the one, and not to the other: it is far from being equally easy to show how the one passage is beautiful from its truth of character, and the other, though perhaps rich in harmony of rhythm and rhetorical ornament, is yet faulty, by its violation of the more important harmony of thought and emotion, a harmony which nature observes as faithfully in the progress of those vehement passions that appear most wild and irregular, as in the calmest successions of feeling of the most tranquil hours."

We regard this passage of Dr. Brown, as a very felicitous exposition of the nature of true criticism. When contemplated in the character of a science, it becomes a most interesting and important branch of the philosophy of mind. And as human nature is so endlessly diversified in its operations and aspects, it is a science of no small difficulty. It is indeed perfectly easy to praise or condemn in the gross; but if we would announce the reasons of approbation or censure, we may find ourselves in a mortifying predicament. The simple interrogative "why?" has crimsoned many a cheek, and palsied many a tongue. We must study our own intellectual states and emotions with persevering assiduity; we must pause in the midst of our pleasure, when under the influence of the fascinations of genius, and detect, if possible, the conspiring causes, the exciting elements of the complex feeling of agreeableness; we must register the responses which we obtain from the oracle within us, and collate them with those obtained by others from a similar authority; in few words, we must subject ourselves to a long and laborious discipline of observation, analysis, and comparison, before we can hope to attain to any degree of respectability, as philosophical critics.

Now we do not feel conscious of any lack of candor, when we say, that a vast amount of what is termed criticism, if it is any thing better than unblushing quackery, is seldom better than the merest prattle of common-places, or an arrogant, ostentatious parade of conventional technicalities, or an insolent, overbearing, unmerciful, ferocious dictation. Reviews, it has been said, have been written in Newgate, without even a perusal of the works, to which they were applied. Even Addison "pronounced a confident and discriminate character of Spenser, whose poem he had then never read." Certain it is, that journals of high reputation, have given importance and currency to criticism, "so called,

but falsely." Inexperienced young men have too often been suffered to sport with talent and worth, and do irreparable injury to the good names of those, who were richly entitled to general respect and esteem. Is it not really amusing, as well as provoking, to see with what an air of greatness and tone of majesty, a mere abecedarian, in the school of taste, will pronounce his critical decisions? Lilliputian as he is, he will gravely arraign before his mightiness, any of the giants in literature. He decides upon their merits, and the sentence, perhaps, comes forth to the public. The effervescence of precocity, heated without measure by indiscreet praise, is frequently received by the unthinking, as a marvellous emanation of genius and the tinsel and flippancy of the veriest "fopling of belles-lettres," are dignified by the epithets of beauty and power. Is it then a matter of wonder, that authors of eminence have treated with utter contempt, the reviews of their publications? Have not some, whose pretensions to critical infallibility are not small, deserved the full measure of retributive vengeance?

"Fools are my theme, let satire be my song."

And long before this line was written by the indignant pen of Byron, the greatest master of English versification had often steeped the naked nerve in gall." Though he wrote in bitterness and wrath, it cannot be denied, that he described a character.

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"The book ful blockhead, ignorantly read,
With loads of learned lumber in his head,
With his own tongue still edifies his ears,
And always listening to himself appears.
All books he reads, and all he reads assails,

From Dryden's Fables down to Durfy's Tales.
With him, most authors steal their works, or buy;
Garth did not write his own Dispensary.

No place so sacred from such fops is barred,

Nor is Paul's church more safe than Paul's church-yard;
Nay, fly to altars; there they'll talk you dead,
For fools rush in where angels fear to tread.
Distrustful sense with modest caution speaks,
It still looks home, and short excursions makes;
But rattling nonsense in full yollies breaks,
And never shocked, and never turned aside,
Bursts out resistless, with a thundering tide."

It will be perceived from this train of remark, that we require of critics some qualifications, which are neither the

birthright nor the possession of all, who assume the name and attempt to discharge the duties of the office. Of these qualifications we would now speak more particularly. We begin with refinement of taste.

Not only must the critic be endowed with a lively susceptibility of the emotions of taste, but he must cultivate his power of discrimination, by that process of varied experiment, which is indispensable in the formation of a refined judgment. To pronounce decisive opinions upon works of literature and of oratory, without the aid of that experience, which imparts accuracy and finish to our thoughts, is both presumptuous and preposterous. What reliance can be placed upon the decisions of taste, when it is obvious, that for want of proper cultivation, it partakes much more of sensibility than reason, of feeling than judgment; and is palpably destitute of that correctness and elegance, which can be derived only from communion with the purest models in nature and art?

