■*^o« co* .i5<;^/'^°o ^^ o. » 'U-O^ o^ ♦#,!• ^0 ^ 4.;^o ^•'^ ^o ♦on** .0'' K-?^"'*' V'-O^ JP- • •• , -it • < o GNOMICA GNOMICA: DETACHED THOUGHTS, SENTENTIOUS, AXIOMATIC, MORAL AND CRITICAL: BUT ESPECIALLY WITH REFERENCE TO POETICAL FACULTIES, AND HABITS. B Y Sir EGERTON BRYDGES, Bar.% B. C. de S. etc. etc. GENEVA, ^ Printed by W. F I C K. Feb. mdcccxxiv. ( IS copies only. ) \"'\):\.Q.^ A CATALOGUE (*) OF ALL THE WORKS PRINTED AT THE PRIVATE PRESS AT LEE PRIORY O KENT : FROM ITS COBIMEPfCEMENT IIS JTJLY 1 8 1 3 , TILL ITS TER3IiyATIO:N" IIV JA^. iSlS, N, B. Unless -where oilienvise iioticed , the Works printed at the Lee Priory Press, isnd vvhich are MOW Jinally discontinued , v. ere slrlctlv and uniform Ij limited to loo Copies. IN ROYAL QUARTO. I. Speeches dcli\'ered to Qiir,^n Elizabeth ^ at Sudciey Castle , tlie seat of Giles Brj-dges , Lord C/umclos. 2.. Sir IValter Raleigh's Poems. 3. Greene's Groats-worth of Wit; bought with a Mil- lion of Repentance. Of tliis Work only 65 Copies were printed. 4. William Browne* s Occasional Poems , never before printed, fn 4 Parts. 5. Select Poems ^ by Sir Egerton Brydges. G. Occasional Poems : by Ihe Same Author. 7. Nicholas Bretons Longing of a Blessed Heart. (*) Copied from i!ie Advertisement of John Warwick., the late Printer of the Lee Priory Press, with a few vcrbwl adciitious. 2 LEE PRIORY PRESS. (S. IV. Breton's Melancholike Humours. 9. Sonnets from Petrarch : by the Rev A Fr. fVrangham. 10. Dunluce Castle^ a Poem: by Edward Quillinan^ Esq. 1 1 . Stanzas : by the Same Author. IN ROYAL OCTAVO, 12. Francis Davison's Poetical Rhapsody: {a new Edi" tion.) In 4 Parts. i3. The Sylvan Wanderer : by Sir Egerton Brydges. In 4 Parts. 14. Excerpta Tudoriana : ( a Selection of Elizabethan Poetry. ) In 7 Parts. i5. Michael Drayton s Nymphidia ^ the Court of Fairy : ( a ne\>v Edition. ) i6. Liije of Sir Philip Sydney: by Fulke G revile .^ Lord Brook, In 2 Vols. 17. Li/e of Margaret Cavendish ^ Duchess of Newcastle: written by Herself 18. Poems of Margaret , Duchess of Newcastle : 2.S Copies printed as a specimen of the Lee Priory Press, and the first Work printed there ; ( not sold. ) 19. The Characters of Robert Devereux Earl of Essex ^ and George Villiers , Duke of Buckingham : by Sir Henry Wotton. 20. Bertram \ a Poetical Tale , in Four Cantos : by Sir Egerton Brydges. 21. Eist of the Pictures at Lee Priory. — 60 Copies printed. 22. The Ravished Soul^ and Blessed Weeper; by Nicholois Breton. LEE PRIORY PRESS. IN DEMY OCTAVO. ^3. Fames Memorial : an Elegy upon the Earl of Be- voushire: by John Ford. Edited by Mr. Haslewood. 24. Eetlersfrom the Continent : by Sir Egerton Brydges, In 2. Vols. 25. What are Eiches? ( a second Edition. ) by the Same Author. (The first Edition was printed at Geneva. ) IN POST QUARTO. 26. Hagthorpe Revived : or Select Specimens of a Forgotten Poet: edited by Sir Egerton Brydges. J> For the Roxburghe Ciub. 2.'j. Jack Jugler and Thersytes : edited by MJ Haslewood .... 28. Select Funeral IVIemorials. In 2. Parts. 29. Ccelia : consisting of Twenty Sonnets : by VTilliam Percy. 30. Elegiac Verses^ addressed to Lady Brydges^ by Edward Quillinan , Esq. 3i. Woodcuts ^ and Verses by the same Author ., illus- trative of each Cut. In one Vol. This Volume em- braces the whole of the Engravings used in the various Works of the Lee Press. IN POST OCTAVO. 32. Eife and Death of Sir Francis Drake : by Charles Fitz-geffrey. 33. The Trumpet of Fame. 34. Eife and Death of William Powlett ? First Marquis of Winchester: by R. Broughion. 4 LEE PRIORY PRESS. 35. The Brother-in-Law ; a Comedy: by the Ret^. Henry Card. 36. Nicholas Bretons Praise of Virtuous Toadies. 37. Blchard Brai'h'waytts Select Odes. 38. Desultoria : by Sir Egerton Brydges. 39. George Wither s Select Lyrical Poems. N.B. N.o 2/^. Letters from the Continent , and N.'' zS What are Riches , (the two last Works printed , ) may Le bad of R.' Tripliook, Old Bond Street. A few ropies of some of the other Works , and Parts that remain , may be had of the Printer, John Warwick, wlio has now established a Press at ]\.° 4^1 Brooke Street, llol- born , London : — or of Mr. Triphook , or Mess.^* Longman. The Engravings on Wood used in the Lee Priory Works , are deposited at the Mansion of Lee Priory , in Kent; according to the pledge given concerning them; and will Beyer be permitted to be used again. LoHDON , Printed by John WARWICK , 4o , Brooke Street, Holborn. March ^ i82;3. Geneva , Reprinted by William FiCK 10.