!i|l!lili4l!!iiiii!liill MP fit liiilli 11 M mm 1! 1' Hi 11 I ^4i Pi l!ilP|lil! i !! i! ^ ) i r' ■ iiiiilil i |!i •vV ^^. ^* ^'^\^' ,^^'% '^^ .0 o ^ \\ .ID '?-_ "S . ,0 0. 3 N •A^- -.-. ^ .. A' V - -V v^^ ■-'.■''6?'% THE ANTI-CRITIC FOR AUGUST 1821, AND MARCH, 1822. CONTAINING LITERARY, NOT POLITICAL, CRITICISMS, AND OPINIONS. BY Sir EGERTON BRYDGES , Bar.'^ GENEVA, PRINTED BY W. FICK. MDCCCXXII. r 75 Copies. ) ^^^;-^ \ *% P R E F A C E. J- HE Reader has here a Melange of Counter- Criticisms ; and other Fragments ; — of what value , he will decide according to his taste. The range of Literature is now become so extensive , that new combinations present them- selves in every form. If the memory be hea* vily taxed by this abundance, the judgement also is still more in demand. Without the guide of some simple principle, it is impossible to have even a confused recollection of the conflicting hterary opinions , which meet us every suc- cessive month. As i^ Libertas sine scientia licentia esfy) so it is with Criticism. It is a dangerous weapon in the hands of the half-learned ; or of those, who want, sincerity and integrity. It is so easy to give a pausibte appearance to either censure or praise , that much , after all , must depend upon authority ! The dictum of a well-read scholar who speaks conscientiously , is better than the most ingenious and powerful argument of one not known to be sincere ! But as this Volume is not confined to Cri- ticism , something may be required to be said of the Fragments and Miscellanies , which are intermixed; or rather appended. All the apo- logy that can be made is , that this Book was found a convenient repository for preserving them. As the work is principally intended for gratuitous distribution among the Author's friends, he conceives that he is fully justified in having taken this liberty. They who care nothing about Fainilj History , may easily pass over the pages of Epitaphs and Inscriptions, A great deal is said about the evil of mul- tiplying Books. This may be an evil to the few , who think themselves obliged to read ; yet do not like reading. It can scarcely be an evil to any one else : and these are people , who surely deserve little consideration. All others may, if they will , decline, not only to read , but to buy. The ill consequences there- fore of a work not in demand , or not useful, whether from want of merit , or want of fitness to the prevailing taste, all rest with the author, or his publisher , subject to the above excep- tion. But though unquestionably the number of superfluous publications is very great, nothing can be so untrue as that Ave have already books enough. The major part of Books are PREFACE. V compiled by those , who have no powers of thinking. Yet of these a large part may be useful , and even necessary ; because the same materials may require to be revived, differently placed , or newly combined. But of those who can think for themselves , and think vigorously, or even ingeniously , the labours can never be unprofitable. Innumerable sentiments, and innumerable nice distinctions in morals , poli- tics, etc., yet remain undeveloped; and they, who unite to the rare capacity for such tasks the still rarer combination , with it , of exer- cise, culture , and practised facility of perfor- mance, neglect their talents and their duties , if they pass their lives in the languor and inaction of silence. It is seldom , till after middle life, spent in writing as well as in reflection, that, in prose at least, an author obtains that frankness and mellowness of style, which enables him to convey original thoughts in a clear and interesting manner. Few can go alone ; few exer- cise any other faculty than memory; and of the few who do, the proportion is very small, of those who can find language for their ovs^n thoughts. If it be objected, that no thoughts, however original , and however well expressed , will justify publication , in a detached and fragmental form, it may perhaps be answered, that, though VI FREFACE. method and system may, and ought to be, the final result, yet, for the ehicidation of truth, the materials are best collected separately, as they occur: for nothing produces more narrow and erroneous views , than to set out with systems ; though a certain class of Uterati , cal- hng themselves philosophic , pride themselves so much upon this mode of disciplining their minds ! Thoughts, that must wait their turn, till their place in the system calls them forth , lose all their freshness ; and appear at last pressed into the form , which suits the system-monger's purpose. He who speaks from the fulness of his conviction or his heart , at the moment when the conviction or the sentiment has been impressed upon him , has a force and frank- ness in the communication , which bears with it its own evidence. The ceremonial language of an author , writing by rule , and composing solely with a view to public passport, is, (like the conversation of a Courtier , who spends all his life in societies in which he is upon his good behaviour) empty; and unmeaning; — vox, et prceterea nihil ! — For this reason, we look into the private letters of eminent men with so much curiosity , anxiety , and interest. The language of the heart is always the same : it is the artificial language of technical literature , which changes ! Not all the genius of Dante himself would have made him blaze , as he does , to all posterity , but for this ! It was this, that threw off the rust of antiquity! it was this that anticipated the language of centuries ! And now that , with a mind never at rest , reaching at a thousand unattainable objects , waisting his strength in pursuit of a diversity of knowlege , when a single branch may be too much for his powers ; — with a decaying cons- titution , and a desponding heart ; verging towards the completion of his sixtieth year ; — the Author presents this volume among the numerous crude fruits of his daily occupation, the few readers , into whose hands it may fall, must take it as they will , without farther depre- cation of their censure! The Author has lived too long to expect praise ; or even the avoid- ance of disapprobation. Who is bold enough to judge for himself ? All the world who con- cern themselves with books , literary and un- literary, swear by some leader ! If the spirit of political hibeTty has spread in these days, even the cvisk for literary liberty has ceased in the world : and there is a tame and entire sub- mission to literary servitude , which does not even excite a murmur 1 but what is most curious is , that this dominion is usurped , not by lite- rary , but by political despots ! VIII PREFACE. That we are « fallen on evil days , » that erudition and sound sense have ceased ; that if a few instances of extraordinary genius occilr, they have become dangerous by their eccen- tricities ; that in some of the main departments of literature there is not even an attempt to produce any fruit ; that Criticism above all has become frightfully mischievous and wicked, by audacious intrigue , audacious disregard of inte- grity , and audacious charlatanism ; that the public mind is corrupt, frivolous, and servile, to • an unexampled degree — are truths so in- contestable, as not to be disguised by applying to them the unjust appellation of morbid que- rulousness ! The materials , which offer themselves to be worked upon by the human mind , are neces- sarily multiplied in an infinite degree beyond those of former times. Five hundred authors could scarcely, by a dedication of their whole lives, master literary history alone. Yet pert witlings of yesterday , who scarcely know the title of a work beyond their own nation and their own time, affect to pronounce critical judge- ments on subjects , which require the most profound knowlege and profound taste , such as can only be attained by the most extended inquiry , and the most extended comparison ! All the wisdom of ages is to them dead lumber; PREFACE. IX and the groaning shelves of mighty Libraries, had better, in their opinions, be « Purged hy the sword , and purified by fire ! » Frightful and overwhelming masses , which re- proach their ignorance , and destroy their viva- city ! How happy for the world to be rid of them; and be suffered to think for itself; — without prejudice ; - — unshackled and unbur- dened ; — as light ; — but , alas , a little more empty ! — Ye mighty Dead , whose souls in magic spell luscribed upon the dingy pages dwell , And ranged on groaning shelves in close-piled rows , In sad sepulchral dust and damp repose , How dread the silence , that , with brooding wi?igs , O'er you a deathlike melancholy flings ! Pent in the closed leaves the smother'd fire , Spite of its struggles , ceases to respire ! Your oracles are dumb ; your gifted lore Teaches a dull, benighted A\orld no more! To other sounds their ears attuned ; their eyes Far other marks of mental vision prize ! From your past notes some vigour to derive , Neglected e'en in life ; condemn'd in vain , Amid unhearing crowds , to raise the strain ; In death companion of your mournful doom , Shall soothe his spirit by congenial gloom, X PREFACE. Placed mid your rants , his hovering ghost shall try To turn to triumph chill Oblivion's sigh ; And back upon the scorner throw the scorn, That long ^vilh such indignant pride was borne ! To form a due taste , and proper judgement of excellence, in the art of painting, a familiar acquaintance with the works of the old Masters is universally acknowleged to be necessary. Why should it not be so in literary composi- tion ? The old Masters in Painting were not more superior to the present , than the authors of former Centuries to those now flourishing ! Scholarship , labour , novelty , energy , warm hope , freedom from the poisonous blights of malignant technical Criticism , all contributed to furnish the means of a great preeminence. Few but charlatans now meet with encourage- ment. Charlatanism is become almost necessary to engage the vitiated taste of the Public. But the charlatanism of literary Journals far exceeds that of all other publications. At the same time it cannot be denied , that one or two of them occasionally put forth most elo- cpient and most profound emanations of critical discussion — no doubt , a little exaggerated and overwrought ; — for their praise , like their censure, pays little regard to limits; and they cannot be said to be economisers of either PREFACE. XI the one , or the other ! Sometimes an author is hfted up, that they may shew with what an abundant richness of ingenuity they can say fine things : but more often he is cried down, that they may enjoy the vent of a bitter jest ; or of more bitter raillery ! — MuRETUS has the following passage , which shews how like one age is to another. « JEtas nostra mirijicam quandam extulit vim hominuin improbo,rujn , qui magnam laudem in obttectatione positam putant , neque quicquam cupidius faciunt y quam ut quicquid possunt y quacunque ratione possunt^ ex aliena gloria de- terant , creduntque ita se demum emersuros , si eos qui extant^ depresserint Quam rationem grassandi ad Jamam nemo umquam sapiens approbavit, » M. Anton. Muretus. Fariar, Lection, Lib. i. cap. VI. Geneva , !i5 April 18^2. KII PREFACE. « Vos tandem , haud vacui mei labores , Quicquid hoc sterile fudit ingenium , Jam sero placidam sperare jubeo Perfunctam invidia requiem , sedesque beatas , Quas bonus Hermes , Et tutela dabit solers Roiisi ; Quo neque lingua procax vulgi penetrabit, atque longe Turba legentum prava facesset : At ultimi nepotes, Et cordatior oetas , Judicia rebus sequiora forsitan Adhibebit , integro sinu. Tum, livore sepulto , Si quid meremur sana posteritas sciet , Roiisio favente. » Joannes Miltonus ad Joannem Rousium , Oxonienns Aca- demics Bibliothecarium, 1646. f Inter Poemata Latina. J /THE ANTI-CRITIC. / AUGUST 1821. / . ■ I- INTRODUCTORY. CHARACTER OF MODERN / CRITICISM. XiiXAGGERATiON , Studied piquancy, partiality, envy, ignorance , affectation , bad taste , political , national , sec- tarian , and personal interests , with private intrigue , all pervade and debase even the best periodical Criticisms of the present day. These works are now become mere manufactures of trade ; and are addressed rather to the passions , capaci- ties, and acquirements of the multitude, than of the learned world. Instead of intermingling ^\he notice of Publications of a temporary nature , these Journals admit scarcely any thing else ; and the writers live so much within the atmosphere of factitious interests , that they can judge of nothing with the calmness calculated to establish permanent opinions. Voyages , Travels , Pamphlets on the transient politics of the day , dull discussions of professional science in which men are endeavouring to force themselves into dis- tinction for the purpose of aiding their professional advan- cement , engross the place of elegant Hterature ; of what increases our moral knowlege ; ameliorates the heart j and exalts the fancy. I 2 THE ANTl- CRITIC Nothing is more certain , than that otir literature is at pre-* sent highly corrupt. It is an incident to the stage of society, at which we have arrived ; and whoever doubts it , has so far vitiated his taste, as to be insensible to the beauty of simplicity and chaste colouring. Every thing is now got up ( to use a vulgar and technical phrase ) , for effect ! All is bought ; and the publisher pays in proportion as the article is striking , and full of glare ! It is boasted , that these Critics lead the public taste : — they are its slaves : they follow it ; — often in chains ; — and lick the dust of its heels ! They delight to foment its prejudices ; and pander to its degrading appetites. I know riot that Criticism has taken so caustic and so- phisticated a character in any other part of Europe , as in England. But the popular literature in all tends to the same extravagance and hyperbole. This is exemplified in Mad. de Stael, who was gifted with a very extraordinary force of mind , but whose style and thoughts surely much abound in factitious vehemence and laboured grandeur ; and whose invention does not appear to me to have been her primary quality. What is wise and true, leaves us in a state of calm pleasure , and gentle reflection : it neither exhausts , nor satiates. Oratory ought to chastise itself by the models of the more sedate operations of the closet : but the closet now borrows the heat and intemperance of the senate and the forum. Criticism is in the hands of the turbulent agi- tators of faction , and practical society. Of any age , the number of Literati whose memories survive them , is small. Many of their names may be ins- cribed in the voluminous Biographies , which are loaded with the registry of obscure men ; but there they lie buried and unnoticed. MODERN CRITICISM. 3 All tliose secondary talents, wliicli borrowing the ideas of others , adapt them to the subject that occupies the attention of the hour , and thus obtain a false interest to efforts which possess no original and enduring merit , soon fade from the public observation ; and if , when the occasion is past , we recur to these performances , we are astonish^ that they could ever have excited even a tem- porary notice. So long as Literature is open to all these adscititious avenues to Fame , the temple will be filled with false as- pirants, who will occupy the places, that ought to be held by Genius and unaffected Learning. Among the rarest merits of writing is simplicity. It re- quires a native abundance , or an unfailing native strength, which few have ever possessed. Artifice is used, when the funds of Nature are deficient. As long as the thought pre- vails over the mind , the dress of language is little consi- dered : it is the form in its own naked force , that occu- pies the mental eye. But penury of conception or senti- ment often resorts to the trick of verbiage. I could mention authors , some of whose popular poems are nothing but a pretty dance of words. They convey neither sentiments, nor ideas. But never yet was there intrinsic merit in a passage , where an author was not sincere in the senti- ments which he expressed. Though the operations of Genius and of Memory are often confounded , no two powers can be more unlike in their natures and effects. One is cold as the borrowed light of the Moon : the other has all the genial and crea- tive warmth of the Sun. One relates an impression from the recollection of its signs : the other from its visionary presence. IJseful as the Memory is in bringing forward and arran- 4 THE Al^fTI- CRITIC ging what exists , it can add notliing to the existing stores. It is by the lamp of Fancy that we penetrate to the altar of the heart ; and behold its rites and its movements irra- diated before ns. It is thus that we illustrate the science of morals ; and advance the noblest of all philosophy. II. ON THE PREVAILING ENGLISH OPINIONS ON POETRY. It may perhaps be asserted , that there has been little pure , simple , and consistent Cf ilicism on Poetry in England since the death of Addison , more than a century ago. Almost all periodical Criticism , being conducted by those who have worked on it as a task , has been principally under the direction of artificial systems , of one kind or another. It requires so much less native taste, and native acuteness , to discover this technical merit , that this pre- ference is the inevitable result in those who are drawn to the subject by constraint rather than by inclination. The question regarding the comparative genius of Pope, which Joseph Warton brought before the Public nearly seventy years past , has been again revived : and with some advantage in carrying back the inquiry into the first principles of this Art. Pope is altogethei an Author , through whom the question may be fairly discussed. I shall not begin with a definition of Poetry, because. MODERN TASTE IN POETRY. 5 as Johnson says , definitions are dangerous ; and as it would commence with a formality, which on the present occasion I am desirous to avoid. It is the idea of mystery ; the supposition that it involves something distinct in its nature from the truths which are proper for prose , that leads to all the erroneous opi- nions, and all the corrupt taste on this subject. No rational man can doubt that Pope was a great poet : the only question is , whether all his poetry was of an high class ; and whether the multitude do not estimate him by his worst rather than his best productions! Narrowness is the sin of the English taste in Poetry : — but not the only one ! It loves extravagance , and false glitter ; and mistakes distortion for genius ! So that it not only excludes a great deal of the best from the character of true poetry; but what it admits is mostly false ! — It may not be difficult to account for this , if we look to the manner , in which the public mind is led : — but it would perhaps be invidious. — That , which surprises me is , that a single age can consider itself to have the fate of the fortunate Beings , who for the first time have come to the true light ! If it is correct , almost all that has been deemed genius and poetry from the time of the Greeks and Romans , through all the scholars of Itaiy and the rest of Europe at the Revival of Learning , down almost to the close of the last Century, must be proscribed! We must take the Universal Biography , and erase the names of more than nine tenths, of those who stand recorded there as Poets ! A mind , not of overweening conceit , would hesitate at this ! It would pause to enquire , if our predecessors are not as likely to have been right as ourselves ; it would doubt, if the principle could be accurate , which should exclude so much pleasure, and so much instruction : it would , THE AT^TI-CRITIC seek for some broader limits , and some essences of a more enlarged nature ! A small degree of ingenuity would suffice to discover them. Poetry is nothing more confined , than a forcible and harmonious representation of the lively movements of a powerful mind I It is a picture : — yet a picture, not of matter; but of the mental impression, whether of matter, or idea , or sensation ; or all united ! Mere versification does not constitute poetry , because the thought may be trite , or false ; and cold and lifeless. But a moral axiom , when conceived with energy , and expressed with force, is poetry, if conveyed in rhythmical language ! Some of Shakespeare's finest passage are of this kind : and this may be observed also of Spenser , Milton » Cowley, and Dryden ! In truth, in the walks of Poetry, no one ever continued the favourite of ages , whose pro- ductions did not comprehend the merits of a moral poet ! Invention is said to be the first quality of Poetry ; But not the invention, which Humano capiti cervicem jungit equinam , Undique collaiis membris. On what is the species of Invention , which entitles the possessor to a place in the first class of Genius ; to what extent it is necessary ; from what causes it arises ; and wherein it may be dispensed with ; the progress of this Paper will develop my opinions. The radical mistake in the fashionable mode of thinking upon this subject , is the assumption that that part of the Intellect, distinguished as Understanding, or Reason, is no active or necessary quality in the production of good poetry. The Understanding , without fancy or sensibility , is not sufficient : but still it is an indispensible ingredient. Truth is as much the foundation of poetry , as of Philoso- MODERN TASTE IN POETRY. 7 phy ; though the former may take different modes of re- presenting it from the latter. It would open too wide a field to enter here into abs- truse psychological discussions : — What is fancy ; whence it is supplied ; or how far it represents , or is intended to represent , with exactness , mateiial objects , are even yet in some degree questions of doubt and darkness (i). A conclusion of the Understanding, drawn from memory ; and separated from the mental presence of the image , or the sentiment , that gave birth to it , is not poetry. But if poetry be the result of the highest riches of the mind, composed from internal, as well as external sources, iaugmented by its own labour and activity , how could any Critic even dream that an image drawn from the combined effects of natural materials and human genius , is in every case inferior to a simple image of external nature ? Lord Byron has asked with as much truth as wit , « is not the image of a large ship under sail more poetical than an hog sailing in an high wind? » If the latter were deemed supe- rior , it might as well be said , that the image of a man in a barbarous state is more poetical _, than of a man cultivated by education ; and refined by politeness. Provi- dence has left to human Beings to do much for themselves; and by their own exertions to train and expand into excellence the powers bestowed on them ! To contend that poetry is excellent in proportion as it IS an exact representation of an external image , even though it should be added that this image must be magni- ficent or beautiful , is to lower poetry far below Painting; and absolutely to lay aside its primary quality , its intel- (i) See Bonstetten's Recherches sur la nature et les lots de Vlma^ gination : and his latest publication, Etudes de Vhomme^ ou Recher- ches sur les JucuUes de sentir et de penser. Geueye 1821; 2 vol, 8." 8 THE ANTIrCRITIC lectuality I — How often do we hear it said of a specimen of a modern poem : « How exquisite I — It is quite a picture I •» Again of some of the noblest passages of our elder poets. — « O these are no poetry ! They want imagery, and description I « Take a passage , at hazard, from the xi*^ Book of Paradise Lost -— one of Adam's answers to the Angel Michael repealing the future to him : « O visions ill foreseen! Better had I Lived ignorant of future! So had borne My part of evil only , each day's lot Enough to bear ; those now, that were dispensed The burden ef many ages , on me light At once, by my foreknowlege gaining birth Abortive , to torment me ere their being , With thought that they must be. Let no man seek Henceforth to be foretold , what shall befall Him , or his children ; evil he may be sure , Which neither his foreknowing can prevent ; And he the future evil shall no less In apprehension than in substance feel , Grievous to bear; but that care now is past; Man is not whom to warn : those few escaped , Famine and anguish will at last consume , Wandering that watery desert ; I had hope When violence was ceased ; and war on earth , All would have then gone well; peace would have crown'd With length of happy days the race of man ; But I was far deceived; for now I see Peace to corrupt no less than war to waste. How comes it thus ? Unfold , celestial guide , And whether here the race of man will end. » It is , no doubt , the business of poetry to carry us into the fields of Imagination : but not into the fields of childish , MODERN TA.STE IN POETRY. Q tawdry , and factitious Imagination ! It is our business to imagine Beings consistent with the probability of their sup- posed natures : we are however to imagine , or invent , not only their material forms ; but also their intellectual struc- ture ; their thoughts , and feelings ! We are taught to survey this beautiful globe of inani- mate objects with a Poet's eyes , when he enables us to associate with it those sentiments and those visions , which his tremulous heart and plastic fancy furnish. In the tem- ple of his mind is built up a spiritual world , which if it draws something from external matter , draws more from its own inward fountains. It delights to give vent to the fullness of this splendor by communicating to others por- tions of this magic imminglement ! But these associations must always be in sympathy with the feelings and percep tions of our general nature^ If they arise from peculiar habits ; or from extravagant Or forced trains of thought , they will find no echo but in the few and sophisticated bosoms , which seek after novelty at the expence of truth. It ought to excite no wonder, that a true Poet is a very rare Being , when we reflect on all the various and high qualities of nature , and also the cultivation , toil , and opportunity, which it requires, to make one! Of those in whom all these singular gifts and circumstances unite , probably at least two thirds are silenced by cold and cruel discouragement. The calamities of Life , to which this class are from their temperaments and habits extraor- dinarily exposed , extinguish the fire and debilitate the genius of others ! But another cause has been in operation for a frightful length of time , which perhaps has not been less destruc- tive to the fruits of the real poet than these ! It is false criticism ; and a vicious taste in the public , which deems absurdity a proof of genius; and what is orig^inal because a 10 THE ANTI- CRITIC it is monstrous , excellent because it is new ! The sensitive disposition of him , whose endowments fit him for a Poet , often makes him in youth timid and self - diffident. He is turned from his natural ambitions ; and attempts to enter a path , where he finds a loathing at every step. He can do nothing in the fine of supposed excellence pointed out to him: he begins to doubt his powers; and sinks into des- pondence. How little is there of solid excellence , of the genuine ore 5 ?n most of the English Poets of fame — (at least of temporary fame, ) — who have died in the last thirty years. They have as little applicable to the illustration of high morals , as they have of powerful and extended invention I I put Beattie and Cowper among the first : but Beattie was perhaps too much cried up in his day; and has been too much neglected since. His Minstrel already flags sadly in the second Book : and yet it is a Poem less than half finished ; leaving all the main part , in which the trial of genius would have been placed, undeveloped. It is the re- ligious Sect to which Cowper belonged, that has given him an extraneous popularity. Yet he had much of the ore of a true poet ; though he was sometimes flat and insipid ; and sometimes sickly. The seclusion caused by his morbid health had been a bar to those diversified mental riches , which give full vigour to genius. In the last forty years he had neither read enough ; nor knew enough of what was passing in the world. What shall we find in the most modern poetry of England, either to exemplify great moral truths, or to develop those magnificent or beautiful visions , which are the continual visitants of high fancies ? Kow is our knowlege of the se- cret movements of the human heart improved by it ? It is the pursuit of false beauties , which is the bane of these productions. — Their inventions, are not fictions to MODERN TASTE IN POETRY. 11 illustrate Truth ; hut to set up Falsehood ! This is the species of originality, which they seek; and in which they succeed. They are unlike, therefore, those who have pre- ceded them ^ ex necessitate rei; for diversity, not propriety or probability , is their aim . The readers then , who contract a habit of admiring them , must , by obvious consequence , believe that they for the first time have disco- vered the genuine fountain of Poetry ! It is the wrong meaning attached to the word Fiction , which perpetually misleads the poetical theorist , and the Public who follow his dogmas. It is assumed , that Fiction means something different from what exists in the mate- rial or intellectual world : — indeed for the most part the latter is forgot ; and it is supposed that it can only refer to the former. What is it ? Not a copy of an individual archetype ; but invented as an illustration of the genus ! If it illustrates no genus ; — but solely the capricious combinations of the author's head ; wherein is its value ? It wants one of the primary ingredients of poetical excel- lence , Truth ! It is easy to invent in this w^ay, when tlie inventor is bound by no rules ; nor is constrained to pay attention to any likeness. These are not lusus Naturce; but lusus Artis\ of which the pleasure ceases with the cessation of the Novelty ! — The same observations apply to language as to matter : for every one knows there are poets of lan- guage , as well as poets of matter. Improbable and unnatural ornaments are as objectionable , as improbable and unnatural matter. Yet each catch the depraved taste of the multitude ; and are practised by writers of minor genius , for the same reasons. It is not surprising , that as long as Poetry resorts to these tricks , men of solid understanding reject it as a trifling Art. It thus deals in a factitious splendor j a glare 12 THE ANTI- CRITIC of unchaste colours , which only raises the admiration of the weak and the uninformed ! It is sickly and revolting to the sound and vigorous mind. He , who has a just esteem of wisdom , who has a generous glow of heart , that feels grateful for pleasures , which are among the highest humanity can receive , cannot repress indignation at abuses which bring the noblest of Intellec- tual Arts into contempt ! Among those to whom the test of ages has assigned the place of great Poets, not a single instance can be produced , in whom the guiding en4owment of a powerful understan- ding was not added to the active gifts of strong fancy and high invention ! In their writings are to be found the deepest axioms of moral wisdom , the justest exhibitions of the human character , and the nicest and happiest dis- plays of the emotions of the human heart ! — Nothing is exaggerated; no combinations are formed _, but such as are in unison with probability, and the laws of Nature, mate- rial or intellectual. The variety of great gifts and acquirements , that is re- quisite to excellence in this high course of ambition , need not be insisted on. It is not wonderful therefore that the generality of candidates should resort to easier paths , by which they flatter themselves they shall mount the same ascent. It happens , that the Temple , which they behold at the top , is not the true one : but they flatter them- selves that it is so ; and if on their entrance they find there neither Homer , Virgil , Dante , Petrarch , Ariosto , Spenser , Tasso , Shakespeare , nor Milton , — instead of being tanght their mistake by this deficiency, it only aggra- vates their self - delusion , and eclipses their former hope of equality by the mad supposition, that they are superior to these immortal men , and have gained an admission which has been refused to their predecessors ! MODERN TASTE IN POETRY. 13 It is both by wrong rules , and by the misconstruction and misapplication of right rules , that the aspirants justify their false efforts. They mistake not only the words, jiction , invention , and originality, but the objects of imitation. It is said , that Truth cannot be the aim of poetry, be- cause , for intance , in the representation of the scenery of Nature , or of the human form , the best poet would give either a selection from it , or an improvement of it. But here the mistake lies in the assumption of an improper object of imitation. It is not the Poet's business to give a picture of the material object : this is the business of the Painter. It is the purpose of poetry to represent the image which exists in the mind, which is formed of a compound from what is received by the external senses , and from what is supplied by the internal sensation and reflection. The picture thus formed is something very different from the external object. The mind adds , omits , selects ; it enriches by sentiment; it elevates by intellectual associa- tions. The laws of our Being are so uniform , that in minds of similar temperament , and similar cultivation , these intellectual processes operate for the most part in a similar manner , and produce similar impressions : the diffe- rence is only in the degree of their vividness. But of what mental picture is the description of the false poet an imitation ? If it be the imitation of any mental picture at all , it is of a picture produced by the capri- cious labours and forced artifices of one who strives to be singular , and to divest the movements of his in,tellect and his heart from their natural paths ! His picture therefore wants the primary quality of poetry — truth. We hear a great deal about the flowers of poetry. Flowers are very well in their place, and in their due proportion : but we must not have all flowers : there is a medium in every thing : est modus in rebus . : they are sickly , when 14 THE ANTI-CRITIC they are combined with no fruit ; when we have nothing but flowers. To speak frankly , any affected display of them instantly destroys the charm ; and is inconsistent with that real inspiration y which engrosses the genuine poet too much to permit him to occupy his attention in seeking after superfluous ornament. Of those , who have not taken erroneous roads , but have failed to rise above mediocrity for want of adequate powers , the instances , even among those who have ha4 .the good fortune to be enrolled as poets , are numerous. Of Johnson's Poets , more than one half are of this kind. Many are mere versifiers. A versifier is one , who puts words into raelre , when there is nothing poetical either in the matter , or the lan- guage : when there is no vigour of thought ; no happy image to give interest and novelty , to what is trite ; no mark of a mind fervid with the presence of the idea which it un- dertakes to convey. A cold and naked conclusion of the understanding , drawn without either fancy or sensibility , or in the absence both of fancy and sensibility , is certiainly not poetry , however harmonious may be the metre in which it is expressed. Of two minds equally formed by nature , discipline and habit will give the final powers and final productions of one a very different character from those of the other. If the various faculties, and gifts of fancy, invention, unders- tanding, and sensibility, be originally equal, that will at last be predominant which is most cultivated. I attribute a great deal of the cast of such of Pope's productions, as are less poetical , to this cause. It would be too much to say ^ that Nature had endowed him with as sublime or copious an invention or fancy , as Milton or many others. But his occasional displays in those high deparments leave no room MODEHN TASTE IN POETRY. 15 tb doubt , that lie might have conducted those faculties into an extraordinary and constant display of splendor. Bui is it desirable , that all should cultivate the same faculties , and expend their efforts in the same way ? Pope had the option of different modes of turning the stores of opinions and sentiments v^hich he had collected as a moral philosopher, to the purposes of his Art. He might embody them in an invented story , in which the conflic- ting characters might gradually unfold them in action; — or he might follow the manner of the prose philosopher , in delivering them as abstract axioms , in which the poetrv •would consist in the language , the illustrations , and the metre , aided by the vivacity , the vigour , the ingenuity , or the novelty of the thought. He chose the latter : pro- bably as best suited to the powers, which he elected pre- eminently to cultivate. Had he chosen the first mode , and executed it equally well , it can scarcely be disputed that he would have been a still greater poet. The consequence of the high excellence , to which he raised the department he cultivated , was to withdraw the taste of the Nation from all those more inventive , more wild , more visionary classes of poetry , in which Spenser and Milton , following the Italian school , had attained such splendor. Men, who could imitate Pope's Art , but who had none of his more noble endowments to give soul to it , took possession of the public mind , and domineered over it with the insolence of ill-got power. At this time Collins and the two Wartons were reaching manhood. Their talents were cast in a different mould; and the father of the two last^ who had been Poetry-Professor at Oxford, had imbued them with an early admiration of the rich and romantic imagery of Milton's juvenile poems. The original and dominant genius of Collins, independent of accidental bent , led him the same way. THE ANTI-CRITIC They found that the public mind was closed to all merits of this sort ; that what is called good sense in verse was the only excellence in which it could feel pleasure , or to which it could gl-ve praise. They concei\ed the chivalrous scheme of diverting the national taste into more varied and higher fields of intellectual excursion. They attributed to Pope the evil of having by his brilliant example pro- duced this narrowness of taste. He therefore was chosen to be the subject of examination and dissection. When the tide is running strongly one way , it requires severe and extraordinary efforts to counteract it. It is possible, that Joseph "Warton in his Essay on Pope went a little too far ; but as his taste was exquisite ; as he was a rich and varied scholar , and a benevolent and amiable man , he has made a Book. , which will never cease to delight the cultivated mind. The power of that Book is proved by the influence it had on opinions not only become habitual by long prevalence , but naturally roost congenial to the modes of thinking of the mass of mankind , engaged in the business of life , in its cares and necessities. The PLibllc opinion has since gradually taken an opposite turn ; and at length gone much farther into the opposite extreme. To expose what was the species of excellence, which Pope neither attained , nor indeed sought , is no longer necessary or useful: still less is it; necessary to draw harsh inferences as to his want of power in depart- ments , in which perhaps there Vv^as only a want of will. Mr. Campbell ar.d Lord Byron ha\e done well in taking V'^^ the gauntlet for him, I feel a conviction , that the con- clusion to which each of them has come on the subject is n^alnly right. It is the nature of the general taste to be always pas- sing bcckwards and fcrwrrds between extremes. It has no moderation ; it deals in excesses and extravagances. Un- MODERN TASTE W POETRY. 