Refinement of taste presupposes some acquaintance with the characteristics of man as illustrated in discourse; that is, presupposes some knowledge of the causes of the different effects produced by the writer and speaker. A person, however, may possess considerable refinement of taste, without being very philosophically versed in the true reasons which give shape and quality to his critical judgments. He may have a delicate perception of the beautiful, and a keen sagacity for the detection of blemishes, and yet be often unable to distinguish and separate the varied ingredients in the complex emotion of pleasure or disgust.

Hence we shall mention a thorough acquaintance with the philosophy of human nature, as a distinct and highly important qualification of a good critic. Without this knowledge, he really has no standard, to which he can make an ultimate appeal. He may quote the authority of Homer or Demosthenes, of Milton or of Chatham, or any distinguished master in poetry or eloquence-and still the question remains-does the authority agree with nature? While the empiric in criticism relies upon precedent, the philosopher has recourse to the acknowledged sources of pleasure in the natural constitution of man.

Although some predominant principles of human nature are the same everywhere, it is certain that man varies in his character, according to the different influences of climate,

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occupation, government, intelligence, and religion. rules of criticism, founded upon the example of a successful author in one country, may be inapplicable to the work of an author in another country, though the work of the last may belong to the same species of composition as the work of the first. The rules of epic poetry, as deduced from the Iliad, fail, and ought to fail, when rigidly applied to Paradise Lost. The plays of Shakspeare would be condemned at a tribunal, where none but the examples of Sophocles, and Aristophanes are allowed authority. Hume, Robertson, Gibbon, and Mitford, have all deviated from the track of Herodotus and Thucydides. In oral eloquence too, Chatham and Erskine would not have risked some modes, or rather artifices of persuasion, which could find an apology in the names of Demosthenes and Cicero. The great masters in literature and oratory, have, with few exceptions, conformed themselves to man, as his intellectual and moral powers were developed in their own nation and their own age. Few have dared to give themselves to "the universal forms of beautiful nature," or to "paint for posterity." Seldom are men willing to climb to those higher and sublimer eminences, which a future generation may occupy. A Milton in poetry, and a Burke in eloquence, are rare examples.

As then Grecian human nature, if we may be allowed the phrase, differed much from English human nature, the rules of criticism, stated by Aristotle and Dionysius, admitting them to be correct in their application to Grecian mind, cannot be considered equally correct, when applied to English mind. This is a point of great importance in criticism. There are modes of thinking, trains of association, and states of feeling, peculiar to the inhabitants of one country, compared with those of another. It was this consideration, undoubtedly, which led the discriminating Madame De Stael to remark, that "the literature of a foreign nation cannot be perfectly comprehended." The literature of a country professes to be an expression of the national mind, and the national heart. And just in proportion as it expresses the national mind and the national heart, it comes home to the business and bosoms of the people, that gave it birth.

It is now obvious, that the philosophical critic may often be obliged to appeal from a technical rule to the authority of human nature, considered in relation to the various circumstances by which it is effected. He must also sometimes

His

appeal to the original impressions of truth and beauty. opinions may be at variance with the popular taste, but the popular taste may be constrained to yield, when an audible voice speaks from the oracle of nature.

"If we consider the works of literature," says Frederick Schlegel, "by the principles of any universal theory of art, there is no end to the controversy which may arise with regard to the merits and defects either of an individual book, or of a whole body of literature; the great danger is, that we may, perhaps, in the course of our controversies, lose sight altogether of our own feelings, and forget the first pure impression which was made upon us."

The name of Schlegel reminds us of a pertinent illustration of the difference between a critic according to the principles of nature, and a critic according to the rules of art. Dr. Blair must be regarded as an example of the latter; though as a critic governed chiefly by technical authorities, we know of none more unexceptionable. Schlegel is professedly a philosophical critic. We will compare their observations upon Camoens's Lusiad. Dr. Blair first examines the "subject," to ascertain whether it is "great and interesting," like that of the ancient models. He follows the progress of the "action" in the poem, to see if there be any thing out of character; and concludes that "the whole work is conducted according to the epic plan." In commenting upon the "machinery," he justly condemns it for the most part, because of the unpardonable mixture of Paganism and Christianity. But his criticism, as a whole, clearly evinces, that, in examining the merits of the Lusiad, he had constantly in mind the technical criterion derived from the works of the ancient masters. Look now at the remarks of Schlegel. "At its commencement his poem is written in strict imitation of the Virgilian model, a constant adherence to which, was the chief fault of all the epic poets of that age. But Camoens, like his own Gama, soon leaves the servile coast-sailing of his predecessors, ventures into the wide expanse of ocean, and makes his triumphant progress through rich and undiscovered lands. As the mariner in the midst of the troubles and tempests of the sea, perceives, by the spicy gales, that he is approaching to his Indian haven, so over the latter cantos of the Lusiad, there is diffused the rich air and resplendent sun of the oriental skies. The language is indeed simple, and the