{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_40845/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_40845","id":"gutenberg_40845","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/40845","summary":null,"tags":["Aesthetics","Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Category: Religion/Spirituality","Ethics"],"text":"THE\n  CONNEXION\n  BETWEEN\n  TASTE AND MORALS:\n  TWO LECTURES\n\n  BY\n  MARK HOPKINS, D. D.\n  PRESIDENT OF WILLIAMS COLLEGE.\n\n  Boston:\n  PUBLISHED BY DUTTON AND WENTWORTH.\n  1841.\n\n\n\n\nLECTURE I.\n\n\nIs the prevalence of a cultivated taste, favorable to morals? Is there a\nconnexion, either in individuals, or in communities, between good taste\nand good morals?\n\nWhen I began to reflect upon this point with reference to a public\ndiscussion of it, I put the above questions to three educated men, as I\nhappened to meet them. The first said, he had not thought of it, but\nthat, at the first view, he did not believe there was any such\nconnexion; the second said he should wish to see it proved before he\nwould believe it; and the third said, he thought there was such a\nconnexion. This difference of opinion among educated men, led me to\nthink that an investigation of the subject might be a matter of\ninterest, and perhaps of profit. As every thing, in this country,\ndepends upon a sound state of morals in the community, whatever bears\nupon that, deserves our most careful scrutiny.\n\nTo discuss this subject understandingly, we must know precisely what we\nare talking about. What then is taste? This term is sometimes used to\nexpress mere desire, as a taste for dress, or for low pleasures. It can\nhardly be necessary to say that that is not the meaning now attached to\nit. Taste is defined by Alison, to be, \"That faculty of the human mind\nby which we perceive and enjoy whatever is beautiful or sublime in the\nworks of nature or of art.\" According to this definition, which is\nsufficiently correct for our present purpose, it will be perceived that\nthere is, first, a perception of certain qualities in external objects,\nand then, according to the nature of the object, an emotion of beauty,\nor of sublimity in the mind. These emotions are, of course, incapable of\ndefinition except by stating the occasions on which they arise, and can\nbe known only by being felt. To talk of an emotion to those who have not\nfelt it, is like talking of colors to the blind. And here I may remark,\nthat these terms, beauty and sublimity, have, in common with those\ndenoting sensations, an ambiguity which has often produced confusion. As\nthe term heat is used to denote both the sensation we feel on\napproaching the fire, and that quality in the fire which produces the\nsensation, so beauty and sublimity are sometimes used to express the\nemotions in the mind, and sometimes those qualities in external objects\nwhich are fitted to produce them, though there is, of course, in the\nexternal object, no emotion, nor any thing resembling one.\n\nIf this account of taste be correct, it will be perceived that it\ncannot, with any propriety, be compared, as it often has been, to a\nbodily sense. The impression upon a bodily sense, necessarily follows\nthe presence of the object, and is uniform in all mankind. A tree\nclothed in fresh foliage is necessarily seen, and seen to be green by\nall who turn their eyes upon it. The same tree, when seen, may be\npronounced by one individual to be beautiful, by another, from some\npeculiar association, to be the reverse, and by a third, however\nbeautiful in itself, it may be looked upon without any emotion at all.\nIt is, therefore, a great mistake to suppose, as many do, that those\nqualities in objects which awaken the emotions of taste, act directly\nand necessarily upon us, like those which affect the senses.\n\nA second preliminary inquiry is, What are the causes which produce these\nemotions? And here I barely remark, without inquiring after any common\nprinciple by which they produce similar results, that these causes\ndiffer widely from each other. The emotions may be awakened by natural\nobjects, by sound, by the products of the imagination, by the\ncombinations of the intellect, and by certain manifestations of the\naffections and moral character.\n\nA third inquiry is, how the taste can be cultivated? This obviously can\nbe done only on two conditions. The first is, that we put ourselves in\nsituations adapted to produce the emotions of taste; and the second is,\nthat we preserve a state of mind that will permit those emotions to\narise. This last, a proper state of mind, though less often considered,\nis quite as important as the first. \"It is,\" says the poet,\n\n                  \"The soul that sees; the outward eyes\n  Present the object, but the mind descries,\n  And thence delight, disgust, or cool indifference rise.\"\n\nUpon him whose mind is engrossed by care, or ruffled by passion, the\nmost beautiful objects make no impression. To perceive and enjoy them,\nthe mind must be calm. The beauties and sublimities of nature are like\nthe stars, which the storm shuts out, but when the heavens are serene,\nthey come out, one after another, to the eye that is watching for them,\ntill the firmament glows with their light. He, therefore, and he only,\nwho, in a proper state of mind, will place himself in the presence of\nbeautiful or sublime objects, and will compare the effects produced\nunder different circumstances, will improve his taste, both in its\nsusceptibility to emotion, and in its power of discrimination.\n\nThe question then, which we are now prepared to discuss, is, whether\nsuch a cultivation and improvement of the taste, has a favorable effect\nupon the moral character?\n\nThat it has such an effect, I infer, first, because we find in the\nemotions of taste, to say the least, an innocent source of enjoyment for\nour leisure hours, and the mind that is innocently happy, is less\naccessible to temptation. Indolence, mere vacuity, we all know, is the\nporch of vice, and the great dangers to the young arise from their\nleisure hours--from the want of some means of innocent mental\nexhilaration, in which they can be induced to spend those hours. It was\nsaid by Franklin, that leisure was a time in which to do something\nuseful; but all are not Franklins. If leisure time can be, as it is by\nmany, usefully employed, so much the better; but he who should provide\nfor our youth the means and the inducements to spend their leisure time\ninnocently, would be a public benefactor. In our cities, where the\ntemptations to mere sensual gratification are so numerous and obtrusive,\nand where natural objects are very much excluded, this is a point of\ngreat importance, and of great difficulty. Until of late very little of\nthis kind has been attempted, unless theatres may be called an attempt.\nBut theatres with us are out of the question, for Miss Martineau says\nthat \"the Americans have very little dramatic taste; and that the spirit\nof puritanism still rises up in such fierce opposition to the stage, as\nto forbid the hope that this grand means of intellectual exercise will\never be made the instrument of moral good to society there, that it\nmight be made.\" She says, moreover, so hopeless is our case, that \"those\nwho respect dramatic entertainments the most highly, will be the most\nanxious that the American theatres should be closed.\" Theatres are\nindeed out of the question, and I trust it will be a long time before we\nshall make progress backwards, to that state of morals which is produced\nby the instructions even of an English theatre.\n\nIt is in view of the want now under consideration, that the\nestablishment of Associations for literary purposes, and for procuring\npopular lectures open to all, is not only a new, but a most promising\nfeature in the history of our cities. Man needs, and must have,\nexcitement and mental exhilaration, and our Creator, if we would but see\nit, has not been inattentive to this want of our frame. No; to supply\nit, we have the pleasures of rational social converse, the play of the\naffections, the duties of kindness and benevolence--does a man feel\ndepressed, let him do a good action--and last, but not least, the\ngratifications of taste: all the pleasure to be derived from the concord\nof sweet sounds, from the charms of literature, from the forms and\ncolors and groupings of nature, from her sunrisings and sunsettings,\nfrom her landscapes of mountain and valley and lake and river, from the\nstars that roll in their courses, and the flowers that nod to each other\nby the way-side.--These are the sources of mental exhilaration which God\nhas provided; and they are, to the artificial stimulants of theatrical\nexhibitions and of gambling, what the cold water that was drank in Eden\nis to brandy and gin. May I not here venture to say to young men,\n'Beware how you spend your _leisure_ hours! your character and destiny\nin life will probably turn upon it.' Among the means, as I have already\nsaid, of spending these hours at least innocently, the gratifications of\ntaste are conspicuous. They seem for this very purpose to have been had\ndistinctly in view in the fitting up of this world; and so far as they\nlure the mind from the lower gratifications of sense, they must be\nfavorable to morals.\n\nThe remarks now made respect taste chiefly as a guard against evil; but\nI cannot dismiss this head without noticing more fully its positive\ninfluence, as a source of innocent enjoyment, upon morals. A good taste,\nand I do not hold myself answerable for its perversions, involves a\nready susceptibility to the emotions of beauty and sublimity, and of\ncourse a readiness to receive pleasure from the common appearances of\nnature, and from every free and natural expression of good feeling. It\nis, in my view, of the first importance both to character and to\nhappiness, that the young should cultivate a relish for those simple and\nnatural pleasures, the sources of which are open to all. It is important\nto happiness. How much happiness does the young florist secure, who can\nlook upon the common violet as it opens its eye from under the snows of\nthe early spring, with much the same pleasure as upon the choice exotic\nwhich is resorted to and exclusively admired by those who have\nunfortunately been taught that it is vulgar to admire what is common!\nHow much happiness does he secure who is touched by a beautiful action\nwherever he sees it, who appreciates sympathy wherever he finds it, and\nhowever expressed! A mind rightly constituted in this respect, drinks in\nenjoyment from the objects and occurrences of daily life, as the eye\ndoes light. It is also essential to character. How many young men enter\nlife with a false estimate of the advantages which wealth and fashion\ncan confer; who find their happiness, not in the contemplation and\npursuit of appropriate objects, but in what others think of them, and to\nwhom the world becomes insipid unless _they_ make a figure in it! Let\nnow misfortune come upon such men, and the world fails them. _Their_\nworld is gone; they have no resource; they become, generally dishonest,\nsometimes inefficient and gloomy, and commit suicide. These persons come\nto consider the common and truly great blessings which God has given as\nnothing unless they may possess those artificial and egotistical\nenjoyments which arise from conventional society. They see not the\nsplendid ornaments and rich provisions which, to adopt, with a slight\naccommodation, the beautiful language of another, are gathered round the\nearth for them;--\"its ocean of air above, its ocean of water beneath,\nits zodiac of lights, its tent of dropping clouds, its striped coat of\nclimates, its fourfold year.