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TAT 



principles as its foundation, from the opposite derisions on 

 Mich a comparison, involves the same description of error 

 as it would be to arrive at tin- same conclusion from the 

 opposite decisions in :i comparison between the beauty of 

 I-.MI distil-.. ' I annuals, the one biped :nul tin 



quadruped. There is a ' central form ' of beauty proper 

 to the different races of mankind ; to the two sexes of the 

 different races ; to different ages ; and so on in reference 

 to inferior animals and objects of inanimate nature. \\'e 

 .ss beyond the province of mere taste when we com- 

 pare object's in respect to which the principles of beauty 

 arc altogether distinct. 



.ch obscurity has arisen in discussions on the subject 

 of taste from the twofold sense in which the word taste 

 has been employed, as expressive of an emotion, and of 

 something objective in which there exists an aptitude to 

 produce emotion. The term taste strictly applies to the 

 emotion only ; the theory of the different causes by which 

 the emotion is produced belongs to the subject of beauty. 

 We have been obliged to refer to the theory of beauty in 

 the preceding part of this article in establishing the reality 

 of certain principles determining our emotions of taste : in 

 what follows we shall confine ourselves to the explanation 

 of taste in its restricted or proper sense. 



When any object either of sublimity or beauty is pre- 

 sented to the mind, we are conscious of a train ol thought 

 being immediately awakened analogous to the character 

 or expression of the original object. The landscapes of 

 Claude, the music of Handel, the poetry of Milton, 

 excite feeble emotions in our minds when our attention is 

 confined to the qualities they present to our senses, or 

 when it is to such qualities of their composition that we 

 turn our regard. It is then only we feel the sublimity or 

 beauty of their productions, w'hen our imaginations are 

 kindled by their power, when we lose ourselves amid the 

 number of images I hat pass before our minds, or when we 

 waken at last from the play of fancy as from the charm of 

 a romantic dream. (Alison, c. i., sect. 1.) 



The trains of thought which are thus suggested are dis- 

 tinguished in the nature of the ideas or conceptions which 

 compose them, and in the nature or law of their succession. 

 In the case of those trains of thought which are suggested 

 by objects either of sublimity or beauty, they are in all 

 cases composed of ideas capable of exciting some affect ion 

 or emotion. Mr. Alison has supposed that not only the 

 whole succession is accompanied with that peculiar emo- 

 tion which we rail the emotion of beauty or sublimity, 

 but that every individual idea of such a succession is in 

 itself productive of some simple emotion or other. But to 

 tins it has been objected, and we think truly, that such a 

 train of images passing before the mind, and images accom- 

 panied with lively emotion, could scarcely fail to be 

 remembered by us; or, at least, if they are not rcmem- 

 1 by us, there is no reason, d priori, to suppose the 

 existence of them. (Brown, Lrctitrea on the Philosophy 

 (if the Human Mind, lecture Ivii.) 



There is this distinction between the emotions of taste 

 and all our different emotions of simple pleasure, that in 

 the case of these last emotions no additional train of 

 thought is necessary. The pleasurable feeling follows im- 

 mediately the presence of the object or quality, and has 

 no dependence upon anything for its perfection but the 

 sound state of the sense by which it is received. The 

 emotions of envy, pity, benevolence, gratitude, utility, 

 propriety, novelty, &c. might undoubtedly be felt, although 

 we had no such power of mind as that by which we fol- 

 low out a train of ideas, and certainly are felt in a thousand 

 cases when this faculty is unemployed. In the case of 

 the emotion of taste, on the other hand, it seems evident 

 that this process of mind is necessary, and that unless it 

 is produced these emotions are unfelt. Whatever may 

 be the nature of that simple emotion which any object 

 is fitted to excite, whether that of gaiety, tranquillity. 

 melancholy, &c., if it produce not a train of kindred 

 thought in our minds, we are conscious only of that 

 simple emotion. Whenever, on the contrary, the train 

 of thought which has been mentioned is produced, we 

 are conscious of a higher, and more pleasing emotion: 

 and which, though it is impossible to describe in lan- 

 guage, we yet distinguish by the name of the emotion 

 of taste. The emotions of taste may therefore be con- 

 sidered as distinguished from the emotions of simple plea- 

 sure, by their being dependent upon the exercise or our 



majrination ; and though founded in all cases upon simple 

 emotion, as yet further requiring the employment of tnis 

 faculty for their existence (*</;/ i., MMUlsion, s. ii., 

 Alison); or, rather than the rinjilnymfiit ( a word which 

 seems to intimate a deliberate 1 intended act, in the pro- 

 cess of imagination), as Dr. Brown would say, the opera- 

 tion of the common laws of suggestion in the mode to which 

 we apply the word imagination. 