17 bounded admiration is followed by equally unreasonable loathing; and in proportion as a name has once been lifted too high, it is afterwards sunk, too low. It would not be difficult to find in men of the most unrivaled genius some particular menial quality, in which they have been exceeded by many very inferior to them. It is the combination , the management , the proportion , the result of the whole , which confers the final superio- rity. It matters not by what processes they arrive at ex- cellence. The excellence must be weighed as an whole ; — not by the predominance of a particular ingredient. Proba- bly there exists not a more perfect poem of its kind , than the Eloisa to Ahelmxl : and let it be remembered that it is of a very high kind. It possesses every requisite of poetry in the highest degree. Here Pope certainly takes the cha- racter of an Inventor. Here is glowing imagery, pathos , sublimity , harmony , language elegant finished and per- fect beyond example. Where would Pope stand , if he had written nothing else .^ Can inferior productions by the same author draw down this from its place ? Yet the love of wonder , of mystery , of exaggeration , of capricious invention , which has lately seized the public attention , makes even such animated and inspired produc- tions, appear tame and without interest to its factitious , unnatural , and depraved appetite. It cannot exist upon simple and sober food : it requires pungent irritations. Is Truth exhausted ? Are we necessitated to wander into the fields of the false Necromancer for entertainment and instruction? So far from- it, tha!^ all, which has been done by all the best poetry of all the Nations of the vrorld, has still left the greater portion of the subjects proper for this Art ungathered. But the fact is , that it is easier to form fantastic wreaths of artificial flowers , than to gather and work into perfect shape living ones. It costs less to con- 18 THE ANTI-CRITIC tra»t the colours, and give tliem a glare, which , howeTcr" unchaste, is to common eyes more attractive. Johnson has nobly said of Shakespeare , that he Exhausted worlds \ and then imagined new. The former part of this praise does not belong to our modern poets 5 and if they have attempted the latter , it has been after a mode of their own. They have paid no regard to the principles of human nature , and the pro- babilities which the mind of man requires. It is admitted, that a desire is implanted in us _, which is never content with the actual state of our Being. It loves to occupy itself in imagining an existence of more perfection; and poetry is never more happily or more properly employed than in describing these imaginations. But the principle on which they act is so uniform , that they pursue something like a congenial course in all cultivated intellects : and whatever is invented , not in conformity with these intellectual pro- babilities ; whatever does not find an echo in the general bosom , neither affords instruction , nor conveys legitimate pleasure. Monstrous combinations , such as cannot effect the momentary delusion of belief in sound minds , are always revolting to the wise ; and soon cease to excite the admi*" ration of the corrupted and the foolish. Jt is to genuine poetry that we must look for the va- luable part of human knowlege , to which we can apply our faculties. If « The proper study of manhind is man : » then it is to the pages of poets that we must first resort; for in them are delineated with the most force all the finer movements of the Mind. If the Mind be so constituted, as the most eminent of modern Psychologists have argued it to be , who can understand the intellectual part of human MODERN TASTE IN POETRY. 19 Nature so well as Poets? It is not cold Reason alone, wMcli constitutes the power , that governs human conduct. « Les moralistes de nos jours , » ( says Bonstetten in the Introduction to his Etudes de VHomme ), ne nous disent- lis pas que I'empire sur nos passions est le plus noble des empires : mais cette conquete ne peut se faire que par la connoissance intime de nous-m ernes. Les lois aussi qui font la destinee des nations ; et la grande charte de rhumaiiite _, que tous les hommes reclament, c'est dans le sanctuaire de Tame , c'est dans la connoissance de I'esprit humain , qu'il faut les chercher. » Et cependant rien n'est plus neghge de nos jours qiie I'etude de riiomme ! La raison en est , que rien ne ressemble moins a I'homme que le portrait qu'en on fait les philoso- phes, qui, dans leurs ideologies, n'ont jamais dessine qu'une partie de leur modele. Voyez I'homme dans les livres de philosophie rationnelle , et comparez le a I'homme tel que nous le Yoyons. Quelle difference entre I'un et.l'autre! » A ne voir que nos ideologies , on dirait que la pensee ne se compose que d'idees. On a regarde le sentiment comme iin hors-d'ceuvre de I'esprit humain , tandis qu'il en fait partie integrante. On ne lui a jamais assigne des lois cons- tantes. On a cru expliquer par le raisonnement ce qu'ou ne peut trover que par les faits. A force de raisonner , on a oublie I'etude des faits , tandis qu'il ne falloit voir que les faits. » Ij' imagination est la puissance motrive de I'esprit hu- main ; V intelligence en est la puissance dirigeante. L'homme actif le produit de la combinaison des deux forces; la dis- tinction des deux facultes est le resultat les plus important de la psycologie ». If there be nothing of excellence in the external image , or in the internal emotion , or in the combination of the 20 THE ANTl- CRITIC two , or in the ingenuity and aptness of the observation ; or in the force or elegance or propriety of the language , in which they are expressed, then the writer merits not to be numbered in the class to which he aspires ; for mediocrihus esse poetis Non Dii 3 non homines concessere , etc. Still less deserving of distinction are those who are guilty of commissive faults ; those who deal in false beauties. But how happens it , that in so wide a field of contest , so few have attained excellence , so few been admitted to distinction ; and of the few admitted , that so many do not deserve the admission ? Of many , of whom a few compo- sitions have been executed with felicity , how much the larger portion are sunk by defects! Of most of our poets, not only of the earlier ages , but of the seventeenth Cen- tury , among a few good lines, continually recur long pas- sages ruined by poverty or coarseness of expression , by lameness in the collocation of the words , or the construc- tion of the sentences , by the absurdity of the images , or the extravagance of the thoughts. The obstacles must be great and numerous _, that so often defeat success. To make a good poem requires an union of high qualities , so various , as seldom to be found. It is probable that the absence even of one may be fatal to the result. But it seems to me , that the most common deficiency is in the sensibility ; « dans les profondeurs de Vdme ; dans la sensibilite , la force motiice. » All the talent , skill , and exertion in the world will not countervail this want. But memory, thought, knowlege , art, industry, are commonly called in , and produce abortions. When the soul is moved , the language in which it cloathes itself ,^ is always of a MODERN TASTE IN POETRY. 21 congenial character : affectation and over - ornament are certain proofs that the emotion is pretended. Some feel the true inspiration for a moment ; but the flame goes out; and left in the dark , they fall into ine- qualities , errors , and abysses. Some write from memory alone ; and therefore , though their productions may be fair in outward form , they want interest and life. For my part, I have no value for those writings, which have not the power « To wake the soul by tender strokes of Art , To raise the genius , and to mend the heart : « which merely exercise the reader's mind with the freaks of a wanton or a forced imagination ; which add nothing to the knowlege of the human character ; which develop no native passions; which beat no resemblance to what exists, or is believed to exist. Novelty at the expence of Truth gives but a base and short-lived pleasure. Imagination is not bestowed on us to erect phantoms , which mislead us from the contemplation of the magnificent and the beautiful , with w^hich Nature has illumined our minds ; which may seduce us into a factitious love of the visions of Falsehood! To give allurement to Vice, by representing it united with qualities with which it never can be united , is a perver- sion of the Author's genius , and the reader's attention. To whom do we constantly turn in our moments of soberness , of melancholy , or delight ? In Gray we find that , which satisfies all our faculties and emotions ; and all that accords with the theory of poetry, which I have laid down. His matter is drawn not merely from external images, combined with internal emotion; but the reflections of a mind , which has profoundly weighed the history of the 22 THE ANTI-CRITIC ^ human character , are added to them. There is something of this in Thomson's Seasons ; but much less of it ; — and his diction wants the compressed vigour , and classical ele- gance of Gray : it is often diffuse and cumbrous ; while not infrequently his sentiments and thoughts are trite and ostentatious. Shenstone's defect is tenuity and sameness ; yet his Elegy on Jessy is a specimen of exquisite tenderness, purity , elegance , and harmony. But Gray is a Poet of one of the first ranks : Thomson perhaps approaching to them. Of all the minor Poets , Parnel is among those , who deserve the highest praise. His Hermit is as fascinating , as it is instructive ; which , without much force , or bold originality , partakes in due proportions of the essenlial ingredients of poetry. Of a still more vigorous and happy cast , though of less com- prehensive morality, is Prior's Henry and Emma. It is by embodying and bringing into action speculative views of human character , that the poet is performing his great task of Creation. Whatever stands insulated and abs- tracted from a series of actions _, must depend upon the force and happiness of combination of image , emotion , thought , and language. In these last consists principally Lyrical, Descriptive , and Didactic poetry. As an Epic Poem is the highest species of invented Tale ; so every Tale re- quires more invention than these last. But it is singular that the best of the second class of Poets have seldom aspired to this degree of invention : they have left it to their inferiors , who have relied more on the interest of the outlines of the Tale , than on the merits of the details with which these outlines were filled up. Perhaps they deemed it wiser to place their hope on the sterling ore of their materials , than on the claims of extended design : and that it was better to approach excellence in a minor MODERN TASTE m 1»0ETRY. 23 department, than to stop at mediocrity in that, which was superior. It cannot be because the subjects of poetry are exhaus- ted, but because poets shrink from traversing the true paths , that novelty is sought in false directions. They per- ceive the difficulties > and escape into regions of singula- rity and wonder , where artifice and surprise may cover their want of native and simple strength. In looking back on the whole Body of English Poetry, how little is there , on a severe examination , which rises above mediocrity ; or of which the faults do not overweigh the merits. The true tone is caught for a few moments ; and then the author relapses into discord, or flatness , or absurdity. What a proof of the intensity of the powers which this Art demands ! How many can mount the air ; but how few can keep on the wing ! It is the fire within, that fails; and memory and effort cannot supply its place. False thoughts ; false metaphors ; the cold chilling airs of tech- nicality succeed ; the charm is gone ; and the exhausted poet falls to the ground. A calm research into the innumerable volumes of the Candidates for Poetical fame will furnish inexhaustible evi- dence of these assertions. It is the inequality of most of the aspirants , which has sunk them into oblivion (i). Such is the ill-nature of the world, that they remember (i) This appears to be the true reason, why so many volumes of English poietry, of which the authors have given occasional specimens of real genius , have been laid aside and forgotten : while those of others, wilh meaner qualities, but more uniformity, have survived. I can no otherwise account for the oblivion of many of the Lyrical Poets of Charles I's reign -.of Wither , Carew, Habingdon, Lovelace, Herrick, Stanley, L. Pembroke, Fanshaw, etc. Of each of these we can name one or two pieces, of which some are elegant and happy, and others exquisite ! 24 THE ANTI- CRITIC the failures of an author , rather than his merits. Pope brought forth nothing , which was not highly laboured , and highly polished. All the management of an Artist appears, in addition to the power of Genius. It is perhaps by this maaagement , this economy of the native fire , that the means of endurance are preserved. Of that species of Poetry , which is preeminent in the display of the faculty of the. Understanding, in which the talent of reasoning of an acute and vigorous judgement is exerted , Pope's Essay on Criticism is in every respect one of the most extraordinary. In all that is technical it is nearly perfect. In denseness of matter it comprises more, than ever was pressed into the same space. Its lucid arran- gement is excellent. Its precepts are all just; and expressed with admirable perspicuity , elegance , and happiness of illustration. But they are not only just ; many of. them strike with a delightful novelty , from the felicitous force of the distinctions wliich they communicate- They are as comprehensive as they are minute ; and display that candor , solidity, and temperate wisdom, which entitle them to the character of eternal truths. Is it possible to reflect without increasing astonishment, when we consider that this pro- found and perfect composition was produced at the age of twenty ? It would be well for modern Critics to attend to the rules of this Essay! « If Wit so much from ignorance undergo Ah , let not learning too commence its foe ! Of old , those met rewards , who could excel , And such were praised , who endeavour'd well ; Though triumphs were to generals only due , Crowns v/ere reserved to grace the soldiers too : Now they who reach Parnassus' lofty crown , Employ their pains to spurn some others down ; MODERN TASTE IN POETRY. 25 And while self-love each jealous writer rules , Contending wits become the sport of fools : But still the worst with most regret commend; For each ill author is as bad a friend ». But this age , which is so fond of bitter and relentless criticism , is as extravagant in its praises , as in its censu- res ( I ). Yet injudicious and excessive panegyric is surely rather hurtful than beneficial to its object, Mr. Campbell will scarcely thank his friend Fahlus (2) for the following : « It is not generous in your Lordship , nor yet just , to sacrifice all your cotemporaries to the angry Manes of Pope. There is , at least , one living Poet , who is as far supe- rior to Pope , both « in the thoughts that breathe , and words that burn , » as Pope is superior to Tickell. I accuse not your Lordship of envy ; your pride of genius must spurn the approach of a passion so humiliating. Tell us then what part of Pope's writings would supply the divinity, that breathes and speaks in every part of Oconnor's Child ? Will poste- rity indeed prefer the Eloise to Gertrude ; — the Rape of the Lock to the Exile of Erin ; and the Essay on Man to the Pleasures of Hope ? Pope was a poet ; a7id he possessed an eminent and rare claim to the title : he knew how to touch , retouch , polish , alter , and improve every line , till it was highly finished. It is not the selection of the indivi- dual, Antinous, but the perfect execution , that has « gathered into existence the poetry of the bust >k In the present age y your Lordship knows , that there is only one poet , who finishes; — - and his finishing , like his genius , is far supe- rior to Pope's ». (1) The greater part of the Living Poets, who are in fashion, are I believe , themselves writers in the most popular Reviews'. (2) Letter to Lord Byron ^ protesting against the immolation oj' Gray, Cosvper , and Campbell, at the shrine of Pope. 4 26 THE AlfTI-CRlTIC The same Critic has the following monstrous remark : « In the writings of Pope I look in vain for the genuine operation of feeling , — for the honest movements of the heart ; — for the real voice of nature , — for the true language of passion. All these appear in Pope like the image of the snow-clad trees in the icy lake. » It is a Discovery , that there is no passion in the Eloisa TO Abelard ; no movements of the heart in the Elegy on AN Unfortunate Lady ; and in the Dedication of Parnell's Poems TO Lord Oxford ! — It is in vain , that this Critic attempts to dispute Lord Byron's position , that « the highest of all poetry is ethical poetry, as the highest of all eat thly objects must he moral truth (i). This position stands on a rock ; perhaps Lord B.'s illustrations of it require to be a little more guarded and qualified. Mere moral truth does not constitute poetry : it must be moral truth conveyed in a poetical manner. Half the errors in modern judgements on this subject arise from the narrow notion , that good poetry must principally consist of imagery. Campbell in his ) « Thence to Darlington; there I boused y Till at last I was espoused. » Again : « Veni Nesham , Dei donum , In Caenobiarchae domum ; Uberem vallem _, salubrem t^enam , Cursu fluminis amaenam , Lsetam sylvis , et frondosam , Beras yultu speciosam. » « Thence to Nesham , now translated , Once a nunnery dedicated ; Vallies smiling , bottoms pleasing , Streaming rivers never ceasing , Deckt with tufty woods and shady .< Graced by a lovely Lady. » barnabee's journal. 33. Again : « Nunc ad Puclimund , prlrho flore , Nunc ad Neskam , cum uxore , Lseto cursu properamus , Et amamur et amamus ; Pollent floribus ambulachra , Vera veris simulaclira ». « Now to Riclimund , whence spring's comraing , Now to Nesham willi my woman , With free course we both approve it , Where we love , and are beloved; Here fields flower with freshest creatures Repreiienting Flora's features w. Mr. H. therefore procured a search to be made iii Darlington and its neighbourhood for the marriage of Brathwait. Iii the parish Register of Rurworth , in which parish Nesham is situated, a village about three miles fronl Darlington , was found the decisive evidence : the manage of Richard Brathwait with Frances daughter of James Lawson of Nesham Esq. on May 1617. — The identity of the author was no longer to be doubted. But the more the Editor examined , the more coincidences he found with peculiar passages in the acknowleged writings of Brathwait. The Edition containing this discovery appeared in 1818. D.** Bliss has since communicated the following confirmalion from the MSS of T. Hearrie, « The Book called Barnabas' Ramhles , printed in Latin and English, in-12.", was written by Richard Brathwaite ^ who writ and translated a vast number of things besides ,' he being a scribler of the times. But Mr. Bagford tells me that Mr. Chr. Bateraan , ( an eminent Bookseller in Pater- 34 THE Al^TI-CRItld ftostci" Row ) , who was well - acquainted with some of the family , hath several times told him that Brathwait was the author of it. This Book is since printed (i) ». . In farther confimation Mr. Haslewood has discovered , that in a copy of the 2*d Edit, which belonged to Edw. Wilson Esq. of Dallam Tower , Co. Westmoreland , was Written the following note : « The author I knew , was an old poet, Rich. Brathwait, father of sir Thomas , of Burnside Hall , near Kendall in Westmorland (2) ». Mr. Haslewood by the aid of a variety of coincidences fixes the date of the Jirst Edition of Barnabee's Journa'' to i65o ; and by an ingenuity of circumstantial evidence discovers the Printer to have been John Haviland. Sixty six years then elapsed before a second Edition appeared. It had been published, anonymously ; and in this period the name of the author, which had probably long floated on the public breath , had been lost to the literary world. « In progressu Boreali , Ut processi ab Australi , Veni Banhery , o prophanum ! Ubi vidi Puritanum Felem facientem furem , Quia Sabbatho slravit murem ». « In my progresse traveling Northward , Taking my farewell oth' southward , To Banbery came I , O prophane one ! Where I saw a Puritane one, (1) The dale of this MS of Hearne is ijiZ. The words in Italic^' were afterwards added, and clearly allude to the reprint of 17 16. (2) Probably sou of Edw. Wilson , by lane daughter of Gawen Brathwait of Ambleside Esq. See Burn's Hist, of Westra. r. 227. barnabee's journal. 3^ Hanging of bis Cat on Monday , For killing of a Mouse on Sonday «. But why the author's name should not have come fortii at the Restoration ; why a composition of so much viva- city , such pure and unfailing humour , such elegant scholarship , so happily colloquial , so adapted to universal popularity, so fitted at once for the polite, the educated , and the common reader , should not , at a period so congenial to its political and moral opinions , come into full notice and reputation , remains to be solved ! That the Public had a taste for colloquial poetry and witty exposure of political character, is proved by the re- ception given to Hudibrns, of which the Three First Cantos appeared in i663. It is not meant to compare Barnabee's Journal with this extraordinary production ; for there is an essential difference in their features , materials , and manner. Barnabee's distinction is simple , easy humour : Hudibras is almost over-abundant with original and profound wit; with deep knowlege of the perversities of human nature ; with exhaustless allusions to abstruse learning ; with sagacious observations on the conduct of man in so- ciety ; with axioms , which are become proverbial ; with images , of which the felicitous and unexpected similitude never loses its brilliance. Brathwait not only survived the Restoration thirteen years; but still continued to write and to publish. But he was , at this epoch , arrived at the age of 78 ; and perhaps he thought that the Journal betrayed too much levity for years so far advanced : it is true that at the period of pubUcation this objection was in some degree in force i but the two first Parts at least seem to have been written in early youth ; and perhaps the poet then trusted to thg^ concealment of his name. 36 THE ANTI-CRITIG On the whole, I am inclined to attribute the neglect and oblivion, into which this poem soon fell, to that very Restoration , by which it ought to have been drawn into full life. All the literature of the preceding twenty years was then indiscriminately forced into one common grave : the dead and the living were buried together. The violent change, which took place, made it the fashion to ^reject every thing , that had before prevailed. All , which could interest , must be now not only gay; but French gaiety. Perhaps the Latin, ( however light and happy ) , of Barnahee , was enough to make him be considered pedantic. In the same manner we must account for the simultaneous rejection of Lovelace , Stanley , Carew , Lord Pembroke , Herrick , and many others ; whose poems now ceased to be read , and were soon forgotten. But it is also very probable, that the author of Barnabee's Jouimal did not himself sufficiently estimate the value of his own composition. — I infer this from the character that more or less pervades all the other writings of Brathwait, with which I have had an opportunity of obtaining any acquaintance. In all of them is quaintness, pedantry, and a strong mixture of bad taste. They are the productions of a secondary kind of genius, stimulated into being by the hot-l^ed of temporary fashion : a sort of intermedia- tory of an accomplished and literary man of the world between the learned , and the mass of idle and busy society. Hence A. Wood's censure, that they were the delight of a former age ; the cast-offs of the better informed of that , which succeeded. Johnson says admirably , f< Those modi- fications of life and peculiarities of practice , which are the progeny of error and perverseness , or at best of ^ome accidental influence , or transient persuasion , must; perish with their parents (i) «. (i) Poets. — Life of Butler. barkabee's journal, 37 Perhaps 'Barnahee's Journal cost the author least pains j and he therefore thought it his worst performance. Cri- ticism , and the artificial rules of composition , are the things which often turn genius out of its path. A critic loves technical rules , because it requires neither taste , nor talent , to comprehend and apply them. He thinks things excellent just in proportion as they are artificial j viz. as they want genius ! What arises from the uninterrupted flow of a happy veiij, they have not the tact to appreciate. The natural association of images ; the sentiments which are their un- sought companions ; the simple diction , which does not overdress the thought , — these are the marks of that intrinsic power , that golden ore , which never loses its value. — And these belong to Barnabee's Journal! Yet Barnabee's Journal , tho' the work of a voluminous and well-practised author , lay forgotten for 56 out of the first QQ years of its existence ; and has been only partially revived, till within the last 16 years; while the hand, that wrote it , has been only discovered within these three years ! — - Still we are insultingly told , that nothing is forgotten , which deserves to be remembered : that the public taste is supreme : that it neglects not , thro' whim , or preju- dice , or dullness j that it praises not without adequate cause ! — If others do not go quite so far ; if they admit that the generous Public sometimes praises without reason , they insist that it never condemns to unmerited oblivion ! 38 THE ANTI-CRITIC IV. PETRARCH'S INDUSTRY. In PetrarcVs Sonnets , taken together , is a course of high sentiment , and passion _, embodied I — The enthu- siasm of his love : the visionary circumstances , that it associates with all the incidents belonging to it ; — the ideal charms annexed to Laura's person ; her movements ; her feelings , — all partake of the nature of Creation , or Invention. — Petrarch's love of solitude ; and love of the spiritual World , mutually inflamed each other ! — He knew^ that his splendid faculties ought not to be w^asted on common-place affairs, which others could dis- charge as well as himself. — The greatest faculties must not expect to have all their strength at command wdthout industry and discipline. — Leisure , silence , calmness , unbroken attention , are requi- site. — Exercise operates surprisingly in the attainment of facility : ideas gradually develop themselves with clearness , that at first seemed involved in the darkest incomprehen- sibility. — « Magnas partes » , ( says our poet ) « rure ago , nunc etiam , ut semper , solitudinis appetens , et quietis. Lego , scribo , cogito ; hsec vita , haec delectatio mea est , quae mihi seroper ab adolescentia mea fuit. Mirum , tarn jugi studio , tarn pauca tanto in tempore didicisse ». If Petrarch , the most eloquent , fertile , and copious , MILTON. 30 writer of his laboriotis and wonderful age could say this , what can a puny modern say ? V; MILTON'S SELF CONFIDENCE. No one ever executed a great work of intellect, without high self-confidence. But who can have this confidence, if his opinion is to depend on the capricious judgements of others ? Not only erroneous taste , but envy and jealousy, may cloud the judgements , that we suppose most free from them. Johnson says of Milton , that « it appears in all his writings , that he had the usual concomitant of great abi- lities , a lofty and steady confidence in himself ; perhaps not without some contempt of others ». But who can be compared with Milton ? The confidence will « come , and go » , in weaker minds : it will be a succession of provoking hopes evaporating in melancholy diffidences : active life will have been surren- dered ; but the substitute not enjoyed. It will not be as it was with the noble poet just mentioned. « I trust hereby », says he, « to make it manifest, with what small willingness I endure to interrupt the pursuit of no less hopes , than these ; and leave a calm and pleasing solitariness , fed with chearful and confident thoughts , to embark in a troubled sea of noise and hoarse disputes , put from beholding the bright countenance of Truth , irt the quiet and still air of delightful studies «, 40 THE ANtl-CRITIC VL YOUNG'S UNIVERSAL PASSION; Young has endeavoured to prove, that Love of Fame is the Universal Passion : and to elucidate: it by a satirical poem , full of point and wit. The only difference is in the mode taken to obtain this ; and this is as diversified, as human character, and human action. Mankind , however , seem to have agreed , that the am- Ijition of intellectual excellence is among the most laudable of human impulses. But the road to Excellence is not always the road to Fame. VII. GRAY'S PURSUITS , AND HABITS. Is it to be lamented , that Gray wrote so little ? Did he make the due use of the talents conferred on him by Providence ? Is it not true , that « When in the breast the imperfects joys expire », when they are not embodied in language , and communi- cated , they are not only useless to others, but unsatisfac- tory to him , whom they have visited ? GRAY. 41 What was the faculty, that Gray principaliy iemployed in reading ? If he only employed memory , he neglected the higher faculties, which he possessed! It is not sufficient to comprehend , and remember what others have written : it ought to be enriched by the reader's own reflections. The power of original thought improves wonderfully by practice : but he, who is occustomed to go in leading-strings, can seldom venture alone. It cannot be questioned that Gray could think for himself; and did think for himself on all great occasions. He thought not only powerfully, but rightly. His fault was fastidiousness. He was too little disposed to be pleased j and he exacted too rigid correctness. Who are of consequence ? Who have made themselves worthy of general notice , and general esteem ? Who have done that , which has not been equally done , or cannot be equally done , by a thousand others ? Could many others have written the Elegy \ the Ode on Eton College \ etc. of Gray? What is most excellent seems easy to be done : but the trial proves the contrary. There must be something of uncommon felicity in that to which we perpetually recur , after other things have lost all interest with the loss of novelty ! Is it the polish , and terseness of expression ; the happy selection of ima^^es ; or the simplicity, truth, and pathos of the sentiments? Gray, personally received but little of the incense of attention and praise, which the fame of his writings drew upon them. He mingled scarcely at all in that sort of so- ciety, who were fitted or disposed to estimate duly his genius. 6 42 THE ANTI-CRITIC Jolmson lived in the full tide popularity : courted ; listened to J flattered ; worshipped. Gray ( I beleive ) says « a dead Lord only ranks with a Commoner ». — After death, the prejudices in his favour, which accompany him in life , are extinguished. He is exa- mined with the same impartiality , as any plebeian. In 'what consisted the difference between Gray , and Lyttelton ? Lyttelton had numerous advantages over Gray in the opportunity of seeing mankind ; in converse with the business of life ; and in that impulse and that skill, which are gene- rated by collision of intellects ! — But all these could not counteract the superiority of natural gift. In the internal construction of Gray's mind was vigor and fire. In that of Lyttelton, gentleness and facility, but feebleness. He had no invention : he was therefore not deficient in plain sense , because he was not exposed to be led astray by ignes fatuL But then in wanting force , he wanted that piercing sagacity, which gives to common sense its greatest use. Gray, in the unstimulating and drowsy ease of a College life , suffered the higher powers of his mind to slumber , and rust , while he was content to amuse himself by em- ploying his prodigious memory. Whoever reads his Letters, will be convinced that this is not too severe a censure. His serious Letters ( for his trifling ones sadly betray the affectations of a petit-maitre), give great interest, from the depth and accuracy of the knowlege , with which they are tinctured ; and the delightful skill of deep and perfect GRAY. 43 scholarship, under the influence of pure, acute, and lofty taste. — But in the profusion of these treasures, we regret those still more valuable riches, which he seems too lazy to bring forth ! We have few of the results of his own original powers of thinking ! — He recalls to us the facts of history ; the opinions of moralists; the sentiments and images of poets; the explanations of scholars ; etc. but he seldom gives us his own thoughts , and theories. It is the evil , into which an unproportionate cultivation of memory leads the most powerful minds. But Gray could think powerfully ; imagine powerfully ; and invent powerfully ! — His Bard is a proof of his rich and sublime Invention I At the epoch at which Gray wrote, the powers of Invention seem almost to have ceased in English poetry : unless a few personifications and •allegorical abstractions, may be called Invention ; which Jos. Warton , when he wrote the Preface to his Early Poems , seems to have thought. I am not sure , that we have made, much improvement by the extravagant Inventions of modern days. And what Invention is there in the major part of the poets in Johnson's Collection ? Has Denham Invention ? Has* Waller Invention ? Perhaps a simile ; or a metaphor will be called Invention ! — There is more Invention in Butler : but he wants dignity of subject. Blackmore, Swift , Addison , Gay, Phillips, Savage , Somerville , Tickel, Hammond, Dyer, Mallet , Watts , etc. , want Invention. — Even Shenstonc cannot be said to have shewn Invention , unless in his Elegy of Jesse , « AVhy mourns mv friend ». I would give Dryden credit for Invention from the manner in which he has expanded the Tales of Boccacio ; and Prior, for his expansion of the Nut-Brown Mdid I — So Pope ,, for his Eloisa to Abelard ; and his Rape of the Lock! — 44 THE ANTJ-CRITIC Collins is every where Inventive ! — Above all , in his Ode to the Passions ! I can discover nothing , on which I can found Akenside's claim to Invention Beattie's Minstrel entitles him to this distinction. But where shall we find it for Cowper ? Many of the Songs of Burns will entitle him to this praise. Mighty then, but prostituted name of Poet, to how few dost thou properly belong ? Was a man with the genius , erudition , and habits of Gray happy? His life was probably a mixture of extreme enjoy- ment , and bitter suffering. His hours of energy passed in pure and noble occupations ; lifted above worldly cares ; unpressed by worldly biasses : but man is yet a dependant being. His instinctive affections told him so : he exclaimed : t. f< Poor Moralist ! and what art Thou ? A solitary fly ! No hive hast thou of hoarded sweets I » His ardors must often have stagnated within him , for want of objects : cold fogs must have congregated over his heart : and have Frozen « the genial current of his soul ». The first quality of a poet is universally allowed to be Invention : the power of imagining new combinations of incidents or scenery ; and associating them with a lively description of the sentiments that would naturally be excited in such situations. Of the productions exhibiting an equal quantity of invention , those are the best , of which the ingredients are the most magnificent y or the most pathetic. GRAY. 45 On this principle , Milton stands at the head of our poets — ( separate from the Dramatic ); — and Spenser next to him. Perhaps Chaucer stands third, in right of his Can- terbury Tales. If inyfntion be the character of a poet , how do those shew the characters , who are mere portrait-painters ? By selection of circumstances ; by picturesqueness of language ; by vividness of colouring. There is even in this a minor sort of novelty of combination. VIII. POETRY. Subjects of Poetry compared to distant Views. m^^^^^ « A step , methinks , may pass the stream ; So little distant dangers seem. %o we mistake the future's face , Eyed through Hope's delusive glass ! As yon summits soft and fair , Clad in colours of the air , Which , to those who journey near , Barren, and brown, and rough appear; Still we tread the same coarse way ; The present's still a cloudy day ». Dyer's Grongar Hill. It is the same with subjects of poetry : Matters of Fiction 46 THE AlVTI- CRITIC are better described than matters of reality : because tbey are seen at a distance ; and without the barrenness and roughness , which are mixed up in actual life. He therefore who takes upon himself to describe his own circumstances and feelings , undertakes a task less congenial with the nature of poetry. IX. C O W P E R. The character of Cowper given by Campbell is very ele- gantly and discriminatively written. It observes accurately upon his want of invention : and upon the charm arising from portraiture ; viz. a delineation of self, when that self is full of simplicity and interest : of pure and virtuous senti- ment ; of moral rectitude ; of energetic inifignation of vice. But still compositions can scarcely be deemed to possess the higher qualities of ■ poetry , without invention. The power and gratification of imagining things more beautiful tlian reality is a quality implanted in our nature : and it is to satisfy this propensity, that the grand faculties of poetry are called forth. What is called the poetry of Reason may be very beau- tiful; but still it is not the highest kind of poetry. The ornaments of poetry may be applied to moral lessons, and practical sentiments : and they may illustrate and heighten the force and beauty of those lessons and sentiments : but there the poetry is subordinate to the matter; not the matter to the poetry. COWPER. 47 By this test Cowper is inferior to Thomson, who, with not less exactness , has more invention in his descriptions than the other : and who has proved by his Castle of In- dolence , that he possessed an high degree of that faculty. The visionary talents of Collins rank him among poets of the true spirit. He saw ideal persons ; and endowed them with ideal souls. He gazed upon those undefined glimme- rings of imaginary Beings , which, like the glorious rays of the sunbeam , when it first comes in spring to make the heart glad, play involuntarily before the richly-stored, and highly- excited mind. When he addresses Fear , he is worked up as if that powerful Passion was actually personified before him. Burns also is in this respect superior to Cowper. Many of his poems, and songs, are upon imaginary subjects. Tom Warton scarcely shews it , except in his Crusade. Notwithstanding it has been denied , his Suicide was pro- bably suggested by the fate of Chatterton. Gray had invention : but he did not greatly exert it , except in his Bard. There are poets , who call up clusters of associations by a judicious selection of leading circumstances just hinted. This gives reason to infer that their own minds revel in accompanying creations : but they seem to shrink from the hazardous task of bringing them before the reader in the form of language. We give them credit therefore rather for what we think they might have done, than for what they have done. 48 THE Al?ni-CRITIG X. CENSURES OF POPE. What arc the objections , made by censurers to the mora,l character of Pope ? That he was bitter and envious : That he was fond of money : That he was deceitful : That he had a mean admiration of the great ; though he affected to despre them : That he was vain of his wealth : That he was full of little artifices : That he was a secret plagiarist. That he was fond of indecences , and liis attachment to Martha Blount impure, etc. etc. All , or most , of these , seem to be charges made with a total absence of candour. . His satirical temper , and his indulgence of a deeply vin- dictive spirit for petty injuries to liis fame , appears to be the least defensible of his moral defects. It had been more noble to treat his assailants with an indignant contempt. He crushed them, and made them miserable with too unsparing an hand. TRUE PRINCIPLES OF POETRY. 