\" It is nothing to them, if they have not\nman for their servant, that \"all the parts of nature incessantly work\ninto each other's hands for their profit; that the wind sows the seed,\nthe sun evaporates the sea, the wind blows the vapor to the field, the\nice on the other side of the planet condenses the rain on this, and thus\nthe endless circulations of the divine charity nourish man.\" What a\nchange when such a person is brought back to a true relish of the simple\npleasures of nature! Even sickness, depriving him for a time of what he\nhad undervalued, if it bring him back to this, is a blessing; and then\nthe result may be stated in the words of Gray:--\n\n  \"See the wretch who long has tost\n    On the thorny bed of pain,\n  At length regain his vigor lost,\n    And breathe and walk again.\"\n\nThen,\n\n  \"The meanest flow'ret of the vale,\n  The simplest note that swells the gale,\n  The common sun, the air, the skies,\n  To him are opening paradise!\"\n\nThen, though he may hold little property by that title which the law\ngives, he yet feels that the universe is his for those nobler purposes\nfor which it was intended to act on the spirit:\n\n  \"His are the mountains, and the valleys his,\n  And the resplendent rivers;\"\n\nand he looks back upon his former discontent as the petulance of a\nchild. The simple beauties and the glad voices of nature have made him a\nman again.\n\nBut again, I infer that there is a connexion between good taste and good\nmorals, because there is an analogy between those qualities in matter\nwhich excite the emotions of taste, and those relations on which morals\ndepend. So much is this the case, that some philosophers found morality\nupon a theory of the beautiful, considering it a sublime harmony. In all\nbeautiful objects in nature, or in art, there is an order, a propriety,\na fitness, a proportion; and the impression which these make upon us is\nso analogous to that which is made by virtuous conduct, that we use the\nsame terms to express both. To me, indeed, it seems that beauty in\nmatter is to moral beauty what instinct is to reason, or what the light\nof the moon is to that of the sun; containing some of the same elements,\nbut destitute of the highest. Hence, as we should naturally expect,\nmorals furnish that region in the province of taste in which she gathers\nthose flowers that are richest in beauty and sweetest in perfume.\n\n                  \"Is aught so fair,\n  In all the dewy landscape of the spring,\n  In the bright eye of Hesper, or the morn,\n  In nature's fairest forms, is aught so fair\n  As virtuous friendship?\"\n\nBut I observe again, that as there is the analogy just pointed out\nbetween their causes, so there is an affinity between the emotions\nthemselves of taste and correct moral feeling, and the transition from\none to the other is obvious. This point requires illustration. That our\nemotions are associated in groups, is practically known to every body.\nEven the child does not ask his father for a sixpence when he is in an\nill temper, because he knows the transition is not easy from ill temper\nto generosity. Deep grief cannot pass at once to sudden joy. It must be\nby a gradual transition, first to a tender melancholy, and then to\ncheerfulness, and then to joy. \"The garment of sorrow,\" as Coleridge\nexpresses it, \"must be drawn off so gradually, and that to be put in its\nstead so gradually slipt on and feel so like the former, that the\nsufferer shall be sensible of the change only by the refreshment.\" It is\nby understanding well these affinities of the feelings that the orator\ncan continue to control them as they pass over their widest range. The\nnecessity of a suitable state of mind in order that the emotions of\ntaste may arise, has already been noticed, and what I now observe is,\nthat a state of correct moral feeling is more favorable to these\nemotions than any other. There is between them such an affinity that\nthey readily associate with each other; while there is, between the\nemotions of taste and a vicious state of mind, no such affinity, but\nthey are to a great extent incompatible.\n\nThe external world often gives back to us but the image of our own\nthoughts, and hence may seem almost as variable as the dim forms of\ntwilight to which the imagination gives its own shape. This tendency of\nthe mind to cast its own hue over nature, or rather to receive different\nemotions from external objects, according to its own state, is well\nillustrated by Crabbe, in his tale called \"The Lover's Journey.\" In this\ntale, Orlando, the lover, starts on a pleasant morning with the\nexpectation of finding the object of his affections at a village, where\nshe had agreed to meet him. The first part of his journey lay across a\nheath covered with furze. But hear him:--\n\n                \"Men may say\n  A heath is barren; nothing is so gay;\n  Barren or bare to call this charming scene\n  Argues a mind possessed by care or spleen.\"\n\nAnd thus he went on, admiring the wholesome wormwood and the vigorous\nbrier, till he reached the village, and then disappointment came. The\nlady had gone to a village some miles further on, under circumstances\nthat vexed him, and led him to doubt her affection. He doubted even\nwhether he should proceed, but at length determined to see and upbraid\nher. Now hear him again, as he passes along by the side of a beautiful\nriver:--\n\n  \"I hate these scenes, Orlando angry cried;\n  And these proud farmers, yes, I hate their pride;\n  See that sleek fellow, how he stalks along,\n  Strong as an ox, and ignorant as strong.\n  These deep, fat meadows I detest; it shocks\n  One's feelings there to see the grazing ox;--\n  For slaughter fatted--as a lady's smile\n  Rejoices man, and means his death the while.\"\n\nAnd if mere disappointment, without a consciousness of guilt and\nremorse, could produce such effects, what must we expect when the mind\nis not at peace with itself? Tendencies are shown by extreme cases, and\nit is in perfect consistency with the nature of things that Milton makes\nSatan exclaim, on seeing Eden in its united innocence and beauty,\n\n  \"O hell! what do mine eyes with grief behold!\"\n\nWho can imagine a miser, even, to say nothing of a thief, or a drunkard,\nlifting his eyes from his buried heaps, and enjoying the scene before\nhim, however beautiful? While he who performs a deed of charity at the\nend of his walk, will find nature wearing a richer dress on his return.\nThe mind conscious of rectitude is at peace with itself, and is in that\ncalm state which permits it to enjoy whatever is pleasing.\n\nBut not only, as in the cases now mentioned, is a right state of moral\nfeeling favorable to taste, but the emotions of taste also tend to\nintroduce moral ideas and emotions. It is, as I conceive, chiefly from\nthis fact that nature has a tendency to lead the mind \"up to nature's\nGod;\" for we must all be conscious that when we view nature as beautiful\nor sublime, this tendency is strongest. No one can have stood by\nNiagara, or upon the White Mountains, without feeling this. Hence the\ngroves and the high hills were the first places of worship. Hence the\nIndian sacrifices to the Great Spirit when he passes through the wild\nrapids. And as we associate the beauties of nature with the wisdom and\ngoodness of God, so do we, in many cases, instinctively infer from the\ndisplays of taste in man, something of his moral character. Who, for\nexample, in travelling through a solitary forest, if he should come, as\nthere are many such, to a neat log-house, with a trellised woodbine at\nthe door, and with every thing orderly and clean about it, would not\nexpect to pass by unmolested, or, if he should call, to be civilly and\nkindly treated?--whereas, if every thing bore the appearance of filth\nand dilapidation, and the only signs of taste were those which indicated\na taste for rum, he might well quicken his pace for fear he should be\nwaylaid. No one expects to find indications of taste about the dwelling\nof a drunkard, or of one abandoned to any low vice. I appeal to any one\nwho hears me, whether he has not felt that it was an indication of a\ngood moral character, and an encouragement to charity, when he has\nentered some poor dwelling and found that there was still kept alive, in\nthe midst of poverty, a susceptibility to the emotions, and a regard to\nthe requisitions of taste.\n\nI have just observed, that there is an affinity between correct moral\nfeeling and the emotions of taste. I now observe, that the highest\npleasures of taste cannot be enjoyed without correct views on great\nmoral subjects, and especially respecting the being and attributes of\nGod. Whatever may be said of the power of material objects, in\nthemselves considered, to produce the emotions of taste, it is certain\nthat their chief power depends on the conceptions of the mind which they\nawaken as signs. A single instance will illustrate this. Most of us have\nprobably felt the emotion of sublimity on hearing what we supposed to be\ndistant thunder, which vanished, and perhaps seemed ridiculous, the\nmoment we ascertained that the sound was produced by the rumbling of a\ncart. In this case, it is obvious that the emotion depended, not on the\nsound itself, but on the conception of the mind awakened by it. Now this\nis pre-eminently the case in the works of nature. How different must be\nthe emotions awakened by a view of the evening firmament in the mind of\nhim who should suppose the stars to be mere points of light, set at no\ngreat distance above him, and moving around the earth solely for the\nconvenience of man, from those awakened in the mind of him to whom those\npoints of light indicate the existence of an infinite space; and of\nsuns, and worlds, and systems without number, and at distances which\ncause the wing of the strongest imagination to flag! How different the\nemotions produced by the comet now, as it returns at its predicted\nperiod, from those excited as it fired\n\n            \"the length of Ophiucus huge\n  In the Arctic sky, and, from his horrid hair,\"\n\nwas supposed to shake \"pestilence and war!\" As, therefore, he who cannot\nsee beyond the stars as they appear to the sense, must lose by far the\nhighest pleasure which they are adapted as objects of taste to give; so\nhe who knows the physical structure of the universe, and who yet does\nnot see in it, and behind it, an infinite and beneficent Intelligence,\ncannot have connected with his view those conceptions which awaken the\nhighest emotions of beauty and sublimity.