press before us, when we are scarcely prepared to inquire into the cause; and yet we may fairly assert, that nothing contributes more surely to the attainment of permanent delight, than the investigation of the cause; and that it is most useful to ask ourselves why we are thus delighted, why thus affected, why melted into sympathy, why so absorbed.
If we were worthy to advise a young philosopher, we should say, avoid sophistry and too refined conceptions; yet seek for principles, and those principles which are based on the simple truths which nature supplies; and let every theorem be tested by those principles which are immutable, so that perspicuity and accuracy may be secured. But with all this, do not expect evidence unsuitable to the nature of the subjects of your inquiry. To some belong demonstrable evidence—to others intuitive—varying with the subjects.
Those who live above the regions of mere sense, and are seeking communion with the spirits of truth, are accustomed to the contemplation of true beauty, and live amidst agreeable sensations, which not only occupy the imagination, but engage the whole capacities of the mind; and there is not a beauty in nature or art, with which they are not acquainted. Every colour, every sound, every star of the night, every dew-drop of the morning, every space or expression in which beauty resides, is at once recognized as a portion of the excellence of eternal perfection. Indeed they have an intuitive perception of the beautiful, which excites admiration even before the sensation can be rendered permanent by the operation of judgment. This sensation of the beautiful traverses the whole mind; but on no occasion does it hold a more ready affection, or produce a more instant interest, than when it embraces the outlines of the human form.