49 XL TRUE PRmCIPLES OF POETRY. We have two kinds of existence , or consciousness -~ Material — and Intellectual : — It is with the latter, that poetry is principally conversant. — Each is in truth in some degree mixed with the other : but as the one , or the other predominates , or originates , it takes the character of the predominator , or originator. For instance when outward objects are impressing them- selves on the material frame, they operate on the sensorium, which thus stirs and associates the new impression to ideas already there. And when the primary movement commences internally, it either recalls the images of what is material received at some former time from without , or admits the accession of their operation at the present moment from actual pre- sence. The whole conduct of the mind arising out of Material Consciousness appears to be different from that arising out of Intellectual Consciousness ! — While the outward objects are actually present, they of course make their impression according to their real and exact forms. They will not allow the imagination to select , nor to add. They therefore in- cumber his taste ; or confine his invention. But when these things are recalled thro' the fancy in absence ; when the movement originates with the mind , then the mind is the Master : it selects , or it adds , as it chooses. 50 THE AJVTI-CRITIC The poet therefore, who attempts to describe objects from their actual presence , is sure to fail. There is an hardness , a confusion, a tiresome exactness about him , which destroys the charm of poetry. In truth the attempt is a strong presumption that the attempter feels not the genuine poetical talent. Sometimes it may happen that one really qualified may be misled by bad advice , bad example , or wrong system : but not often ! Perhaps it is the most distinctive mark of genius , that the movement originatjes from within ! This is a reason, why genius rejects all prescribed subjects; or executes them badly. The presence of an object upon the senses may be sup- posed to be a substitute for fancy : but it is not ! — There is a vast difference in the degree of strength and clearness , with which objects operate at the moment on different brains. Perhaps the memory of such objects may be in proportion to that strength and clearness : but it does not follow that the fancy is necessarily attached to it : that is , the power of recalling the image itself with as much vividness as if present ! — It is the vividness of emotion, caused by the presence of fancy, which is a peculiar and inseparable mark of genius. The skill of cold , labouring , Art can never be a substitute for it. But does not the presence of the objects themselves create the same emotion ? And why is this emotion nOt communi- cable thence , as well as from the power of the Fancy ? Perhaps the fire of an Intellectual image is more com- municable to an Intellectual process , ( which literary compo- sition must be admitted to be ) , than the fire of a material image ! The mind moves by its own impulses. There is a 'spirit within , that often sets it at work. It then makes use of TRUE PRINCIPLES OF POETRY. 51 such of its stores as the occasion demands : and among them are images originally derived from material objects : but the p;resence of the material objects themselves has no concern With these movements. It is disguting to reflect how far-fetched and mistaken criticism has led poets astray from the real objects of the Art ! All the little technicalities , which were intended as adjuncts , have been deemed principals ! It is scarcely possible to describe , or delineate , all the degrees of Invention , of which the human mind is ca~ pable , or to which it is accustomed in its poetical occu- pations. A highly fertile and grand genius imagines or invents new orders of {Beings , and new worlds for their habitation. He creates them with grandeur , or beauty : and he suits him- self to the range and colour of belief, to which mankind are disposed. This is a task only undertaken by the very highest order of genius. Another , taking humanity itself as the material of his production , and the existing earth as its scene , elevates it by new combinations ; improves it by happy selection ; in- terests by grandeur , or pathos of sentiment ; surprizes by force of illustration, or delights by loftiness , force, harmony, and elegance of language. This is the result of a mind of splendid endowments always exercising itself in the culti- vation and disposition of the requisite materials. But there are numerous degrees of excellence far below these. When there is not strength or perseverance to invent an whole story , detached portions , or single figures may be invented. Or the invention may he confined merely to the illustration j to the simile , figure , or metaphor : or 52 THE ANTI-CRITIC even to the polisli of tlie diction , or the harmony of the verse. Some minds employ themselves in seeking imagery ; and some in sentiment ; and some in elucidating the deductions of reason. If nature has been bountiful to them in the talents re- quisite for the pursuit to which they addict themselves , they strike out by long toil useful and sometimes brilliant truths , or at least amusing pictures and instructive eluci- dations. It must be on some of these minor results , that the majority of the lesser poets must build their claims to the laurel. This comprehensive view may perhaps let in even the Metaphysical poets. For these writers , always ingenious , though often absurd , and generally tasteless , frequently illustrated a moral truth , or a chain of reasonings by similes , or figures, which, however far-fetched, were striking, and abundant in reflection. It could only have been in the intellectual part of their consciousness that these fruits were produced. They must have cultivated a constant habit of turning inward ; and keejjing their mental faculties in great activity. Sometimes it was not accuracy, or the unexpected likeness of the illustration , that pleased : but something in which the extravagance of the comparison may be forgiven for the gallantry of the compliment : but more especially for the beauty of the imagery ; the sweetness of the expression ; and the music of the verse. Such as in Carew's Song : « Ask me no more , where Jove bestows , When June is gone , the fading rose ». TRUE PRINCIPLES OF POETRY. 53 These are , however , rather the misapplications than the proper employments of poetical minds. In these devious courses some unexpected beauties will occasionally burst upon us ; and some unlooked-for fruit occasionally be furnished : but much labour has , notwithstanding , been lost. In different periods of society, the human mind employs itself in search of different fruits. Man is imitative ; and few have the boldness to chalk out a road of their own. In one age an image is deemed sufficient to fill the mind by its own simple grandeur : in another, fashion places the interest in the decoration of it : or in its use to adorn , or explain , something abstract , or in most respects dissi- milar ; and discovered in some one point to be unexpectedly like. In proportion as the ideas in which the composition deals, are complex , is the force of any particular quality of genius less apparent , and less requisite. — The Metaphysical poets therefore , and those quaint wri- ters , who formed the class that immediately succeeded them , were generally men of considerable talents and acquirements, but of minor genius. The understanding is generally employed in studying and teaching the nature and due regulations of our material existence ; or consciousness. It is the business of poetry to represent our Intellectual existence , or Consciousness. If therefore it occupies itself principally in instructing us in the former, it descends from its due sphere. 54 THE ANTI-CRITIC If we wish to represent things in the order and with the accompaniments in which they strike the outward senses , we cannot represent them poetically, because when the fancy renews the representation of them , it does not represent them in the same order , and with the same accompaniments. As all poetry is addressed , or ought to be addressed , to the Fancy, it follows that what is not suited to the nature and rules by wliich the Fancy acts , can never produce the proper effect , nor be genuine in its character , or quality. That , which does not strike at once , but of which the meaning is to be attained by laborious deduction , is not poetry. That , of which the leading circumstance is not seized , or in wliich the attention is distracted by a detail of more than the leading circumstance , is not poetry. The more servile , or faithful , the picture is of material or real life, as it actually is _, the less poetical it is. Because this is not the picture , which is left upon the mind when the material objects are removed. When the understanding , when complex reflection , comes in to disturb the natural order and simple colours of the images , as they voluntarily rise in the mind , the effect is someling artificial, for which the mind of the reader was not prepared. There is no end to the varieties of aspect generated by the capricious judgements of the human intellect long pon- dering on the same subject; and losing sight of the point, whence they set out , in endless labyrinths. It is the essence of little minds to love artifice ; because the attainments of Art are within their reach ; whereas the deficiency of natural endowments cannot be supplied. It may be worth while to endeavour to try these theo- ries by the test of experience. How do they appear to be illustrated by the actual conduct of the greatest poets? TRUE PRINCIPLES OF POETRY. 55 What are Dante's subjects? Are they not the visions of the mind ? And does he not present them characterized , and grouped, in the manner in which they appear to the Fancy ? The force of the images presented by his fancy , or created by his genius, gave him a confidence in its power, that rested satisfied without an effort at ornament , or exagge- ration. Does not the same character belong to Mihon? A Didactic Poem then is a contradiction. It has for its aim to do that , which is the reverse of poetry. But are there no poetical passages to be found in Didactic Poems ? — Yes : but then they are not Didactic : they are ornamental patches, incongruous with the professed object of the Work ! If this theory be true, does it raise, or depreciate the dignity and use of poetry ? Many will pronounce that it depreciates , because they will say , that in this character , it does not come home to the business of life I If poetry be a representation of our intellectual cons- ciousness , not of our material , that is , of those images which exist in the mind , not of the external images them- selves , it seems to me that when these images are origi- nally derived externally thro' the senses , they do not take their proper form and character , till the original is entirely removed from them. The fancied image is therefore a renewal, at some period separated from that when it was first impressed. In the in- terval , all the degrading and puzzling details sink away ; 56 THE ANTI-CRITIC and leave none , but the striking or characteristic features of the image. It would seem that the same principle is applicable not only to those images which had their origin in something external , but to all the operations of the mind , whether imagery , sentiments , reasonings , or reflections. Poetry deals , or ought to deal, with them in the state, in which Fancy renews them — when the striking parts remain , and the dregs have sunk ! We arrive at a conclusion by a laborious process of ra- tiocination. We look back upon it at a mature interval : the result , the building remains : the scaffolding has dis- appeared. The nature of the human mind has been in all ages a difficult study. Locke made great advances in these fields of subtle enquiry ; and in our days Reid , Dugald Stewart and others , have made still farther advances. There are probably mysteries in it , which the human mind is inca- pable of conquering. I assume the fancy to be that faculty , which has the power of bringing before the eye of the mind any image, as if it had a material shape. It matters not , whether the materials , or likeness of that image , were originally bor- rowed from some external object; or whether by some ins- crutable cause , they originated in the mind. I assume Invention to apply to such of these Images brought before the mind's eye , as have not their archetypes in exter- nal material objects : whether the difference arises from no- velty of combinati m\ only , or novelty of the whole. It is obvious that this may apply to a single image , or a com- bination of images — to an Allegorical Ode, descriptive of a single ideal Being, or to an Epic Poem. PROPER OBJECTS OF AUTHORS. 67 Memory is the consciousness of what has been ; not the image of it renewed to the mind , as if present. Fancy may make a poet : but the addition of Invention is necessary to make a poet of the highest class. And the fancy must deal in images , either beautiful , pathetic , or sublime i Can we name a poet , of well established reputation , who is a contradiction to this theory? At various periods of the literature of every Country an attention to these principles has not been duly preserved. As soon as poetry began to be cultivated as an Art, Art too often got the better j and substituted the adjuncts for Principals. Memory was exercised , instead of Fancy; and things there-^ fore , that were inconsistent with the essence of poetry j formed the materials of productions, which had nothing of the character of poetry but the metre. XIL PROPER ORJECTS OF AUTHORS. Ill addition to the inexhaustible subjects of intellectual observation , which still leave the field open to candidates for literary fame , after all the ground that has been takeri by their predecessors , every thing offeirs something pecu- liar to itself, and arising out of its: own circumstances; and consequently not presented to the literati of a prior date. There are also some colours of language, and some elu- cidations of sentiment , in which every age advances , and improves upon another^ 58 THE ANTI-CRITIC The very change of language , the very novelty of arran- gement, sometimes restores the fatigued atlezitioh to an useful subject. He, who talks of his exclusive admiration of old writers, either is a pedant; or merely makes this a pretence to hide his distaste of all reading. Men of very high genius rise seldom in the course of centuries : but men not only of erudi- tion, but of genius sufficient to instruct and delight their cotemporaries , are to be found in every generation : and these are men , without whose efforts the intellectual state of society would rapidly deturpate ! If there were no place , but for such great men as Dante and Petrarch and Milton, one must despair. But there are very many seats , far indeed below these ; yet lofty enough for a noble ambition ! There is a great difference between the sense appHed to general truths ; and the sense applied to individual expe- diency. The wisdom of the former extends the fame of men , where they are personally unknown : — Of the latter, confnes it to those who are witnesses of the success of their individual conduct. The latter have a tact of hitting on what is most for their own interest ; which is often the reverse of general justice , or general expedience. But how few tiouble themselves with the love , or pursuit , of abstract truth ! It is probable , that the exercise of literary genius is nearly, if not intirely, independent of situation in life. Yet Biography relates all the circumstances of the life of a man of genius , as if they formed the essence of the knowlege we wish to have of him. A genius in poverty and disgrace consoles himself that he shall appear to the world only in his ideal character. The tasteless Biographer tears off the veil ; and shews him in all the nakedness of revolting reality. PROPER OBJECTS OF AUTHORS. 69 The Public may love gossiping stories ; and to gratify a prurient curiosity, by an admission into the penetralia of private life. But respect for the person commemorated is as little the object, as it is in general the consequence, of these minute communications. There is a certain sort of wise and dignified generalisation in almost all the best-written lives of men of genius , or literature. Bos well descended from this in his Life of Johnson : Gibbon was a little inclined to descend from it in his Memoirs of Himself, . What are the proper purposes of authorship, and how they are to be executed, we are arrived at too late a period of literature to discuss. But to communicate truths important, yet not trite, in lan- guage which unites force with elegance , must be admitted to deserve well of the Public. Labours short of this may merit encouragement and praise. Whoever conveys useful instruction , or innocent amusement to the mind , does well. The world is inclined to consider those , who pursue their amusements rather than their private interests , as foolish , or unprincipled. But it ought , before it decides , to know what those amusements are; and to examine the character of them. With some, it is an amusement to ad- minister to the innocent and refined pleasures of the Public ; to attempt to enlighten their understandings; or to exercise their fancies and their hearts by beautiful images, or amiable emotions. Men amuse themselves with equipages , horses , hunting building, society, farming, etc. — is it a crime to amus« 60 THE ATfTl- CRITIC themselves with that, of which the essence consists in con- veying pleasure or instruction to others ? If no one were to look beyond Self, what a battle of pri-vate interests would the world be? It is the detachment from self, that purifies us ; exalts us ; and makes us worthy of the love and admiration of others. The difference between duties , of which the results are immediate both with regard to persons and time, and those, of which the results are , in both those respects , distant ^ it may be difficult to estimate, or even to define. The productions of literary genius are for the most part of this sort. It will be asked, if they are a sufficient coun- terbalance to the omission of more practical and direct duties. Some of us come into the world to do nothing : some , destined to the highest tasks : some , to perform great pracr. tical works : some, to pursue « The shadowy tribes of thought! » When the Public are too stupid, or too negligent, duly to estimate a man's honourable principles of action , can he set them right by explanation? If we suffer ourselves to be at the mercy of every momentary breath of popular taste , we must lose all self- confidence ; and throw away our efforts in the most wavering irresolution. However it may be denied , no man of sound judgement can doubt , that Milton received little admiration , or notice in his own day, as a poet. Collins obtained no marks what- ever of fame or distinction. The representations of the moral , the intellectual , and |he material world, are so blended in every true producr PROPER OBJECTS OF AUTHORS, 61 tion of poetical genius , that Art can never reach these impressions ; and neglect can never obliterate them , where nature has implanted them. They have a vivacity, a variety, an inequality , a freshness ; vv^hich those , who work by rules , never catch. Moral knowlege ought , unquestionably , to be the first pursuit of the human intellect : but deep moral wisdom was never yet obtained except from the pen , or the lips , of Genius. — Genius only can pierce the recesses of the human bosom ; and irradiate its clouds : Genius only can find due language, in which these discoveries can be com- municated. Perhaps it may be affirmed _, that the language can never be good, where the thought is deficient , or trite : and , on the contrary , that correct , forcible , and original thoughts will always bring with them congenial language. The language springs up with the thought ; and none , but that which is thus simultaneous , is excellent, or pure. All must admit the existence of that moral sense im- planted in mankind , which in different individuals so in- calculably varies in degree. Thissense must be preeminently acute and predominant in a great poet. It must colour the forms and pursuits of his fancy; and shape them to its own direction. It may perhaps be objected , that many men of indubi- table genius, have led immoral and vicious lives ; and have been distinguished for their defect of principles. But these exceptions are scarcely ever found in genius of the higher class; and when found, are attended by some circumstances of peculiarity , which may account for their deviation from the general rule. Nothing is more curious than to trace the first appearances of genius , as displayed in childhood , in association with moral quahties. 62 THE ATfTI-CRITIC Original and powerful thought often in its first operations puts on the appearance of stupidity or folly. He , who is principally intent upon his own ideas , does not often apprehend the ideas of others with the same clearness of perception , as if they were free from the in- tervention of what his own mind supplies. It often happens therefore , that unoriginal writers are less involved ^ more digested , and more copious , at an early age. The sensibility , without which no one can be a real poet , often becomes in the first opening of youth highly morbid. To foster that imagination , in which he deals , he encou- rages a warmth of temperament , which is very dangerous, when uncontrouled. Authors , who have no heart , may , by the aid of memory, at once write things which are apparently brilliant , and be men of the world. But to frequent the world , and to be endowed with an high fancy , is , at this age , scarcely compatible. Retirement , and even the deepest solitude , is therefore sought , that a field may be found for the due expanse of the creations of the mind. And the devotee often becomes absent , neglectful of himself, eccentric , and of a childish simplicity and ignorance in the actual affairs of life. If the circumstances of his lot necessitate the trammels of a profession , this devotedness is most unfortunate : it disqualifies him from bending his attention to what is re- quisite ; while the strength of imagery , which constitutes his mental excellence , is a light inapplicable to the hard practical forms of things , with which the common business of mankind is carried on. Perhaps at a later period of life , when the passions calm , and the ideas become more settled , and more under the dominion of the judgement, this conflict lessens, if it does not cease ; and a familiarity and conformity with the habits PROPER OBJECTS OF AUTHORS. 63 of man in society may be united with the indulgence of a rich and pure imagination. In early youth those images are almost exclusively che- rished , of which the pleasure depends solely on the emo- tion they cause : as years advance , others of a more com.plex nature are encouraged; and the fruits of reason and moral experience are ingredients which aid in forming the interest of the pictures presented. In these maturer days a deep knowlege of the moving springs of life, and an acute sagacity in discriminating the human character, are snpperadded to the more brilliant stores, which adorned the poet's youthful mind. But there is a chaos , before these contending qualities of the mind arrange themselves into their relative places , under which, in many cases, the patient sinks. He experiences the demands of opposites duties ; he finds his powers unequal to his ambitions ; and he despairs. If the maxim of « possunt, quia posse videtur^ » be true; the reverse is also true. With the loss of self-confidence comes inability. We then fall into humble pursuits ; and strive to amuse ourselves without effort, when effort can hope no reward. He , who cannot resist detraction , is utterly unfitted to struggle in society. Mankind are ready and ingenious in degrading; but slow and unwilling to praise. The superio- rity of others is never acknowledged , till after repeated attempts to cast them down. It is said , that criticism can only support itself, when it is just. This assertion has not even the semblance of truth : it assumes that readers are capable of detecting bad taste, bad reasoning, bold falsehoods, and unprincipled wit; and that they resist the gratification of malignity , jealousy, and envy. The fire of high hopes is difficult to be supported amid 64 THE AIN^TI-CRITIC the damp of the impending clouds of life , even when en- couraged by others : when it has to endure the additional chills of bitterness and hatred , how great must be its strength to surmount extinction! The languor, that follows energetic labours, the waste that accompanies a .violent exci- tement of the animal spirits , are alone obstacles which few have the permanent vigour to contend with. But I know not why he, who is conscious of his own intellectual gifts , should fret himself about the censures of the malignant , the wanton , or the foolish. They cannot divest him of the endowments , which nature has bestowed j nor finally suppress the notice , which truth and justice vnll at last confer. Time examines , and sifts , and weighs with precision} and will award the price that shall be due. XIIL ROUSSEAU. Few , if any , characters afford more subjects for reflec- tion, than that of Joh?* James Rousseau. Wo one has drawn forth more bitter censures ; and scarcely another has given occasion to so many warm and eloquent panagyrics. The most enlightened candour is often staggered in the attempt to reconcile the virtues and the faults , the strength and the weakness, of this most extraordinaiy man. Many undeserving persons have obtained great celebrity, which has lasted for a short time. Bat a celebrity , which endures, and even increases, for half a century after death, can scarcely be factitious. It becomes therefore a point of HOUSSEAU* 65 iiigli curiosity, and profound instruction, to endeavour to discriminate the qualities, on which such a celebrity is founded. Mere rarity of endowments will little avail in securing a general interest. They must be such, as « come home to every one's bosom ». I survey with admiration , without being able to analyse , the power, which can light a fire in the hearts of the dull, and the cold. But it seems to be the eloquence of Rousseau, the native and unprompted fervor of his sentiments and images , which gives him the superiority , that eclipses all his competitors. His principles may be sometimes mistaken j his reasonings may be sophistical and dangerous : it is his unexampled sensibility, which melts and enchants the reader. For this there is no substitute in the happiest skill ; the deepest learning ; and the most vigorous and exalted un- derstanding. It is clear then, that Piousseau was the slave of his sen- sations : his reason could never master them : and hence arose the apparent contradictions of his life. XIY. . FAME FIIN'ALLY JUST. it is a bad symptom of the taste of the' public , as it is of Individuals , when extravagance is mistaken for genius. It is only upon truth and propriety , that we can long repose with delight. What touches us in the moment of calm reflection, soberness,, and sorrow; v/hat convinces ns 66 THE ANTI-CRITIC as the dictate of cool and impartial wisdom , is alone the standard ore ; the plant of perennial verdure. Though « slow rises worth », by trusting to the simplicity ©f native genius , it will gradually ascend to its height , and keep on « the even tenor » of its course. Mad. de Stael, in h^r Dix annees d'Exil , p. 17, says: « Les critiques dont les ouvrages sont I'objet , peuvent etre tres - aisement supportees quand on a quelque eleva- tion d'ame , et quand on aime les grandes pensees pour elles-memes , encore plus que pour le succes qu'elles peu- vent procurer. D'ailleurs , le public , au bout d'un certain temps, me paroit presque toujours tres - equitable ; il faut que I'amour-propre s'accoutume a faire credit a la louange; car avec le temps on obtient ce qu'on merite. Enfin quand meme on auroit long temps a souffrir de I'injustice , je ne concois pas de meilleur contre elle que la meditation de philosophic et I'emotion de I'eloquence. Ces facultes mettent a nos ordres tout un monde des verites et de sentiment dans lequel on respire toujours a I'aise ». — After a life spent in deep attention to Intellectual Bio- graphy , I am persuaded that the mental character is not so much dependent on external and -accidental circumstances, as I , in common with the generality of mankind formerly supposed* It is the union of the qualities of the fancy , the heart , and the understanding in their due proportions , that cons- titutes the literary genius , of which the fruits are lasting. Literary excellence is the same in all ages and all countries. It is the search after novelty , that misleads the taste , and pursues objects which, when attained, soon satiate or fade. SENTIMENTS APPROPRIATED. 67 Providence has been pleased to dispense her gifts in a mysterious manner. Nature will follow its bent : and when the mind is fertile, it will throw forth flowers, in spite of blights and intermingling weeds. XV. SYMPATHY IN THE SENTIMENTS AND CONDITIONS OF LIFE. Extract from a Letter y 24 May 1821. « While I look, upon the various habits of opinion , which various occupations universally generate , I am too apt to be disturbed in the unity and equable tenor of my own sentiments , so necessary to that self - complacence , without which there can be neither dignity nor enjoyment. An anxious mind frets itself that it can find little sympathy with the opinions , and actuating motives of mankind. It must go its own way ; and it ought to do so , without vexing itself at this discordance ! The diversified tasks of human Beings could never be performed , if all had the same tastes, and the same modes of estimating things ! One is apt to forget , that contentment with one's lot is necessary to each man's fair passage through life : and how can this be effected but by a variety of judgement applied to motives and ends ? What appear shadows to one , are substances to another ! What seem empty vapours to this person , are almost of the essence of existence to his opposite ! « A man » it may be said , « must not be flattered in his 6B THE ANTI-CRITIC follies and delusions ! » ■ — True : — but then comes the quesrion , « what is folly? w and « what is delusion? » The money-getter thinks honour a delusion ! The special-pleader thinks an eloquent persuasive speech a delusion ! I would not willingly have that train of ideas torn from me, which has been a shield and a mantle in my mis- fortunes ! XVI. PRAISE OF SCOTT'S NOVELS ; — AND OF LOVE OF READING, Extract from a Letter, 6 Oct. 1821. « I think that Sir Walter Scott's Novels have afforded ^ useful and laudable exercise to British Intellects. The fancy they display is vigorous, manly, copious, and original. But there is something too much in them of local and national manners, customs, and histories. And I do not think, that Jie has drawn the Female Character with sufficient beauty, or refinement. He brings out his features with so much force ; and he groups his figures so happily ; and he contrasts the grand descriptions and thrilling sentiments of the poet so striking- ly with his Comic personages , and his lively dialogues of wit and humour , that he electrifies even the dull and sensual tastes of the multitude. « Believing , as I do , that the amusement of reading is, §mong the greatest consolations of life ) that it is the nurse LAKE OF GENEVA. 69 of Virtue ; that it is the upholder of Adversity ; that it is the prop of Independence ; that it is the support of a just Pride; that it is the strengthener of elevated opinions; that it is the shield aguinst the tyranny of all the Petty Passions ; that it is the repeller of the Fool's scoff, and the Knave's poison ; I consider the man, who has produced the effects, vs^hich Scott has done , to be a great national benefactor ; and a benefactor , whose good is not transient , but of all times ». — XVII. LAKE OF GENEVA. Another extract from the Same Letter, « \ believe that our intellectual existence is quite as much intended here , as our corporeal ! I look across the Lake , whose blue waves , now agitated by the wind , are breaking into a thousand fragments of sparkling foam , — to the Alps half - enveloped in clouds : — I see at their feet , running hitherward to the edge of the water , the green undulations of Savoy , clad with villas , and hamlets , and cottages , and towers , and steeples ! — Is not the multi- tude of mental images , which I associate with this variety of glittering or misty objects , an existence as certain, according to its own nature, as these material objects, to T^hich it is joined? » 70 THE ANTI-CRITIC XVIII. ^ BEATTIE'S MINSTREL. The fault of tHs beautiful fragment of a poem , ( for it is an absolute fragment ), is the barrenness of the design, or story. It wants Incident , where Incident was so neces- sary ; and might have been so easily invented. The love of solitude , the delight in abstract pleasures , are proper accompaniments of the genius which was intended to be delineated : but occasional mixture with society, and occasional involvement with its passions and its interests , would have afforded both those sympathies and those con- trasts , that exhibit the primary attractions of human ima- gination. Man is not intended to be always solitary. He must not continually immerge himself in the coarse deadening tur- moils of daily life : but he must sometimes become a party in human affairs ; and feel the force and the sorrows of human affections. He must look for the materials of his contemplations in Man as he is exalted by sentiment , by intellect , and by morals : as he associates himself with the beauty, or the grandeur of the scenery of nature ; and adds a world of spiritual existences to what is perceptible by the Senses. Frail and fallen as Humanity is , it is still Humanity which gives the main interest to the fair imagery of this glorious Globe. It is Humanity , such as the sublime poet beholds it in its choicest examples , which calls up our highest ener- gies and noblest sympathies. beattie's minstrel. 71 If the Poet has a right to create genius nurtured in the cottage simplicity of entire solitude, and instructed only by the cold world rejecting counsels of an Hermit , he has also a right to throw him amr.ng the grander iBovemen'-S of Mankind; yet separated from their blights, their degra- dations , and their deformities. Selection , as well as exaltation , is the Poet's business. He is entitled to contemplate Man in his belter moments , undebased by the meannesses of mortal condemnation. Mau was decreed to build up his state in society by toil and cultivation ; by the long exercise of his mental faculties ; by the enduring virtue of the self - denying regulations of the impulses of his heart ; by the elevation of his views , and the refinement of his habits. It is then among the human Beings , whom the best refinements of society have lifted into an higher order of existence , that we must look for the occasions that display the most magnificent movements of the Soul. It was in courts , and camps , and baronial halls , that the young Minstrel ought , as an infant Troubadour , to have learned his lessons. There an aged Mentor, but not an Hermit , unless the Hermit had quitted his cell to accom- pany his wanderings , might have given him advice , which would teach him how to appreciate the scenes before him , and at the same time would give a living interest to what he taught : while the cold abstract axioms of moral phi- losophy thrown into verse rather cast a dulness on Beattie's Second Canto , that all his art , and all his genius , cannot surmount. It is inconceivable how Beattie , whom the very title he chose for his poem would naturally have led to this rich train of incidents and scenery , could prefer so barren and difficult a plan , as he has elected. Perhaps it is to be attributed to the philosophical habits, to which the acci- 72 THE ANTI-CRITIC dents of his life , rather than his inclinations , addicted him. He had reasoned himself into a horror of the crimes of courts, and the immoralities of society, till he persuaded himself that a poet ought to be an abstract Being. But whence arise all the grand , the affecting , and the beautiful passages of Shakespeare ? — From the complicated passions and complicated duties , which the relations of so- ciety have imposed on the character represented ! He , who retires to muse, without having first collected materials to muse upon , commences at the wrong end. Books teach but little of life , unless we can correct them , and bring our apprehension of them to the test, by expe- rience. It is not the business of the poet to represent theJ mere scenery of nature unanimated by its alliance with the Intellectual Beings , whom Providence has placed to be the lords of it. Whoever deeply studies the effects of scenery on Man , finds that it soon loses its force, unless the varying affec- tions of the human heart give variety and fresh impulses to its hues and shapes. When it becomes associated with some particular impression of the soul , caused by some one of the innumerable striking incidents of « many- coloured life » , the diversity of its colours and interests is endless. How then could Edwin learn , what a young Minstrel ought most to learn , by the training which Beattie gives him ? How could he conceive those conflicts of Passion , which are not to be imagined in the unbroken solitude of woods and streams and valiies and hills; but must be felt, or observed, in the intercourses of humanity ? There is no power of the mind half so admirable , or half so mysterious , as the Imagination ! "We often know not whence its images come ; nor why they visit us ! But they will not take all human shapes without some previous acquaintance with humanity. The stimulants of society de~ 3Bea.ttie's minstrel* 73 Yelop what human genius unaided by observation could never penetrate. Of all the parts of history , which would have furnished the most interesting and instrucUve matter, if the written language had been sufllcienlly perfect to have handed it down with frankness and judgement , the account of The Troubadours would have stood foremost. I cannot believe that those ages were as barbarous , as they are represented to have been. Every where on the Continent , e.