\n\nThe relations of man to nature are much less intimate than those of God,\nand yet our emotions in view of nature are greatly modified by the view\nwhich we take of _His_ dignity and moral character. It was when Hamlet\nsupposed there was foul corruption and a general want of principle in\nsociety, that \"this goodly frame, the earth,\" seemed to him but \"a\nsteril promontory;\" \"this most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this\nbrave o'erhanging firmament,\" why, it appeared no other thing to him\n\"than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapors.\" It was when her\ninhabitants were oppressed and degraded, that the natural beauty, which\nis still as bright as ever on the shores of Greece, seemed in the eye of\nthe poet but as\n\n            \"The loveliness in death\n  That parts not quite with parting breath,\n  But beauty with that fearful bloom,\n  That hue which haunts it to the tomb,\n  So coldly sweet, so deadly fair,\n  We start, for life is wanting there.\"\n  \"'Twas Greece, but living Greece no more.\"\n\nWe must all have felt that a shade of sadness was cast over the face of\nnature when we have thought of the passions, and wars, and lust, and\nrapine of man, in connexion with her quiet scenes. On the other hand,\nwere the moral state of the world what we trust it shall one day\nbe,--did universal purity, and goodness, and love reign,--would not the\nsun seem to shine with a more benignant radiance; instead of the thorn,\nwould there not come up the fir-tree: would not the mountains and hills\nbreak forth into singing, and all the trees of the field clap their\nhands?\n\nAnd if the emotions of taste are thus modified by our views of man, how\nmuch more must they be by those respecting God! How must a blank atheism\nhang the heavens in sackcloth, and cover the earth with a pall, and turn\nthe mute promisings of nature into a mockery, and make of her mighty\nfabric one great charnel-house of death, without the hope of a\nresurrection! On the other hand, how must the beauty and sublimity of\nnature and of the universe be heightened, the moment we perceive them in\ntheir connexion with God! Nothing is more common than to hear those, who\nemerge from that practical atheism in which most men live, speak of the\nnew perceptions of beauty and sublimity with which they look upon the\nworks of nature:--\n\n  \"In that blest moment, Nature, throwing wide\n  Her veil opaque, discloses, with a smile,\n  The Author of her beauties, who, retired\n  Behind his own creation, works unseen\n  By the _impure_, and hears his power denied.\"\n\nAll our investigations into nature show that man has no faculties to\nwhich there are not corresponding and adequate objects. As infinite as\nhe is in reason, yet the works of God are not exhausted by the\noperations of that reason. No intellectual Alexander ever sat down and\nwept for the want of more worlds to conquer. As vast as is his\nimagination, the revelations of astronomy, as sober facts, go beyond any\nthing that the imagination had conceived. And is it so, that, in the\nregion of taste alone, the faculties of man have no adequate object? But\nit is only when nature, like the Bible, is seen to be full of God, that\nshe is clothed with her true sublimity. It is only when \"the heavens\ndeclare the glory of God and the firmament showeth his handy work,\" that\nthey correspond to the highest conceptions either of the taste or of the\nintellect. Man rests in the Infinite alone, and the universe without a\nGod is not in harmony with his constitution, even when he is considered\nas endowed with taste only. But if our views on moral subjects thus\nmodify the emotions of taste, it cannot be doubted that those emotions\nreact upon our moral views, tending to elevate and purify them.\n\nI remark again, that the emotions of taste are favorable to morals,\nbecause they are disinterested. As admiration becomes intense, men\nforget themselves, and, in proportion as they thus find enjoyment, they\nare prepared for that higher enjoyment which a disinterested performance\nof duty brings with it. Whenever we see excellence in another, we are\nbound to admire it without reference to sect or party; and admiration,\nthus bestowed, is almost always connected with a high moral character.\nThe beauty who can truly forget herself in her admiration for another,\ndeserves admiration for qualities far higher and nobler than beauty.\n\nI only observe further, that a cultivated taste is favorable to morals,\nbecause the cultivation of one of our powers has a tendency to\nstrengthen the rest.--This, I know, is disputed, and it is even supposed\nthat the union of certain powers in any high degree is impossible. Thus,\nit is often supposed that a remarkable memory and a sound judgment do\nnot go together; and it must be confessed that the memory may be so\ncultivated as not to strengthen the judgment. But when I speak of\ncultivating a faculty, I mean cultivating it on correct principles and\nwith reference to the end for which it was given. Those who remember\nevents as isolated, or only as they are connected by the relations of\ntime and place, and who do not see and remember them as connected by the\nrelations of cause and effect, means and end, premises and conclusion,\ndo not, by such an exercise of the memory, strengthen the judgment,\nthough they certainly show that it has great need of being strengthened.\nOf what possible use can it be, to the forming of a correct judgment on\nany point, for a good woman to remember the precise age of every child\nin the neighborhood? It is these walking chronicles, these living\nalmanacs, who will tell you the weather for all time past, if not for\nall time to come, who get the credit of having great memories and little\njudgment. But such a memory is, to one cultivated on correct principles,\nonly what a room full of minerals and birds and fish and insects and\nrubbish, promiscuously tumbled together, is to a well-arranged museum.\nWho does not know that experience is the best enlightener of the\njudgment?--And where does experience garner her stores but in the\nmemory? It is obvious that he who has the best memory of past events, in\ntheir true connexions, will have the best possible materials for forming\na judgment of the future. The same opposition is generally supposed to\nexist between the imagination and the judgment. But it occasionally\nhappens that an individual, like Edmund Burke, unites the most gorgeous\nimagination with the profoundest judgment; and then it is seen that the\nanalogies which the imagination suggests yield important lights to the\njudgment instead of misleading it. I know that the imagination, striking\nits roots into the hotbed of novel-reading, may overtop the judgment;\nbut, judiciously cultivated, I contend that it is not unfavorable to the\njudgment. And if, in these cases, a judicious cultivation of one power\ntends to strengthen the other, much more will the cultivation of taste\nhave a favorable tendency upon the moral nature, since these departments\nof the mind have never been supposed to be in opposition, but are, as we\nhave seen, closely allied to each other.\n\nBut all this time it has probably been objected that, however plausible\nthe reasoning may be on this subject, it is yet contrary to experience.\nIf it were so, it might perhaps be said of it, as was said by Euler of a\ndemonstrated property of the arch, \"this is contrary to all experience,\nbut is nevertheless true:\"--it is so in the nature of things, but the\nmaterials are refractory. But let us see how far it is contrary to\nexperience; or rather, whether we cannot, so far as it is thus contrary,\nsatisfactorily account for it.\n\nIn order to this, we must make, as it seems to me, three important\ndistinctions. And, first, we must distinguish between taste considered\nas a power of judging, and as a susceptibility to emotion. This\ndistinction is often overlooked. Mr. Blair, for instance, defines taste\nto be, \"the power of receiving pleasure or pain from the beauties or\ndeformities of nature and of art;\" in which, regard is had to the\nsusceptibility only. But afterwards, when contrasting taste with genius,\nhe says--\"Taste is the power of judging, genius is the power of\nexecuting;\" in which the susceptibility to emotion is left out of sight.\nCan I make this distinction obvious? When an unpractised person sees for\nthe first time a grand historical picture, or reads a beautiful poem, he\ngives himself up to the emotion; he is absorbed; he takes no note of\ntime; he forgets where he is, and neither knows nor cares why he is\npleased. The eye drinks in beauty as the thirsty man the cold water, and\nit refreshes the soul. He sees the picture, or reads the poem, again and\nagain, and at length sits down to give an account to a friend of that\nwhich had pleased him. Now, he wishes to state the reasons why he was\npleased, and he begins to inquire what those qualities were which\nproduced the effect. Here is the rudiment of philosophical criticism,\nand he goes on perhaps investigating, till he discovers those general\nprinciples of taste according to which the work was executed. As long,\nhowever, as his mind is thus occupied in analyzing, he feels no emotion\nof beauty or sublimity. But as this is an enticing species of logic, he\nmay follow it till a work of art shall give him pleasure only by its\nconformity to certain principles, true or false, which he may have\nestablished for himself, and till he becomes a cold critic, or perhaps a\nreviewer by trade. He may become a mere teller in the bank of taste, to\npronounce on what is genuine, and hand it over to others to be used and\nenjoyed. Now, a man who writes a skilful review of a work of genius, and\ntells us why we are or ought to be pleased, is supposed to be a man of\ntaste; and the writing of the review is considered as an exercise of\ntaste. This is true of taste considered as a power of judging, but not\nas a power of feeling. If it were so, the mass of men would be in a\npitiable condition. God no more intended that the uninitiated should\nwait to be pleased with the beauty which they see, until its principles\nare analyzed, and they are told when and why they ought to be pleased,\nthan He intended they should wait to be cheered and warmed by the rays\nof the sun, till they should see light decomposed into the seven colors\nof the prismatic image. But it is by cherishing and keeping alive these\nuniversal emotions, which belong to the race, and which find excitement\neverywhere, that I suppose there is a healthful effect produced on the\nmoral character. The power of genuine philosophical criticism; the power\nof going back, if I may so express it, into the workshop of nature, and\nseeing how she mixes her colors, is a rare, a valuable and a dignified\npower; but it is still an exercise of the intellect, and I am not aware\nthat it has any peculiarly favorable effect upon the moral character.