1785. Here the birds the sunbeams flying, Echo to their voice replying, Makes the neighboring valleys ring. This fair spot with partial pleasure, Soon again thy waves returning, Follow still thy sweet employment Wave ye woods, ye oceans roar THE CULTIVATION OF TASTE. BY THE REV. WILLIAM HAGUE. THE importance of cultivating a correct taste for natural and moral beauty has often been inculcated by the novelist and philosopher, the preacher and the poet. Its effects prove its worth. It expands the mind and refines the heart, it alleviates the ills of life, and multiplies its joys, it soothes the agitations of the troubled bosom and throws a genial sunlight around the calm and placid spirit; it constantly opens new and pleasing paths of pursuit, leads to new springs of happiness, and diffuses its own fresh charm around the whole creation. He who has cultivated as he may, his natural susceptibility of deriving delight from the beautiful in nature or the sublime in morals, the lights of science or the charms of art, has within himself a source of high enjoyment, which delivers him from the thraldom of gross appetite, the corrosion of petty cares, and the many irritations which arise amid the hurry and tumult of life. The more delicate his taste becomes, the more nice is he in his discrimination of character, the more keenly alive to the pleasures of friendship, the more susceptible of the soft and tender emotions, the more delighted with tranquil scenes, the more disposed to calm reflection. He has a zest for joys of which others do not dream, and even the character of his sorrows is peculiar, for they are changed into an agreeable melancholy which soothes the heart that feels its weight, and has a natural affinity for all that is exalted in genius, or tender in sympathy, or commanding in moral greatness, or glowing in fancy. Such an one, though familiar with the world in which the worldling lives, yet lives himself in a world which we may call his own. He sees glories around him to which others are blind. He hears a music, which others do not hear. He feels a rapture which is real, but which he can not communicate, and in which only kindred minds can sympathize. Not that the elements of his nature differ from those others, only they are differently developed. The boor who gazes at night upon the vaulted firmament, sees nothing there but "twinkling lamps to light him home." The man of cultivated taste sees worlds on worlds, an "infinite amaze," a scene of wondrous order and magnificence, proclaiming the Creator's presence and making known that he is Love; the moon walking in her brightness, And nightly to the listening earth While all the stars around her burn, And all the planets in their turn Confirm the tidings as they roll And spread the truth from pole to pole. But while the importance of cultivating good taste may be conceded in general terms, the question may arise, what is good taste? Is there any thing fixed in its character? Are there any established principles by which it is governed? Is there any room for appeal beyond a man's own feelings respecting what is truly beautiful? Has it not long since passed into a popular maxim "de gustibus non disputandum;" and is it not bringing a question at once to an issue, to say of the subject of it, "it is a mere matter of taste ?" In regard to what is true and what is false, we may appeal from opinions to facts. We may show what has real existence. But in regard to what is beautiful and what is deformed, can we appeal to any thing beyond the sentiment of the mind? It is the mind which throws out its own inward light over various objects and thence views them as beautiful. Mind, mind alone (bear witness earth and Heaven) The living fountains in itself contains Of beauteous and sublime; here hand in hand Thence if I feel any thing to be beautiful, is it not therefore, truly beautiful, and even more beauteous still, because I cannot see why it is so ? Undoubtedly it is true that there is in no object an inherent beauty any more than there is inherent color; that it is the mind which conceives the idea of beauty and connects it with the external objectthe mind which, by its sensibility and its power of association invests the universe with its loveliness. But then, has not the inward world its laws as well as the outward? Is not the one adjusted to the other? Is there not a harmony in their operations? May not the moral sense and the sense of beauty be as uniform and determinate as the animal senses, though modified like every part of human nature, by circumstances? What if a man should declare that the monotonous tones of a public crier are as musical and beautiful as the varied intonations of the orator on whose lips senates hang enraptured? Or, that the notes which reach his ear from the hand-organ borne by the music-grinder through the street, are as beautiful and elevating as those which break from the mighty instrument of Harlem, when, under the touch of a master's hand, it pours its bounding notes along? Or, what if one should see as much beauty in the paltry decorations of an eastern Pagoda as in the simple front of the Pantheon, or the majestic dome of St. Peter's? Or, what if one should be delighted to place amidst a group of pendant willows in a cemetery the tall and straight limbed poplar, which presents not a mere contrast, but a direct opposition of features? In such cases our sensibility to beauty is somewhat shocked ; all feel that some law of nature is violated, and look on him who so confounds things that |