^,peclaliy in Italy, we see the ruins of magnificent ancient Castles , where now reside none but a most miserable and half - barbarous peasantry. These Castles must have diffused in tlieir neigh- bourhoods comparative civility , employment , and wealth. The relics , which have come down to us of the compo- sitions of the Troubadours frequently afford instances of a refinement of sentiment and turn of expression , which testify an advance of intellectual cultivation , and a polish of manners , such as modern opinions regarding them seem to be very little aware of. Seattle would therefore have incurred no impropriety in placing his Minstrel in such an age, and amid such manners. Gray complains that this poem wants action ; and says that the hero of it ought to be made to produce by the effects of his Art some great National Good. It would have required but a moderate degree of Invention and Ingenuity , to have done this by the Harp of a Troubadour in an hundred ways. He might turn aside the heart of some ferocious Warrior from a cruel design : he might contribute to inflame that Love , of which the influence might be a blessing to a People ' he might stir up the soul of some great Captain to avenge the wrongs of his country ; and to defend its liberties : « And if aught else great bards beside In sage and solemn tunes have sung , to 74 THE ANTI-CRITie Of turneys , and of trophies hung , Of forests, and enchantments drear, Where more is meant than meets the ear ». For here it is, that - — « Throngs of knights and barons bold , In weeds of peace , high triumphs hold, With store of ladies , whose bright eyes Rain influence , and judge the prize Of wit or arms , while both contend To win her grace , whom all commend «. To own the truth, it seems as if Bealtie , though an enlightened and excellent man , had a little gh'en way to the infection of the cant of the crimes of courts and kings ; and therefore that the purity of his hero's operations ought to keep aloof from any mixture with the manners and events of such society. However philosophical and just this may appear to some, a wider , more liberal , and more profound view of human nature , will teach a very different lesson. The dignity of rank , the splendor of riches , the dazzle of magnificence , the luxury of refinement , are neither vanities , nor usur- pations Tipon others , when they are the rewards of virtue , and the results of abundant capital duly distributed ; and all of them disposed and expended with wisdom , genius taste , and moderation. Their proper existence stands upon the eternal laws of our nature : it is their abuse only , which is reprehensible. Beattie might therefore have sent Edwin to strike his Harp to Conquerors and Beauties without exposing to a taint the purity or the sublimity of his poetical occupations. The mind richly- stored , copious in the materials of fancy, and vigorously exercised in the faculties of a creative beattie's minstrel. 75 imagination , may retire to the depth of woods , that it may have leisure and quiet to digest and new -build what it has gathered. But his formations can be of little worth , whose experience has not been gained in the schools of life , and whose creations are not deeply tinctured with the diver- sified colours of humanity. The morbidness of Genius may fly with disgust from social man , when fallen from the high purposes of his station : but he flies from man as he is , to contemplate by the com- parison man as he might be. He, who has always been — « Out of humanity's reach ; » who has never known the delight of the innumerable moral ties , which link us to material existence , wants the foundation of all that makes intellectual invention interesting. The cloud- capt mountain , the smiling valley , the umbrageous grove , the waving wood, and the blue glittering ocean, are nothing , but as they are connected with the haunts, and the feelings of Man (i). The great beauties of Beattie's poem are the clearness, the elegance , eloquence , and energy of the language ; the har- mony of the versification ; the glow of imagery ; and the purity , gentleness , and sweetness of sentiment. These are high merits ; but still they are not all the merits which the best poetry requires. Beattie wants the magician's wand j that power of vivid creation , which transports , bewitches , and overcomes the reason like a brilliant dream. Every where the hand of the artist is seen; of the philosopher, the critic, the experienced author : but more especially, of the Meta- physical Lecti r-?r and Controversiaslist , whose manner of (i) Gampbellhas given a very beautiful apology for Edwin's « isolated and myslic abstraction from mankind)) : but to me it is not salisfactory. See Campbell's British Poets, VII. 43. 76 THE Al?fTI- CRITIC instruction and reflection are not at all suited to Edwin's situation and cliaracter. Since the above was sent to the Press , I have met with the following passage in the Number just published of the Edinburgh Review , which seems to me to coincide entirely with the opinions I have written. « The moral improvement to be derived from all narra^ live , whether it be historical , or what is called fictitious , is in proportion to the degree in which it exercises and thereby strengthens the social feelings and moral princi- ples of the reader. In both cases it excites emotions similar to those inspired by the men and actions which surround us in the world. Our habits of moral feeling are formed by life ; — and they are strengthened by the pictures of life. In the perusal of History or Fiction , as in actual ex- perience , we become better by learning to sympathise w'>th misfortune , and to feel indignation against baseness. The narrative of events which have occurred^ or which probably may occur , is thus one of the most important parts of the moral education of majihind. It is not however by the common-place and trivial moralities , which may be inferred from, or illustrated by every narrative, that the historian contributes to the morcdily of his reader. These general conclusions are already known to every child ; and nothing has less effect on the character, or feelings , than the repe^ lition of such paltry adages. He can improve his readers only by interesting them ; and he can interest them only by that animated j^epresentation of men and actions which inspires feelings almost as strong as those which are exci- ted by present realities. Delight and improvement must therefore be produced by the very same means ; and if the history of former ages be delightful only when it has the picturesque particularity of origivial writers , it must depend COWPER NO INVENTOR. 77 dlso in part on the study of the same writers for the attain- ment of its highest purposes (i) ». ■ — XIX, COWPER NO INVENTOR, I have already said something of Cowper. I am drawn back to him by the remarks arising out of the character ^scribed to Seattle's Minstrel. Campbell observes of Cowper , that « as an original writer, he left the ambitious and luxu- riant subjects of Fiction and Passion , for those of real life and simple nature , and for the developement of his own earnest feelings , in behalf of moral and religious truth » — « He fojms a striking instance of Genius writing the history of its own secluded feelings , j^eflections ^ and enjoyments , in a shape so interesting as to engage the imagination like a work of fiction. He has invented no character in fable , nor in the drama ; but he has left a record of his own character , which forms not only an object of deep sympa-- thy, but a subject for the study of human nature ->■>. Admitting this appropriate description of Cowper's poetiy to be just : — ( and no one will probably be found to controvert it ) ; we must reverse all the acknowleged tests of superiority in Genius , if we place him in a very high class. His life was innocent , virtuous ; intellectual ; and affords an admirable example of sentiment, reflection, and occupation , to the numbers of mankind whom their fate (i) Edinb. Rev. July 1821. N-o LXX, p- 493, in the Article on $ismondVs History of France. 78 THE ANTI-CRITIC throws into rural retirement supported by an humble com- petence. The distinction between such a delineation of do- mestic life , and a display of the grand scenes of history , or the magnificent forms of Imagination, is universally unders- tood and undisputed in Painting. No one would put a Jansen , a Mireveldt , or even a Teniers , a Breughel , a Ruysdale , against a Raffaele , a Corregio , a Guido , or a Salvator Rosa. To copy Nature with exactness , even though the objects should be both diversified and selected for their beauty , is not the great effort of Genius. Fancy may be conceded to Cowper ; — fancy easy, clear gentle , elegant ; yet seldom vigorous ; — but , ( if imagi-^ nation implies invention), few poets have shewn less ima- gination. There is , however , a passage in his Tasky which always strikes me to have been the momentary flash of a fine ima- gination If « Tis morning ; and the Sun , with ruddy orb Ascending, fires th' horizon; while the clouds, That crowd away before the dri^dng wind, More ardent as the disk emerges more , Resemble most some city in a blaze , Seen through a leafless wood ». — Perhaps it had been happier for Cowper , if he had in- dulged his imagination more ! If he had wandered farther from Self; and forgot the sad realities which often oppressed him , amid the visions of a creative mind ! — How striking must this appear , if we compare him with Tasso , shut in his dismal vault at Ferrara ! What gleam of consolation could Tasso receive but by the light of his undimmed and magical imagination ? How the heart of a reader sinks even at the distance of more than two cen- COWPER NOR INVENTOR. 79 turies at these words in a Letter of Goselini to Aldus, dated Oct. 1 582 : « / have seen poor Tasso in a most miserable state , not in intellect , in which he appeared from a long conversation with him sound and entire ; but from nakedness and hunger , which he suffers in his captivity (i) ». Of all the literary anecdotes, which I can recollect, this is the most soul -rending. It excites the most unqualified indignation J the most — « Grim-visaged , comfortless despair ! » Yet even here Imagination could supply a balm , and alle- viate such unspeakable sufferings ! If ever a deity inhabited a mere mortal frame , it must have been the spirit of a deity in Tasso , wljich such usage , ( the crime that can never be washed out from the House of Ferrara ) , could not ex- tinguish ! I have seen (2) and entered that dark , damp , narrow , bare-walled , maddening vault ; and never , while the memory of any human misery remains with me , shall I forget it ! Cowper possessed no part of Tasso's magnanimity of soul. He had the feebleness , as he had the simplicity , of infancy. The great tasks of human affairs are not performed by such qualities. The perilous ambition of sublime duties is stimu- lated by more daring and inventive genius. But I recollect that there are duties for all : — « God doth not need Either man's work , or his own gifts ; who best Bear his mild yoke , they serve him best ; his state Is kingly ; thousands at his bidding speed , (i) See Res Literarice , II, 142. (2) On Thursday April 19, 1821 , in a Journey from Rome t«> Venice. 80 i^HE AlVTI-CRITIC And post o'er land and ocean without rest : " Tliey also serve , who only stand and wait (i). XX. ON MORAL AND DOMESTIC POETRY. Having in the last articles advocated the more energetic ^ more sublime, and more fiery trails of poetry , I am willing to admit what has been most ingeniously and most eloquently said on the mild , moral , and practical productions of the Muse ; on that , which « icomes home to every man's business and bosom », I extract with pleasure therefore the following extraordi-^ narily beautiful passages from the Edinburgh, Review^ March 1819 , W.*^ LXII , p. 325. CRITIQUE ON ROGEHS'S POEBI OF HUMAN LIFE. « The Life, which this poem endeavours to set before us, is not Life diversified with strange adventures, embodied in ex- traordinary character , or agitated with turbulent passions ; but the ordinary, practical, and amiable life of social, in- telligent , and affectionate men ; such, ia short , as multi- tudes may be seen living every day in this country ». — • fc The poet looks on Man , and teaches us to look on lilm, not merery v ih love but with reverence; and mingling a sort of considerate pity for the shortness of Ids busy, (1) Killoa's Soiiuet On. his Blindness. ON MORAL AND DOMESTIC POETRY. 8 1 little career, and for the disappointments and weaknesses , by which it is beset , with a genuine admiration of the great capacities he unfolds , and the high destinies to which he seems to be reserved , works out very beautiful and enga- ging pictures both of the affections by which life Is endeared , the trials to which it is exposed, and peaceful enjoyments with which it may often be filled. «This, after all, we believe, is the tone of true wisdom and true virtue — and that to which all good natures draw nearer , as they approach to the close of life , and come to act less , and know and meditate more, on the varying and crowded scenes of human existence. — > When the inordinate hopes of. early youth, which provoke their own disappointment , have been sobered down by longer experience and more extended views ; when the keen con- tentions and eager rivalries , which employed our riper age , have expired or been abandoned , — when we have seen year after year the objects of our fiercest hostility or of our fondest affections , lie down together in the hallowed peace of the grave — when ordinary pleasures and amusemenis begin to be insipid ; and the gay derision which seasoned them to appear fiat and importunate — when we reflect how often we have mourned and been, comforted — what opposite opinions we have successively- maintained and abandoned — to what inconsistent habits we have gradually been formed — and how often the ob- jects of our pride have proved the sources of our shame; we are naturally led to recur to the careless days of our childhood; and to retrace the whole of our career and that of our cotemporaries , wilh feelings of far greater humility and indulgence, than those b whicli it had been accompanied : to think all vain bat affection and honour ; the simplest and cheapest pleasures the truest and most precious ; — and generosity of senaiiient the only mental 82 THE ANTI-CRITIC superiority , which ought either to be wished for , or admired ». — « No work ever sinks so deep into amiable minds , or recurs so often to their remembrance , as those which embody simple and solemn and reconciling truths in em- phatic and elegant language , — and anticipate, as it were , and bring out with effect those salutary lessons which it seems to be the great end of our life to inculcate. — The pictures of violent passion and terrible emotion ; the brea- thing characters , the splendid imagery and bewitching fancy of Shakespeare himself are less frequently recalled, than those great moral aphorisms in which he has so often « Told us the fashion of our own estate ; The secrets of our bosoms ». — and in spite of all that may be said by grave persons of the frivolousness of poetry, and of its admirers, we are persuaded that the most memorable and the most generally admired of all its productions, are those which are chiefly recommended by their practical wisdom , and their coinci- dence with those salutary intimations , with which nature herself seems to furnish us from the passing scenes of our existence ». « In this poem we have none of the broad and blazing tints of Scott — nor the startling contrasts of Byron — nor the anxious and endlessly repeated touches of Southey — but something which comes much nearer to the soft and tender manner of Campbell , with still more reserve and caution perhaps , and more frequent sacrifices of strong and popular effect , to an abhorrence of glaring beauties , and adisdain of vulgar resources ». CRITICAL SEVERITY, 83 XXI. exaggeratio]n:s of critical censure. The sam« Number of the Review last cited contains the following important confession and apology of the severities of that Journal. It is contained in a Critique On Campbell's Poets. ( See p. [\^i ). « fVe are most willing to achnowlege that the defence of Burns against some of the severities of this Journal is subs- tantially successful , etc^ » On looking hack on what we have said on these sub- jects^ we are sensible that we have expressed ourselves with too much bitterness , and made the words of our censure far more comprehensive than our meaning. A certain tone of exaggeration is incident, we fear, to the sort of writing in which we are engaged. Reckoning a little too much on the dulness of our readers , we are too often led insensibly to overstate our sentiments in order to make them understood ; and when a little controversial warmth is added to a little love of effect y an excess of colouring is apt to steal over the canvas , which ultimately offends no eye so much as our own ». 84 THE AlVTI-CRITIC XXII. BUSY AND INTRIGUING AUTHORS. Petrarch has the following passage in his Senilia, Lib. V, Epist. III. « Sunt homines non magni ingenii , magnas vero memo- ri« , magnasque dlligentia? , sed majoris audacige : regnm ac potenl'im aulas frequentant, de proprio nudi, vesfiti autem carminibus alienis ; dumque qnid ab hoe ant ab illo exqui- sitiiis in materno pr^psertim carartpre dictrm si»^ , inerenti expressione pronunciant , gratiam sibi nobilium ac pecunias quaerunt, el vestes, et munera », This passage may be in some degree applied to the cha- racter of David Mallet (i), of whom Johnson says, that « His works are such , as a writer bustling in the world , shewing himself in public, and emerging occasionally, from time to time , into notice, might keep alive by his personal influence ; but which , conveying little information , and giving no ' great pleasure, must soon give way, as the succession of things produces new topics of conversation , and other modes of amusement ». — (?) He died in April, lySS. GENIUS OF BURNS. 85 XXIIL GENIUS OF BURNS. There is a genuine charm both about the personal cha- racter and about the poetry of Burns , which eludes ana- lysis. I sometimes fancy it to be sincerity : the result of an enthusiasm which was never affected; and of a force which was never artificial. But sincerity would be but little, unless it should be a sincerity in what is noble , or beautiful , or amiable. This was the case with Burns. He was open to momentary seductions ; he could feel unkind passions , or little ones ; and when they came , he had not the hypo- crisy to conceal them , if he had not the due self-controul to suppress them. He might therefore raise fear or dislike , when men more deserving it , escaped it. The same freedom that shewed his ill-humours , made him more bold in the display of those which were good ; and secured a better reception for them. Every thing in the mind of Burns was disposed , or arranged, poetically. The imagination of the poet is exer- cised In rejection , as well as in addition ; in dismissing all but leading circumstances ; and in giving effect to the fea- tures of what it represents by new positions. Many of this Poet's Songs are written in his own cha- racter ; but often under imaginary incidents : when he writes in the character of another , he identifies himself with it; and represents it only under the influence of an imaginative mood. It is this habitual presence of Genius that renders the 86 THE ANTI-CRITIC narration of all the little events of his life so attractive. At the plough, at the feast, or strolling on the banks of « the winding Ayr » , he is still the same magical Being ; the Bard whose glowing mind no familiar occupation , no practical employ- ment, can clond. But of all that the fire of this unqualified , inextinguishable genius produced, (perhaps of all the short pieces of imagi- nation in the English language ) , — the most brilliant , the most electrifying , the most inimitable , is the Tale of Tarn o' Shanter (i). Tam is returning from the market of Ayr of a dark night. His wife had warned him , before he set out , not to be late , with the reproach , « That frae November till October , Ac market-day he was nae sober ». « She prophesy'd , that late or soon , He would be found deep drown'd in Doon ; Or cat ch'd wi' warlocks in the mirk , By Alio way's auld haunted kirk ». « The night drave on wi' sangs an' clatter : And ay the ale was growing better : The storm without might rair and rustle ; Tam did na mind the storm a whistle «, The hour approaches Tam maun ride ; That hour, o' night's black arch the key-stane , (i) He had originally written this very beautifully in prose in a Letter to Grose, the Antic[uary. See Censura Literaria. GENIUS OF BURNS. 87 That dreary hour he mounts his beast-^in ^ And sic a night he taks the road in , As ne'er poor sinner was abroad in. The wind blew as twad blawn its last, The rattlin show'rs rose on the blast : The speedy gleams the darkness swallow'd ; Loud , deep , and lang , the thunder bellow'd , That night , a child might understand , The deii had business on his hand. « Before him Doon pours all his floods; The doubling storm roars through the woods! The lightnings flash from pole to pole; Wear and more near the thunders roll ; When , glimmering thro' the groaning trees , Kisk-Alloway seem'd in a bleeze; Thro' ilka bore the beams were glancing , And loud resounded mirth and dancing ». — Now Maggie, the mare on which he rode j — Ventur'd forward on the light; And vow ! Tarn saw an unco sight! Warlocks and witches in a dance », c< There sat auld Nick , in shape o' beast ; A towsie tyke , black, grim, and large ^ To gie them music was his charge ». — Tarn stood , like ane bewitch'd , And thought his very een enrich'd ; 88 THE ANTI-CRITIC Even Satan glowr'd , and fidg'ed fu fain ^ And hotch'd and blew wi might and main Till first ae caper , syne anither , Tam tint his reason a thegither , And roars out « weel done , cutty-sark ! » And in an instant all was dark : And scarcely had he Maggie rallied , When out the hellish legion sallied «. a Now do thy speedy utmost , Meg _, And win the key-stane of the brig ; There at them thou thy tail may toss ; A running stream they dare na cross. But ere the key-stane she could make , The fient a tail she had to shake ! « There is no other poem of Burns so characteristic of his powers , his habits , and his manners , as this : of his love of conviviality ; his bold , daring spirit ; his fondness for the sublime features of nature ; his delight in popular supers- titions ; his wild and fiery imagination ; the vigour of his conceptions ; and the inspired coRdensalion of his language. Poetry is here in its true vocation , in embodying those visions of the mind , which vanish like the brilliant shapes and colours that the clouds often momentarily assume. — After all , there are few true pleasures in life j but those which result from imagination. Reality almost always ends in disappointment. Whether it arises from faculties diluted and misled by tuition and examjile , or from the sparing degree in which Nature bestows the quantity of her endowments, the gene- rality of candidates for poetical fame waver between the JOSEPH WARTON* 89 attempt to describe realities , and the attempt to describe the visionary associations of things. The presence of the true image was too decided before the mind of Burns , to leave him in any doubt what choice he had to make ; and what task he had to perform. Books of criticism , and the rules of writing , may help forward mediocrity into the attainment of some technical merits; but they often enfeeble or encumber original genius; and sometimes destroy it. Fear of touching topics or images, not already legitimated by example , produces triteness and servility. A timid author is thus driven to describe , not what his own experience has impressed strongly upon him ; but what he has borrowed faintly from others. While therefore the subjects of poetry are inexhaustible, authors continue for the most part to traverse the same dull round ; or if they quit it , quit it with rashness , and pursue the bye-ways of extravagance and delusion , instead of the genuine paths of beauty and sublimity which are open to them. XXIV. D' JOSEPH WARTON. Of D.^ Joseph Warton (i) I am inclined to speak with tespect ; and even with affection , if that word may be applied to one whom I never saw. He was a scholar of extraordinary tasle and elegance; but I cannot refrain from (i) Ob. 1800, aged 78. 90 THE ANTI-CRITIC pronouncing that he has left behind him no proofs of much poetical genius. I remember that, when I was young, his Ode to Fancy was always exhibited to me as a specimen of a genuine poelical spirit. On turning to it , after a lapse of years , with an unprejudiced eye , I am quite astonished at its triteness : it is a mere effort of memory directed by taste; the production of one putting forth his familiarity with every image and every form of expression of Milton's V Allegro and II Penseroso. It not only wants sentiment and thought , but it has not a single original image. There is indeed a passage , which has often been pointed out as fine : but I doubt if this be not the most objectionable passage in the Ode, because it wants even taste! « Let us with silent footsteps go To charnels and the house of woe «. « Or to some abbey's mouldering towers, Where, to avoid cold wintry showers, The naked Beggar shivering lies , While \Ahistling tempests round her rise; And trembles lest the tottering wall Should on her sleeping infant fall ». This image appears to me revolting, because it contains no redeeming pleasure , to counteract the cold anguish which the contemplation of it gives. Campbell (i) agrees in this opinion of D.^ Warton's want of originality « Collins, » he says, « realised with the hand of genius that idea of highly - personified and pictui-esque composition , whidi JVarton contemplated with the eye of taste ». (i) Brit. Poets, VII, 3 19. JOSEPH WARTON. 91 How it happens thai there are so many minds powerful in the faculty to repeat , but like Echo , without original existence , it would take a long and perhaps a tiresome space to discuss. These men make excellent scholars ; — perhaps better than those who think for themselves , because they receive the ideas of others uninterrupted by their own. But the value of their productions is always of a secon- dary kind. They supply no novelty either in the fields of Imagination , or of Intellect. They want force and freshness; and often therefore rather contribute to make a subject dull and repulsive , than add to its attraction. Cowper says of Pope , that « He ( his musical finesse was such, So nice his ear , so delicate his touch ) , Made poetry a mere mechanic art ; And every warbler has his tune by heart (i) », This is so in all ages; the object of momentary fashion is imitated , till the imitation brings even the original itself into contempt. It must not be understood that D.'^ Warton had no fancy : he had a fancy ; but it was an imitative fancy (i) , that moved only at the direction of others. I know not that he has shewn any gleams of Imagination, But let it be recollected that even Imitative Fancy is a po^iv^r of a yery superior class to Memory I (i) Tahle-Talk. (2) I apply the v/ords Fancy and Imagination in the way which modern usage has sanctioned , without enquiring into its etymologic J propriety. \ dissuvcie Fancy to be the reflector of images previously exis- ting: and Imagination , to be the power of new combinations. g2 THE ANTI- CRITIC XXV. THOMAS WARTON. It has been said of Thomas Warton (i) , ( the brother of Joseph ), that « all his poems are cast in the mould of some gifted predecessor ». This appears to me a most unjust censure. It is hypercriticism to deny him such a portion of originality and imagination , as constitutes great genius. The judgement of Campbell , it must be admitted , tends to this more unfavourable character. « His imitation of manner, h says the critic, « is not confijied to Milton. His style often exhibits a very composite order of poetical ar- chitecture ». — « From a large proportion of his works an unprejudied reader would pronounce him a florid unaffecting descriher , whose images are plentifully scattered , hut without selection or relief •>'>, This is very severe. I cannot in my most fastidious mo- ments perceive that it has even the appearance of truth. I exclude from the examination the Laureate Odes, which were written as tasks. Campbell himself commends the Hamlet ; the Crusade ; the Grave of King Arthur ; and the Verses to Sir Joshua Reynolds. This is pretty well , out of the few poems the author wrote ; — and he might be content to rest his fame on them. It is the part of candour to judge of a writer by his best works ; and not by his worst. (i) Ob. 1790 , aet. 6a, THOMAS WARTON. 93 But the Critic forgets , or overlooks , the Suicide ; the First of April ; the Inscription for an Hermitage ; and the Sonnets. There may be some affected diction in the Suicide , especially at the beginning ; but the whole is the concep- tion of a vigorous and poetical mind ; and the language in many parts is well -suited to the description and the sentiment. The following stanza always delighted me ; Full oft , unknowing and unknown , He wore his endless noons alone, Amid th' autumnal wood : Oft was he wont in hasty fit Abrupt the social board to quit, And gaze with eager glance upon the tumbling flood. If it had been said that the author had more fancy than passion , and more imagery than sentiment , this remark could not have been controverted. He is commonly more beautiful than grand : but if he is magnificent , it is the magnificence of description ; not of emotion. This only proves that his excellence did not embrace all the varie- ties of genius. It is not common to be at once descrip- tive and sentimental ; although the union increases the charm. His fancy seems to have been drawn from original sources , and not suggested by books , though it may have been somewhat coloured by them ; and his combi- nations are his own , though perhaps a little influenced in their form by artificial models. Campbell speaks of his « minute intimacy of imagination with the gorgeous resi- dences and imposing spectacles of chivalry «. This is pro- perly expressed ; but it proves , not want of originality , but a due mixture of the materials , of which , on such a subject , poetical creation ought to consist ; a due and cha- racteristic mode of arranging them into ideal structures. gA THE ANTI-CRITIC That Ills fancy and imagination had something of tech- nical about them , arose from the subjects to which he chose to apply them. The feudal times were full of pecu- liarities , the effects of accident , not the results of our general nature : it demanded long study y and industry , to become familiar with them : and this may have given a form of art and toil to all Warton's compositions, which superficial and indiscriminate critics mistake for want of originality. Genius is generally impetuous ; and disdainful of ceremonies and minutiae : but all genius is not of one stamp. If the production has the charm of genius , it matters not whether the time taken in producing it was much or little. But then it may be urged that this poet dealt in arti- ficial ingredients ; and that when the materials are bad , the structure cannot be good. But what is the narrowness of principle , which confines the representations of poetry to the works of Nature unimproved by Man ? Or that allows no merit to the association , even when the mate- rials are not interesting and dignified in themselves ? The truth is , that much of Warton's poems requires the reader to come prepared with far more historical and literary information than the generality of those who delight in poetry possess ; and they therefore ascribe their . own deficiency of cultivation to his supposed want of genius. It seems to be a strange assumption , that because an author has learning , he cannot copy forms from nature. Johnson has imputed this to Milton ; and , in my opinion , with glaring injustice. Milton's « images and descriptions of the sceJies or operations of nature , » says the great but prejudiced Biographer, phical. Are they not apt to introduce philosophy a little too much into matters of taste; and to reason where they ought to feel ? This celebrated History has a character of criticism very distinct from the Essay on the genius and Writings of Pope by his brother Joseph ; which is cursory, light, lively, full of quick taste and simple sensibility, and wanders, with all the airiness of a winged Muse, over the whole expanse of Polite Letters ancient and modern , while the graver Pro- fessor dives into researches more profound, and writes in a style more studied and with deeper reflection , what it requires an erudition of far more laborious acquirement, and of much greater maturity of intellectual attention, to relish. XXVI. RARITY OF GOOD POETS. If any one wishes to ascertain by the test of experience the rarity of such poetical genius , as has combined all the powers and a!l the circumstances , which have produ- ced good fruit , he need only turn to any large Collection of the best national poetry. Of 82 authors , of whom specimens are given in the 5.*^ and ^S^ volumes of Campbell's British Poets , not more RARITY OF GOOD POETS. 97 than 11 can make any adequate pretensions to the dignified name of Poet : and of these last , the pretensions of some are but sHght- Among these was Charles Churchill : and I confess it is with reluctance that I admit a Satirist among Poets , in right of this class of productions. His best eulogy has been pronounced by one , of whose own temper and disposition the extraordinary mildness adds great force to such unexpected praise. Cowper, in his Table-Talk has the following lines : « Contemporaries all surpass'd , see one ; Short his career indeed but ably run ; Churchill, himself unconscious of his powers, In penury consumed his idle hours ; And , like a scattered seed at random sown , Was left to spring by vigour of his own. Lifted at length, by dignity of thought. And dint of genius, to an affluent lot, He laid his head in Luxury's soft lap , And took , too often , there his easy nap. If brighter beams than all he threw not forth , *Twas negligence in him , not want of worth. Surly, and slovenly, and bold, and coarse, Too proud for art, and trusting in mere force ; Spendthrift alike of money and of wit , Always at speed , and never drawing bit , He struck the lyre in such a careless mood, And so disdain'd the rules he understood , The laurel seem'd to wait on his command : He snatch'd it rudely from the Muses' hand ». I believe that Cowper was personally acquainted with Churchill (i). At least he was famihar with Robert Lloyd , (i) Churchill died 1764., a^t. 33. i3 98 THE AHTI-CRITie Churchill's mosl intimate friend. When we consider Cowper's morbidly timid, and gentle character, this seems very strange. There may be genius in the force and distinctness witli which characters are conceived and delineated : but if it be bitter and revolting , it does not often find sympathy among the nobler classes of imagination , who delight in the grandeur of virtue , rather than of wickedness. But whatever may have been the moral character of Churchill, and however ill -directed the virulence of his Satires , he possessed a very uncommon vigour of mind ; a fervor , that cannot be denied to have been genius. It was far ortherwise with many , whose names have found their way into these rolls of Helicon. Here we see MM. Oldmion , Weekes , Bramston , L. Welsted , Amhurst Selden, Colley Gibber, R. Dodsley , E. Ward, B. Booth, John Brown ; MM. Whyte , and Dwight , Henry Carey with his Sally in our Alley , and G. A. Stevens with his Lecture on Heads. But there are better names than these , which we could almost spare. There are authors , who often approach to the very verge of good poetry ; and then grasping out their arms , embrace a vapour , and false inspiration. Of this character I deem Thomas Peiirose (i) : nor can I hesitate to pronounce the same condemnation on John Langhorne (2), Yet it is singular that Langhorne has produced a passage of singular beauty and force , to v/hich fe-,v in the whole body of English Poetry can be compared. It is from his Poem of The Country Justice , where the benevolent author pleads to the Magistrate for candour and mercy towards those, whom pressing want and the powerful call of famine lead into crime. (1) Ob. 1779 , Oct. 36. (2) Ob. J 779, set. 44. RARITY OF GOOD POETS. 99 « For him , who , lost to every hope of life , Has long with fortune held unequal strife , Known to no human love , no human care , The friendless , homeless object of despair : For the poor vagrant feel, while he complains, Nor from sad freedom send to sadder chains. Alike , if folly or misfortune brought Those last of woes his evil days have wrought ; Relieve with social mercy , and with me , Folly's misfortune in the first degree. Perhaps on some inhospitable shore The houseless wretch a widow'd parent bore ; Who then , no more by golden prospects led , Of the poor Indian begg'd a leafy bed. Cold on Canadian hills , or Minden's plain , Perhaps that parent mourn'd her soldier slain; Bent o'er her babe , her eye dissolved in dew , The big drops mingling with the milk he drew , Gave the sad presage of his future years , The child of Misery , baptized in tears ! » — I cannot account for the momentary inspiration , by which one , who is in general an affected , frothy , and sickly writer, could produce such lines (i). [i] If Campbell is sometimes not very nice as to those , whom he admits, he sometimes overlooks with not a little injustice. He has given no place to DT Snejd DaAes , a genuine poet and amiable man , for whom see JSichosfs Literary Anecdotes , nor to M.»"« Eliza- beth Carter \ whose merit cannot he questioned ; nor to the tender and elegaiat Charlotte Smithy nor to Anna Seward; Robert Jephson ; James Hurdis; Russell; Thomas Warwick; Jenner; Walters: D.'* Delap; James Scott; D.'^ Ogilvie; Soaine Jenyns; O. Cambridge; W. B. Stevens; R. Hole; etc., etc. 100 THE ANTI-CRITIC XXVII. SHEjSTSTONE (i), Every thing has two views ; a right and a wrong side ? what Johnson says of Shenstone may be appropriate ; -^ but it regards always the ill-temper'd side. The Biographer's memoir of this poet is a specimen of the degrading manner , which he assumed in his latter writings. He was of the same College with Shenstone , and scarcely more than four years his senior in age : perhaps he had left Oxford, before the other's arrival. It is true that there is a feeble and unmanly tenuity in most of Shenstone's pieces , which fails to make a due im- pression on the fancy , or to exercise the understanding. « Had his mind been better stored with hnowlege , » says Johnson, « whether he could have been great , I know not ; he could certainly have been agreeable ». This is one of those sentences of caustic and half-colloquial contempt towards his cotemporaries , in which the Critic delights to deal. But is it not somewhat beyond the line of due seve- rity to imply that the author of the Elegy on Jessy, of the Pastoral Ballad ; and of the School-mistress , had not even reached the point of being « agreeable ? » Yet he praises the Ode on Rural Elegance for its meaning and poetical spirit , ( a praise which it scarcely deserves ) ; and cites two passages from the Ballad , « to which » he says , « if any mind denies its sympathy , it has no acquaintance with (i) Wm Shenstone died reh, ii. 1762, aged 48. SHENSTONE. 