\nIndeed, when literature and the fine arts become fashionable, and much\nthe subject of conversation, there is a vast deal of this kind of\ncriticism, which is fallen into from imitation and vanity, and which can\nhave no good effect upon morals except as it supplies the place of\nscandal. It is not, then, in an egotistical and vain community, who read\nworks of genius, and look at pictures, not to admire and enjoy them, but\nthat they may themselves talk about them and be admired, that any good\neffect upon the moral character is to be expected from the prevalence of\nwhat they are pleased to call taste. How far this comes to be the case\nwith communities in which taste is said to be prevalent, and morals are\ncorrupt, I leave others to judge.\n\nThe second distinction which I would make, is that between the\ncultivation of a taste for the fine arts and for natural objects. This I\nconsider a distinction of much importance on this subject; and I propose\nto give some reasons why the cultivation of the fine arts--as painting,\nsculpture, architecture, poetry--has less tendency than a taste for\nnatural objects to improve the character. This I am bound to do; because\nit is well known that certain nations, as the Spartans and ancient\nRomans, considered a taste for the fine arts as having a tendency to\ncorrupt morals; and some of the sterner moralists of modern times,\nespecially religious moralists, have objected to it on the same ground.\nIt must also be conceded that those nations, as the Greeks and Italians,\namong whom these arts have flourished most, have been exceedingly\ncorrupt, and that that corruption has co-existed with an advanced state\nof the arts in question.\n\nAnd, first, I remark, that a taste for the fine arts cannot be general\nin a community of any considerable extent. If we suppose such a taste,\nwhen formed, to have a tendency to improve the morals, yet how few, in a\ncountry like ours, have an opportunity to form it! The products of the\narts are to be found, for the most part, only in cities; and of the\ninhabitants of cities, it is only those who have leisure and wealth, who\nare affected by them. It ought also to be observed that, as these arts\ndo not come to perfection in the early stages of society, they cannot\nproduce their effect till wealth and luxury have had time to work\ngeneral corruption.\n\nBut I observe again that, as the power either of executing or of judging\nin these arts is confined to comparatively a few, it becomes a mark of\ndistinction and a ground of ostentation, and thus there comes to be the\nappearance of more taste than there really is. The artist finds himself\na candidate for fame and wealth through his skill, and hence his\npassions are aroused and his interests are involved. If successful, he\nis flattered, perhaps almost deified; if unsuccessful, he becomes\nirritable and sinks back on the proud consciousness of neglected merit.\nThis peculiar position will account for the bad character of many\nartists. Those also who _patronize_ the arts, as it is significantly\ntermed, often do it from ostentation. What better resource has an\nordinary person who has money, and who wishes to be distinguished in the\nfashionable world, than to become a patron of the fine arts? I knew a\nperson who spent several thousand dollars for pictures, and who, to my\ncertain knowledge, knew and cared nothing about them except as they\naffected her standing in the fashionable world. But of those who have a\ngood degree of taste, there are few whose motives are not mixed. And\nthen it is to be remembered, that a product of art may be viewed in many\ndifferent aspects. It may be regarded as costing so much, as requiring\nsuch a frame, or to be placed in such a light, or as an ornamental piece\nof furniture, while there is but a single point of view in which it can\nbe regarded as gratifying taste. The moment a picture comes to be\nconsidered as an ornament, or an article of furniture, you might as well\nhave a looking-glass or a pier-table. It not unfrequently happens, that\nthe owner of fine pictures thinks so much of them as ornamental or\nvaluable, so much of their framing, or light, or preservation, that he\nbecomes indifferent to them in the only point of view in which they are\ntruly valuable.\n\nBut again, in order to see this point in its true light we must consider\nthe peculiar rank which is held by the pleasures connected with the fine\narts. These pleasures are addressed to the eye and to the ear, and hold\na middle rank between the lower pleasures of sense on the one hand, and\nthe higher enjoyments of the intellect and of the affections on the\nother; and may readily associate with, and promote either. This point is\nwell stated by Lord Kames. It is observed by him, that \"in touching,\ntasting, and smelling, we are sensible of the impression made upon the\norgan, and are led to place there the pleasant or painful feeling caused\nby that impression;\" but that with respect to hearing and seeing, \"we\nare insensible to the organic impression, and hence conceive the\npleasures derived from these senses to be more refined and spiritual\nthan those which seem to exist externally at the organ of sense, and\nwhich are conceived to be merely corporeal. These pleasures,\" says he,\n\"being sweet and moderately exhilarating, are, in their tone, equally\ndistant from the turbulence of passion and the languor of indolence, and\nby that tone are perfectly well qualified not only to revive the spirits\nwhen sunk by sensual gratification, but also to relax them when\noverstrained in any violent pursuit.\" \"Organic pleasures,\" he observes\nagain, \"have naturally a short duration; when prolonged, they lose their\nrelish; when indulged to excess, they beget satiety and disgust; and to\nrestore a proper tone of mind, nothing can be more happily contrived\nthan the exhilarating pleasures of the eye and ear.\" Now this is\nprecisely the use, and all the use that many make of the fine arts, and\nI may add, to some extent of the beauties of nature too. How many\nwealthy sensualists are there in our cities who give an appearance of\nelevation and refinement to their low and selfish mode of life, by\ncollecting about them specimens of the arts! These men may be best\ncompared to that amphibious animal, the frog. They come up occasionally\nfrom that lower element in which they live, into a region of light and\nbeauty, but no sooner are they a little refreshed than they plunge again\ninto the mud of sensual gratification. It is men like these, who, when\ntheir capacity for the lower pleasures is exhausted, drive in their\ncarriages about the cities of the old world (perhaps we are not yet\nsufficiently corrupt,) and set up to be _virtuosi_. It is easy to see\nhow such a taste must bear upon morals.\n\nBut I remark once more, that the fine arts may be made to pander\ndirectly to vice. From the middle rank which the pleasures derived from\nthem hold, they readily associate, as has been said, both with the\nhigher and the lower. Thus, music may quicken the devotions of a seraph,\nand lend its strains to cheer the carousals of the bacchanal; and\npoetry, painting and sculpture, while they have power to elevate, and\ncharm, and purify the mind, may be made direct stimulants to the vilest\nand lowest passions. It is indeed from this quarter that we are to look\nfor danger from the prevalence of these arts. It was thus that they\ncorrupted the ancient cities; and those who have seen the abominable\nstatuary dug from the ruins of Herculaneum and Pompeii, do not wonder\nthat they were buried under a sea of fire. The same process of\ncorruption through these arts has gone to a fearful extent on the\neastern continent, and has commenced in this country. Clothed in this\ngarment of light, vice finds access where it otherwise could not. Under\nthe pretence of promoting the fine arts, modesty is cast aside, and\nindecent pictures are exhibited, and respectable people go to see them.\nIf I might utter a word of warning to the young, it would be to beware\nof vice dressed in the garments of taste. The beauties of nature are\ncapable of no such perversion. All the associations connected with them\ntend to elevate and to purify the mind. No case can be adduced in which\na taste for gardening or for natural objects has corrupted a people.\nWhile, therefore, I believe that the cultivation of the arts, in their\ngenuine spirit of beauty and of purity, has a tendency to improve the\ncharacter, it would appear that they are greatly liable to abuse, and\nthat they have been extensively abused.\n\nBut though I may thus dispose of the general objection from the\nco-existence in many cases of refinement in the arts and corrupt morals,\nyet this, I think, will not fully meet the objection which first arose\nin the minds of some, from those numerous individual instances in which\nmen have been eminent for taste and genius, and at the same time\ncorrupt. What, you have been ready to say, do you make of such a case\nas that of Byron? Now I would here make an inquiry, how far, and in what\nsense, those productions of genius which have a corrupt tendency are\nreally consistent with good taste. Take the Don Juan of Byron for\ninstance. To say nothing of principle, such a work certainly is not\ncompatible with a correct _moral_ taste. That it is in some sense,\nhowever, a work of taste, cannot be denied; but it seems to me to be\nonly as a splendid palace, built in a low and fetid morass, is a work of\ntaste. The palace may be beautiful, but it was in bad taste _to set it\nthere_. Particular rooms may be elegantly furnished, but still there\ncomes up from the surrounding marsh a pestilential miasm, and it may be\nsaid of the atmosphere around it, as was said of that around New Orleans\na few autumns since, that \"all is beauty and all is death.\" So far\ntherefore as these works have a corrupt tendency, they cannot be said to\nbe in the highest sense consistent with good taste. But still it is said\nthat corrupt men have produced works of the highest genius and of the\nbest taste that have had no such tendency. This is granted, but it is to\nbe accounted for from the fact that men of genius are often men of\nstrong passions and of wayward and unbalanced minds, and from the\npeculiar temptations in which, as I have already said, they are placed.\nTaste seems to me to be, to such men, what the music of David was to\nSaul,--it charms away the evil spirit, but it is only for a time.