The suggestion of trains of kindred or harmonising 

 I which has been pointed out u distinguishing the 

 emotion of taste, accounts for the more enlarged suscepti- 

 bility in some than in others of this emotion. The more 

 our ideas are increased or our conceptions extended upon 

 any subject, the greater the number of association 

 connect with it, the stronger is the emotion of sublimity 

 or beauty we rcceue ironi it. What is it* (says Mr. 

 Alison) ' that constitute* tint emotion of sublime delight, 

 which every man of common sensibility feels upon the 

 first prospect of Rome ? It is not the scene of destruction 

 w hich is before him. It is not the TI|XT. diminished in 

 his imagination to a pnltn stream, and stagnating amid 

 the ruins of that magnificence which it once adorned. 

 It is not the triumph of superstition over the wreck of 

 human greatness, and its monuments erected upon the 

 very spot where the first honours of humanity lia\< 

 gained. It is antient Home which fills his imagination. 

 It is the country of Csesar, and Cicero, and Virgil, which 

 is before him. It is the mistress of the world which he 

 sees, and who seems to him to rise again from her tomb, 

 to give laws to the universe. All that the labours of Ins 

 youth or the studies of his maturer age have acquired, 

 with regard to the history of this great people, open at 

 once before his imagination, and present him with a field 

 of high and solemn imagery, which can never be ex- 

 hausted.' 



' The beauty' of a theory or of a relic of antiquity is 

 unintelligible to a peasant. The charms of the country 

 are altogether lost upon a citizen who has passed his 

 life in town.' It is on the principle in question that 

 Burke remarks that the excellence and force of a com- 

 position must always be imperfectly estimated from its 

 effect on the minds of any, except we know the temper and 

 character of those minds. (Introduction to the Sublime 

 and Beautiful.) 



The rules by which tas\e is determined vary with the 

 objects to which its decisions refer; but in respect to all, 

 this general principle holds, that a composition is to be 

 judged by its fitness to produce the end designed by it. 

 If to please, to instruct, to move, to create laughter, be its 

 design, its merits are to be determined by its aptitude to 

 produce any of these effects. If its objects be to please, 

 \.r. (inly a particular people or class, it is to be estir 

 under the given circumstances. If its object he to give 

 pleasure or instruction to all ages and conditions of 

 society, it is to be estimated by its ruiTc-pondcnce with 

 those universal principles of human nature which it con- 

 templates. That eompo-ition is the highest which is of the 

 last description. (Hume's Essay on l/ieStniiifuril <;/' '/' 



The reader who may desire to see (hi* Mibjcct further dis- 

 cussed is referred to the article BKAUTY ; to Mr. Alton's 

 /.Vv '//v . to Brown's J.i-i-!nn:\ mi the PhilofOti/i I/ nf the 

 Human Mind, lecture Ivii.; Hume's & xny 'in the Standard 

 "f T 



TATARS. [TARTARS.] 



TATK, NAHUM, was born in Dublin in the year K;.*i2. 

 His father was Dr. Faithful Tale, a clergyman in Ireland. 

 He was educated at Trinity College, Dublin, whence he 

 removed to London. On the death of Shadwell in IO!H). 

 the interest ol Tale's friends procured him the situation of 

 .uircatc, which he held till his death. He seems to 

 have been an improvident man. and somewhat addicted 

 to intemperance. In the latter part of his life lie resided 

 in the precincts of the Mint, in Southwark, where he died, 

 August 12, 171"). The Mint was then considered a pri- 



< d place, where debtors were not liable to 

 This supposed privilege however was put down by statute 

 9 Geo. I. 



Tate wrote 'Memorials for the Learned, collected out of 

 eminent Authors in History.' Hvo. Kisti; I'haiacters of 

 Virtue and Vice described and attempted in Verse, from 

 a Treatise of Joseph Hall. Bishop of Exon,' Loud.. Kiill ; 

 Miscellanea Sacra, 01 Pttmi on Dhnie and Moral Sub- 

 jects,' Lond., 1698, 8vo. ; ' Panacea, a Poem on Tea, 



