no merit from his performance, but that of evincing, perhaps more distinctly than hitherto has been done, that the genuine rules of criticism are all of them derived from the human heart. The sensitive part of our nature is a delightful speculation. What the author hath discovered or collected upon that subject, he chuses to impart in the gay and agreeable form of criticism; because he imagines, that this form will be more relished, and perhaps be not less instructive, than a regular and laboured disquisition. His plan is, to ascend gradually to principles, from facts and experiments, instead of beginning with the former, handled abstractly, and descending to the latter. But though criticism be thus his only declared aim, he will not disown, that all along he had it in view, to explain the nature of man, considered as a sensitive being, capable of pleasure and pain. And though he flatters himself with having made some progress in that important science, he is however too sensible of its extent and difficulty, to undertake it professedly, or to avow it as the chief purpose of the present work.
To censure works, not men, is the just prerogative of criticism; and accordingly all personal censure is here avoided, unless where necessary to illustrate some general proposition. No praise is claimed on that account; because censuring with a view merely to find fault, is an entertainment that humanity never relishes. Writers, one would imagine, should, above all others, be reserved upon that article, when they lie so open to retaliation. The author of this treatise, far from being confident of meriting no censure, entertains not even the slightest hope of such perfection. Amusement was at first the sole aim of his inquiries. Proceeding from one particular to another, the subject grew under his hand; and he was far advanced before the thought struck him, that his private meditations might be publicly useful. In public, however, he would not appear in a slovenly dress; and therefore he pretends not otherwise to apologise for his errors, than by observing, that, in a new subject, not less nice than extensive, errors are in some measure unavoidable. Neither pretends he to justify his taste in every particular. That point must be extremely clear, which admits not variety of opinion; and in some matters susceptible of great refinement, time is perhaps the only infallible touch-stone of taste. To this he appeals, and to this he chearfully submits.
N. B. The Elements of Criticism, meaning the whole, is a title too assuming for this work. A number of these elements or principles are here evolved: but as the author is far from imagining, that he has completed the list, a more humble title is proper, such as may express any undetermined number of parts less than the whole. This he thinks is signified by the title he has chosen, viz. Elements of Criticism.
ELEMENTS
OF
CRITICISM.
CHAPTER I.
Perceptions and ideas in a train.