\n\nBut we now pass to the third distinction which was to be made, and that\nis, between a true taste for natural objects and the fine arts, and\nwhat is called taste in the world of fashion. The point of distinction\nto which I would draw your attention is well stated by Stewart. \"It is\nobvious,\" says he, \"that the circumstances which please in the objects\nof taste are of two kinds: first, those which are fitted to please by\nnature, or by associations which all mankind are led to form by their\ncommon condition; and secondly, those which please in consequence of\nassociations arising from local and accidental circumstances. Hence\nthere are two kinds of taste; the one enabling us to judge of those\nbeauties which have a foundation in the human constitution; the other,\nof such objects as derive their principal recommendation from the\ninfluence of fashion. These two kinds of taste are not always united in\nthe same person; indeed, I am inclined to think that they are united but\nrarely. The perfection of the one depends much on the degree in which we\nare able to free the mind from the influence of casual associations;\nthat of the other, on the contrary, depends on a faculty of association\nwhich enables us to fall in at once with all the turns of the fashion,\nand, as Shakspeare expresses it, to catch the tune of the times.\"\nAssociation is the sole foundation of the value which we put upon some\narticles, and of the beauty which we find in others. Thus, a lock of\nhair, valueless in itself, may, from associations connected with it,\nhave a value which money cannot measure; and articles of dress, which\nwould otherwise be to us indifferent, or odious, become beautiful by\ntheir association with those persons whom we have been accustomed to\nconsider as models of elegance. It is indeed astonishing what an effect\nthis principle will have upon our feelings; and from looking too\nexclusively at facts connected with it, some have been led to doubt\nwhether there is any such thing as a permanent principle of taste. It\nwould really seem, that, within the bounds of comfort and decency, both\nof which are often outraged by fashion, one mode of dress may come to be\nas becoming as another. The wigs, the knee-buckles, the small-clothes,\nthe long-skirts and cocked-hats of our grandfathers, were as becoming\nthen, as is now the dress of the present day. Says Sir Joshua Reynolds,\n\"If an European, when he has cut off his beard, and put false hair on\nhis head, or bound up his own natural hair in regular hard knots, as\nunlike nature as he can possibly make it, and after having rendered them\nimmovable by the help of the fat of hogs, has covered the whole with\nflour, laid on by a machine with the utmost regularity; if, when thus\nattired, he issues forth and meets a Cherokee Indian, who has bestowed\nas much time at _his_ toilet, and laid on, with equal care and\nattention, his yellow and red ochre on particular parts of his forehead\nor cheeks, as he judges most becoming; whoever of these two despises the\nother for his attention to the fashion of his country; whichever feels\nhimself provoked to laugh, is the barbarian.\" Good taste with respect to\nthe fashions, then, would seem to consist, not in following them, or in\npaying them attention, except so far as to avoid attracting notice in\nany way by dress; for it is a strong indication, when a person seeks\nnotice from that, that there is about him little else that is worthy of\nnotice. The foundation of taste in the fashions, however, being what I\nhave now stated, it is obvious that a quick perception of their\never-varying changes and a ready and careful accommodation to them, can\nbelong, whether in man or woman, only to a mind essentially frivolous;\nand that such a taste, if not absolutely incompatible with a perception\nof all that is permanently grand and beautiful in the works of God, is\nyet seldom connected with it. Such a taste must, of course, rather\ninjure than promote good morals.\n\n\nI have now considered taste as exercised indifferently upon any objects\nwithin its appropriate province. It still remains that I should say\nsomething, which I propose to do in another Lecture, on Moral Taste, or\non taste having moral actions for its object.\n\n\n\n\nLECTURE II.\n\n\nIt was observed on a former occasion, that material objects produce\ntheir effect upon taste chiefly as signs; but it is the opinion of Mr.\nAlison, of Mr. Jeffries, and others of high authority on this point,\nthat it is solely as signs--solely as suggesting intellectual and moral\nqualities--that they have an effect. It is quite evident that mere\nmatter in a chaotic state, or in any state which is not either produced\nby mind or such as mind would produce, cannot be beautiful; and hence it\nis said that it can be beautiful only as a means of indicating qualities\nthat do not belong to itself.\n\nThe great difficulty which this theory has to encounter arises from the\napparent instantaneousness with which the emotion seems to arise when a\nbeautiful object is presented. But this is not a conclusive objection,\nbecause emotions which can arise only from association seem to come in\nthe same way. How instantaneous, for instance, are the emotions that\nthrong up when he who has been long on a foreign shore sees, for the\nfirst time, the stars and stripes of his country's flag as it enters the\nport where he is;--and yet, these emotions can be awakened by it only as\na link of association with scenes that are past, or as a sign of his\ncountry's presence and protection. I have heard the rainbow adduced as\nan instance of an object which produces the emotion of beauty without a\nreference to any thing beyond itself. But what was the impression made\nby it more than two thousand years ago, upon the mind of one who had no\ntheory to maintain?--\"Look upon the rainbow,\" says he, \"and praise Him\nthat made it: very beautiful it is in the brightness thereof. It\ncompasseth the heavens about with a glorious circle, and _the hands of\nthe Most High have bended it_.\" How apparently instantaneous, yet how\ndifferent, are our emotions when looking at the cheek flushed by the\nbloom of health, or suffused by the blush of shame, or reddened by\nanger, or wearing that hectic flush which is the flag of distress held\nout by nature when she is sinking in consumption!--And yet no one can\ndoubt, if these indications were reversed, that the emotions would be\nreversed also. It is conceded by all, that it is the expression, the\nindication of mental and moral qualities, that gives its highest beauty\nto the human countenance. There are no features which may not be so\nlighted up with noble or tender emotion as to be beautiful. But is\nthere, it will be asked, _no_ beauty in any combination of features, or\nof matter, except as connected with expression? I am inclined to think\nthere is what may be called an instinctive beauty on the perception of\ncertain colors and forms; but it is of little value compared with that\nof which a rational and reflective being can give an account to himself.\nEven this, however, presupposes the action of mind upon matter, though\nthat action is not recognized by us as the cause of our emotion. It is\ntherefore still true that, as the beauty of the early morning is\nproduced solely by a reflexion from the sun while he is still below the\nhorizon, so the beauty of matter is wholly a reflexion from that great\ncentral orb of mind which has never yet beamed upon the eye of man in\nits direct effulgence--that, to him who views it aright, the beauty of\nthis world is but the morning twilight of heaven.\n\nBut, however this question may be decided, the fact that it can be made\na question at all, shows how largely moral ideas and emotions enter into\nthe province of taste, and the intimate connexion there is between taste\nand morals. What is called moral taste is, in fact, discriminated from\ntaste in general, only as it has the moral actions of free and\nintelligent agents for its object. When we look at a moral action, there\nis a plain difference between our perception of it as right, and our\nperception of it as beautiful. In one case there arises the feeling of\n_approbation_, in the other of _admiration_, which are entirely\ndistinct, and may exist in very different proportions.\n\nIt is, indeed, not always easy to distinguish the point at which\napprobation and admiration run into each other; and in treating of this\nsubject, I shall first say a few words of that border-ground between\ntaste and morals where the dividing line seems to be unsettled. Where,\nfor example, shall we place that feeling which we have in view of the\nmanner of doing a thing, in distinction from the thing done? Is that\nfeeling merely the result of taste, or are there mingled with it some\nelements of moral approbation or disapprobation? Where will you place a\nmean action in distinction from a dishonest one? I have heard it\ndisputed whether neatness is a virtue, a matter of moral obligation, or\nmerely a requisition of taste. Is a man under moral obligation to be\nneat in his person? It is along this dividing line that all those\nactions lie which relate to the proprieties and courtesies of life--all\nthose smaller attentions to the convenience and comfort of others, and\nthat delicate regard to their feelings, which have been designated by\nthe French as the smaller morals.\n\nIn regard to this very extensive, and therefore important department of\nhuman conduct, there seem to be two common mistakes. The first consists\nin disregarding it altogether. There are many men whose characters, in\ntheir sketching and outline, are fine, and which, seen at a distance,\nappear well; but on approaching them, they seem coarse and very\nimperfect. In all the great duties of life they appear to advantage; but\nthrough negligence, or some greater failing, the minor duties, and\nespecially the department of manners, is entirely neglected. They seem\nlike stately trees, in the trunk and main branches of which the sap\ncirculates vigorously, but does not reach and animate the smaller twigs,\nand give to the leaves their perfect green.\n\nA second, and more common mistake, is the giving up of this department\nto the control of taste under the guidance of selfishness. The manners\nare polished, and all the forms of politeness adopted, not for the\npurpose of making others happy, but of securing to ourselves their\nesteem, and of effecting our own ends in life. This is the school of\nmanners recommended by Chesterfield, and young persons are often\nexhorted to pay attention to their manners on this ground. In this case\nthe sap does not circulate at all, and the leaves are painted.\n\nBut to me it seems, that this whole class of actions falls within the\nprovince of morality. Wherever human happiness is concerned, there is\nroom for principle to operate, and the constitution of society will\nnever be sound, and its beauty will never be perfect, till the sap of\nprinciple circulates to the extremities of human action. The true polish\nand beauty of society can result only from the principle of benevolence\nshowing itself in a graceful and practical attention to the minor wants\nand to the feelings of others. But whatever we may decide in regard to\ntheir respective limits in this department, it is obvious that taste, so\nfar as it goes, must be favorable to morals.