The age of Louis XIV., the brilliant sera of French literature, was a period of military glory, and immediate ly succeeded to times of turbulence and civil discord. The restoration of Charles 11. in England, also put an end to a cruel and destructive civil war, while it promot ed improvements of every kind. At this period, arts and industry made a rapid progress among the people, though little encouraged by a weak and fluctuating administra tion. Thus the tranquillity which succeeds to times of anarchy and disorder, affords a favourable season for the flourishing of the arts, if no adverse cause be found in the poverty or dulness of the people. But the period of a struggle for independence, by calling forth the best energies of the mind, is itself favourable to the cultiva tion of the liberal arts. Greece, divided into small states, frequently at war with each other, advanced litera ture and the arts to an unrivalled perfection. The Cor sicans, while engaged in a perilous contest for the de fence of their liberties, exerted a vigorous national spi rit : it was at this time that they founded an university for arts and sciences, a public library, and a public bank. It was immediately at the close of civil wars, that had animated the people, and roused their activity, that the Royal Society in London, and the Academy of Sciences in Paris, were instituted.
Without any of these great national causes for the pro motion of the arts and sciences, they may at certain pe riods attain to great and unexpected maturity, by the operation of circumstances apparently trivial : such as the particular manners of the age ; encouragement from great men ; or the effects of the emulation excited among men of genius. The constellation of wits which adorn ed England during the reign of queen Anne, shone with greater and purer brilliancy than that of the reign of Charles II., which is sometimes, though improperly, called the Augustan age of our country ! if that title can belong to any period of our literary history, it is surely due to that which produced such writers as Pope, Addi son, Prior, Swift, Parnell, Arbuthnot, Congreve, Otway, Young, Rowe, Atterbury, Shaftsbury, Bolingbroke, Til lotson, Temple, Boyle, Locke, Newton, and Clark. Yet it would be difficult to point out any circumstances pecu liar to the times, or situation of the country, to which we might, with propriety, ascribe the origin of this rich profusion of genius. It win a spontaneous growth, which sprung up without the fostering influence of unusual tranquillity, or unusual ardour in the public mind ; and neither required nor received the support of those who were peculiarly possessed of power or of wealth. It was cherished chiefly by a generous public, to whose instruc tion and amusement its happiest effusions were directed, and who rewarded it with that protection and applause, which is the most gratifying compensation that genius can receive.
When success has attended the efforts of a man of talents, it is natural that otherg should be incited to try their powers, and offer themselves to the lists, in hopes of reaching, in their turn, the goal of fame. To this cause we may in part ascribe the appearance of eminent men in considerable numbers at a time ; and it may serve partly to explain, why some ages have been remarkably barren of them ; while at other periods, nature seems to have exerted herself with a more than ordinary effort, and to have poured them forth with a profuse fertility. It was thus, probably, that the amazing success of Mi chael Angelo, and Raphael, in the arts of degign, gave birth to the eminent se:tool at painting, sculpture, and arcuitecture, that so long adorned Italy ; and conferred upon her, in modern tunes, the dominion of taste, as in former ages she nad possessed the empire of the world. The success of Pope in the various regions of poetry, no doubt increased the number of the votaries of the Muses in his age ; as the success of Addison, in the character of a popular essayist, has so greatly enlarged the list of periodical writers in our own country ; or has rather entirely given birth to a style of composition in some measure peculiar to Britain ; and which, when well executed, has more general claims to popularity than almost any other kind of writing.
Servile imitation, however, tends rather to the de basement than the advancement of the arts ; as plants cannot attain to maturity, when they spring up in too great and indiscriminate an abundance, but thrive bet ter when they are fewer in number, and when every one that is promising is allowed to expand itself at a dis tance from its fellows. This leads us to mention the
circumstances which tend to the corruption and decay of the arts, which unfortunately have as powerful and certain an influence as those which occasion their ad vancement and maturity. By slow degrees, and aided by auspicious circumstances, the liberal arts arrive at a condition fitted to give pleasure to a refined and deli cate taste; but they do not long continue in this state of maturity ; false embellishments are introduced, the ar tists forget the ardour by which they were once inspir ed, coarseness again takes place of refinement, and the arts decline with greater rapidity than they had advanced towards perfection.
As the progress of the arts towards perfection is greatly promoted by emulation, so nothing is more fatal to their improvement than entirely to destroy that in citement, which is the natural consequence of the ap pearance of some great genius who soars above all rival ship. The admirable specimens of painting, which have proceeded from the Italian school, can with dif ficulty be excelled ; so that the painters of other na tions have to struggle against the discouraging convic tion of irremediable inferiority. The moderns have ne ver greatly excelled in statuary, which may in part be ascribed to the inimitable models of that art which have descended to us, in spite of the ravages of time, from the work-shops of Greece and Rome. In like manner, mathematics may be said to have declined in Britain, since the great Newton, having surpassed all the an cients, has not left to the moderns even the hope of equalling him. For who will enter the lists, when he despairs of victory ? The restless desire of novelty, and passion for im provement, is one great cause of the decline of the arts. When every variety of elegance and beauty has been exhausted, the desire of avoiding the beaten track, and shunning mere imitation, will produce innovations which are not consistent with the rules of good taste, and please the fancy rather than the judgment. When ar chitecture was at the height of its glory in ancient Greece, the Ionic was the favourite order. Next to this came the Corinthian, which, in attempting greater perfection, has deviated from the true simplicity of na ture. This was followed by the Composite order, in which the deviation is still more remarkable. The his tory of music furnishes a striking instance of the ex cessive love of innovation, and its pernicious effects upon the perfection of the arts. The natural purpose of music is to express passion, and enforce sentiment. In ancient Greece it was strictly confined within this province, and never employed but as an accompani ment to the voice. It was then that music produced its most wonderful effects in touching the heart, and excit ing the emotions ; and so highly was the art esteemed in those ages, that it was made ftn essential branch of liberal education. Harmony at that time was very little cultivated, because it is addressed to the ear rather than the feelings. Melody alone reaches the heart ; and it is by it entirely that a sentiment is enforced, or a passion soothed. The artists of later times have applied them selves seriously to the cultivation of harmony, finding it a field nearly unoccupied by the ancients ; and in this they have been wonderfully successful ; but their suc cess has been at the expense of nature and pathos. The elaborate musical compositions of modern times, tickle the ear by the luxury of complicated sounds, but seldom make any impression on the heart. The Italian opera, in its form, resembles the Greek tragedy, from which it is copied, but exceedingly little in substance. In the ancient drama, music being made subservient to senti ment, the dialogue is nervous and sublime ; in the dra ma of Italy, the whole weight being laid upon the music, the dialogue, devoid of sentiment, is weak and spirit less. The greatest and final deviation from nature, is the separation of music from the pathos of the voice. In the musical compositions performed by instruments alone, the artist seeks rather to astonish than to move ; the consummate display of art is more regarded than the simple expression of nature ; and the audience is ex pected rather to admire the dexterity of the performers, and the skill of the composer, than to be filled with the emotions 'which the natural tones of passion are calcu lated to excite.