poetry and music are relished only by a few.The game of push-pin is always innocent： it were well could the same be always asserted of poetry.Indeed， between poetry and truth there is natural opposition： false morals and fictitious nature.The poet always stands in need of something false.When he pretends to lay has foundations in truth， the ornaments of his superstructure are fictions； his business consist in stimulating our passions， and exciting our prejudices.Truth， exactitude of every kind is fatal to poetry.The poet must see everything through coloured media， and strive to make every one else do the same.It is true， there have been noble spirits， to whom poetry and philosophy have been equally indebted； but these exceptions do not counteract the mischiefs which have resulted from this magic art.
If poetry and music deserve to he preferred before a game of push-pin， it must be because they are calculated to gratify those individuals who are most difficult to be pleased.
All the arts and sciences， without exception， inasmuch as they constitute innocent employments， at least of time， possess a species of moral utility， neither the less real or important because it is frequently unobserved.They compete with， and occupy the place of those mischievous and dangerous passions and employments， to which want of occupation and ennui give birth.They are excellent substitutes for drunkenness， slander， and the love of gaming.
The effects of idleness upon the ancient Germans may be seen in Tacitus.His observations are applicable to all uncivilized nations： for want of other occupations the wage war upon each other梚t was a more animated amusement than that of the chase.The chieftain who proposed a martial expedition， at the first sound of his trumpet ranged under his banners a crowd of idlers， to whom peace was a condition of restraint， of languor， and of ennui.Glory could be reaped only in one field梠pulence knew but one luxury.This field was that of battle梩his luxury that of conquering or recounting past conquests.Their women themselves， ignorant of those agreeable arts which multiply the means of pleasing， and prolong the empire of beauty， became the rivals of the men in courage， and， mingling with them in the barbarous tumult of a military life， became unfeeling as they.
It is to the cultivation of the arts and sciences， that we must in great measure ascribe the existence of that party which is now opposed to war： it has received its birth amid the occupation and pleasures furnished by the fine arts.These arts， so to speak， have enrolled under their peaceful banners that army of idlers which would have otherwise possessed no amusement but in the hazardous and bloody game of war.
Such is the species of utility which belongs indiscriminately to all the arts and sciences.Were it the only reason， it would be a sufficient reason for desiring to see them flourish and receive the most extended diffusion.
If these principles are correct， we shall know how to estimate those critics， more ingenious than useful， who， under pretence of purifying the public taste， endeavour successively to deprive mankind of a larger or smaller part of the sources of their amusement.These modest judges of elegance and taste consider themselves as benefactors to the human race， while they are really only the interrupters of their pleasure梐sort of importunate hosts， who place themselves at the table to diminish， by their pretended delicacy， the appetite of their guests.It is only from custom and prejudice that， in matters of taste， we speak of false and true.
There is no taste which deserves the epithet good， unless it be the taste for such employments which， to the pleasure actually produced by them， conjoin some contingent or future utility： there is no taste which deserves to be characterized as bad， unless it be a taste for some occupation which has a mischievous tendency.
The celebrated and ingenious Addison has distinguished himself by his skill in the art of ridiculing enjoyments， by attaching to them the fantastic idea of bad taste.In the Spectator he wages relentless war against the whole generation of false wits.
Acrostics， conundrums， pantomimes， puppet-shows， bouts-rimé；s ， stanzas in the shape of eggs， of wings， burlesque poetry of every description梚n a word， a thousand other light and equally innocent amusements， fall crushed under the strokes of his club.And， proud of having established his empire above the ruins of these literary trifles he regards himself as the legislator of Parnassus！ What， however， was the effect of his new laws？ They deprived those who submitted to them， of many sources of pleasure梩hey exposed those who were more inflexible， to the contempt of their companions.
Even Hume himself， in spite of his proud and independent philosophy， has yielded to this literary prejudice.``By a sing1e piece，''
says he， ``the Duke of Buckingham rendered a great service to his age， and was the reformer of its taste！'' In what consisted this important service？
He had written a comedy， The Rehearsal ， the object of which was to render those theatrical pieces which had been most popular， the objects of general distaste.His satire was completely successful； but what was its fruit？ The lovers of that species of amusement were deprived of so much pleasure； a multitude of authors covered with ridicule and contempt， deplored， at the same time， the loss of their reputation and their bread.
As the amusement of a minister of state， it must be confessed that a more suitable one might be found than a game at solitaire.