101 love or nature ». And lecommends the School-mistress for a sort of merit , which seems to m^e of a very paltry kind. I do not think that Campbell is more happy or more just in his encomiums than in his censures of this poet. He observes that « his genius is not forcible , but it settles in mediocrity without meanness » and that n-some of the Stanzas of his Ode to Rural Elegance seem to T^ecall to us the country- loving spirit of Cowley subdued in wit, but harmonized in ex- pression ». Now Campbell well knows the condemnation which mediocrity in poetry universally incurs : and as to the simi- larity of the Ode to the spirit and sentiments of Cowley, few things on the same subject can be more unlike. The dissimilarity is a strong illustration of what Johnson with his piercing sagacity remarks of Shenstone's taste applied to rural ornament : « The pleasure of Shenstone was all in his eye; he valued what he valued merely for its loo/,s », Almost all the sentiments of the Ode thus compared to Cowley are in conformity to this. The sources of Cowley's delight in a country-life are much deeper and more varied : nor are the sentiments , which are conveyed , merely sub- dued in wit ; they are copiously and even effeminately dilated in expression ; and so far from being improved in harmony , that a varied and vigorous harmony is ( with very few exceptions ), the characteristic of that portion of Cowley's poetry. It is upon the Elegy on Jessy that Shenstone must depend for the perpetuity of his fame. It is a model of elegance , purity, and harmony of sentiment , imagery, and language. But even this wants force : it has a feminine sort of gen- tleness. He had also a female vanity : he adorned his grounds at the Leasowes , that he might have the praise of others for what he had done ; — not that he might enjoy them himself. 102 THE ATfTI- CRITIC Whether he would have done better In studying men and manners than in augmenting the beauties of inanimate Na^ ture , may be doubted. It is not a slight good , which he performs , who strengthens the allurements to solitude. XXVIII. GOLDSMITH (i). Perhaps there is not a Poet , of whom I entertain so decided a difference of opinion from Campbell , as of Goldsmith. That this author should be popular among common readers , is not surprizing. And if the position were true , which Lord Byron has ventured a little too hastily , that « the poet Is always ranhed according to his execution , and not according to his branch of the art (2) ; the Critic would have a better foundation for the praises which he thus lavishes , than according to the just prin- ciples of classification he can lay claim to. In execution , Goldsmith has the merit of propriety of thought ; fidelity of description ; and clearness , facility , and finish of diction. But these are not the highest charms of Poetry. We want something more than propriety of thought, and fidelity of description ! We want fire , grandeur , pathos , selection , novelty , invention ! The Deserted Village is a very languid and sickly per- formance. It has a monotonous querulousness , which lowers [i] Ob. .774, aet 47. [2] Letler on Bowles's Strictures. GOLDSMITH- l03 the spirits , and leaves an impression of insipidity on the whole scenery. It is when things are magnified and new- shaped by the mists of Imagination , that they possess the attractions given by the Poet's wand To paint scenery and manners with the exactness of a Dutch Painter , requires scarcely any other faculties than a clear perception and a lively memory. Goldsmith brings foward many of those petty particularities , over which Genius and Taste throw a veil. It is in vain that the critic pleads that the « quiet en-, thusiasm » of his favourite « leads the affections to humble things without a vulgar association; » and that « ^e inspires us with a fondness to trace the simplest recollections of Auburn , till we count the furniture of its ale - house , and listen to « The varnish'd clock , that click'd behind the door ». The vulgar association is so strong , that if all before had been beautiful and magical , it would at once have dissolved the charm. « The chest contrived a double debt to pay^ A bed by night , a chest of drawers by day 5 The pictures placed for ornament and use ; The twelve good rules , the royal game of goose ; The hearth, except when winter chilFd the day. With aspen boughs , and flowers and fennel gay; While broken tea-cups , wisely kept for show, Ranged o'er the chimney, glisten'd in a row ». How can such images as these be admitted into the visions of the mind without placing us in the rnidst of all the homeliness and chill of pover!;y ? What are the circumstances of a peasant's life , which Gray siezes upon ? 104 THE A]>fTI-CRITIC « The breezy call of incense-breathing Morn ; The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed ; The cocli's shrill clarion, and the echoing horn^ No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed ! For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn ; Nor busy huswife ply her evening care : No children run to lisp their sire's return ; Nor climb his knees the envied kiss to share «. This is not less simple and pure than the language of Goldsmith ; yet how exquisitely picturesque and poetical ! Gray thus proves that poetical imagery of the most genuine spirit is consistent with the simplest and purest language. There is not therefore much merit due to him ^ v,ho pur- chases a clear diction at the expence of mean ideas ! That Goldsmith ",vas a man of very extraordinary talents; a man of clear , ready , cultivated and multifarious reflec- tion ; a moral philosopher ; a philologer , and an elegant historian , ivill be generally admitted ; but that either the furniture of his mind, or his taste, was eminently poetical, may reasonably be questioned. He was for the most part rather an harmonious versifier , than a poet. Indeed he scarcely ever rises above this character in his Deserted Village. His Travellei., which Campbell deems inferior to it , is not only far more vigorous and varied in diction and rhythm , lhro?3ghout the whole composition, but is infinitely more poetical both in imagery and sentiment. It has scarce any of the languid draul of the other ; but is often vigorously condensed ; and excites admiration by a force of axiomatic wisdom w hich displays the brilliant grasp of genius. Such^, for instance is his sketch of Italy. n Far to the right w here Appenine ascends , Eriglit as tlie summer Italy extends ; feOLDSMlTHi 105 itk uplands sloping deck llie mountain's side , Woods over ^\oods in gay theatric perid; While oft some temple's mould'ring tops between With venerable grandeur marks the scene. Could Nature's bounty satisfy the breast , *rhe sons of Italy were surely blest. Whatever fruits iii different climes were found ^ That proudly rise , or humbly court the ground j Whatever blooms in torrid tracts appear , Whose bright succession decks the varied year 5 Whatever sn eets salute the northern sky With vernal lives , that blossom but to die ; These here disporting own the kindred soil , Nor ask luxuriance from the planter's toil ; While sea-born gales their gelid wings expand To winnow fragrance round the smiling land. But small the bliss that sense alone bestows; And sensual bliss is all the nation knows. In florid beauty groves and fields appear ; Man seems the only growth that dwindles here », These lines possess a merit far above mediocrity ; but they will not stand a severe criticism : they are more re- markable for propriety than for excellence : the epithets are general rather than picturesque; and the sentiments, if just, have not much either of novelty or of force ; all the sen- tences are so balanced; and there is such a tiresome unifor-^ mity in the verses , that the magic is destroyed by the pal- pable marks of the artist's hand. There is also in the mattef too much of cold calculating philosophy ; and too little of poetical lire.; The description of Switzerland is more vigdrous i « My soul , turn from them ; turn we to survey Where rougher climes a nobler race display, 14 1G6 THE ANTI-GRITIG Wtere the bleak Swiss tlieir stormy mansion tread , And force a churlish soil for scanty bread ; No product here the barren hills afford , But man and steel , the soldier and his sword : No vernal blooms their torpid rocks array ; But winter lingering chills the lap of May ; No zephyr fondly sues the mountain's breast ; But meteors glare , and stormy glooms invest. Yet still , even here , content can spread a charm , Redress the clime . and all its rage disarm. Though poor the peasant's hut, his feasts though small> He sees his little lot the lot of all ; Sees no contiguous palace raise its head To shame the meanness of his humble shed ; No costly lord the sumptuous banquet deal To make him loath his vegetable meal; But calm, and bred in ignorance and toil, Each wish contracting , fits him to the soil. Cheerful at morn, he wakes from short repose , Breathes the keen air , and carols as he goes ; With patient angle trolls the finny deep , Or drives his vent'rous ploughshare to the steep ; Or seeks the den where snow-tracks mark the way,. And drags the struggling savage into day. At night returning , every labour sped , He sits him down the monarch of a shed ; Smiles by his cheerful fire , and round surveys His children's , looks , that brighten at the blaze ^ While his lov'd partner, boastful of her hoard. Displays her cleanly platter on the board : And haply too some pilgrim , thither led , With many a tale repays the nightly bed. Thus every good his native wilds impart Imprints the patriot passion on his heart ; GOLDSMITH. IG? And e'en those ills , that round his mansion rise, Enhance the bliss his scanty fund supplies. Dear is that shed to which his soul conforms , And dear that hill which lifts him to the storms j And as a child , when scaring sounds molest. Clings close and closer to the mother's breast , So the loud torrent , and the whirlwind's roar , But bind him to his native mountains more ». Now mark, what is the magic and the perfection of Gray*s strains in the same identical line of Poetry. I am not sure that the difference will strike those who are not gifted with a very nice taste. But it seems to me that the superiority of Gray is both various and most essential. It consists in com- pression , force , originality , imagery , diction , profundity of thought , ardour and justness of sentiment ; and diversi- fied harmony of rhythm. At the same time it is equally pers- picuous , polished , and simple. The difference which belonged to the moral habits; the adventitious circumstances of education and station; and to the bodily temperament of these ingenious men , may be traced in the tone and colouring of their productions. The impressions of one were light , superficial , transitory ; ex- cited by , and contented with momentary plausibility ; form- ed to catch popular attention; and directed to the means of at once supplying an income , and gratifying an inordi- nate and almost childish vanity. The impressions of the other were the result of long meditations in the closet ; in a stale of independence ; in the search of truth only ; re- moved from the misleading influences of society ; fastidious of vulgar applause ; doubtful if what he wrote would ever see the light; possessed of a masterly familiarity with what- ever was most perfect in classical models; and intimate 108 THE ANTI-CRITIG with all the rules and all the technicalities by which beau- ties might be improved and faults avoided. These advan- tages were great; but Gray had also others. If not of an high family , he had from a boy been principally familiar with men of the higher ranks. To many this may seem neitlier any recommendation „ nor to give any weight to bis opinions. From long and calm reflections on the tendencies of poetical organizations and the natural propensities in'serent in t'^e characters of mankind , I am firmly persuaded that it has great effect in producing rectitude and elevation of sentiment. He , ■whose subsistence depends on the whim of others , must be subjected to the strongest temptation to forego the freedom of opinion. That, which is called speculative, visio- nary, and empty, by those who are occupied in tiie daily provisions of self-interest, is habitual to the generality of those , of whose early pupillage the lesons have not been disturbed- by the incessant contests of personal preservation and personal interest. What is called a liberal education is not a name of empty words. It teaches a tenor of senti- ment _, of which those condemned by Providence to meaner occupations have no conception. A college-life is liable to torpor : it wants the purification, and the stimulus to activity ,' which the couflicting gusts of society produce : but where the native energies of the mind are incapable of being laid asleep , there the various oppor- tunities given by quiet , exemption from worldly anxieties j the furniture of public libraries , and the collision of learned conversation , contribute to expand the productions of genius into fruit of more maturity and higher flavour , than could otherwise have been raised. The influences of the world are in constant opposition to the higher operations of the mind. All that gratifies the ambition, v^hich is not n^erely visionary ^nd spiritual, must GOLDSMITH. 109 be sought by attentions and cares, that withdraw the in- tellect from the toils and energies , by which the loftiest kind of literary excellence is reached. Goldsmith's improvidence , and his restless and dissipated habits; the place of his residence; the companions with whom he associated , all tended to render that intensity of abstras- tion, by which Genius performs its primary wonders, unattai- nable. A coarse passage of Johnson may be cited to this purpose , which I wish he had not introduced at the place, in which it occurs , ( the life of the magical and inspired Collins ). « A jnan » says the surly biographer , « doubtful » of his dinner f or trembling at a creditor , is not much » disposed to abstracted meditation, or remote inquiries y>. All therefore that has been done by Goldsmith, might be caught upon the surface. He has no curiosa felicitas : nothing of which a common mind cannot see both to the bottom , and all that is intended. Perhaps it is the very simplicity , lightness , and neglect of research , which is his charm : a sort of intuitive talent of siezing what lay the very upper- most of the top; and throwing off every thing superfluous to it. Gray, meanwhile , in the safe and fearless privacy of College apartments , pondered over the profoundest subjects with an undisturbed force of meditation , repeated year after year , till the very intensity hazarded a mistake of the native character of what he comtemplated. But he had no tempta- tions to error from the delusive mists of passion or interest. The world had neither promotions nor distinctions to offer him. He had in his own possession the means of indepen- dence : he sought not the notice of Rank : he had something which approached to contempt of popular fame : his main satisfaction , exclusive of the pleasure of the immediate em- ployment _, probably arose from the proof he afforded to himself of his pwn skill. 110 THE ANTI-CRITIC It is probable that Goldsmith had no settled opinions on any thing. Facility of perception , and clearness of language , were his strength , and his delight. He had a quickness , which dazzled, and won instant applause. He always y says Johnson , seemed to do best that , which he was doing. I may be asked , why this anxious comparison between Goldsmith and Gray, poets of so very dissimilar an order? I answer , because in so many works of criticism of the last thirty years , there has been an attempt to put them , at least incidentally , in rivalry ! — ^ To me the dissimilitude is so essential and so marked , that they appear perfect contrasts ! Since Literature has become so extensively a mercenary profession , it requires little sagacity to perceive how strong an interest authors have to decry the tests of excellence in composition required by Gray. Vendibility- then becomes the measure of value : and it is the business , not to please the enlightned; but the multitude. The Motto to Gray's two Pindaric Odes was sedulously rejected in this school. The reader shall have an opportunity of judging the question between Goldsmith and Gray by a close compa- rison. For this purpose Gray's exquisite Fragment shall be here introduced at length. FRAGMENT ON EDUCATION. By Thomas G?'ay. « As sickly plants betray a niggard earth. Whose barren bosom starves her generous birth , Nor genial warmth , nor genial juice retains Their roots to feed , and fill their verdant veins ; And as in climes, where winter holds his reign , The soil , though fertile , will not teem in vain , Forbids her germs to swell , her shades to rise , Nor trusts her blossoms to the churlish skies : GOLDSMITH. Ill So draw mankind in vain the vital airs , Unform'd , unfriended , by those kindly cares , That health and vigour to the soul impart , Spread the young thought , and warm the opening heart : So fond Instruction on the growing powers Of nature idly lavishes her stores , If equal justice , with unclouded face , Smile not indulgent on the rising race , And scatter with a free , though frugal hand , Light golden showers of plenty o'er the land : But tyranny has fixed her empire there , To check their tender hopes with chilling fear , And blast the blooming promise of the year. This spacious animated scene survey , From where the rolling orb , that gives the day , His sable sons with nearer course surrounds , To either pole , and life's remotest bounds ; How rude so-e'er the exterior form we find , How-e'er opinion tinge the varied mind, Alike to all the kind , impartial heav'n The sparks of truth and happiness has giv'n : With sense to feel , with memory to retain. They follow pleasure , and they fly from pain ; Their judgement mends the plan their fancy draws , Th' event presages , and explores the cause ; The soft returns of gratitude they know, By fraud elude , by force repel the foe , While mutual wishes , mutual woes endear The social smile and sympathetic tear. Say, then, through ages by what fate confin'd To different climes seem different souls assign'd ? Here measured laws and philoso'phic ease Fix , and improve the polish'd arts of pieace. There industry and gain their virgils keep , 112 ' THE ANTI-CRITIC Command the winds, and lame ih' unwilling deep. Here force and hardy deeds of blood prevail ; There languid pleasure sighs in every gale. Oft o'er the trembling nations from afar Has Scythia breath'd the living cloud of war ; And , where the deluge burst , with sweepy sway , Their arms , their kings, their gods were roll'd away. As oft have issued, host impelling host, The blue-eyed myriads from the Baltic coast. The prostrate south to the destroyer yields Her boasted titles , and her golden fields ; With grim delight the brood of winter view A brighter day , Bnd heavens of azure hue , Scent the new fragrance of the breathing rose y And quaff the pendent vintage as it grows. Proud of the yoke, and pliant to the- rod, Why yet does Asia dread a monarch's nod. While European freedom still withstands Th' encroaching tide , that drowns her lessening lands jf And sees far off with an indignant groan Her native plains , and empires once her own. Can opener skies and suns of fiercer flame O'erpower the fire , that animates our frame , As lamps , that shed at eve a cheerful ray, Fade and expire beneath the eye of day ? Need we the influence of the northern star To string our nerves and steel our hearts to war "? And , where the face of nature laughs around , Must sick'ning virtue fly the tainted ground? Unmanly throught ! what seasons can control , What fancied zone can circumscribe the soul , Who , conscious of the source from whence she springs^ By reason's light , on resolution's wings , Spite of her fraU companion , dauntless goes GOLDSMITH. 113 O'er Lyi3ia*s deserts and tliroiigli Zembla's StioWs ? She bids each slumber'ing energy awake , Another touch , another temper take , Suspends th' inferior laws , that rule our clay 5 The stubborn elements confess her sway ; Their little wants , their low desires , refine , And raise the mortal to a height divine. Not but the human fabric from the birth Imbibes a flavour of its parent earth. As various tracts enforce a various toil , The manners speak the idiom of the soil. Au iron-race the mountain cliffs maintain , Foes to the gentler genius of the plain : For where unwearied sinews must be found With side-long plough to quell the flinty ground j, To turn the torrent's swift-descending flood , To brave the savage rushing from the wood , What wonder , if to patient valour train'd , They guard with spirit , what by strengh they gain'd ! And while their rocky ramparts round they see; The rough abode of want and liberty , ( As lawless force from confidence will grow ) Insult the plenty of the vales below ! What wonder, in the sultry climes , that spread^ Where Nile redundant o'er his summer bed From his broad bosom life and verdure flings , And broods o'er Egypt with his watery wings , If with advent'rous oar and ready sail. The dusky people drive before the gale ; Or on frail floats to neighb'ring cities ride. That rise and glitter o'er the ambient tide. Whoever can read these twenty four last lines without a i5 114 THE ANTI- CRITIC delight in whicli all the faculties of the mind are at once gratified , is in my opinion , one whose taste and intellect are hopeless. Compare Goldsmith's finest passages with any part of this Fragment, Now and then, it is true, that he rises in his best lines to the common texture of Gray , as for instance in the description of the Swiss, when he says « He drives his ventrous ploughshare to the deep : Or seeks the den where snow- tracks mark the way , And drags the struggling savage into day ». And again , when he speaks of Holland : « Methinks her patient sons before me stand , Where the broad Ocean leans against the land , And sedulous to stop the coming tide , Lift the tall rampire's artificial pride. Onward , methinks , and diligently slow , The firm connected bulwark seems to grow ; Spreads its long arms amid the watery roar ; Scoops out an empire , and usurps the shore : While the pent ocean rising o'er the pile , Sees an ambitious world beneath him smile «. But see how Gray , while he never falls helow , more frequently rises above this tone ! « Say , then , through ages by what fate confined To different climes seem different souls assign'd ? Here measured laws , and philosophic ease Fix , and improve the polish'd arts of peace. There Industry and Gain their vigils keep , Command the winds , and tame th' unwilling deep. Here force a:nd hardy deeds of blood prevail ; There languid Pleasure sighs in every gale. GOLDSMITH. * 115 Oft o'er the tremhling Nations from afar Has Scythia breathed the living cloud of war ; And , where the deluge hurst with sweepy sway , Their arms , their kings , their gods were rotl'd away! » But Goldsmith often falls into flatnesses , and mean and depressing imagery ', such as « Here may be seen, in bloodless pomp array'd. The paste-board triumph , and the cavalcade ! » And part of the description of the life of a Swiss peasant, whose : « Loved partner, boastful of her hoard. Display her cleanly platter on the board ! » But it must be admitted that these defects much less often occur in the Traveller , than in the Deserted Fdlage, It is said , that Johnson added some of the latter para- graphs , especially the last , to the Traveller. It seems to me, that not only at the close, but a little more backward, there are marks of a mind much more original and more forcible than Goldsmith's. In the address to Freedom , in which it is said that there is no good without alloy, is the following nervous and striking couplet : « Here by the bonds of nature feebly held , Minds combat minds , repelling and repell'd ». — And again, « As nature's ties decay. As duty , love , and honour fail to sway , Fictitious bonds, the bonds of wealth and law , 116 THE ATf TI-CRITIC Still gather strength , and force unwilling awe. Hence all obedience bows to these alone , And talent sinks , and merit weeps unknown; Till time may come , when strip t of all her charms , The land of scholars , and the nurse of arms, Where noble stems transmit the patriot flame, Where kings have toil'd , and poets wrote for fame , One sink of level avarice shall lie. And scholars, soldiers, kings, unhonour'd die! » Here the writer has proved himself a sagacious and true prophet. I fear that the time he predicted has already ar- rived. The ties of nature ; of blood ; friendship ; alliance ; duty, have almost ceased to operate. The «.Bond and nothing hut the bond; » the law, and nothing but the law, is only to be relied upon! XXVIII. BIBLIOMANIA. Be la Bihliomanie , 8.° Privately printed , a la Haie , 1761. Tripook's Catalogue for 1821 , N.^ 1 56. « C'est un Spectacle eomique que de voir un Bibliomane a qui le Temps et I'Argent sont a charge ^ qui pour amuser ton oisivete , pour tacher de se dellvrer de la lassitude de ?ie yieii f^ire et de ne rien savoir , s'etablit une place et BIBLIOMANIE. Il7 jassiste journellement aux ventes de Livres, les examine tous sans en connoitre pent - etre aucun , encherit , non comme Tin Amateur intelligent , mais comme un homme riclie , .pr^t a acheter au poids de I'or des volumes dont il n'a que faire , tandis qu'il en soustrait I'acquisition a un Connoisseur qui en a besoin. De retour chez lui , cet avide et insatiable encherisseur met ses premiers soins a donner une place a ces nouveaux livres : il les toucbe peut-etre pour la der- niere fois »: P. i8 , 19. Mais apres tout ce qu'on dit de la Bibliomanie, c'est le plus sensible et le plus interessant de tous les Manies du Jour »v Extracted (as above ) from 7>7/?- hook's Catalogue for i^ii. N.^ i56 (i). This title , and judiciously- written Extract , give an oppor- tunity of saying a few cursory words on Bibliography. It is difficult exactly to define where utility ends , and mere whim begins, in this science. It cannot be questioned that a great number of very learned and very ingenious early Books are little known , and of infrequent occurrence : though there may be numerous volumes , which have no other value than that of their rarity. The rarity may consist in the work itself; or in the edition only : in either case the just value of that rarity must follow the intrinsic character of the matter. There are gord reasons for preferring an editio princeps , when the production itself has merit. But the Bibliographical Notices , which are compiled for the purpose of literature , are formed upon quite different principles , and with quite different vie as from those made by Booksellers for the purpose of forwarding the sale of the articles of their trade. A Book may have very little value in commerce, which is exceedingly curious to the scho- lar, the critic , the historian , or the antiquary : ~ and ihe reverse as often happens. Nor is it from the value of the (i) See Saiitander's Catalogue , vol. 4, p, 169. 118 THE AWTI-CRITIC articles taken separately ; but from the recognition , the new combination , the juxta-position , that the mind is exercised and gratified ; and a recurrence to the test of ancient opinions and ancient forms of language promoted and facilitated. An author , whose name is familiar to us only by slight , though frequent , mention , scattered through the volumes of general literature, or by references still more brief and enigmatical , is brought into prominent observation by the pen of a judicious Bibliographer ; and he , who has neither time nor opportunity to collect , v\hat lies scattered among the masses of so many volumes in so many countries , may thus obtain a fund of information , which every highly^ cultivated mind will know how to appreciate. Volumes beyond enumeration, of great interest, may be collected , which bear a low price , because no one has set the fashion of enquiring for them. Gibbon once intended to have compiled a Catalogue Raisonne , of the works used in his great History. How inestimably curious and instructive would such a compi- lation have been ? XXIX. QUALITIES OF THE HISTORIAN AND POET DIFFERENT. ^ -^^■^^ — ^ The Historian and Biographer have to perform a task very different from that of the poet. Their judgement and their memory are more called into exercise than their fancyj HISTORIAIYS QUALITIES. 119 and their imagination cannot operate at all , except under tlie very strictest controul. It may sometimes under this controul , be a lamp to them in penetrating motives , and laying open what the veil of time has covered. We there- fore sometimes see men , who had not sufficient brilliance of genius to excell in Poetry, to which they aspired early in life ^ afterwards become eloquent and admirable in History. Such was Lord Clarendon , who has recorded in the Memoirs of Himself, that his early life ^'i as spent in the company of Ben Jonson , Waller , Carew , Cotton , Sydney Godolphin , Lord Falkland , etc. It was this society , and the cultivation of the studies which it fostered, that gave to this great Statesman such an insight into the human character. The formal parts of History convey as little instruction , as delight. Lord Clarendon's merit is the more extrBordinary , because his was cotemporary history. « Time « say the Edinburgh critics » performs the same services to events , which distance does to visible objects. It obscures , and gradually annihilates the small; but renders those, that are very great^ much more distinct and conceivable. If we would know the true forms and bearings of a range of Alpine mountains , we must not grovel among the Irre- gularities of its surface ; but observe from the distance of leagues the directions of its ridges and peaks ; and the giant outline , which it traces on the sky (i) «. On the contrary , there are great ev Is in the mode of composing Jfier-histories for the purposes of mere fame , or vendibility. « Cest la malice » ( says Bayle ) « cest Vanimosite , ou bien I'envie de s'accommoder au gout populaire , et d'en tirer du profit , qui engagent a falsifier les relations {^■», (i) Ediub. Rev. N.° LX. Sept. 1818, p. 278. (2) BayU , art. Du Bellai , I^otQ F. 120 THE AKTi-^CRlTtCJ XXXI. SPENSER. Spenser has language for all that appears to have pre-^ sented itself to his mind. The distinctness , the brilliance , the copiousness of his imagery , is amazing. The variety , the flow ; the energy ; the swell of his versification , have never been rivalled. He wants the deep , and gloomy subli- mity of Dante : he wants his concise , and overwhel- ming pathos. His imagination was so multitudinous, that it sometimes verged on the Fantastic. XXXIL DEMI-A]S[CIENTS. The following observations by Le Clerc in his Criticism on /. A, Campaniis , regarding those whom he calls « I) emi- Ancients ^ » is worth ex- tracting. « Les Auteurs Italiens du temps de Jean-Antoine Carw- paiio , qui fleurissoit au milieu du quinzieme siecle, un peu avant et un peu apres I'invention de ITmprimerie , font a present un effet lout particulier sur notre imagination. Nous DEMI-ANCIENTS. 121 ne les regardons , ni comme des Modernes , nl comme des Anciens ; mais comme je ne sai quoi , qui tient le milieu. Nous nous interessons dans leur histoire , beaucoup plus que dans celle de liablles gens qui ont ^^ecu de notre temps ; et nous n'avons neanmoins par pour eux le respect , que nous avons pour ce qui nous appeilons Y Antlqidte. C'est ce qui a fait que quelcun de ma connoissance les a nommez Demi- anciens, et peut-etre que dans quelques centaines d'annees, I'eloignement les fera confondre avec ceux , qui ont vecu long-temps avant eux. Parmi ces Auteurs , a qui Ton com- mence a rendre en partie le respect , que Ton a pour I'Antiquite , je ne mets que ceux qui ont eu quelque gout pour les Ecrits des meilleurs siecles , qu'ils ont taclie d'imi- ter; car pour les Scholastiques , leurs obscures reveries, habillees d'une latinite tout a fait barbare , ne sont plus au gout que de ceux qui leur ressemblent ; ou qui ne sont cboquez ni de ce qui blesse le Bon - Sens , ni de ce qui blesse les oreilles accoutumees a un meilleur stile. La consideration , que Ton a pour les Demi - anciens , pour continuer a me servir de ce mot , a fait que Ton a recu avec beaucoup de plaisir toutes les nouvelles Editions des Auteurs Itaiiens; qui ont vecu depuis le commencement du quinzieme siecle , jusqu'au miliea du selzieme , et qui ont ecrit avec quelque politesse. Comme les Belles -Lettres commencerent a renaitre en Italic, et que Ton a de I'em- pressement pour toutes les nouveautez , il y eat alors une infinite de gens , qui ecrlvlrent , avec beaucoup d'elegance , des Lettres , des Harangues , des Histoires , et des Vers , en Latin; entre lesquels fut Campano. On n'etoit pas en- core alors assez savant , pour faire des Ouvrages de Criti- que et de Philologie; comme ceux que Ton fit depuis, pour eclaircir ce qu'il y a de plus obscur dans I'Antiquite. Le savoir consistoit principalement a pouvoir ecrire poliment, en vers et en prose; plutot qu'a expliquer les lenebres des i6 122 THE ANTI-CRITIC Anciens. Ces productions etoient comme des fleurs , qui naissoient en des campagnes fertiles , que Ton vit ensuite pleines de fruits; des quelles eurent ete cultivees , quelque peu de tems. Quoi qu'il n'y ait pas tant a apprendre , dans les Ecrits de ces premiers de la renaissance des Lettres , on les lit neanmoins avec plaisir ; et Ton pourroit dire _, sans beaucoup hazarder , qu'il falloit avoir plus d'esprit pour les faire , que pour compiler des Ouvrages beaucoup pins doctes. Ces pieces , qui ont coule du seul genie des Auteurs i amusent Tesprit plus agreablement , que les Recueuils , et le delassent des lectures plus serieuses et plus peinibles ». Le Clerc , Bibliotheque Choisie , Tom. XIV , pag, 56 , 57, 58. XXXIII. HUME. An Englishman must feel great interest in the History of France for at least eight centuries. It is so blended •with that of his own Country , that one (j^nnot be clearly understood without the other. It is singular that of neither of them has the General History been satisfactorily written. We are supposed to have carried away the palm from France by the superior literary merits of three Great Historians — Hume , Robertson , and Gibbon. Whatever may be the clearness of Hume's style , and the force of his philosophical genius , his History of England has ah^ays appeared to me deficient both in nerve, and in necessary details. I would not have wished ORIGINAL WRITERS. 123 him to have either written as an antiquarian; or to have descended into prolix particularities : but there are still numerous little circumstances , of which the relation iadds not merely to the interest , but to the perfect conception of the most important events. There seems indeed some doubt whether the taste and genius of this great author ever allowed him to add minuteness of knowlege to the enlarged and general views with which he had studied this subject. He wants therefore distinctness of colouring, and variety of form in his delineations. In Memoirs , and particular Histories , though we have a few which are excellent, we cannot enter, on the whole ^ into comparison with the French, XXXIV. ORIGINAL WRITERS. How much of what has been already told , it may be proper to tell again; what is sufficiently brought to notice, if it remains in the language and types of old books ; what requires the recognition of modern phraseology , and modern judgment ; what requires to be more effectually en forced by new words, and new modes of illustration , are questions, which it requires great taste, sagacity, talent, and expe- rience to answer. The number of original thinkers is small ; the number of those , who can so far combine their materials anew , as to enttile themselves to the praise of belonging even to the lowest class of inventors , is still smaller. 124 THE ANTI- CRITIC Of the great mass of what is published by Travellers , the materials , the descriptions , and the sentiments , are espe- cially barren , and jejune. But a man who possesses the acquirements of literature , combined with even moderate skill in composition , and moderate ingenuity , may write a pleasing and useful book on almost any subject with which he is conversant. He , who accustoms himself at every opportunity to let out the secrets of his heart ; to record the abundant and overflowing sentiments which a mind endued with feeling and fancy is perpetually employed in giving birth to\, makes every subject , which he handles , the vehicle of this sort of interest. It is impossible but that new situations should give, to those who indulge in these habits , copious occupations for their favourite employment. XXXV. TRAVELLERS. I am not one of those who think that by residing in the Ca- pital of a Foreign Nation a few days , or a few weeks , by walking the streets , and seeing the people and their shops , and public places , one can penetrate into their characters , pxtract their political opinions , and discover the political objects , which they are secretly contriving to bring about. These things may be |jetter learned by resCfirch and reflec-? TRAVELLERS. 425 tlon at home. But it is the lively excitement which a visit to the spot gives to read attentively books which would otherwise be neglected ; and to pursue vigorously considerations , which would otherwise be abandoned , or carelessly followed ; it is this , which gives rise to the knowlege to be obtained by such visits. As to the information which Tourists and Travellers gene- rally affect tG convey, whether in volumes of Narrative, or by Letters , it is not only so barren , but so utterly super- fluous , were it not barren , that to me no class of Books is more disgusting or more contemptible. No country is I believe at present unprovided with ample statistical infor- mation, drawn with all the advantages of leisure , and local information , and of access to official documents and per^- sonal experience. In France for instance, what can a Traveller tell as the results of his enquiries pretended to be made on the spot , regarding the Towns through which he passes , which is not already told, with particularity and certainty, in the Statistique of that great Nation ! A few pert obser- vations regarding the surface of manners and habits , which may not strike a native , or . would scarcely be deemed worthy of his notice , if they should be remarked by him, make no amends for pages of useless dulness. XXXVI. FAME. Every character must finally rest on its positive strength in the qualllies on which its pretensions to Fame are put forth. No artifice , or adventitious aid will long avail. 126 THE AIVTI-CRITIC Fame is very often obtained surreptitiously : but it cannot last. What is talent? "What is genius? What is mere learning? Surely these are positive possessions, which may be dis- tinctly defined ! « Esse quam videri » is a maxim , generally , but not universally, true. There are those , who believe that there is nothing subs^ tantial but wealth , which is power I They who have wealth , are often willing to pay it away for distinction : and they , who have distinction , would often willingly exchange it for wealth. XXXVII. PHILOSOPHERS AND POETS. The philosopher considers it to be his business to examine every thing by the eye of reason ; to divest every object of prejudices and false lights; and to represent things as they are ; not as he would wish them to be. The poet endeavours to perpetuate the transient colours of his fancy; to paint things with the delusive attractions, which his desires put upon them ; and to enjoy himself in a world such as his mind aspires to , rather than such as our fallen natured is placed in. Each of these opposite intellectual powers , and opposite applications of them, has its advantages. BIRTH. 