\n\nWe now pass to what is indisputably the province of morals. And here our\nfirst inquiry will be, what are the circumstances under which the\nemotions of taste are awakened by moral actions? In reply to this\ninquiry I observe, that the emotion of beauty, leaving sublimity for the\npresent out of the question, is awakened by a moral action chiefly,\nand perhaps solely, when it springs from the principle of duty acting in\ncoincidence with the desires, the affections, or some other natural and\ninferior principle of action. This point is of practical importance, and\nrequires illustration. Man, as we all know, has various principles of\naction,--such as instincts, desires, affections, passions. These may\nimpel him to a course of action directly opposed to that indicated by a\nsense of duty, and they may also lead him to perform the same actions as\nare dictated by it; and the position is, that moral beauty arises when\nthere is a partial or entire coincidence between the principle of duty\nand these inferior powers.\n\nThat this is so is evident, because there are many actions which are\nright, which are imperatively required by duty, which yet do not awaken\nin the mind of the impartial spectator any admiration--for we must here\nkeep in mind the distinction already made between admiration and\napprobation. The simple payment of a debt, for example, does not awaken\nany admiration, though we approve the act and should strongly condemn\nhim who should not do it when it was in his power. In this case, there\ncan be mingled with the performance of duty no play of the generous\nemotions. He who performs all his actions solely from a sense of duty,\nhas our approbation, our respect; but he who, in addition to this, is\npossessed of warm affections, which always coincide in their promptings\nwith what is right, has also our admiration and love. Duty is to the\naffections, in the conduct of life, what logic is to rhetoric in a\ndiscourse. Logic forms an excellent body for a discourse; we assent to\nit, we approve it, it is good, all good, but it awakens no admiration.\nIt is not till rhetoric sends its warm life-blood to mantle on the cold\ncheek of logic, and clothes its angular form in the garments of taste,\nthat we begin to admire the discourse. And so it is with duty. It is an\nexcellent body to the course of our conduct in life; nothing else will\ndo, but it may be so performed as to appear unamiable and even\nrepulsive. In order to be beautiful, there must be connected with it\nsome manifestation of natural affection or graceful emotion.\n\nAnd here I may remark, that though we have a right to expect of every\nman that he will do his duty, yet the display of this beauty is not\nequally within the power of all, since the existence and manifestation\nof emotion depend, to some extent, upon the temperament. As there are\nsome who have naturally a meagre intellect, so there are others whose\nminds seem to be barren of those finer sympathies and affections of our\nnature which are the verdure of the soul, and upon which the eye always\nrests with pleasure. The characters of some good men are dry and\nunattractive. They are harsh, and hard-visaged, and seem too much like\nwooden men, moved by rule and calculation. Such persons often seem\nbetter, and worse, than they really are. Their freedom from\nextravagancies on the one hand, and on the other, that want of feeling\nwhich is wrongly termed by many hardness of heart, is equally the result\nof temperament.\n\nThat the doctrine which I now advocate is correct, appears also from the\neffect produced upon our feelings when we observe habit taking the place\nof sentiment in the performance of duty. We have all seen persons enter\nupon a course of virtuous activity, and continue it for a time from a\nsense of duty, sustained by ardent feeling; but after a time the feeling\nhas died away, and there has come in its stead habit, or a regard to\nconsistency, to sustain the sense of duty in keeping up the same course\nof external action. When this change has taken place, we are all\nconscious that the beauty of the conduct is greatly diminished;--its\nspirit has vanished; the dew of its youth is exhaled.\n\nI said that this was a practical point, and I now wish to show, in\nconnexion with it, precisely how it is that mischief arises from the\nperversion of moral taste; as was shown, in the former Lecture, how it\narises from its perversion in other things. In opposition to the hard\nand dry characters mentioned above, there are those whose\nsusceptibilities are acute, whose sympathies are quick, whose feelings\nare generous, whose affections are ardent, who do every thing so\npromptly and so heartily that impulse seems almost to supply the place\nof principle. There is something very attractive in a character of this\nkind; there is an ease and freedom about it which seems to put aside all\nlabor of calculation, and it moreover exhibits our nature in the\npleasing garb of natural goodness. It is for this reason that novelists,\nwho draw men as they wish to have them, and not as they are, have\nalmost universally made these fine instincts of humanity the guide of\ntheir hero, and the basis of his character. This is, indeed, if I\nunderstand it, the basis of this kind of literature, and one chief\nsource of the injury it produces. The exhibition of these instincts, and\naffections, and emotions, springing up at random and acting without the\ncontrol of principle, holds out no stimulus to exertion; and their\npossession and exercise is often in fact, and often too in books,\nconnected with great corruption of moral character.\n\nTaking, therefore, as the main ingredient in the character of those who\nare to make the chief figure in this kind of writing, what Miss\nMartineau calls _spontaneousness_, and which she and a certain wise\nfriend of hers in Boston thought should by all means be encouraged and\n_reverenced_, we may mix the other materials somewhat to our taste. An\nexcellent and much-approved receipt for the hero of a novel is the\nfollowing:--1st. Make him handsome, for beauty is to the body what\nspontaneousness is to the mind, a sort of physical spontaneousness. Or,\nif you do not make him handsome, do what amounts to much the same thing,\ngive him an _air_; let him have something about him that is peculiar, so\nthat those who scan him closely may observe, under those apparently\nindifferent features, a certain something, a sign of the fire that is\nslumbering within. 2d. If you find it necessary, for fashion's sake, to\nput him at school, or at any place for study, make him idle, generous,\nsomewhat mischievous, a great hater of mathematics, (for, so far as my\nknowledge extends, no hero of a novel ever yet knew any thing about\nmathematics,) give him some whimsical pursuit for the hours when he\nchooses to do any thing, and then make him speak, as he has occasion,\nItalian, French and Spanish, which he learned by instinct. 3d. _Make him\nact from impulse, and not from principle, and get him into difficulty\nthrough the influence of these same generous impulses._ It is on\ndifficulties thus created that the plot must turn. 4th. Get him in love.\n5th. Make him run a gauntlet of difficulties a volume and a half long,\nfurnishing a new illustration of that old adage, \"the course of true\nlove never did run smooth.\" 6th. Marry him, and let him live many years\nin perfect felicity.\n\nWe commonly hear it said, that the chief mischief of novel-reading\narises from the false pictures of life which novels present. This is\ndoubtless a source of no small mischief; but in my view, a much greater\nevil arises from their holding up, directly or indirectly, false\nprinciples of action, and casting contempt upon the true; from their\nleading young persons to admire that which they esteem graceful rather\nthan that which is respectable and right in the conduct of life. There\nis in those works an unnatural separation made between the principle of\nvirtue and that which gives to virtue its beauty; and principle is\nrepresented as formal and cold, and perhaps ridiculous. Prudence,\nespecially, is a virtue which no heroine of a novel must ever be guilty\nof. In a recent work, which deserves great credit for avoiding the\ngeneral fault just mentioned, we are yet told that prudence was a\nvirtue for which the heroine was never famous, and a slight odium is\ncast upon the virtue itself by making it appear, in the rival of the\nheroine, somewhat stiff and pragmatical.\n\nIt is thus that these works awaken extensively, in the minds of the\nyoung, associations unfavorable to the sterner and sterling virtues; and\nin many cases, these amiable qualities are so associated with vice as to\nrender it attractive. It is thus that we are presented by popular\nnovelists--and in such a manner as I know carries along the sympathies\nof many young men, while their imaginations are rendered familiar with\nthe haunts of vice--with gentlemen robbers who rob in style; who are so\ngenerous that they never rob the poor; who never shed human blood if\npeople will give up their money without it; and if they are occasionally\nobliged to blow out the brains of some agent of the law, they are really\nsorry for it, though they do not see how such impertinent fellows could\nexpect any thing better. It is thus that the impression is received,\nthat a certain class of impulses is sufficient to secure success in\nlife, and even to excuse the want of principle; and young men with their\nheads full of pictures, not perhaps so bad as this, yet fundamentally\nthe same, rush eagerly into life without fixed principles and fixed\naims.\n\nTo him who is without experience, there is no sight more beautiful than\nthat of a young man of an ingenuous nature entering upon life, and\nresting upon his own good impulses to keep him from evil. But such a\nsight, even when there has been no corruption like that just spoken of,\nnow causes apprehension in me; for I have seen him who had every thing,\nin his person and in his sensibilities, to excite admiration and love,\ntarrying long at the wine, and seeking mixed wine; I have seen him going\nto that \"house\" which \"is the way to hell;\" and therefore it is that I\nwould utter a solemn protest against any thing which would divorce the\nbeauty of virtue from the principle of virtue, or which would give an\nimpression that there is security without fixed principle. Even\n\"genius,\" with all these amiable qualities--\n\n                \"Yet may lack the aid\n  Implored by humble minds and hearts afraid,\n  May leave to timid souls the shield and sword\n  Of the tried faith and the resistless word;\n  Amid a world of dangers venturing forth,\n  Frail but yet fearless, proud in conscious worth,\n  Till strong temptation, in some fatal time,\n  Assails the heart and wins the soul to crime.\"\n\nThen,\n\n      \"All that honor brings against the force\n      Of headlong passion, aids its rapid course;\n      Its slight resistance but provokes the fire,\n  As wood-work stops the flame, and then conveys it higher.\"\n\nWith such a basis to the characters presented, it will follow of course,\nthat the emotions and the sensibilities will be chiefly addressed in\nthese works, and thus they become the principal means of promoting that\nfalse and selfish sensibility which is so often cultivated in refined\nsociety. This is a more refined species of intemperance, and is to the\nmind what intemperance in strong drink is to the body. It causes\nexcitement for the mere selfish enjoyment produced by it, without\nleading to any exertion. And as the grosser species of intemperance is\nmore common among one sex, so it is to be feared, that this more refined\nspecies is more common among the other; and that for both, circulating\nlibraries, and other libraries, instead of furnishing wholesome\nentertainment, are too often converted into mere intellectual\ndram-shops. There are many who seek chiefly for excitement, who have a\nconstant craving for it, whose emotions and mental sensibilities have\nbecome accustomed to a set of artificial stimulants till they are\nsensible to no other, and they become as remorselessly selfish as the\ndrunkard himself. I would sooner apply for an act of genuine kindness,\none which should reach actual want, to a woman in a log-house, upon the\nside of a mountain, surrounded by hungry children, than to the daintiest\nyoung lady whose sensibilities have spindled up and wilted in the\nartificial heat of novel-reading. In order to perform the duties of\nbenevolence and philanthropy, it is indispensable that the sensibilities\nshould be kept alive to the impressions of misery as it actually\npresents itself in all its squalid accompaniments.\n\n  \"Sweet are the tears that from a Howard's eye\n  Drop on the cheek of one he lifts from earth;\n  And he who works me good with unmoved face,\n  Does it but half; he chills me while he aids,\n  My benefactor, not my fellow-man.\n  But even this, this cold benevolence,\n  Seems worth, seems manhood, when there rise before me\n  The sluggard Pity's vision-weaving tribe,\n  Who sigh for wretchedness, yet shun the wretched,\n  Nursing, in some delicious solitude,\n  Their slothful loves and dainty sympathies!\"\n\nIt was this esteem in which mankind hold the sensibilities and impulses,\nthis preference of spontaneousness without its connexion with principle,\nwhich gave its popularity to what has been called the sentimental\nschool--the results of which ought to teach society a lesson not soon to\nbe forgotten. Concerning this school, it is justly remarked by\nColeridge, that \"all the mischief achieved by Hobbes, and the whole\nschool of materialists, will appear inconsiderable if it be compared\nwith the mischief effected and occasioned by the sentimental philosophy\nof Sterne and his numerous imitators. The vilest appetites, and the most\nremorseless inconstancy towards their objects, acquired the title of the\n_heart_--the irresistible feelings--the too tender sensibility: and if\nthe frosts of prudence, the icy chains of human law, thawed and vanished\nat the genial warmth of human nature, who _could_ help it? It was an\namiable weakness.\"\n\nI would here remark, that I have no objection to fictitious writings as\nsuch. There are those to which I do not object. Let them cease, first,\nto present false pictures of life: secondly, to array the sensibilities\nand associations of the mind against principle: and, thirdly, let them\ncease to create and feed a morbid craving for excitement, and to destroy\nthe balance between the feelings and the judgment: and I shall not\nobject to them. The mass of these writings, however, do produce each\nand all of these effects, and are, so far, indisputably pernicious.\n\nI have been thus particular in pointing out the evils which arise from\narraying what is beautiful and graceful in morals and in conduct against\nthat which is right, because I do not believe that the community are\nsufficiently warned against the mischief it is working, and in many\ncases are not perhaps aware of the manner in which it is wrought. Evil\ngains advantage over man by dividing him against himself, by bringing\ninto collision faculties that were intended to work harmoniously\ntogether; and we may regard it as settled, that whoever or whatever\nwould set up mere impulses, or sensibilities, or emotions, in the place\nof the reason and conscience of man, is thus dividing him against\nhimself. It is with the conscience of man as it is with a king. He may\nhave his prime minister, who is his chief favorite, and next to himself,\nbut he must never abandon his power, or suffer the highest subject to\ndepose him from the throne. The desires and affections are then only\ntruly beautiful, when they are in ready attendance at the court of their\nrightful sovereign.\n\nHaving now spoken of the manner in which evil is done by those who care\nto please rather than to improve mankind, I cannot leave this part of\nthe subject without suggesting, to the friends of principle and of\nreligion, how much, if what has been said is correct, they may do to\ncounteract this evil by a free, a hearty, a joyful, and therefore an\nattractive, mode of doing that which is right. Whence have arisen those\nassociations of coldness and formality and gloom, as connected with\nduty, which haunt the imaginations of many young persons, and which have\njust as little existence in reality as other spectres of the night? Is\nit not in part from an unnatural austerity, or from a cowardly and\nfaltering step, a want of freedom and power and beauty in the\nexhibitions of virtue and principle on the part of those who profess to\nadhere to them? It is not as it should be, when the glad and the\ngraceful emotions readily spring up by the side of every path that we\nwalk in except the path of duty. He who marches under the banner of\nprinciple is not only to feel that he is engaged in a good cause, but is\nalso to see in that cause a beauty which shall be to him what music is\nto the soldier, giving cheerfulness to his countenance and alacrity to\nhis step. His is not indeed to be the unchastened, and reckless, and\nmerely animal joy that is unconscious of the evil that exists, and that\nis to be met; but it is to be the joy of him who, though he is\ntravelling in a difficult and obscure path, yet sees before him the\nbright and steady light of his own happy home. The more those who act\nfrom principle are able to combine, with the most perfect rectitude and\nuncompromising faithfulness, the cultivation and play of all the\ngraceful and tender emotions, the more will they do to promote the cause\nin which they labor. I know, and here is the difficulty, that most\nvirtue is too feeble for this; and I would not that there should be put\non any affectation of freedom or ease. Virtue should move easily and\ngracefully only as it is strong, but it should become strong that it\nmay move easily and gracefully, and thus become to all men as beautiful\nas it is obligatory.\n\nIt is not a little that the Christian religion has suffered from the\nmistakes of its adherents on this point. It had been better if they had\nmore regarded the spirit of its Founder when He commanded his disciples,\neven when they fasted, not to be of a sad countenance, as the hypocrites\nwere. The impression we get of Paul, notwithstanding his labors and\nsufferings, is that he was a happy man. If he was sometimes \"sorrowful,\"\nhe was yet \"always rejoicing.\" The movements of his spirit were so ready\nand free, in view of the great subjects that filled his mind, that he\nreminds us more than any other man of the \"rapt seraph that adores and\nburns.\" What is it, indeed, that gives its perfect beauty to our\nconception of the worship of heaven? Is it not, that the most perfect\nlaw is there fully obeyed, and is yet no restraint upon the highest and\nfreest expansion of feeling? It is when this is so, and then only, that\nmoral beauty is perfect.\n\nWe have thus far considered moral beauty only. We now pass to another\nbranch of our subject, the moral sublime. When speaking on taste in\ngeneral, it was not necessary, for any purposes I then had in view, that\nI should make a distinction between beauty and sublimity, either as they\nexist in themselves, or as they are occasioned by outward objects.\nIndeed, it is the opinion of many writers, that there is no radical\ndistinction between them, but that sublimity is merely the feeling of\nbeauty heightened. This seems to me doubtful, even in material beauty;\nbut in our present department, the occasions on which they arise are so\ndifferent, that they must be distinguished. It was for this reason that\nI treated of beauty by itself.\n\nIt has been observed, that the emotion of moral beauty arises when there\nis a coincidence between the sense of duty and certain inferior\nprinciples of action. I now observe, that the emotion of moral sublimity\nis awakened, when the sense of duty is opposed by inclination, or\naffection, or by any or all the inferior principles of action, and\ntriumphs over them. Its principle consists in a power of self-control\nand of self-sacrifice, in those cases in which they are difficult.\n\nThe illustration of this point will lead to a further confirmation of\nwhat was said in reference to moral beauty. No sight, for example, can\nbe more beautiful than that of a family in which there is mutual\nattachment, and in which the performance of every duty is sweetened by\naffection. How beautiful is the assiduity of a child, who bears with\nevery infirmity, and soothes every care, and anticipates every want, of\na parent in sickness or in age! It is beautiful, but not sublime. The\nconduct of that young man, who labors hard and denies himself the\nordinary pleasures of the young that he may support an aged mother, or\nadd to her comfort, is highly beautiful; but natural affection\nco\u00f6perates with a sense of duty, and therefore it is not sublime. No one\nhas ever considered as sublime the conduct of \u00c6neas, when he bore his\naged father upon his shoulders from the flames of Troy. But when the\nancient Brutus, with a power that was supreme, sat in judgment on his\nown son who was accused of being a traitor, and when he gave the sign to\nthe lictor to take him to execution, then there was a struggle, then\ninflexible justice triumphed over natural affection, and it was--not\nbeautiful, it was too awful for that--but it was sublime. That act of\nour Saviour, (if I may be permitted to refer to such a scene in this\nconnexion,) by which he remembered his mother upon the cross and\nprovided for her wants, was beautiful--how beautiful! His prayer for his\nmurderers was sublime. It is, in general, acts of tenderness,\ngentleness, condescension, pity, gratitude, humanity, that are\nbeautiful; while it is, on the other hand, acts of magnanimity, of\nfortitude, of inflexible justice, of high patriotism, and, on proper\noccasions, of contempt of danger and of death, that are sublime. In all\nthese latter cases it will be seen that the principle is the same, and\nthat the sublime emotion is awakened by virtuous self-control, in union\nwith high resolve.