127 XXXVIII. BIRTH. There are men of erudition, and authors also, without talent. Books without end may be made by those who want talent ; and some of them useful. But it is talent , which consecrates the importance of an author to the world. Books are easily compiled : great information , vast eru- dition, are acquirable without great difficulty. Original powers of thinking are rare. Brilliance, strength, profundity, wisdom, in those powers , are rarer still. The public are severe in examining the pretensions to notice , which an individual urges in his own favour. If they are in any respect not true , or not legitimate grounds though true, sneers, ridicule, scorn are the consequences. Birth is a pretension , which is seldom admitted. There is' a general tendency to be sceptical as to the facts : but if admitted , they are not considered solid claims to dis- tinction. The public probably carries the prejudice the other way, a great deal too far * but the matter requires to be ma- naged very delicately , and applied with great skill , to raise any of that favour , even in the minds of the most candid and intelligent, which it is intended to effect. Among the impolicies involved in its nature is this : that its elevation is an elevation to an equality with all the fools and mean wretches, who may enjoy the same descent ; in lieu of an equality with the worthy rivals , whom , if this test be admitted, it depresses. 128 THE ANTI-CRITIC « A master-mind I » What is a master-mind ? What are the marks and proofs of it? Who may be confident of possessing it ? It is imagination ; sentiment ; the faculty of reasoning; the talent to examine, distinguish, and decide: the command of language ! — There must be added to this energy , elevation of spirit ; enthusiasm ; love of the sublime ; devotion to the past , and the future ; a prefe- rence of the immaterial to the material ; and an emancipa- tion from vulgar desires and passions! Can the frailties of humanity ; can the intermixture of some common faults , destroy the character ? Is all the pri- vate and selfish prudence of an individual vs^ho gives his whole petty mind to his own individual interests , required in this character ? — If required , that which is impossible , is required ! No man is, or ought to be, of any interest in the world but by his virtues , his genius or powers of intellect , or his knowlege. Rank, properly, and high birth, may perhaps be considered to give a claim : but they are nothing , if unil- lustrated by one of the others! XXXIX. THE SAME. It would be difficult to define with precision what would make the Memoirs of a particular Family interesting to the Public. The most probable seem to be facts that ally it historically with events of a public nature. THE SAME. 129 There are not a great many Historical Families in Europe, It creates a mysterious sort of veneration , when they lose their origin in the darkness of Time : when the source, like that of the Nile, extends beyond research : when the aera cannot be found , at which it had not risen above the ground ! It has been pretended, that the lustre of a family , if tru§!, does not rest upon the written history of it. The facts, it is said, will speak for themselves. But the facts may be scattered , overlaid with rubbish , and can only shine in judicious , and elegant combination. They may be like diamonds in the mine , incrusted in dirt. XL. THE SAME. — HOUSE OF BOURBON. Five degrees of distinguished Descent may be pointed out : premising , that when speaking of one family opposed to another , the male line is to be understood ; and that the circumstances to be mentioned , as raising one in the scale of eminence above another, are to be considered as adjuncts, I. The first degree is mere antiquity. II. The second is antiquity combined with possession of the same territories. III. The third , the addition of high alliances. IV. The fourth. Historical celebrity. V. All these , combined with the highest rank in point of dominion and power, form the top of the scale. 17 130 THE ANTI-CRITIC According to all these tests it is impossible to hesitate to what sovereign House of Europe to give the preeminence. In all these qualities the House of Bourbon is so supe- rior as to leave every other House at an interminable dis- tance. It is probable that the Houses of Brunswicr , Loraine, and Savoy are quite as ancient : but they want the same splendor in most , if not all , of the adjuncts. Baden is also classed with these in point of antiquity , by Koch , who asserts that none of the other Sovereign Houses of Europe can go beyond the 12*1^ century. He means of course to confine this assertion to the possession of their present sovereignty. For otherwise the House of Hesse ( a branch of the Dukes of Brabant), and perhaps others, can go ages further back. XLI. THE SAME. To spring from those , who have commanded in the world, not merely by their rank and territory, but by their ih- tellectual superiority, is a subject of fair gratification. Even the general reader is prepared to recieve with a lively interest whatever is connected with history : and especially with those parts of history , which are striking or instruc- tive in themselves. The worthies of a single Nation which has filled an important part in the world , excite a strong and just attention in our minds. But how much more those of all the principal Nations from whose alliances, or conflicts, with each other, the whole picture is formed ! Groups drawn MEMOIRS. 131 from such an extended surface throw a muhiplied light on each other. France, England, Flanders, Spain, Italy, and Germany, all afford materials, with which all the intelligent parts of Europe are linked by a thousand ties. XLII. MEMOIRS. It is easy to understand why the public take an interest in Memoirs, which disclose all the minutiae of a man's life ; and lay every thing bare to a prying curiosity. They love to gratify a gossipping appetite ; to indulge their thirst for the degradation of others ; and to JSnd out that Genius has its weaknesses , and its mortifications , like themselves. Just in proportion as they are pleased , is the object of their enquiry humiliated. The very cause of the taste of these anecdote-hunters, is that, which should prevent an author from furnishing them food of this kind regarding himself. I know not why there should be more deceit in the exhi- bition of the best and happiest parts of a man^s mental and moral character , than In a portrait , which paints him in his best looks , and most becoming dress. Nemo omnibus horis sapit : And no one is an hero to his Valet-de-Chambre. It is well for frail humanity to be sometimes good ; and sometimes great : to have occasional fits of noble thought, or tender and beneficent virtue ! 132 THE ANTI-CRITIC XLIII. COPYRIGHT. Extract from the Critique on the Copyj^ight Ques- tion-'Quarterl J Review, May 1 8 1 9. N.^XLl^ p.iii. « It has been stated in evidence , that Copyright in three cases out of four is of no value a few years after publi- cation ; at the end of fourteen years scarcely in one out of fifty, or even out of a hundred. Books of great imme- diate popularity have their run , and come to a dead stop. The hardship is upon those , who win ther way slowly and difficultly , — but keep the field at last. And it will not appear wonderful that this should gene- rally have been the case with books of the highest merit, if we consider what obstacles to the success of a work may be opposed by the circumstances and obscurity of the author, when he presents himself as a candidate for fame, by the humour or the fashion of the times , the taste of the public , ( more Uhely to he erroneous than right at all times )^ and the incompetence or personal malevolence of some unprin- cipled Critic ; who may take upon himself to guide the public opinion ; and who , if he feels in his own heart that the fame of the man whom he hates is invulnerable , endeavours the Kuore desperately to wound him in his fortunes. And if the copyright ( as by the existing law ) , is to depart from the author's family at his death, or at the end of 28 years from tho first publication of his work , if he dies before the expiration of that term , his representatives in such a case COPYRIGHT. 133 are deprived of the property just when it is beginning to prove a valuable inheritance. « The decision which Time pronounces upon the reputa- tion of authors , and upon the permanent rank which they are to hold , is unerring and final. Restore to them that perpetuity in the copyright of their works , of which the law has deprived them, and the reward of literary labour will ultimately be in just proportion to its deserts. If no inconvenience to literature arises from the perpetuity which has been restored to the Universities , ( and it is not pre- tended that any has arisen ) , neither is there any to be apprehended from restoring the same common and natural right to individuals , who stand more in need of it. » However slight the hope may be of obtaining any speedy redress for this injustice , there is some satisfaction in thus solemnly protesting against it, and believing as we do, that if Society continues to advance , no injustice will long be permitted to exist after it is clearly understood , we cannot but believe that a time must come , when the wrongs of Literature will be acknowledged ; and the literary men of other generations be delivered from the hardships to which their predecessors have been subjected by no act or error of their own », — XLIV. LA FONTAINE. Extract from La Vie de La Fontaine — before the Stereotype Edition of his Fables. Paris 1799. « La gloire pour ceux memes qui en sont le plus dignes, 134 THE ANTI-CRITIC et qui font tout pour robrenir, est une espece de jeu de hazard ou ce qu'on appelle la bonheur n'est pas molns necessalre que la science et I'aclresse. Tacite observe meme qu'il y a dps hommes auxquels il tient lieu de vertus. L'ex- perience prouve en effet qu'avec les qualites les plus emi- nentes dans quelque genre que ce soit , ou n'est rien sans la fortune, ou , si I'on veut , sans ce concours fortuit de circonstances et d'evenements imprevus qui devoilent le merite et qui le font remarquer. On peut juger par - la combien il est rare qu'un homme doue de grands talents, mais assez pliilosopbe pour attendre tranquillement que la gloire vienne le cMcrcber, jouisse enfin de ce fruit de ses travaux : La Fontaine mourut avant de I'avoir recueilli , car sa reputation , du moins celle qu'il meritoit , ne s'etendoit guere au-dela du cercle etoit de ses amis ». P. LI , LII. « A I'egard du peu de succes de ses Fables dans un siecle d'ailleurs aussi eclaire que celui de Louis XIV , on en est d'abord etonne ; car on ne peut nier qu'elles n'aient trouve plus d'admiraleurs parmi nous que parmi ses contemporains, qu'elles ne soient plus lues , plus goutees, mieux appreciees, plus senties. Mais il me semble que se fait s'explique tres- naturellement , et qu'on en peut rendre ces deux raisons. La premiere, c'est qu'un bon liyre dans un genre ou per- sonne encore ne s'est exerce , une grande decouverte dans les sciences ou dans les arts , en un mot , un bomme de genie , poete ou philosophe , geometre ou mecanicien , est une espece de phenoraene , auquel il importe beaucoup de se produire dans certains temps et dans certaines circons- tances : s'il se montre avant que les esprits soient prepares, il ne fait aucune sensation , et est a peine appercu : c'est un rayon de lumiere qui perce I'interieur d'une caverne, I'eclaire un moment, et s'eteint. La seconde, etc. ». SANNAZARIUS. 135 XLV. FRAGMENT OF AN mSCRIPTION ON SANNAZARIUS. Written at Naples July 10. 1820. On yonder vine-clad liill he fix'd his seat; He gazed upon that Bay , where now I gaze; He look'd on yonder sea-girt isle (i), that lifts Its mountain-head amid the azure waves ; He look'd on yonder dim-seen Town (2), whose roofs Faint-glittering on the shore , recall the fame Of Him , the future Bard (3) , he was not doom'd To see burst forth in glory on the world ! He look'd on yon gigantic hill (4), v hose top And sloping sides vomit out liquid fire ! Amid the umbrageous covering; lapse of rills; And distant murmur of the hollow wave. Lulling his day-dreams , he forgot his cares , And gave his spirit to the enrapturing Muse ; Forgot the painful pomp of Courts ; its frown , When smiles are most deserved ; its faithless smiles , When ruin most is plotted ; the mix'd bowl ; The secret dagger hid in beds of flowers; The toil without reward ! . (i) Capri. (2) Sorento. (3) Tasso. (4) Vesuvius. 156 ITHE ANTI-CRITIC This may be a proper place to give some Extracts from the Latin Poetry of Sanjvazakius. Ad Fillam Mergillinam. Rupis o sacrae , pelagique custos ; Villa Nympharum domus , et propinquse Doridos , regum dectis una quondam , Deliciseque; Nunc meis tantum requies Camaenis ; Urbis invisas quoties querelas, Et parum fidos popularis aurse Linquimus sestus : Tu mihi solos nemorum recessus Das , et Kaerentes per opaca laurus Saxa ; tu fonles , Aganippidumque Antra recudis. Nam simul tete repeto ; tuasque Sedulus mecum \eneror Napaeas : Colle , Mergillina , tuo repente Pegasis unda Efflult , de qua chorus ipse Plioebi , Et chori Phoebus pater, atque princeps, Nititur plures mihi jam canenti Ducere rivos. Ergo tu nobis Helicon, et udae Phocidos saltus, hederisque opacum Thespise rupis nemus , et canoro Vertice Pindus. I , puer , blandi comitem laboris Affer e prima citharam columna ; Affer et flores ; procul omnis a me Cura recedat. SANNAZARTUS. 137 i^rincipls nostrl decus, atque laudes Fama , per lalas spatiata terras -, Evehat J qua Sol oriens^ cadensque Frena retorquet : j Quaque non notos populos , et urbes Damnat aeternis llelice pruinis ; Quaque ferventes cumulos arenes Disslpat Auster. iUe crescentes veneratus annos Vatis antiquum referentis ortum Stirpis , et clarum genus , et potentuni Nomen avorum ; Contulit large numerosa dextra Dona : et ignavse sliniulos juvents^ Addidit , silvas , et arnica Musis Otia praebensi Deos Nemorum in^^ocat in extruenda Domo. Di Nemorum , salvete ; ego vos de rupe propinqua ^ De summis patriae moenibus adspicio : Adspicio , venerorque : cavae mihi plaudi'e valles 5 Garrula \icinis perstrepat aura jugis. Vos quoque perqiie focos felicia dtcite , cives , Verba, per inteclas flore decente vias. Victim a solennes eat inspectanda per aras ^ Turbaque Palladia frohde re\incta comas* Mosque ut ab antiquae repetalur origine Romae^ Exterior forda cum bove taarus aret* Ac prius infcsio tectum quam chigere salco Incipimus , jiistos ture piate Deos. iNulla per obductum decurraii! nubila cielum j Gandidaque auguitum coociiiat omen a\is« 138 THE AlVTi-CRITIC. Exsurgat paries ,. ventos qui pellat , et imbres; Qui multa circum luce serenus eat. Adsit dispositis series concinna columnis; Quseque ornet medias crebra fenestra fores- Ipse biceps primo custos in limine Janus, Occurrat Isetis obvius hospitibus. Protinus a dextra sacrse , mea turba , Sorores Cingant virgineis atria prima choris. A laeva niditis stratum Pytliona sagittis Miretur posita Cynthius ipse lyra. iEdibus in me«vincta coronis, Thalia : quid dignum tuo Promis favore? quid bonge Voce , vel fridibus student Respondere Sororos? Sed esse quid Isetum , Deae , Hie absque amoribus potest ? Non movet Chione suis , Non me Lyda papillis. X9 146 THE ANTI-CRITIC Procul facessant hinc malae , Saecli pudor, libidines, Mi sat est ^ minuat grave Si Garlonia curas ! Juventa , cur me tam cito Ludendo inepta deseris ? Haec erat facies novis Non fraudanda libellis. XLVI. A POETICAL FRAGMENT. 26 Nov. 1821. I know not wlietlier any apology will be admitted for introducing a fragment of Poetry. If it were not to appear in this way , it would probably never see the light : — a loss ( it m y perhaps be said ) , too trifling to be counted J It was wrilten at a moment of fervor, when the power of finishing it was confidently anticipated. — But the clouds of life too frequently recur , to allow a continuation of that , which requires a long sunshine. — There are those , who pretend that the evils of Human Existence fall alike upon all ; or only fall differently , in proportion to want of virtue ; or want of prudence ; — a monstrous opinion , w^hich all the experience of Mankind ; and all the soundest doctrines of Moral Philosophy , disprove ! — If it be so , then benevolence, and charity of heart, and unsuspecting confidence , are crimes. — From these , Misfortune too ALPHO]VSO. 147 commonly springs ; on these prosperity seldom smiles. We cannot long withdraw ourselves from the most painful ■vi- gilance against wrong and spoliation , without incurring the most frightful consequences of our abstraction. The World is a field of warfare , in which the needy are incessantly carrying on aggressions against property. It is pleasant to slumber and dream in the visionary groves of Elysium ; but like the effects of Wine , it is a momen- tary delight at the expence of Futurity ! A worldly-minded man mny write plausible verses : but was a worldly-minded man ever yet a poet ? There are different ages of society , in which worldly cunning , and intrigue, and fraud succeed differently : in the present, they pervade , and prowl , almost without a check ! All the barriers which formerly protected generosity , and high- mindedness , are thrown down ! Rank , birth , education , intellectuality , go for nothing. Allow the vulgar to be fa- miliar with you ; and they are your masters ! — not by talent , or knowlege ; — but by rudeness : not by polished sharpness , or skill ; — but by brute force : they have an audacity and rashness, in proportion to their ignorance and blindness : their own evil intentions guard them against snares ; and their freedom from all scruples in the use of means multiplies their weapons of offence ! Begin therefore with what animation I may, I am soon called off to contend pro arts et focis ! A man , who has the credit of addiction to poetry , is selected as the best prey for the hungry bands of extortion , who are ravaging the world. The following Fragment therefore must come out with ^U its imperfections on its head. i4S THE ANTI-CRITIC ALPHONSQ AFRAGMENT. Written March 9, 1821. I. He slept on beds of flowers : his childish form Was such as visits Poets , in a dream Of infant angels , when the Fancy , warni With glories issuing in a radiant stream Of shapes celestial from the fountain pure Of all the Muses , views on orient beam Those rapturous images, that aye endure Above yon star-bright canopy , whose bound Genius and Virtue have the wings to' ensure , Where thousand lyres are struck th' empyreal throne around , And echo all the rolling spheres , in concert with the sound. II. The winds were sighing on his cherub cheeks ; And fann'd the slumbers of his tender frame ; The blood , that thrlU'd across in purple streaks , Bespoke the' internal thought that went and came : And feature , limb , and air , and symmetry , Announced some Being , of immortal aim , Whose future deeds would seek the kindred sky ; To live on earth , as with a magic wand , That could with power of force unearthly vie; Touch each unholy thing with a mysterious hand , And hill, wood, lake and sea, and all that dwell on them , command. Ill, Alphonso was his name : when he from sleep Awoke to tread the woodland walks , and run ALPHONSO. 149 Along the meads , and cross the valHes deep , And mount the hills to meet the dawning Sun, His spirit lighter than the wind , uprose To realms of bliss extatic ; he begun The germs of Heaven already to disclose ; To fill with airy habitants the scene ; And as the face of things before him glows With every living hue , blue sea, and landscape green. To dance about , on airy clouds , the earth and sky between. IV, He listens to the Music of the Night ; And oft times hears slow-swelling on the gale Aerial notes sail by on pinions light ; Anon with brisker harmony they hail His listening ear ; and dwell upon the sense ; And o'er each movement of the soul prevail ; Till thro' the trembling frame the bliss intense Throws off the mortal dross ; and , as in air , Melting each earthly manacle, from thence The loosen'd spirit seems a while on high to bear; And e'en in very infancy for joys divine prepare. V. The change of seasons was to him a bliss Still varying , ne'er exhausted : the first flower , That open'd on the primrose bank, was his : The purple violet , when the genial hour Drew forth its first perfume , unclosed for him : The green leaf swell'd upon the hazle bower j The pendant willow-rleaf on river's brim Hung on its infant verdure ; and the vest Of emerald bright, that, as the shadows dim 150 THE ANTI-CRITIC Fled the new-beaming sun , each hill and valley dre&t , For him prepared the laughing scene ; for him young Nature blest. VI. When summer's broad effulgence full displayed Creation in her prodigality Of pomp and garniture , for him array'd In all its splendor look'd the golden sky ; For him the woods their grateful umbrage cast ; For him the rippling current murmur'd by ; For him the breath of ripening harvests past ; For him the blaze of vegetation's hues Innumerous glitter'd in profusion vast ; For him yon Ocean's waves their mirror wide diffuse ; For him o'er all the face of earth Heaven life and riches strews. XL VII. POEMS OF M. A. FLAMINIUS. De Laudihus Mantuce. Felix Mantua , civitatum ocelle , Quam Mars Palladi certat . usque et usque Claram reddere gentibus , probisque Ornare ingeniis virorum , et armis ; Te frugum facilis, potensque rerum Tellus , te celerem facit virente M. ANTONIUS FLAMINIUS. 151 Qui rlpa , calamisque flexuosas Leni flumine Mincius susurrat , Et qui te lacus intrat , advenisque Dites mercibus invehit carinas. Quid palatia culta , quid Deorum Templa, quid memorem vias , et urbis Moles nubibus arduis propinquas ? Pax secura loco , quiesque nullis Turbata exiliis, frequensque rerum Semper copia , et artiura bonarum. Felix Mantua , centiesque felix , Tantis Mantua dotibus beata; Sed felix magis , et magis beata, Quod his temporibus, rudique saeclo Magnum Castaliona protulisti. Ad Stephanum Saulium* Ne tu beatum dixeris, optime Sauli , superbo limine civium Qui prodit hinc et hinc caterva Nobilium comitante cinctus ; Won si feracis occupet Africae Quidquid prsealtis conditur horreis , Gemmasque lucentes , et auri Possideat rutilos acervos. Nee ille felix , qui valet omnium Caussas latentes cernere , sidera Notare doctus , et profundas Ingenio penetrare terras. Sed tu beatum jure vocaveris Qui niente pura rite Deum colit, 152 THE ANTI-CRITIC Ejusque jussa ducit amplis Divitiis pretiosiora. Non ille vulgi gaudet honoribus ; Sed carus ipsi Numinis est honos ; Pro quo tuendo non recusat Dedecorum genus omne ferre. Quin et relictis coetibus urbium Mens ejus altum transvolat sethera^ Deique summi , cselitumque Colloquio fruitur beato. Cselestis ergo jam sapientige Plenus ^ periclis altior omnibus Quiescit in Deo, furentum Despiciens hominum tumultuSii Sic proeliantes ajquore turgido Ventos reducto montis in angulo Miratur, et gaudet procella Terribili procul esse pastor. Ad Donatum Rulliim* Quis cuncta possit , Rulle , pericula ^ Motusque mentis dicere turbidos Qui ssevientis ins tar undae Nos variis agitant procellis ? Hinc prceliatur sollicitus timor , Hinc spes bonorum credula , gaudium Nunc toUit alte, nunc doloris Dejiclmur furibundo ab aestu. Non sic benignus coelicolum pater Humana finxit corda ; sed insolens Nos fastus ad tumultuosa Usee freta praecipites adegit i M. ANTONIUS FLAMmiUS. 153 Cum vita nultis ante laboribus Turbata cunctis afflueret bonis ; Nee mortis occurrens imago Cor trepido quateret tumultu. Quod ergo tantis auxilium est malis ? Ecquid Platonis docta volumina, Cultique prseceptor Lycsei Sollicitam recreare mentem , Modumque curis figere tristibus Possunt ? vel auri perpetuo fluens Rivus ? vel in sublime tollens Per titulos popularis aura? Fomenta sunt base prorsus inania ; Luduntque falsa vulgus imagine; Vulgique primores acuti Viribus ingenii tumentes. At tu beatam ducere si cupis Vitam , periclis liber ab omnibus Adhaereas Deo , piaque Mente sacrum venerare numen. Hinc hauries veram et sapientiam , Verumque bonorem , el divitias; ferus Quas nee tyrannus , nee tremendi Vis rapiat truculenta belli. Quidquid bonorum cernitur uspiam , Hoc fonte manat : quo sine Tetrasque, caelitumque regna Possideat, miser usque vivet. De Joviano Pontano^ Qui cecinit claro fulgentia lumina caelo Pontani doctis versibus Urania , 20 154 THE AlVTI- CRITIC Phoebe, tuis magnam lucem addidit ignibus , utque Nunc melius iiiteant sidera cuncta , facit. De Joanne Coita. Si fas cuique sui sensus expromere cordis, Hoc equidem dicam , pace, Catulle, tua : Est tua Musa quidem dulcissima; Musa "videtur Ipsa tamen Cottae dulcior esse mihi. Ad Balthasarem Castilionem. Si truculenta ferox irrumpis in agmina Marte , Diceris invicto Castilione satus. At molli cilhara si condis amabile carmen , Castalia natus diceris esse Dea. Ad eundem. Horrida terribilis cum tractas arma , Maronis Castilione tui carmine digna facis. Idem cum molli vacuus requiescis in umbra CastalivB , aeterno digna Maroue canis. Ad Andr. Nuugerium, Naugeri , ne quis tibis certet , neve laboret Incassum , laudes sequiparare tuas : Sive Epigramma facis juncto pede , sive soluta Defies magnanimum funera acerba virum. M. ANTONIUS FLAMINIU9. 155 Ad Eundem. Quot Bruma creat albicans pruinas , Quot tellus Zephyro soluta flores , Quot splcB Libycis calent in agris , Quot vindemia porrigit racemos, Quot vastis mare fluctuat procellis , Cum nascens pluvias reportat hsedus , Quot Ceraunia frondibus teguntur, Quot caelum facibus micat serenum 5 Quot sunt millia multa basiorum, Qu:e dari sibi postulat Catullus , Quotque sunt atomi Lucretianae Tot menses , bone Naugeri , tot annos Vivent aureoli tui libelli. Ad Actium Sannazarium. Quantum Virgilio debebat silva Maroni, Et pastor , donee Musa Maronis erit ; Tantum paene tibi debent piscator , et acta , Acti, divino proxime Virgilio. Gasp. Contareno. Contarene , tuo docuisti magne libello , Extinctis animas vivere corporibus. Ergo jure tui vivunt monumenla laboris , Et vivent sseclis innumerabilibus. 156 THE ATfTI-CRITIC Ad Marium Molsam. Postera dum numeros dulces mirabitur aetas, Sive , Tibulle , tuos , sive , Petrarcha , tuos : Tu quoque , Molsa , pari semper celebrabere fama ; Vel potius titulo duplice major eris. Quidquid enim laudis dedit inclita Musa duobus Vatibus ; hoc uni donat habere tibi. XLVIIL Tragic Tales. Coningsbj ^ and Brokenhm st. By Sir Egerton Brydges, Bar^ London^ R, Trip" hook. 1 vol. 8.*' 1820. Written by a Friend for a Periodical Publication. What may have been the success of these Tales, or •whether any success at all has attended them , we know not : but we know , that the present taste of the Public is all for glare and extravagance; and that whatever trusts to those forms and colours of composition , which gained the approbation and excited the deliglit of former ages , has little chance of raising the notice or pleasing the pam^ pered appetite of our own time. That the public mind is in a sound state ; and that literature is not rapidly decli- ning into frightful corruption , will scarcely be asserted by any well-informed , pure , and temperate mind. This false taste is spread though every part of learning , TRAGIC TALES. 157 or authorship ; but it prevails most in the department of Fiction. And among its ruling causes may be certainly as- cribed the character of modern Periodical Criticism; which having become a lucrative trade or profession , has given itself up to follow rather than lead the prejudices and pas- sions of the multitude. Nothing is written in the sober temper of a Judge ; but every thing with the partiality , the heat , and exaggeration of an Advocate, Truth , moral sagacity, virtuous and amiable sentiment , natural beauty , the movements of the heart , and the un- forced visions of the fancy , are the same in all ages and all nations among a civihzed people : and if there be a country , which in a late sera of society imagines that it has arisen to a degree of illumination and splendor , which eclipses former lights , and makes the past appear feeble , flat , and insipid , it ought to reverse its own self-conceit and to be taught by the difference, that the violence of its own glare must be factitious and impure. Milton talks of the « sober certainty of bliss » : there is a sober certainty of knowlege also in classical compo- sitions , which does not first surprize and then satiate , like the forced , hot-bed , high-seasoned dishes of modern composition , which are lashed up int© foam , and driven by false effort into cloudy shapes of monstrous chimy^ros. No writer has ever long enjoyed fame , who has given himself up to write what was plausible , rather than what was true. The plausible writer may easily be piquant , stri- king; and, to half-informed readers , amusing , so long as the prevailing prejudices and fashions , which he fiafters , continue to rule : but as these subside , the incredulus odi soon comes ; the charlatanism is detected ; and the tempo- rary favourite is cast away for an impostor. If our knowlege of human naiuro did not render us fami- liar with its perpetual inconsistencies both of conduct and 158 THE ATfTI-CRITIC opinion , we should wonder at the contradictoriness of the multitude; who, while they clamour for what is practical, most delight in those freaks of the fancy which are most remote from probability. If History is Mor-al Philosophy teaching by example, Poetry and Fable are Moral Philosophy personified by Fancy. If what is personified be not Truth , it is spurious ; and it may be added , not the fruit of genuine and solid genius. We do not mean Truth in its narrow sense of matter of fact : We extend it to the mental movements ; to all those visionary appearances , and internal impulses , which are native to the intellect , and the soul. There are chords in the human heart , which Genius alone knows how to touch ; which are not awakened by what is external ; which rise uncalled only in the secret temple , where Genius presides ; and which Genius only can direct , so as to arouse them from the sleep which they have no power of their own to shake off. This is not said lightly and unmeaningly : it springs from a doctrine long considered , and maturely digested. We say that the inventions that do not arise from this source , and are not adapted and directed to excite these chords , are not the inventions of genius. The mind can make technical combinations , like the material hand ; but they have no more soul than the cold stone worked into the human form. Secondary authors mistake particularity and caprice for originality ; they think that superiority consists in difference. It is the reverse of this ; it is in conformity to what is already in the minds of others , that the merit lies. It is true , that it must go beyond the materials of this visible world : it must enter into the world of spirits : it must draw forth intellectual existences : but then it must delineate them in forms and colours congenial to their nature; and TRAGIC TALES* 459 ndt in the fantastic shapes, whicli artifice substitutes, for want of admission to their mysteries. If it be true , ( as it certainly is ) , that « The proper study of mankind is man , » the highest department of this study , is his intellectual , not his material , nature. What- ever unfolds the scenes and feelings , that exist in those deep recesses ; whatever embodies the evanescent figures , that haunt a rich imagination ; contributes to the stores of that species of knowlege , yhic'i justly ranks among the most sublime and the most useful. Providence has formed us continually to aspire after something better, than the coarse realities that surround us. The intellectnal image associates with the picture of what is external a colouring , which it receives from within. The literary productions , which contribute thus to foster our better natures , and elevate ourselves above the meaner parts of our being , claim and merit a distinguished place. The niceties of the human character ; the conflicts between the good and the bad , of those who mingle opposite qua- lities of intellect and of virtue ; the tendency of particular errations of the mind or of the heart , the charm of those emanations of goodness , which vivid feehngs , directed by sublime principles, bring forth, — are subjects worthy of being painted ; and worthy the toils of the noblest genius. This opinion may perhaps seem to lift into a rank, which they have not hitherto held, a large portion of those modern Fictions which go under the name of Novels. But such an inference would not be just. The Novels of the author of Waverley may claim this praise to themselves : but there is a force of intellect ; a justness of thinking ; a skill of composition ; a propriety of words j a vividness of feeling and of fancy; in all of which the common manufacture of productions which go under this name is wanting. Their interest lies in the mere excitement of a vulgar curiosity 160 THE AlVTI-CTtTTKl created by the developcmeiit of a complicated story. If the reader looks back , he cannot find in them a single pas- sage worthy of being cited ^ or which can rest on its own merit. Though that part of the Intellectual faculties , which is called the Understanding , or Reason , can never constitute genius , yet it may be doubted if a high degree of genius can exist without the addition of a large portion of this quality We have seen therefore those who have been dis- tinguished for their powers of invention , eminent also in various other walks of literature , and mental power. We suspect that the author of these Tales may have been blamed for giving any part of the days of his ma- turer years to this sort of imaginative indulgence. Such censures will have arisen from not making the distinctions we have endeavoured to enforce in the preceding para- graphs. The contemners of Poetry, and of that portion of prose , which partakes of poetical invention , are men of narrow minds and sterile hearts, who know not what real poetry is : and who mistake for it those abortions, and funguses, and tinsel gew gaws , which pretenders put forth ; and the foolish mob eulogise. Such things they may well con- sider the amusement of foolish and unthinking youth ; and light-headed and ignorant age. The fancy , that is stirred by the heat of youthful blood , is of an earthly and groveling nature. But genuine fancy , the pure and spiritual part of our being , becomes stronger, and glows more brightly with age. Both the Stories of these Tragic Tales are exceedingly gloomy : and some persons have wondered , under what mood of mind the author could imagine , ( if he did ima- gine ), such distressing events ; and if he did not imagine them , where he found the outline of such foul murders. -^ TRAGIC TALES. 161 There are traces about them , as if he had somewhere heard the reality of such things. — Coningshy was pronounced by a gentleman of deep consideration , when he perused the Tale , to be a character quite new among the mul- titudes which Novels have exhibited. Why should it not have arisen from a fancy turning its vision inward upon the operations of a passionate and vigorous mind long brooding in solitude over its own prejudices and violences, and working itself at last into furies , which reason could not controul ? It is the business of a true, native, unfac- titious fancy, to behold these things in their progress ; to have the secrets of the heart opened to it ; and to see the future and the distant in the present ! — To copy the human character , as is appears under the disguises of society , is to represent a deceitful surface. The energies that are bred and grow up in solitude within the unseen recesses of the soul , are hid from the observer of daily life : the fancy alone can penetrate them ; the mind that creates , only , can develop their movements. The truth of characters drawn from these sources stands upon a certainty, which no study of external individuality can reach. The represented connection therefore between moral causes and moral effects is more unerring : and the instruction far deeper than the lessons afforded by what are called portraits of actual living beings. If all the world were engaged in providing for the ne- cessities of the day ; if all were occupied in promoting their own private interests , the indulgence of fancy would be an obstacle to their purposes , which ought to be sedu- lously excluded rather than encouraged. But Providence has happily ordered it otherwise : it has left in civilized society no inconsiderable portion independent , and at leisure for intellectual pursuits. For these, Avhatever is adapted to aid the exercise of the best of our mental powers ; whatever 162 THE ANTI-CRITIC elevates, or refines the thouglit; whatever assists the con- nection between language and the shadowy tribes of ideas ; whatever seizes those transient impressions of the heart , which come and go so quick, that they allow no leisure to study them , are acquisitions , which the profound philo- sopher, and generous moralist, will know how to appre- ciate. To purge the human heart , and extract from it the first incipient seeds of crime, by holding out a terrific picture of its progress and its consequences, has been promulgated by critics from early ages to be the purpose of Tragedy. Lord Brohenhurst is a dreadful Tale : but perhaps it is , notwithstanding , much too short. The wickedness of Lady Brokenhurst has been thought by some to outrage all pro- bability : but when once the furious passions become writhed with obliquity and cunning , and have risen to a certain degree of ascendance , who shall say where they will stop ? If this character be a picture of female depravity and horror , the author makes amends by his character of Adelinde Coningsby , who is all purity , and loveliness and spirit ; « A faery vision Of some gay creature of the element, That in the colours of the rainbow lives , And plays i' the plighted clouds : » a creature made to be worshipped ; to turn humanity into celestial ; to illuminate deserts ; and soften the savages of the woods. But a Being so good was not calculated for long happiness here : her sun soon sets in violence , and horror ! The author delights himself with these images of gloom and tempest. He has a melancholy view of life ; and evi- dently clings to sorrow as the congenial inmate of his TRAGIC TALES. 163 bosom. But it cannot be asserted, that sorrow has closed his heart, his curiosity, or his mental activity. Always en- quiring , expatiating , analysing , combining , he has never suffered the ills of life to palsy him , nor gigantic disap- pointments to turn to gall the native glow of his spirit. The enthusiasm , that was his earliest characteristic _, remains unabated in his latest writings. If the Autographical Memoirs , which are said to have been seen by some of his friends, shall ever appear, it will be proved that the accusation of querulousness , a word which implies complaint without adequate cause, has been most unjustly applied to the author. The variety of acts of injustice, to which he has been a victim; the ingrati- tude , the treachery , and neglects he has experienced _, have drawn forth enduring testimonies of his fortitude rather than of his querulousness. The great difference between an original writer and those who take advantage of the topics of the day to exer- cise their memories, and apply their ingenuity in specious productions of factitious interest, is well-known to all pro- found readers. The number of the former class , in any age , is small. Quickness and force of apprehension , power of memory , and facility of language, are not uncommon. But how few are they, who think for themselves? All the rest will live their little day and be forgotten. The bor- rowed is not at the first moment discriminated from that which originates in the writer's mind : but the difference shews itself with time : the want of vital spirit suffers it to fade. The elasticity of genius cannot be destroyed by paisfortune; or enfeebled by neglect. 164 THE ANTI-CRITIC XLVIIL HALL OF HELLINGSLEY. The scene of this Tale is laid in one of the Midland Counties approaching towards the West. The time the reign of king James the First. It took its origin from an incident which forms the subject of an actual tradition still prevai- ling in a certain village regarding a Branch of a noble Fa- mily then resident there ; and which the Author heard on the spot nearly 40 years ago. What parts are mere inven- tion ; and what parts have reference to private history , it would be indelicate and useless to distinguish. The period chosen appears to afford various materials of striking inte- rest. The Characters of that age have been sufficiently elu- cidated; and are strongly associated in our memories. They do not approach us too near; so as to allow no play to the fancy. Nobility in those days was a distinct race, which, though Philosophy and Liberalism may rejoice in having destroyed it , at least affords splendid or strongly-coloured pictures to the Imagination. Nothing is intended in this Tale , of minute Manners ; of what is called a tact at the little technical outward forms of society; forms which change with every generation; and perhaps two or three times in every generation ; so that what thirty years ago was all interest because it caught « the manners living as they rise , » now appears tedious , ridiculous , and revolting. With what ennui we now turn from all the tiresome ceremonial, and si iff costume of mo-? mentary fashion, with which so large a portion of Richard-^ HALL OF HELLINGSLEY." 165 son's endless volumes of Clarissa and Sir Charles Grandison is stuffed ; and yet at the time , the greatest proportion of readers thought these things the great charm of those works. The allusion to manners , which two Centuries have left behind , is quite different : whenever traces of them remain upon the memory, they remain because they were intrin- sically interesting. All that was frivolous, dull, and absurd; all that had not the sparks of life in it , has long since faded away ; and ceased to leave the speck of an im- pression. It is the Vast that the Poet and the romance - inventor find the expanded field , which they require. If they offend against poetical probability; the illusion, it ^is their business to create , is gone. But yet if they do not heighten nature ; if they do not select , nor recombine from what is beau- tiful or grand , they do not perform the work of genius. The latitude for this probability is better found in the Vast. Distance softens : Time hallows : we are not willing to allow in our cotemporaries the high traits we can believe in ages , that are gone. There is room also for more curiosity , more novelty , and surprise in a story of other days. We enter it with a spirit more awakened ; our fancy is more active . and our credulity is more disposed to favour it. It is true , that the purchasers of Tales of Fiction are various ; and ought to be various , that they may be .suited to various tastes. Some read that they may have their knowledge of characters of the day sharpened ; that they may improve their skill in the prevailing opinions ; and gaze upon the pictures of the bustle in which they delight to be en- I gaged. Others desire to have their fancy exercised ; tlelr sen'i- ments exalted ; and the more shadowy fpcuUies of ibeir minds gratified and strengthened. If attention to what is called practical, io a sort of habit 166 THE ANTT-CRITIC of mental discipline necessary to those , whose duties call on them to qualify themselves for most of the numerous vocations of daily routine; and whom too refined a sensi^ bility and too abstract sentiments would withdraw from their labours , or disgust with their employments , there are numerous others , to whom the opposite intellectual culti- vations are as necessary as they are delightful. The present Novel is ( if the author is not mistaken ) , written on those principles , and in that taste , which ac-^ tuates 3i poetical Invention; with the selection, the fervor, the picturesque circumstantiality ; the enthusiasm , the be- lieving delusion , which characterize , or ought to charac- terise , the fictions of Poets. XLIX. THE FOUNTAm OF HELICON. Written Majxh 3i. 1891. Rock'd by the roaring winds to sweet repose ,, Luxurious slumbers lull'd my w^eary limbs , Through the long darkness of a winter night !; I rose ; and open'd to my searching eye The roll of ages past : I mused and saw Visions before me : then I bent my ear; And thought I heard soft voices in the air. Next I revolved the studious page : and thus Day pass'd , like sable night , in inward joy. Hours glided on ; and weeks ; and rapid months ;: HELICON. 167 And mind began to overcome this frame Of mortal clay ; and turn this groveling dross Half into spirit : wings uplifted me ; And bore me through the clouds. When heaviness Sat on my eyes; and shed Morphean dews; Fancy array 'd a brighter world within ; And when I waked, I lived as if in dreams. The woes of Earth, contrasted with the bhss, That shone upon my soul , improved its hues ; And made it glow more glorious (i). In the heavens The lovely Spring had just began her course; And the young bud disclosed the earliest leaf ; And the first tender green had just put forth Its emerald mantle o'er the shooting grass : When having bask'd beneath the genial beams That through the azure canopy above Transparent shone , and courted the young Hours j ( Whose hair with primrose , and with violet Circled , threw balmy incense to the breeze ; Whose bosoms , like the early opening bud In its first swell , threw rapture on my sight ), I cast my limbs exhausted on a bank , Where the soft radiance melted me to sleep. Then seem'd as if a Spirit touch'd my brow; And pierced mine eyelids ; and it said to rae^ « An holy fire, has caught thee ! Keep it pure | Nurse it; and fan it : and it will perchance Enoble , and illumine that frail form Of earthly substance ; and thy purged eye Shall see , what is to mortal view forbid ! » [i] The hues of bliss more brightly glow. Chastised by sabler tints of Woe. Gray. 168 THE ANTi-CRITIC And then a sudden hlaze appear'd to shoot Across the face of this terrestial globe i And then a momentary striking up Of harps celestial : when the rapture rush'd Through all my veins j and suddenly I woke ! LX. EGOTISMS. Extract of a Letter, July V^ 1821. It is variety in mental gifts, which can alone lead to en- during distinction in the intellectual world. As we encou- rage one , or the other , by fits , it takes the temporary mas- tery , and gives the temporary character to our faculties : whether it be faitcy , or sentiment _, or reason , or memory. • The same person may therefore at different periods of life exhibit a very different intellectual character. It is not unreasonable to wish to be fairly estimated , because the power of impressing the opinions we believe to be right , greatly depends on the consideration in which Y/e are held. My vanity has been long cured ; and I have ' long learned to work with little hope of notice and en- couragement; but it is this sentiment which sometimes makes me endeavour to set myself right ; at least with my friends. I do this with incessant variety. I feed my mind, it is true , with such infusions as are but of litlle use except to the EGOTISMS. 169 owner, if he has no power but to pour them out just in the same state in which they were poured in. But I hope that I always make use of them for the purpose of new combination ; to suggest ; to illustrate ; to confirm ; to expand; to qualify; to distinguish; to generalize ; to sharpen and strengthen the faculties ; to enrich the imagination ; and to ameliorate the heart. It is easy to be a Book - Maker ; and in this sense to be an Author. But it is not easy, or common , to produce what is original, forcible, just, profound, important, and eloquent. In this I do not dare hope I have been successful; but to this I have aspired. At twenty two I produced a volume of Poems, to which I look hack not with dissatisfaction. If there can be traced in it , not the common place of a ready memory , but the conformity of individual fancy and sentiment to the models of our best schools; especially of the juvenile poems of Milton, I am willing to hope that it may yet last longer , than some of these temporary meteors of whim and glare ». AGAIK. « Sometimes I flatter myself that age has improved rather than lessened my faculties ; that it has not only mellowed , but extended my reflections ; that it has fortified my know- ledge ; and given it a firmness and practicability , which it wanted. In those tempestuous six years . which I passed in Parliament, my mind partook of the character of my situation , and of the character of the times. It had flashes of broad light , intermixed with darkness , and bewilder- ments and mazes. I look Lack with astonishment and trembling at the fortitude , or the bhndness, that could 22 170 THE ANTI-CRITIC pass such a period of stupendous trials , and gigantic dangers and sorrows ! On such occasions , it is constant occupation and want of time to reflect , that carries us through : But this very thing is at the same time injurious to just thinking , and a sound state of mind. We have a fihn before our eyes; and are necessitated to see things in delusive colours ! The truth is too powerful for us ! » LXI. EGOTISMS CONTINUED. Extract of another Letter , i5 September 1821. « Nature chose to give me a peculiarity of character; tb make me the victim of anxieties , about which others care little ; to give me uneasy ambitions , which never can be satisfied; to be constantly grasping perplexities, which neither visit , nor sieze on other minds ! To be beating at the door which opens to the penetralia of the heart , when others skim gaily and lightly over life. I do not pride myself on this peculiarity of conformation 1 I regret it ! It is disease; it gives a barbed hook to thoughts, which renders them incapable of being extracted from my brain. It was no whim, no accident that devoted me to lite- rature. It was the food , on which alone my mind was formed to live • it furnished the only nourishment , with which the seeds, that were sown in my intellect, could be well cultivated ! EGOTISMS CONTINUED. 171 There are many, who would say , that such a description, if true , will account for the unsuccessful course of my life. Such a person cannot bend to circumstances ; cannot keep attention alive to petty expediencies : cannot watch individual interests : but is in search of what is general ; of what is wise and just on a large scale : whereas indi- vidual advantages are commonly gained at the expence of the general good ! While I write these sentences , I again doubt the propriety ot stuffing the columns of a letter with them ! They have something too recherche : too subtle , and remote from the ordinary subjects of interest. On the other hand , such elucidations , if the occasion that prompts them is lost , die in the mind , and are per- haps never revived again ! Every conquered thought , every evanescent distinction , which is fixed by language , is a gain in the fields of Intellect ! Original thinkers are so rare , that even among eminent writers , not one in ten , merits this praise ». • « I suppose, that in Society every man will be attacked on the side of his tendencies ! Mine have always been towards those speculative and visionary habits , which men of the world disapprove so much, and hate so much. I am always therefore bored with hints and praises of what people are pleased to call « practical sense » and « tact of real life «. Yet many of these folks call themselves severe and scrupulous moralists; and claim also the merit of strict and punciiiious religion. But when we come to examine them , in what does this practical sense consist ? — -In the non-application of their own rules , and principles : in ex- ceptions : in expedients : in freedom from scrupulosity : in taking the rule v/hen it is convenient , and rejecting it , when it is in the v/ay 1 Then, what is the undeniable in-r ference ? 172 THE ANTI-CRITIC That their principles and professions are all talk , to serve their own purposes : that they have no sincerity ! — If the principles are true , the exceptions are very rare ; and expe- dients are always dangerous. If they believe that society can only go on by expedients , let them have the boldness and honesty to say so ! If they believe , that a man is justified and wise in choosing only what is for his own private interest ; and that all sound sense directs such conduct ; let them be frank knaves , and declare it ! But lying and hypocrisy for the sake of indi- vidual and selfish advantage , is of all profligacies one of the most revolting ! As practical good therefore is so often in opposition to virtue , it appears to me , that this consideration alone affords a most powerful encouragement of intellectual plea- sures. In these alone , after all , must consist the rewards of virtue. — lliches, station, material enjoyments, are not to be gained by it. — It is in the mind alone , in the consciousness within , that the satisfaction must be found. But the mind will not produce fruit , that is not cultivated and prepared for it. The highest talents must be always at work : the lights of the mind are often as transient and changeable , as those of the rainbow. ■ — To catch them distinctly ; and to find language for them , can only be effected by per- })etual efforts. — The seeds of the intellect die in the soil , if not perpetually tended , and aided : and foul and noxious jilants spring up in their place. Theoretic Goodness may not always be attended by con- sistency of conduct : — but in proportion as our principles are right , we shall probably approach Goodness in action ! But what is the worth of his Goodness , whose acts are good; but whose mind is base and vicious? On this account I ihink aU Fictions dangerous , and even positively hurtful , which are formed to give additional SIR RALPH WILLOUGHBY. 173 attractions to merely plausible characters ; wliich recom- mend that adroitness in daily conduct, which already more than sufficiently recommends itself. It is the duty, and ought to be constant struggle of the moral Tale-writer, to set in full display all the Retired virtues ; all those , in which a man may justly say : « Wlea virtute me involvo : » in which « the sunshine of the soul » makes amends for the storms , that « darken and growl without ». LXIL Sir Ralph Willoughhy. An Historical Tale, By- Sir Egerton Brydges, Bar> Florence 1820, 8.° This Tale was written at Florence , while confined to a Sofa by illness, in the three first months of 1821. It com- mences with a reference to the Rebellion of the Earls of Westmoreland and Northumberland , in the reign of Queen Elisabeth. Ralph Willoughby is the son of an imaginary Nobleman attainted for his concern in that rebellion ; and Avho having fled abroad , was obliged to educate his infant children there. Ralph having thus become familiar with the Continental languages , was recommended to the Foreign Department of Lord Rurleigh's office ; where having attracted the favour of one of Burleigh's daughters , he raised the jealousy of his fellow-clerks ; and was finally ousted hy their intrigues and machinations. The incidents of his life till the close of the Reign are then related : and this gives an opportunity to introduce 174 THE Al>rTr-CRITIC the characters of tlie most illustrious persons of EHsabeth's . Court. The Earls of Oxford ; Cumberland ; Nottingham ; Lord Grey of Wilton ; Lord Buckhurst ; Lord Hunsdon ; Sir Francis Walsingham ; Sir John Norris ; Sir Walter Raleigh , etc. , to whom Spenser wrote Dedicatory Sonnets prefixed to his Fairy Queen, are all introduced, together with the Sonnets themselves. Then commences, with the Reign of James _, that alledged Plot known by Raleigh's name , which remains an histori- cal mystery to this day. Here Raleigh , and Cobham , and Lady Arabella Stuart , come into full play. Willoughby , who had been already knigh'ed by K. James in his progress to take possession of the Throne , was now exposed to the maneuvres of Raleigh , for the purpose of procuring him to take a part in the political schemes of Raleigh , whatever they were. An occasion is then taken to attempt to develop and de- lineate the secret movements of Raleigh's character. Some friends of the Author have thought this portrait too severe. If it be true , it will excite regret : • — but truth must be. told at the expence of regret. An author is bound to speak according to the tenor of his own conviction. Raleigh was a very splendid character ; but there are many strong circumstances , on which to ground a suspi- cion of the goodness of his heart. His daring temper made him not very nice in his feelings ; and his boundless am- bition overcame a strict regard to means. Willoughby is represented as regarding Raleigh with admiration mixed with fear and doubt ; and as parrying his deep designs with sagacity and brilliant skill : as possessed of Rlieigh's talents , without his faults : as sincere , pure ; full of fancy , imagination , and sentiment : of an ambition controuled by reason , and cured by disappointment. His passion is solitude , and literature ; and the exercise of his nventive genius in poetical composition. SIR RALPH WILLOUGHBY. 175 But Ms solitude , and his innocent and virtuous occu- pations, do not protect him against the visitations and the schemes of Raleigh , who discovers him in his retreat , and uses every persuasion to draw him again into active life. WiLLOUGHBY is superior to these temptations ; to these bewilderings and false lights of the mind , to which minor abilities would have been victims , when played off by a man of the splendid powers and deep management so pre- dominant in the tempter. But he was not conlenied to guard himself alone : his generous spirit resolved to afford a shield to Lady Arabella Stuart , whatever danger might be in- curred by it. When Raleigh left him, he visited this unfortunate Lady, though he was fully aware that it might aggravate the suspicions, which he toovvell knew were already opera- ting against him. He found her in want of all his advice , and all his consolation. But he paid dear for his genero- sity , and virtue. Salisbury , with whom he had been intimate when in the Office of Burleigh the father of this little , crooked , cun- ning , yet able Blinister , had now decided on his destruc- tion , because he would not betray Raleigh , however lie might disapprove some part of his conduct. The full occasion was now given. Lady Arabella , weak , guilesles, innocent, was the momentary puppet , whom the State set up to dread. Willoughby's secret visits were damning proofs of his guilt, Raleigh and Cobham , and Grey of Wilton, were sent to the Tower. Private warnings were sent to Willoughby of the blow about to be struck on him. Conscious of innocence , he scorned to fly. ' The evil hour predicted came. He was sent to prison 5 brought to trial for high treason in conspiring with Raleigh , Cobham , etc. to put Lady Arabella on the Throne ; found guilty on false evidence; and executed. 176 THE ANTI -CRITIC Here ends the story. And « cui bono ? » cry the cold- hearted , the envious , and the malignant ? « Why represent your Hero as a man of talents; and give no proof of his talents ? Why represent him as unfortunate , arid unjustly deprived of reward and distinction , when you have given no proof that he deserved reward and distinction ? Is it for the purpose of indulging the querulousness to which you are so much addicted ? » What is thus meant by proof of talents , it is difficult to conceive ! Is it no proof of talent to have obtained a do- minion over the mind of Raleigh ? Is it no proof of talent to have written history and poetry , with sagacity , elo- quence , and genius ? « Oh but this is assertion : not proof ! » Happy cavillers , will any thing prevail over your passion to find fault? Ye amiable and contented Optimists! who think success the proof of merit , and have a calm confidence in the in- tegrity and justice of mankind ; who think that the perse- cuted are always in the wrong; and that malice , jealousy, and self-interest never operate against right; how I admire your scorn and indignation against those , who being the guilty authors of their own distresses and disappointments, dare to vent their bile against the innocent and benevolent world ! « It is sad (no douhtj to be persecuted with the rage of those , who are victims to their own imprudences 1 fVhy not let men quietly enjoy the profit and the credit , which have been awarded to them , in right of the excellent practical common sense, which is really the only talent worth a far- thing I We hiow very well that no one really acts , or talks , or writes , but for his own interest / How then can that be talent , which does not lead to the end sought? « Is not this logic? logic, which cannot be disputed! » O yes , certainly ; if unhappily the question itself were not begged ! — HISTORICAL TALE. 177 All mankind then are engrossed by Self! there is no virtue , no sincerity , no conscience , no unmerconary love of literature ; no instrinsic love of sublimity or beauty ; no unbribed desire of fame , in the world ! « What ? » says Hudibras ; « What is the value of a thing , But as much money , as ^twill bring ? » What is the use therefore of a Poem, or a Romance, that vv^ill not fetch money ? « So thinks ; and so reasons the mass of vulgar minds. LIII. Le Forester. A Tale, 3 vols in-'^P ^ 1802. This Tale is also by the author of the present Work , who had suffered an interval of seventeen years to pass between the publication of productions of this class. The Story of this Fiction has an allusion to the cele- brated Jjiglesej Csi&e , which occurred before the Middle of the Last Century. Every person acquainted with Britisti Ge- nealogies knows this frightful Tale. Ptichard Annesley, the last Earl of Anglesey, succeeded his elder brother, 1727, in the Irish Barony of Altharn , on the supposition of his having died issueless : but many years afterwards , James Annesley claimed the titles and estates (to which the right to an English Earldom had also devolved, in 1737); as legitimate son and heir of Arthur Lord Altham , elder brother ©f Earl Richard 5 stating himself to have h^^n kidnapped , '1% 178 THE ANTI-CRITIO when a boy, by his uncle , and sent a slave to America. Between 1740 and i75o, the questi9n uas tried; and a verdict obtained in Ireland , after one of the longest , most laborious , and most Curious trials of filiation , that ever occurred before a Jury : a Trial , which fills a printed Folio volume. However the Earl, In possession of titles and estate,'), still foiled his unhappy nephew by writs of Error, etc., etc., and died without being di\esLed of his usurpations in 1 76 1, — while the claimant wore out his life in obscurity ; and died at last without issue male , not long after the same period. The Fiction of Le Forester was suggested by this ex- traordinary* series of Events : but it differs from it in many essential particulars. The Claimant is here finally successful , and recovers his rights. His moral and intel- lectual character are imaginar^f^, and almost all the inci- dents are equally so. It was the Father of Le Forester , who is here represented as kidnapped ; and not the hero himself. The part , in which the author supposes that he has been least unsuccessful , is that which relates the afflic- ting* and cruel circumstances attendinof this violence to the true heir , by an usurper so near in blood as a father's brother. The shipwreck on the coast of Madeira; the boyhood and youth passed in the depth of the wooded solitudes of North America ; the companions of that solitude ; the mode in which he passed his time ; and his attachment to the beautiful and innocent partner of his exile- these (it is be- lieved ) are written with the greatest flov/ ; and more under the impression of a predominant and believing Imagination than the rest. As this may be said to be in some degree an Episode , it cannot be denied that, to have thrown the greatest ia- erest upon it, is a fault. LE FORESTER. 17§ So it is : and it is too late to mend it. The truth is , that a large portion of this Part occurred to the author in the progress of the composition , when it was too far advanced to throw it into a less objectionable shape. Many years have passed since the writer has turned back his eyes on this Work. The impressions therefore , which remain upon him, may be indistinct and inaccurate. The value of a Plot, which raises the curiosity regarding the succession of events , and increases it as the reader goes forward , cannot be questioned. But if the whole interest consists in the developement of this succession, it ceases when the events are known. The interest therefore derived from sentiment , imagery , and reflection , is more lasting , if not so intense. In truth , it is of these that the Story ought to be the vehicle. If there be nothing of eloquence , or force , or depth, in these, the production will scarcely repay a second, perusal. But it seems as if the generality of Works of this class were content to rely solely on the interest to be raised' by novelty or surprize : for the incidents y with which they deal, have as little in them of fidelity and exactness , as they have of beauty or sublimity. It is sometimes difficult to account for the taste , which a coarse fancy exercises in the selection of its nutriment. It enjoys pictures which are as flat and as rude as reality, yet bear no likeness to it. If delineations have not the merit of likeness, let them have that of fairness, or grandeur. As the taste of the Multitude , if left to itself, always prefers the Dutch School of Painting , so it is most pleased with. Fictions , which affect to pourtray the scenes of familiar life. A faithful representation would be both instructive , and in a moderate degree interesting : but that , of which the only merit consists in exactness , is ineffably stupid when it is a bungling invention. 180 THE A.NTI-CRITIC If all the various merits of plot , sentiment, imagination, reflection , and language can be united , no one will doubt tlie superiority of such a combination. The excitement of a well contrived Plot puts the reader in a state of mind prepared to receive every sentiment and every image with double force. For this reason it has always appeared to me , that pieces of poetry can no where be introduced with more effect thau in a well-contrived Tale. The reader is already worked up into a temperament congenial to the state they require : he has already obtained a familiarity with the character in which they are written , and a sympathy with it. . History and Biography , executed with that attention to facts , which is their essence , cannot have the same wide field for the communication of the highest treasures of the mind. If these observations are just , the principles which are founded on them , will guide the judgement rightly in de- ciding on the merit of Tales of Fiction. There must be Invention ; but it must be under the controul of sagacity and knowlege of mankind : there must be lively feeling ; and a skill in composition ; a command of elegant , if not nervous diction. If thus executed , such a work may be put among the treasures of Moral Philosophy teaching by Example. ARTHUR FITZALBINI. 181 LIV. Arthur Fitzalhini. A No^el^ i vol. 8.^ (Oct. 1 798 ) , 2.^ Edit, (^March) 1799. The Bibliotheque Britannique^ vol. VI, p. 182 , has given the following Critique on this Novel. « L'objet principal de I'Auteur de ce Roman paroit etre de plaider la cause de la naissance centre la fortune. II represente Televation de sentiment et le dissinteressement parfait , comme I'apanage exclusif des personnes de liaut rang. II voudroit remettre a la mode un prejuge qui a bien vielli en peu d'annees , et que la plus simple observation suffit a detruire. Pvien de moins complique que la Fable de Roman. Fitzalbini, jeune homme d'une famille noble et pauvre , a toutes les preventions de la noblesse ; 11 manque I'occasion d'epouser un herelier de la Cite , et s'attache a une Demoiselle de haute naissance , et sans fortune. Celle-ci obteint enfin un heritage considerable , et le marriage s'arrange : mais I'ex- treme sensibilile de cette jeune personne lui donne une maladie , dont elle meurt. Ce Roman est evidement sorti d'une plume fort exerce , et si Ton passe les prejuges de son Auteur, on est force de lui reconnoitre une morale tres pure , et un style tres attachant. » — The censures on Birth contained in this criticism were appropriate to the time and place in which they were published. It was during the domination of the Republican 82 THE ANTI-CRITIC Faction of the French Revolution. But it is curious that , as far as my observation goes , the Government under which the influence of Birth is more practically operative than in any other , is that of the Jittle Republic of Geneva. They , who call the respect for Birth a prejudice , and endeavour to turn into ridicule this alledged prejudice , entirely misrepresent the opinions and reasonings of those who favour it. Wo rational man assumes that Providence assigns native talents or virtues to high descent. He says that the adventitious circumstances attendant on Birth are its better nurses. But the truth is that Birth can scarcely be said to form the main feature of this Tale. If there be any interest raised by the character of Fitzalbini, it is derived from the energetic qualities of his mind and his heart ; from the moral sensibility , which makes him the victim of his un- prosperous fortune ; from the deep and romantic colours with which his pathetic fancy invests the scenery and inci- dents , he is destined to. The clamours raised against the author for certain cha- racters introduced into this Novel , in which a few neigh- bours imagined that they saw their own portraits , have scarcely yet, at the distance of two and twenty j^ears , subsided. What is the proper licence in drawing portraits for works of Fiction ; and how far it is possible for an author entirely to detach from the operations of his fancy the impressions of his experience , are points not easy to be defined. Of the imprudence of any personalities there cannot be a doubt. An author of genius is ill adapted to cope with the vindictive temper of those who are affronted. His is a pas- sing arrow thrown out in sport , and forgotten. They work in the dark : their revenge never sleeps : and by falsehood , maneuvre , cunning , insinuation , and labour , MARY DE CLIFFORD. 183 they make up for want of talent , knowlege , and weight of character. It is the plodder , that wins the long race ; not the swift _, or the strong. All the stupid and the foolish make a common cause , not only when attacked ; but when they suspect that they are aimed at. The First Edition of this Novel was , however , sold in a month. The delay in printing the Second Edition gave time for the public curiosity to cool. The want of Plot is certainly a defect in this produc- tion ; which overflows with the sentiments of a wounded and indignant heart. LV. Mary de Clifford , a Tale : interspersed with Poetry, London f Jan, J 1792. Nearly seven years had elapsed , since the author had published his Sonnets and other Poems, in March 1785; when this Novel appeared. He had felt a blight to the ardor of his temper by a reception which seemed to him cold : the visions of his fancy were extinguished in the bud ; and , like Collins , he resolved to write poetry no more. Having amused his broken spirit by studies which required less energy; less of that exhausting temperament in which poetry is formed ; having for these seven ;years whiled away much of his languid time in the plodding pursuits 184 THE ANTI-CRITIC of a genealogist and antiquarian , a sudden blaze of native visions broke in upon him : the veil that stood be fore his fancy, was pierced by a reproach; and in a walk of an October morning, ( 1791), when the sun made an effort to pierce the congregation of grey vapoury mists that tottally enveloped the scene , there was something of such inspiring and marvellous beauty in the struggle , as to throw back upon the author the poet's mantle , and the poet's heart. Here, in the instant, he formed the design of Mary de Clifford ; and on his return to the House, began its com- position. The sheets were sent to the Press, as they were written. He had hitherto studied the model of Milton in his Sonnets. A very young writer surely does well to study good models , however original his native powers may be. The effect of this , however , in the present case , was to expose him among the critics to the charge of stiffness of manner. And this was particularly objected to his First Sonnet, written in 1782 , at the age of 19 , in the follow- ing words : SONNET. Askest thoii, why I court the slighted lyre? In hopes , thro' life 'twill cheer my steady way , Drawn by no worldly pomps nor cares , astray ; And give me passport to the heavenly Quire. The conscience, pure delight that I inspire ; And for good deeds alone pour forth the lay , No aid , my friend , to lead me calmly gay Thro' ignorance and envy will require. I strike the strings ; and strait my purged ear Hears not their praise , or blame For , if my songf Should , as it breathes , illume the brow of Care ; MARY DE CLIFFORD. 185 The sluggard rouse ; or bear the Faint along , Shall I for Self alone have labour'd here ? O not the plea shall gain my soul heaven's tuneful throng. Another of these pieces was the following : SONNET , JVritten 3o Nov. 1784. This thy last day, dark Month, to me is dear; For this first saw mine infant eyes unbound ! Now two-and- twenty years have hasten'd round : Yet from the bud no ripen'd fruits appear ! My spirits drooping at the thought to cheer , By my fond friends the jovial bowl is crown 'd : Yet sad I sit , mine eyes upon the ground ; And scarce refrain to drop the silent tear. Yet , O beloved Muse , if in me glow Ambition for false fame , the thirst abate : Teach me, for fields and flocks, mankind to know; And ope mine eyes to all , that's truly great ! To vi'ew the world unmask'd on me bestow; And knaves and fools to scorn, howe'er adorn'd by state ! There is some satisfaction in recurring to such a test of opinions and principles held at so arly an age. Even then I resolved to prefer the study of moral and intellectual associations to those pure descriptions , whether of inani- mate or animate nature , which have no sympathy with the movements of the heart or the understanding. Pope says : « That not in Fancy's maze he wander'd long ; But stoop'd to Truth; and moralised his song. » 24 186 THE ANTJ- CRITIC The knowlege of the human character , not indeed in its orduiary operations, but in the conflict of energetic passions . is the noblest of all studies. The delineation of petty manners ; the exposure of the little absurdities of temporary fashion, is but a trifling employment of labour , and waste of ingenuity. The Painter , who poiirtrays, by the expression of the countenance and the form, the grander affections of the Soul, is universally acknowledged to be of a far superior rank to him, who draws the familiar and comic scenes of life. Every one is ashamed to own his preference to the latter. It is not so in literary works. The describer of « manners living as they rise » is one , with whom the generality of readers do not hesitate to own their more lively sympathy. But this is not the proper object of Fiction. « Lord Bacon , » says Blair , « takes notice of our taste for ficti- tious history , as a proof the greatness and dignity of the human mind. He observes very ingeniously that the objects of this world , and the common traits of affairs which we behold going on in it , do not fill the mind , nor give it entire satisfaction. We seek for something , that shall ex- pand the mind in a greater degree; we seek for more heroic and illustrious deeds 5 for more diversified and surprizing events ; for a more splendid order of tings ; a more regular and just distribution of rewards and punish- ments, than wjiat we find here : because we meet not with these in true history , we have recourse to fictitious. We create worlds according to our fancy, in order to gratify our capacious desires : Accommodando , says that great philosopher , rerum simulachra ad animi desideria , non suhmittendo aniinum rebus , quod ratio facit ; et historia (i). (i) Acconimodaling llie appearances of things to the desires of the mind ; not bringing down the mind , as history and philosophy do , to the course of events ». MARY BE CLIFFORD. 187 Blair concludes this subject thus : « The trivial performances, which daily appear in public under the title of Lives , Adventures , and Histories , by anonymous authors , if they be often innocent , yet are most commonly insipid; and though in the general it ought to be admitted , that characteristical Novels , formed upon nature and upon life v\ithout licentiousness, might furnish an agreeable and useful entertainment to the mind ; yet according as these v^ritings have been , for the most part , conducted , it must also be confessed , that they oftener tend to dissipation and idleness , than to any good pur- pose (i) ». LVI. LITERARY DISTmCTION THE RESULT OF INTRIGUE. Is there , or is there not , such a thing as intrinsic merit in literary composition ? Or does Fame depend almost en- tirely on intrigue and management ? The answ^er seems to be , that Fame generally depends on the latter : but that the existence of the first is independent of Fame. — Without the encouragement of Fame , however , Merit very often remains undeveloped. Exercise and labour must be added ; or it is stifled in the birth. At present all literary criticism in Great Britain is re- (i) Blair's Lectures on Rhetoric and Belles-Lettres , vol. ui. 188 THE A.WTI-CRITIC duced lo a mecliaiiical system ; and every thing is conduc- ted according to the interests of Factions , Pohtical , Reli- gions , and National. LVIL PROSE FICTIONS CLASSED ; WITH THEIR USES. There are a class of Romances , which rest their pre- tensions to interest on the same sources as those which give a charm to poetry : on those incidents , which are removed from ordinary life; on force of sentiment; energy of description ; and depth of colouring : on those incidents upon which a poetical fancy dwells with delight : on persons , whose characters are cast in a mould above the common; and who have to struggle through life with gigantic calamities and unattainable ambitions. As the tastes of mankind are various ; so are the pur- poses for which they take up books of amusement. There are times when we desire to ijave only the surface of our lightest thoughts gently exercised : there also are times when we would have even the depths of our hearts stirred to the foundation. There are seasons when weak impulses fall upon us like feathers unfelt and unperceived. — When some great grief has taken possession of our bosoms ; when some overwhelming idea sits brooding , and refuses to be removed ; then comes the magic wand of Imagination ; then come the ardciUia verba ^ to stir up the incumbent Power; and frighten her from the abode she has so tyrannically PROSE FICTIOIVS CLASSED. 