\n\nWe hence see why it is that periods of difficulty, and oppression, and\npersecution, are favorable to the exhibition of the moral sublime. They\ntest the amount of attachment to principle which there is among men, and\nthe sacrifices which they are willing to make for it. Accordingly, it\nhas been in such emergencies that men have arisen, who, under the\ninspiration of the great principles of civil and religious liberty,\nhave been ready to go in the face of every danger, wherever their duty\nshould call them; as Luther was determined to go to the diet of Worms,\nthough he should find as many devils in that city as there were tiles\nupon the houses. These are the men, who, though they have been opposed,\nand vilified, and persecuted in their day, have yet received the homage\nof after ages; who have stood as the beacon-lights of the world, and\nwhose names have been the watchword of those who have rallied and struck\nfor the united reign of liberty and law. Such men have almost always\nbeen in advance of their age, and the people of that age have not\ncomprehended them. They have reverenced the great men of former times;\nthey have built the sepulchres of the prophets, but have persecuted\nthose who were sent unto _them_. It is not therefore surprising that\nSeneca has spoken so largely of the benefits of adversity, as alone\ngiving an opportunity for the display of the heroic virtues, and has\nsaid that a good man, struggling with adversity, was a spectacle worthy\nof the gods.\n\nBut it is not necessary to the existence, though it may be to the\nexhibition, of moral heroism, that we should be placed in circumstances\nof external adversity. Wherever there is moral combat, there may be\nmoral sublimity, and this combat is necessary for the accomplishment of\nthat triumph which every man is called to gain over himself. The force\nand grandeur of virtue are then seen when we sacrifice to it our\nappetites, our avarice, our pride, our vanity, our ambition, our\nresentments, till every evil passion is brought into subjection to\nreason and conscience.\n\nSuch being the nature of the moral sublime, it is obvious that there is\nmuch less danger to morals from its perversion than from the perversion\nof the beautiful. There is here no natural passion to come in as an ally\nof principle; and which may take the place of it, but it is duty\nstruggling single-handed, and triumphing over all the might of external\nnature, and all the force of human propensity. Virtue may indeed exist\nin perfect serenity, and be exercised without an obstacle; but in this\nworld, and it is that which makes it a place of probation, there is\nlittle virtue except on the condition of struggling against and\novercoming inclination or passion. If we succeed in this struggle, we\nfeel in our own breasts a peace which is not only present happiness, but\nthe promise of future reward; and we awaken in the breasts of others the\nemotions of moral sympathy, of approbation, of sublimity in its highest\nforms, till they are ready to welcome us with acclaim, and we find that\nvirtue is not only happiness, but is also \"glory, and honor, and\nimmortality.\"\n\nBut though moral beauty and sublimity are so different in their nature\nand in the occasions on which they arise, it must not be supposed that\nthey do not often blend with each other in actual life. The general\ncourse of Howard, for instance, being in accordance with the dictates of\nhumanity, had great moral beauty, and yet the sacrifices which he made\nwere often so great as to cause that course to partake of the moral\nsublime.\n\nIf the account of moral taste, now given, be correct, the analysis of\nthe subject is the only argument needed. Its cultivation must, of\ncourse, be favorable to morals, since it would lead, in its perfect\nstate, to the same course of conduct as would be required by principle.\nThere is, indeed, a whole school of philosophers, that of Shaftesbury,\nwho have looked upon virtue, and have recommended it, as beautiful\nrather than as obligatory; who have regarded it as a sentiment rather\nthan a principle; and whose writings have been calculated to awaken\nenthusiasm in the cause of virtue, but not to give it its proper\nsanctions. So far, however, as this class of feelings would lead us, it\nis in the direct path of virtue, and they may, no doubt, be so\ncultivated, and especially by the young, as to furnish efficient aid to\nthe principle of duty. Perhaps few persons, rightly educated, are aware\nhow many wrong actions they avoid with the greater care because they are\nalso mean; how many right actions they perform with the greater\nreadiness because they are in accordance with the requisitions of a\ncultivated moral taste. Considered as a principle of action, such a\ntaste provides an effectual security against the grossness connected\nwith many vices, and cherishes a temper of mind friendly to all that is\namiable, or generous, or elevated in our nature. While, therefore, we\nregard taste as an important ally to the sense of duty, we are not to\nrely chiefly upon it. It would need stability, and would be constantly\nliable to be led astray by the influence of fashion, or of casual\nassociation. We may however do more, we should do more to combine them;\nto unite taste and principle in the conduct of life; to do, ourselves,\nand to lead others to do, what is becoming, as well as what is right.\n\nMan is capable of forming to himself an ideal model, of embodying a\nconception of excellence such as he has never seen, and of acting with\nreference to it. It is this which renders him capable of progression;\nand one great reason why men are stationary, is, that they have in their\nminds no fixed and definite standard of excellence after which they are\nreaching. Young men, to whom I speak, here is the point at which many of\nyou doubtless fail. You are borne on by the current, and form to\nyourselves no worthy object of pursuit, after which you bring\nyourselves, by self-discipline, steadily to labor. But without doing\nthis, no man ever yet exerted a high and worthy influence; no man ever\ncan. Permit me then to propose to you, in your capacity as social\nbeings, an object after which you may thus strive. It is the combination\nof perfect moral principle with perfect simplicity and refinement of\nmanners--the union, in the conduct of life, of Morals and Taste.\n\nThere remains but a single consideration which I shall adduce, to show\nthat there is the connexion between taste and morals for which I\ncontend. It is, that we naturally associate with goodness, beauty of\nform; and that in a perfect state, we conceive of goodness as surrounded\nby objects that are pleasing to the taste. Perhaps this may not have\nbeen noticed by all, but a little attention to what passes in our own\nminds will convince us that it is so. This natural association of beauty\nand goodness perhaps arises from the fact, that every indication of\ngoodness as expressed in the countenance is pleasing, and may be\nheightened into beauty. It is surprising how soon we come to regard as\npleasing, the most ordinary features, when we have associated with them\na fund of good qualities; or rather, the features soon become like the\nletters of a book, which we regard only for the meaning they convey. As\nI have said before, no features are so ordinary that they may not come\nto appear to us beautiful by the expression of good qualities; and if I\nmay suppose, which I would by no means assert, that there are any homely\npersons present, I would congratulate them on the inducements they have\nto cultivate the only beauty that is permanent, or that can be the\nfoundation of lasting attachment.\n\nNot only however may homely features become beautiful by their\nexpression, but we have, I think, a natural association of positive\nbeauty as connected with the goodness which we have not seen, and of\npositive deformity as connected with vice. When we read of good men\neven, we regard them as having something in their appearance\ncorresponding with their character, and no man, I am sure, can suppose\nthat Benedict Arnold had a countenance that was pleasant to look upon.\nBut what is conclusive on this point is, that no man ever conceived of\nSatan in his proper form, as beautiful, or ever conceived of an angel,\nexcept as clothed in light and beauty.\n\nIt is this natural supposition of the connexion of beauty of mind with\nbeauty of form, that gives its plausibility and point to a dream of Sir\nIsaac Bickerstaff, as related in one of the Tattlers. He seemed to\nhimself to be in an open plain, surrounded by an immense assembly of\nfemales, in the midst of whom the goddess of justice sat enthroned, and\nholding in her hand a mirror of such peculiar properties as to reflect\nthe faces of those who looked into it in exact correspondence with their\ncharacters. This mirror was held up and turned before the assembly, and\nthe effect may well be imagined. Some beautiful women had the\nsatisfaction of seeing their faces become still more beautiful, while\nmany more were shocked to see themselves converted into perfect frights.\nSome who were homely before, became still more so; while many unassuming\nand modest persons, who had never dreamed of being handsome, and so had\nsought the approbation of their own consciences, were surprised to see\nhow their faces were brightened up. There was however one face, which\nseemed to beam with a celestial radiance, and was so surprisingly\nbeautiful that Sir Isaac determined at once on making proposals to the\nlady, if he could but ascertain to whom it belonged. This, by careful\nattention, he was soon enabled to do, and found that it was a little,\ngrey-headed, wrinkled old woman who stood by his side.\n\nThere is something ludicrous in the manner in which this is set forth,\nbut it involves a most serious and pleasing truth. It is as much a part\nof the disorders of the present state of things, that goodness is ever\nconnected with any thing but beauty, as it is that virtue is depressed\nwhile vice triumphs. In a perfect organization and state of things,\nmatter would be entirely flexible to the action of spirit, and, of\ncourse, intellectual and moral beauty, as well as their opposites, must\nstamp their impress perfectly on the features. This we believe will be\nthe case when the physical nature of man shall be reorganized, and the\ngood shall not only be beautiful, but, as I have already remarked that\nwe are naturally led to expect, shall be surrounded with all those\nobjects that are pleasing to the taste. That these expectations are\nnatural may be shown from the writings of all the heathen poets, and it\nis pleasing to observe how perfectly they coincide with the\nrepresentations of the Scriptures on this point. We are there taught,\nnot only that the righteous shall shine forth as the sun, but their\ndwelling-place is described as a city whose foundations are garnished\nwith all manner of precious stones, whose streets are of pure gold, and\nwhose gates are of pearl.\n\nThus, as we associate with royalty its regalia, so do we associate with\ngoodness, beauty, which seems to be its natural appendage; and not only\nin the Scriptures, but also in our own constitution, do we find a\npromise, that Goodness and Beauty shall be finally and forever united.\n\n\n\n\nTRANSCRIBER'S NOTES:\n\n\n  Text in italics is surrounded with underscores: _italics_.","title":"The Connexion Between Taste and Morals: Two lectures","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":15442}