189 usurped. As she moves sullenly off, a new train of Ideas rush into their place; and the whole frame feels the ani- mation of its new visitants. Thus it is that a Tale written in a strain of visionary- Invention is often a medicine to a diseased mind. The flat realities of life sometimes slacken the spring , till it becomes totally impotent. The age , in which we live , satiates by mere familiarity. If it be an age in itself tame and monotonous , how much is the effect increased ? With what is called polish , comes sameness and want of force. The manners of two centuries back were in this respect totally different. They had their evils ; but they were full of hope , and adventure , and enjoyment. The feudal manners must be admitted to have been full of va- riety and incident ; and to have been peculiarly adapted to a vigorous talent, a vigorous temper; and vigorous frame. Whether the gay son of an ancient nobleman was worse employed in nightly depredations on the deer of his neigh- bour's Park , or the Dandy who lounges in Bond - Street or at Brooks's, till the still of midnght comes, when he may carry off his neiohbour's wife ; may be a question of morals left to be discussed by others ! But there is this advantage at least in the former, that it is a better subject for description : that the very novelty prevents its palling upon the senses , like the other ; and that the bold perils , the hair-headth scapes , call forth a sympathy allied to virtue. It is true that a set of incidents whose main recommen- dation is novelty , and which evaporate in a momentary exercise of the fancy, are too transient iu their effects, to be of much value. But an author, practiced, for a life of nearly sixty years, in literary composition , can scarcely fail to make such incidents the channels of a thousand thoughts and senti-- 190 THE ANTI-CRITIC ments , which have been long revolving in his mind ; of deeply-digested inferences; of axioms v.orked into form and language : of imagery hitherto floating in the mind for want of a place to rest upon. The mere invention of a succession of incidents seems to be a very common faculty , as is sufficiently proved by the abundant trash of a circulating library. But in these not a single sentence detached from the story is of the smallest value. It is in the writings of persons of ge- nius long exercised in authorship , that we must look for the sterling ore , losing little of its worth when decom- posed and detached. If the whole of human life were to be passed in the fever of society , or the practical cunning of business , it might be questioned whether the productions, which mainly exercise the more abstract qualities of the mind , had not a tendency to inflame susceptibilities , wnich had better be extinguised. But it is not so : unbroken solitude is the fate of many : and solitude must sometimes huppen to all. Then it is that we require the consolation of Books : the weary hours of vacancy require to be peopled by the images of the mind. There is no fear that the duly qualified competitors for the honour of this occupation will overflovr. No single genius, however inexhaustible, is sufficient for this purpose. We know in Painting the value of au Imagination, wliich deals in new combinations : we acknowlege it by the glow of the eye ; and the sensation it conveys thro' the frame. A similar effect is still more strongly produced by a new literary Fiction, issuing from a vigorous and exercised pen. i INSCRIPTIONS 191 LVIII. EPITAPH , IN THE CHURCH OF WOOTTON , IN RENT. Sacred to the Memory of Jemima, relict of Edward BrydgeS OfWootton Courts Esq."" Whom she survwed nine and twenty years , And dying December 1 4-^^ ^ ^ ^ 9 1 aged 8 1 , VTas buried in the Family Vault in this Cliurch. She was of illustrious Birth , Being youngest Daughter , and Coheiress . Of William Egerton L. L. D. Prebendary of Canterbury^ Rector of Penshursi^ and Chancellor of Hereford , Who fS. 205 LXVI. INSCRIPTION FOR THE CHURCH OF GREAT GADDESDEN, m HERTFORSDHIRE. ^-H^-^--^ Sacred to the memory of Hesther , widow of the Honourable Thomas Egerton, OfTatton Park ^ in Cheshire ^ Daughter of Sir John Bushy of Addingtoa Co. Bucks , K/ By Hesther daughter and coheir of Sir William Mainwaring^ X.' She died i y24 ?" Having survived., for nearly forty years ^ Her Husband., who was taken off in the flower cf his youth., And lies buried here , In the Family Vault of the Eaj^ls of Bridgewater. She left her surviving son , William Egerton , LLD. Rector of Penshurst (i), in Kent., etc. Her Executor (2). [i] He lies buried in the church of Penshurst, 1787, which parish his daughter Jemima was born in Sept. 1728. His widow , Anne daughter of Sir Francis Head, Bar.* was also buried there , 1778. [2] The dates oj these Inscriptions hauing been filled up by me- mory , the uintiquary is requested to make allowances for any tri- fling inaccuracy. Geneva, Jan. 17. 1822. 206 THE AT^TI-CRTTIC ON THE MEMOIRS OF EDWARD GIBBOIN^ THE HISTORIAN. WRITTEN BY HIMSELF, The Inscriptions , -which, have preceeded the present A.r- ticle , suggest to me the opportunity of saying something on the commencement of M/ Gibbon's Memoirs. The His- torian has made some apology for that interest regarding the history' of our ancestors , which seems implanted in our nature. I remember that Bishop JVatson , a severe , dry, analytical reasoner, without a spark of fancy or sen- timent , begins his Own Life with a similar apology. We have the same feelings expressed in the writings of Great Men from the earliest ages. This is also fully admitted by one, whose own illus- trious merits rendered it totally unnecessary to his impor- tance to resort to reflected and (what are called) adven- titious honours. The immortal Sully thus speaks of hi^ descent , and alliances. « Comme c'est « ( says he , ) « I'histoire de ma vie jointe a celle du Prince que j'ai servi , qui va faire le sujet de ces Memoires , je dois donner un eclaircissement sur ma famille et sur ma personne. En satisfaisant la curiosite du public a cet egard , je le fais sans affectation et sans va- nite , et que je donne a la seule necessite de dire la verite tout ce qu'on pourra rencontrer d'avantageux pour moi ici et dans toute la suite de ces Memoires. « Maximilien est mon nom de Bapteme, et Bethuhe est celui de ma famille. Elle tire son origine par la maison de Coucy , de I'ancienne maison d'Autriche , etc. » GIBBON. 207 « La malson de Bethune qui a donne son nom a ime ville de Flandre , » etc. , « furent declares protecteurs de |a province tl'Artois , etc.. » « Elle s'allia avec presque toutes les maisons souveraines de I'Europe , etc. (i). « Quand on a de pareilles exemples domestiques , on ne sauroit les rappeler trop souvent pour s'animer a les suivre. Heureux ! si pendant toute ma vie j'ai pu me comporter de maniere que tant d'liommes illustres ne dedaignent pas de me reconnoitre, et que je ne rougisse pas moi - meme d'en etre descendu , » etc. « Mais je dois aussi avouer que la Branche dont je suis sorli avoit alors beaucoup perdu de sa premiere splendeur. Cette Branche est issue d'un simple cadet , et le moins riche de tous ceux qui ont porte ce nom. La Branche ainee etant tombee trois fois en querouille, tous les grands biens qu'elle possedoit dans differens endroits de I'Europe , ne passerent point aux coUateraux, mais furent portes par les filles dans les maisons Royales ou elles entrerent. Mes ancetres particuliers ne laisserent pas, en se mariant avanta- geusement , de redonner a leur Branche ce que leur man- quoit pour soutenir dignement son nom : mais toutes ces richesses furent presqu'entierement dissipees par le mauvais menage et la prodigalite de mon grand-pere , qui ne laissa a son fils qui est mon pere que le bien d'ANiiE de Melun sa femme , qu'il ne pouvoit pas lui oter , » etc. (2). [j] «Par les maisons de Cliatillon, etc., elle comptoit, dit Du Chesne, plus de dix Princes du Sang Royal de France, et tous les Souve- rans de I'Europe. [2] See Hlstoire Genealogique des Maisons de Chatillon , M'ont^ morency et Lasal^ F~ergj; Guignes, Ardres ^ Gand et Coucj-, Dreux, Bar le-Duc , Luxembourg et Limbourg , du Plessis de Richelieu^ de Broyes et Chasteau - J^illain , de Chastenieres et de Bethune , par And. Du Chesne, Pavis 1629-1639, 7 ^ol. foL 208 THE ANTI-CRITIC Unquestionably tlie descent of Sully was \'ery different from that of Watson or Gibbon. But it is worth observing , what is the effect of great personal superioritj and merit! Gibbon has given a lustre and extension to his name ir. Europe , which>* centuries of the highest rank and greatest possessions cannot give. Great Nobles, inheriting splendid honours from a long succession of ancestors, may command respect and veneration in their own country : but a Foreign People will feel no interest about them ; nor per- haps even recognize their existence. It may be asked, what there was in Gibbon, of such extraordinary preeminence as to command this effect ? It cannot be ascribed to superiority of high and positive ge- nius ^ for this quality cannot be justly said to have been his characteristic. It may rather be attributed to complex causes. We may therefore notice, I. The magnitude and universal interest of the subject of his Great His to? j of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. 1. The vast extent of research and erudition, with which he has treated his subject. 3. The method and clearness of his arrangement ; and the digested and finished manner, in which he has deoom- posed , and rebuilt the whole. 4. A spirit of elegant and philosophical criticism , vdth which he examines , selects , and judges. 5. A freedom of opinion ; and the interest , created by the novelty of disputing commonly received principles and facts. 6. A style, which, if neither pure, nor splendid, is yet glittering and full of point. 7. A talent and skill of compression, and due and pro- portionate distribution, which cannot be too much praised. 8. An uniformity of contexture; and total freedom from GIBBO^f. 209 all patches and borrowings , and insertion of unassorted materials , from wliicli scarcely any other long History is free. These characteristics might be muUiplled by others of a similar kind. But these alone may probably be deemed sufficient for the effect , for which they arc stated to account. If we reflect, how comparatively narrow are the sub- jects embraced by most other celebrated Historians , the superiority of Gibbon in this respect alone gives him the most decided preeminence. Can we wonder then at the distinction he enjoys, when all the other attractions I have named , are added to it ? The learned and the curious of all Nations must feel an equal interest in this Work. And as it always contains an economy of thought and matter, and a calmness and good humour of discussion , which neither wastes the spirits _, nor harasses the attention , it conciliates all humours and prejudices ; and seems made for the Universe ; and not for one time or country. But an Hypercritic might yet find many serious , and perhaps pre- dominant defects in this History. It has rather the distinction of an immense edifice striking from the vast number of its parts , or apartments , all of one plan and one measure , than from the grandeur and variety of its design and execution. It betrays more of polish and artifice, than of native force. The impressions of the Historian were clear, and reten- tive ; and he has his recollections constantly alive : but he wants original and intrinsic energies : all with him seems to be the acquisition of study. There is in him therefore nothing which astonishes by its profundity, or its acuteness ; nothing which bears aways by bursts of overwhelming elo- quence. It is perhaps the author's sedateness of temper ; iiis ba« 210 THE ANTI-CRITIC lancing , considering mind , wLicli lias secured the due apportionment of his materials , and the taste of his se- leclions : but we meet \\ ilh no discoveries ; we are cheered by no flashes of light : we are wearied with monotony ; and persevere , rather as a task , than as a pleasure. It requires the Historian's phlegm , to read him with due interest ; and the Historian's practised memory , and am- bition of recondite , knowlege to give an impulse which will not flag in the labour of the perusal. His love of precision; his critical cariosity; his easy and unruffled apprehension; his even-paced exertion of strength, carried him on from day to day , and year to year , with an unebbing hope that he should arrive at the distant goal : like the sand of the lour - glass , all went quietly through the sieve of his mind ; broke itself , in due and unconflicting order , into atoms ; and was ready to be replaced and amalgamated into one even texture, in which there were no masses; nor any ill-sorted combinations. Hume is equally free from prolixity and inequality ; and Hume's style is far more easy and transparent : but Hume was not equally encumbered with research : the period of his Work was comparatively short and circumscribed ; and the materials , which he used , lay upon the surface. He did not trouble himself with the digest of voluminous li- braries of rare^ dry, difficult, and barbarous learning : but he seised on facts which were easily within every one's reach ; and throwing on them the sunshine of a lucid , acute , rapid , and highly-cultivated mind , depended on the charm of the manner , and the adornment of the genial beams of intellect whic!), a genius already stored with extraneous riches threw upon it ! Robertson was a philosopher, and an antiquary, as well as an accomplished and sagacious Historian. His investiga- tions were profound , laborious , and enlightened ; and he GIBBON. 211 appears to have searclied for trulli with an intfgrity, -vvhick will ensure the duration of his Works. The subjects he chose were highly important : but still they cannot be put in competition with the universality of interest inherent in the subject of Gibbon. The erudition they required , is immeasurably less extensive; and the concentration of mind , which they permitted , rendered depth and force more attainable. But there is something of monotony also attributable to r.obertson : his style is artificial ; and approaches to the dry , and hard : he has no eloquence ; and , I think , no fancy. If we were to dra^v the possible, rather than what the world has hitherto seen , we might invent an Historian •with the imagination of a Poet , yet with the fidelity of an Annalist ! Imagination might light him to the most secret recesses of the temple of Truth ; aud discover to him what profound learning and laborious enquiry never yet reached ! But such prodigies we have not hitherto been allowed to witness. The Imagination is too apt to draw what it wishes : — > not what has actually been ! If then in fact Gibbon has produced a work , which altogether is not likely to be paralleled , what is the effect of the lustre , which it gives to his name ? Can it throw back a splendor upon his ancestors ? Can it confer any honour on the collaterals of his blood ? It will be difficult to persuade the Public, in these days of what is called glo- rious emancipation from prejudice, that the character^ rank, habits , and adventitious circumstances of a man's family , have any concern with his own personal intellectual gifts , acquirements , and productions. But if Addison be right , we never read a Book with interest , without wishing to know the history of its Author. M.^ Gibbon has himself attempted to give a narration of 2i2 TIIK A?fTJ- CRITIC liis Descent : and it is a little singular, that lie lias totally mistaken tlie upper part of it, as far a regards the Branch, whence he sprung. There is in the world so much stupid scepticism about pedigrees , ( caused , no doubt , by the charlatanism , which is often displayed on this subject ) , that many will receive with hesitation from me this cor- rection of the Historian himself. But wdiat I have to say is no more a matter of doubt , than who was the His- torian's /rt^/ze/? It regards the hlrth of his great-grand- father Matthew; and the identity of Matthew s father and mother! That this Matthew was not of the Rolvenden Branch; but a younger son of Thomas Gibbon ^ Esq.'^ of Westcliffe , by Alice Taylor , his second wife , the deeds , wills , letters , and property in my possession prove beyond all possibi- lity of controversy. I corresponded with M.^ Gibbon on the subject in the autumn before his death, (1793); and con- vinced him of his error : but it was too late to give him the opportunity of setting this part of his Memoir right. M.^' Gibbon was the seventh in descent from Thomas Gibbon , who bought the Lordship and seat of iVestcliffe ^ ( a small parish between Dover and Deal ) , from Thomas Lord Borough about iSyo. The head Branch of the family had been settled for some centuries at Rolvenden in the JFeald of Kent , as is recorded by Philipot , on decisive authority, in his Villare Caiitianum published about i65o. The same antiquary asserts in direct terms that the Gibbons of Westcliffe were a Branch of this Family. After a great deal of pains , I confess that I have not been able to discover when they branched off; nor the mode in which they ought to be joined together. But the evidence of a celebrated Antiquary and Genealogist , nearly two hundred years ago , printed at the time it was written , is surely sufficient authority for such a fact. I may add , that the materials of the Villare were collected by Philipot's father , GIBBOT^. 213 wlio was an Herald , and Kentish man : and eminent in his profession. Tiie Branches o£ this House varied the field of their Arms. Those of Rohenden bore it hliie : those of Bishops- bourne , Westcliffe , etc. , changed it to Sable (i). The rank , which a Family holds , may be known from its alhances , with a precision that seldom errs. The sphere therefore in which the Gibbons of Westcliffe moved , from the close of the reign of Q. Elizabeth to the close of that of K. Charles II , may be easily and clearly ascertained. It cannot be pretended that the rank of a country gentleman (i) There is some difficulty as lo tlie Branches, to whom this variation was assigned. A patent or Grant exists, assigning it to those of Frld m. Bethersden, whence came those of CharUon in Bishopsbourne, Those of Jf^estcUffe bore it exactly the same : whence it may be inferred , that they were of the Bethersden Branch. Their positive usage of this particular variation , from the commencement of the reigu of K. Charles I. may be proved by many seals, pain- tings , and hatchments , yet existing. And this gives me an oppor- tunity of mentioning what is worth the notice of Kentish Genealo- gists. The Last f^'isitation of Kent by the Heralds was made by Sir 'Edward Bysshe in i663. It is a very slight and careless one : and this can excite no surprize in those , who consult the character of Sir Edward given by Anthony TVood. In the volume , in which the pedigrees are entered, a Blank is left for the arms of no incon- siderable number of the Families recorded. A few years ago the original Note Book of the Clerk , who accompanied Sir Edward in this Visita.iion , was recovered from the sale of M.^ Brand's Library. Most of these arms are there preserved ; but were after- Wards omitted to be copied fair into the Office-Book. A late Herald, no incompetent judge on such a subject , and not inclined to the side of candour , considered them to be thns so authenticated , that he proposed to apj)end them, to the Visitation. But higher authority prevailed !! Among these arms were recorded those of Gibbon of Westcliffe, in the form already mentioned. 21-4 THE ANTI-CRITIC possesses a lustre , which creates a general interest. But it has an independence , which keeps off degradation , and soothes pride. The evil of a country life is the tendency which it has to encourage a torpor of the mental fa- culties. The sports of the field are good for the body : but , if they are not taken in great moderation , they are not good for the mind. I have been accustomed , therefore , to search for proofs of a spirit , which carried them beyond such a narrow sphere of existence. The Bests , of which family was the first wife of Thomas Gibbon, ( a marriage, which took place about the middle of the reign of K. James I ) were a family of repute. They had estates and residences in several parts of the County. Their chief seat was Bihroohe (i) , in the parish of Ken- nington. They had another seat at St. Lawrence , near Canterbury : and they also resided at Allington , adjoining to Maidstone : but whether as proprietors , or whether they rented the celebrated Castle , ( once the seat of Sir Thomas Wyat , the poet ) , of the Astleys of Maidstone , I have not discovered. It is true , that they did not move quite in the lofty sphere of the Astleys (2) , though they seem to have been allied to them. (i) I think this property was sold to the Shoriers , of which fa- mily was the inolher of the late celebrated , Horace Welpoie , Earl of Orford. (2) John Astley, Esq.^, of Allington Castle, and of the Palace at Maidstone, was Master of the Jewel - Office , lo Q. Elizabeth j and his wife , Margaret Grey , was early one of her Maids of Honour. Sir John Astley , their son , was Master of the Revels to K. Charles I , and died i638. He married Katherine , daughter of Anthony Brydges, brother to Edmund 2.d Lord Chandos K. G. Sir Jacob Astley , created Lord Astley oj Reading , was his collateral successor. See Lord Clarendon s HlsLorj, Two of Sir John Astley 's sisters and coheirs married Sir Norton GliiEOxY. 215 By this fust wife M.^ Gibbon had a large family , who allied themselves to the neighbouring gentry. His eldest son intermarried wilh the family cf Rooke, aunt of Ihe ce- lebrated Admiral , Sir George R.ooke : which family were also illustrated at this time by the philosophical genius o/ Laurence Rooke. of whom there is an eloquent eulogy in Bishop SpraCs lUstory of the Royal Society. Nor was this little Parish of Westdiffe at this time totally obscure in other respects. It contained another seat , called Solton , long the residence of the Finets. Here was born SIr John Finet (i) , a wit in the Court of K, Charles I. and Master of the Ceremonies ; of whom notices occur in Weldon, and other memoir-writers ; and whose Philoxenis : Observations touching the Reception of Foreign Ambassadors in England, i65o (a), in-ii.^ , is yet held in esteem. He married a daughter of Lord Wentworth by a daughter of Sir Owen Hopton, whose other daughter married William Lord Chandos. Not merely close neighbourhood , but the common alliance of this family and that of Gibbon to the family of Foche of Wootton , united them intimately : and they were probably otherwise related in blood. Knatchbull : and his brother, M7 Thomas Knatchbull, whose son. Sir Norton, was created a Bar.* 1641. The KnalcJiluUs also inter- married with the Gibbons. (i) He is thus mentioned in the BiograpJiie Uiiwerselle. « Finet (Sir John), auteur auglais, issue d'une ancienne famille dltalie , naquit en iSyr a Soulton, pres de Douvres. II fut eleve k la cour, etc. II fut envoye en France comme charge d'affaires, et fut cree Chevalier cette annee, et fit en 1626, maitre des Ceremonies. Ses ouvrages sont : I. Fineii Philoxenis , etc. — 16" 56. 8° II. Le com- mencement , la duree et la decadence des Etais , etc. ; tj^aduit en anglais- du Jrancais de Rend de Lusinge , et imprime en 1604. — . Finet mourut en 1641. ( Biog. Univ. v. 14, p. 545. ) (2) See Triphook's Catalogue, 1820, N.° 718, 216 THE ANTI-CRITIC Mj Gibbon's first wife dying , wlien he was yet young, he remarried a lady of the name of Tajlor , whose mother was the widow of M/ Selherst of Tenterden , by which first husband she had a daughter Jane, a celebrated Beauty. Jane Selherst first married Edward Austen (i) of Tenter- den , Esq.^% and afterwards that profound lawyer, and celebrated Politician , Sir John Maynard , Serjeant at Law, and afterwards one of the Commissioners of the Great Seal, in the reign of K. William. She died long bfifore her last husband without issue ; and settled her property on the issue of her two half-sisters , Jane , the wife of..... Codd , Esq.^ of Watringbury , whose son died , issueless , during his Shrievalty of Kent , 1707 ; and of Alice, wife of Thomas Gibbon. In 1709 the only two survivors of her nephews and nieces were Philip Gibbon , and his sister Deborah Bradford , w idow , who surrendered the property by deed to John Brydges , Esq.^ , husband of their niece Jane Gibbon (1). Mj Gibbon , thus nearly connected by marriage with a man who took so active a part in public life as Sir John Mafjiard , could scarcely have passed his life in obscu- rity : or without an easy access to the company of those , who were acting on the great stage of the world. His family was numerous ; but his fortune was ample , if I may judge from the deeds of purchase , and other instru- ments , which have passed through my hands. He lived to a great age ; and having maiTied a third time to a (i) They were made Baronets in 1660 j and tlie widow of the last , was the friend of Cowper ; and gave occasion to his Task. (2") This deed thus recites the pedigree : and the will of Dchorah Bradford of St. Andrew^ Holborn <, widow, 171 2 j gives many legacies to her relations, naming their degree of kindred. She men- tions her nephews , Edward and Thomas Giblon , sons oj' her hrolher Matthew, etc. GIBBON. 2 1 7 ^idow of fortune , gave up the residence at WcstcVffe td his eldest son Thomas , who was educated at one of the Inns of Court , but who does not seem ever to have pursued the Law as a profession. This Thomas, the younger , had several children ; but I have never heard of any descendants from them j and do not doubt that they all soon became extinct. The fate of the mansion and estate at WestcViffe , I am also unable to explain. Thomas , the younger , ( who was eldest of t"ie Brothers), quitted it long before his death j and at the decease of the Father, (1674), I have a do- cument which proves that Edward and Matthew , sons of Alice Taylor , the second wife , each succeeded to a share in it. On this subject an anecdote has been handed down to me , which not improbably gives the origin of a family, who in the last fifty years have made some noise on the other side the Atlantic. A M.J Randolph , of a good Kentish family (i) ^ ( still existing in that County ) , had married a sister of Edward and Matthew Gibbon. When the property of the estate became divided, Randolph hired it : but bemg a very improvident many he became, after some time, so greatly in arrear for rent , that the owners felt themselves under the necessity of distraining. This was the occasion which caused a Letter from Matthew Gibbon , (the Histo- tian's great grandfather ) , still possessed by me. Randolph fled to America ; and was ancestor of persons of the name , who took an active part in the American Revolution. These, I take for granted, are the same who have filled with dis- tinction the office of President of the Congress. It is probable , that from this time the mansion of Westcliffe was deserted ; and gradually dilapidated into a [i] Old Recorder Randolph, of this family, was intimate with my grandfather. His grandson was late Bishop of Oxford. 218 THE AISTI-CRITIC farm-house. I know not when it was sold; or by whom it was purchased. But in the reign of Q. Anne it was bought by Admiral Ayhner , (created Lord Ayhner 1718, who died 1724). Thirty four years have elapsed, since I ■visited it. The armorial ensigns of the Gibbons just shewed themselves in faded fragments round the cornice of one of the rooms with the date of ( I think ) 1627 (i). It stands in an open country, high upon the white cliffs, that over- look the opposite coast of France, from Calais towards the North. The distance from Dover-Castle is , ( if I recollect ) not more than three miles. It is a district a present very thinly inhabited by gentry ; and bleak and unpicturesque from the deficiency of trees and wood. But I trod over it with a fulness of mind , and depth of emotion , which I cannot controul. I was busy in the com- pany of my ancestors ; and peopled it with a thousand of the dead. I know not when Edward Gibbon , the father of my grandmother, died. In 1690, his widow had already a son born by her second husband, BIj Yoj^le of Dover \ and this son was the celebrated Philip , afterwards Lord High Chancellor of England , and Earl of Hardwicke. She lived , I believe , long enough to see him rise to the rank of Attorney-General. She was a cousin of her first husband , being the daughter and heir of a M.*" Richard Gibbon ^ of Dover , whose exact deg-^ee of relationship to those of WestcUffe , I have never been able to ascertain. Edward Gibbon's first wife was Martha daughter of Sir [i] It seems to have been the fate of this property to have been connected -v^itli men distinguished in the world. When M.*" Pitt was Miuisler , he hired the farm of 400 acres, of which the culti- vation formed one of his amusements during the short intervals of GIBBOPf. 219 John Roberts, of Bekesborne , near Canterbury, K-', who had another daughter married to Thomas Tohon , Esq J , also of Bekesborne. I mention this last marriage , because it was io this family that the celebrated D/ White Kennet, a native of Dover , afterwards Bishop of Peterbojough (i) , was in his early life a Tutor. It was about the reign of K. James II, that the male line of the Gibbons ceased to sur- vive In Kent. Thomas and Edward were now dead ; D.^ Richard , the physician , had died many years before his father , at an early age ; Philip had become a Jesuit at St. Omer's ( as I have heard ) ; JMatthew lived ; but he lived in London, engaged in a lucrative commerce. I have not learned the name of liis wife Hesther : but she had pro- bably no connection with Kent. The principal ties with the County having ceased ; ( for I do not doubt that the estate of Westclljfe , being now broke into parcels became incon- venient to be retained , and was sold before Edward's death.), Matthew probably withdrew every year more and more his communications and his affections from Rent. He left his niece to the care of the Coppins (2) , of Wootton , [i] Bishop Kennet Avas a man of an ardent inind, who made li- terary lahour lii^s d.-liyht. His Historical Chronicle contains innume- rable useful , though minute , historical and literary notices. His History oj' England, ■which is composed of a selection of Histories of particular Reigns by different eminent Authors , with his own Notes , and the chasms filled up, and the continuation given by Himself, is a valuable and intelligent Collection. But lie was far from being a mere compiler; his own original compositions are full of strength and knowlege. He was a deep antiquary; a learned and acute Divine ; and a liberal , enlarged , and enlightened Politician. His brother, Basil Kennet, was an eminent Greek scholar, and compiled flie Li^es of the Grecian Poets. (2) She was doubly connected with the Coppins. The last son was not only the sou of an elder half-sister of her Father; but married her mother's sister, Mary, daughter of Sir John Roberts. 220 THE ANTI-GRITIC who had adopted her ; and who having no children of their own, were likely to take ample care of her. Matthew Gibbon died about 1707; and his widow Hesther remar- ried Richard Acton of London, Banker, ( or Goldsmith, as that business was then called ) , 3d son of Sir AValter Acton, of Aldenham , in Shropshire, Ear.'; about the same time also, (whether before, or after), her daughter Elizabeth Gibbon married Sir Whitmore Acton, Bar.% the head of that ancient family; who died 1732, and was mother of Sir Richard, born Jan. i. 1772, -s^ho died without issue, Nov. 20. 1791 , set. 80 (i). Edward Gibbon , eldest son of Matthew and Hesther , Lorn 1666 , also married Elizabeth the daughter of Richard Ac'on ; and by him had issue Edward born 1707, the father of the Historian. This first Edward became a rich Merchant; and is me- The family possessed the seat of Wonlton for a Century. In the re'gn of Qu. Eliz. it was the seat of Leonard aud Thomas Digges » father and grandfather of Sir Dudley Digges. (i) He married Lad}'^ Anne Grey, daughter of Henry, 3d Earl of Stamford. He was succeeded in the Baronetage hy his next collateral heir male , Sir John Francis Edward Acton , born 1736-, great great- grandson of Capt. Walter Acton , next elder brother of Richard , the goldsmith; which Walter had a son Walter, who died 1718 , leaving ten sons. Edward , eldest son , born 1679 ' ^^^ father of Edward Acton, horn 1709, who went to reside at Besancon in the Proi'ince of Burgundy , in France ; and marrying a French Lady' left three sons, and one daughter. Sir John Francis Edward Acton , eldest son , is known to all Europe in the office of Prime Minister to the King of Naples , in which kingdom he possessed the full power and favour for so many years. He died at Palermo, 12 Aug. i8ii. His eldest son. Sir Ferdinaud-Richard-Edward Acton, is the present Bar.t horn 26 July ?8oi. GIBBON. 22 1 morable as one of the Southsea Directors ; a bubble , in whicli his concern T^as the wreck of his fortune. He however, commenced afresh, (as his grandson says); and left an ample inheritance to his son. He died, Dec. 1736 (i). [i] His first cousin , M.rs Brydges, survived him two years : but I believe, that all intimacy between them, if it ever existed, had long ceased. I find no letters of correspondence ; or community of interests. I have two Letters of Matthew, the father , with regard to the distress at TP^estcliffe ; and also a note in the hand- writing of M}' John Coppin. It is not improbable, that some family diffe- rence had alienated them from eacii other : and the preference given by Philip Gibbon and Dorothy Bradford to their niece Jane (Brydges) daughter of Edward G. over their nephew Edward G. son of Matthew, in surrendering to her, (or rather her husband ) , theRomney Marsh property devolved from Lady Maynard ( a property, of which the inheritance has devolved on the present writer , and is now perhaps (or lately was) worth thirty thousand pounds, — a preference so valuable, might possibly breed dissatisfaction, that increased, till all acquaintance ended. I am sure , that all intercourse did end; for my uncle and father were both old enough to have been well ac- quainted witli the South-sea Director, Edward, who was so near in blood, as first-cousin to the'r mother j and who did not die till 1786 , wlien they were respectively, of the ages of 24, and 26. — I never heard them speak of any personal acquaintance with this Edward. His son, Edward, once dined with them, when quartered at Dover Castle , as Major of the Hampshire Militia. A long experience has shewn me, how very little a waj^ mere relationship of blood, (however near ) , goes in procuring affection , friendship , intimacy , or even intercourse : and yet there are people so stupid as to argue that even in distant connections want of communication is a strong presump- tion of want of relationship! On my father's side I had no collateral relation nearer than the Historian Gibbon : yet every sort of com- munication had ceased between our families: and when BI.'" Gihhou wrote his Memoirs , he had lost all trace of the Branch , from whence he sprung. I confess that this ignorance is very singular, when it is recollected, that his grandfather, who must have known 222 THE ANTI-CRITIC M/ Gibbon's Fatlier died lo Nov. 1770 , aet. 64. Tiie history of his Hfe is given by his son ; and forms an in- teresting d'omestic portrait. The manners and habits of a country gentleman of a more ceremonious age gently exer- cise the fancy J and the moral and intellectual traits drawn by an elegant and practised pen, excite a kind of placid, benevolent , sympathy , vs^hich , vv^hile it gives food for re- flection , softems the heart. In the autumn of 1793 , M.'^ Gibbon returned for the last time from Lausanne , to die in his native country. He w^as in his 57*"^ year; and he flattered hiniself that he had yet many years of life to come. He went imme- diately lo his friend Lord Sheffield's at Sheffield Place in Sussex , whence I had a letter from him , inquiring for the particulars of the birth of his great grandfather , Matthew, etc. The short interval of his existence from that time, till its close in Jan.y following, is fully detailed by Lord Sheffield. His nearest relation on the paternal side was Catharine Lady Eliot , wife of the late Lord Eliot , and mother of the present Earl of St. Germains (i). She was daughter of so well whence liis father came, only died a year before his birth. I do not attribute it to vanity • for I cannot perceive that he gained any thing by it. M.^ Phillyps Gibbon , indeed , the chief of the Roluenden Branch, was among the Leaders of the Party in Parliament opposed to Sir Robert Walpole : but he was one, of whom the Historian takes no notice; and with whom his own Fa- mily seemed to have been in no communication. When the true descent was pointed out to M.'* G. , his curiosity was much awakened; and he expressed great pleasure. [i] This Earl's first wife was sister to the present Earl of Hard- wicke ; and grand - daughter of the Lord Chancellor Hardwicke j whose mother was a Gibbon. His 2d wife, the daughter of the Rt Hon. R. P. Carew, is also a great grand - daughter of Lord Chancellor Hardv/icke. GIBBON. 223 Edward Elliston, EsqJ, whose mother was a daughter of Matthew Gibbon. Pedigree is a subject so trifling in the opinion of many readers ; so hateful in the opinion of others ; that I am wilhng to close this article with a few observations of more general interest. Not that I am the slave of public opinion': 1 can only be ashamed of that , which I do not believe to be true, or just. I believe love of pedigree to be inherent in our nature ; and to stand on wise moral , political , and philosophical principles. I write not for hire , or sale : I am not paid to please the taste , and feed the passions, of the multitude. I never was a favou- rite with the mob : nor ever hope to be ! Let those , to whom I am discordant , refrain from my pages ! I ask not their perusal. Blwr observes , that « Genius is a word which in common acceptation , extends much farther than to the objects of taste. It is used to signify that talent or aptitude , which we receive from nature , for excelling in any one thing whatever. Thus we speak of a genius for mathematics . as well as of a genius for poetry ; of a genius for war j for politics (i) ; or for any mechanical employment ». I think that , in this sense , Gibbon may be said to have possessed no common genius. Yet I doubt if a series of. accidental circumstances did not contribute largely to his excellence. His early foreign education^ and liis consequent intimacy with French v/ritings ; his admiration qf the new. philosophy , and pointed style of Voltaire , together with his patient study of the voluminous learning of what may be called demi - classicalitj , enabled him , when once he [i] Rhetoric, and Bt-lles-Lettres , i. 47. 224 THE AWTI- CRITIC had fixed on sueh a subject as The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, to combine, to an inexhaustible extent, what had never been combined before , either with refe- rence to matter or manner. He had lived in the society of the British Capital both among rank and genius , at a time when the minds of men had become philosophical; and were in a state of activity, and fervor. He belonged to the literary club of Johnson , Burke , Goldsmith , Garrick , Reynolds , the Wartons , etc. We may imagine him , while his talents and acquirements had not yet burst into celebrity , listening with compla- cence tothe gigantic and irresistible force of Johnson ; to the blaze of Burke's fancy , dazzling at first , but still brigh- tening and multiplying at every flash; to the laughable interludes of Goldsmith ; to the pure classicality of Joseph Warton, and to the magical and electrifying tones of Garrick. Tapping his snuff-box , with the shrug of an higher cast of manners; the man of fortune; the travelled Gentleman; the senator ; the Lord of Trade ; we see him listening de- lighted , yet with a most fashionable composure of coun>^ tenance ; then interposing a few quaint words , which by their contrast add zest to the struggle of intellect and genius ! At length comes forth the little-expected Quarfo Volume, full of polish, and point, and subtlety, and criticism, and multifarious reading , and clear , and rich compression ! ^^" ^ ,-, "1 '• u'^jit- ■°^ * » K ' ^< V- ^^-.^^ ?^ .^% - Id c^. .s? ,-y^ <^ * ci- O « ^ ' " * '^: o5 '^ -