^^^ March ^ 1824. LEE PRIORY PRESS. ADDITIONS TO THE ABOVE ADVERTISEMENT. J. o the above Advertisement of John Warwick , the Lee- Priory -Prluler , it may be desirable to add a few notices. Of the foregoing publications which were the property of thePRiiSTER, and done for his exclusive be- nefit and at his cost and risk , nothing was engaged for by Sir E. Brydges but the gratuitous labour (*) of the Editorship, or of the compositions of his own pen. The owner of the Mansion , ( the Editor's son , ) gave the use of the rooms where the Press was erected. The only benefit to which the Editor looked, beyond that of the Pri:nter, was a benefit to Literature, resulting from the reprint of several Tracts at once scarce and curious, which had been for one or two Centuries buried treasures. There is nothing to which the captiousness of malice, envy, ill-Avill, and prejudice will not find oljjections : and it may perhaps be pretended , that these Tracts were not worth reprinting : that they were only inte- restinsj to Bibliomaniacs ; and useless to solid literature. How little ground there is for such an objection , the titles of some of these Reprints , ( if not of all , ) will easily shew to every Englishman of any education. Mere base ignorance alone can deem Lord Brook's Life of Sir (*) Though pecuniary assistance -was refused to be engaged for,- much gratuitous pecuniary assistance was gwen. b LEE PRIORY PRESS. Philipp Sydjney au unmstructlve or unafFecting trifle: vet the only previous Edition of it was rarely to be met with. He, who does not feel interest in the Poems of that illustrious Man Sir Walter Raleigh , which were never before collected , must be strangely deficient in the qualities both of the heart and the head ! The OccAsioivAL Poems of William Browne , the Pastoral poet, now given from the Lee Priory Press, had hitherto remained in MS. and were entirely unknown : they are , in the Editor's opinion much superior to those produc- tions on which his fame had been built ; because they are much less affected. The Rhapsody collected by Francis Davison , the son of that unfortunate Secretary to Queen Elizabeth , whose name is so deeply connected with the fate of Mary Queen of Scots , is as interesting in its matter , as the former Editions of it are rare. The Autographical Memoir of Margaret Duchess of New- castle y extracted from one of her scarcest works, is a piece of biography of exquisite curiosity. All the pieces of Nicholas Breton are as beautiful as they were hitherto unattainable. Charles Fitzgeffrey's Sir Francis Drake is not merely very uncommon, but a very laboured and valuable production ; more studied and quaint than full of fire and genius ; but still the production of superior endowments ; and a specimen of the literature of the Age, far from insignificant. It is not necessary to say more here. The Repiiuts already noticed are sufficient to indicate the tone of lite- rature , which characterizes the Works of the Lee Priory Press. CATALOGCE. A CATALOGUE OF OTHER WORKS WRITTEN, OR EDITED, BY SIR EGERTON BRYDGES, BarJ , B. C. de S. etc. etc. 40. Sonnets and other Poems. S.° March , 1785. 4*^ Edit. 1807. 12.° 41. Mai^j De-Clifford. 1792. 12..^ 1802. 8.«> 42. Arthur Fitzalbini^ 2. vols. 1798, 2.^ Ed. 1799, 12. <^ 43. Le Forester., 3 vols. 1802. 12.° 44- The Ruminator : Essays Moral and Critical^ 2 vols. 12.0 1814. 45. Topographical Miscellanies^ ^79^ 9 ^-^ 46. Tests of the Natiojial Wealth., ^799- ^° 47. Reflections on the Augmentations of the Peerage, 1798. 8.' With a Biographical Eist of Qu, Elizabeth's Peers. 48. Letters on the Poor Laws , 181 4, 8.^ 49. Arguments for the Employment of the Poor, 1817, 8.^ 50. Reasons for the farther Amendment of the Act 54 Geo. III. c. i56 , regarding Copyright. 1817, 8.® En. A Summary statement of the Grievances imposed on Literature by the said Act. 8.° 52. A Vindication of the Pending Bill for the Amend" ment of tlie said Act. 1818. 8.0 53. Censura Literaria , 10 vols. 8.° 1806, 1809. 2.^ Ed. i8i5. 54. British Bibliographer , ( aided by J, Haslewood ) , 4 vols. 8.® 1 810. etc. 8 CATALOGUE. 55. Bestituta: 4 vols. 8.° 1814. 1816. 56. The Peerage of 'England , originally compiled hy Arthur Collins — a new Edition continued and greatly augmented by Sir E. Brydges , 9 wo/^ , large S.^ 1812. 67. Theatrum Poetarum Anglicanorum hy E. Phillips^ 1675. — a new edit, greatly augmented hy Sir E. Brydges , 1800. 8.° 58. Archaica : Beprints of Scarce old English Prose Tracts^ 2. vols. 4.° 181 5. 59. England's Helicon , reprinted from the Edit, of 1600. 4-° 60. Paradise of Dainty Devises , reprinted from the Edition of 1576. 4-° 18 10. 61. Geo. Withers Shepherd's Hunting , new Edition i8i5. 12.0 62. Fidelia , ib. ib. 63. Fair Virtue^ i8i5, ib. v\64. Hymns of the Churchy 181 5, 8." 65. William Earl of Pembroke's Poems , new Edit, 1817. 12.° 66. C. Barksdale s Nympha hibethris^ new Ed. 181 5, i^.** 67. T. Stanley's Poems ^ new Ed. 18 14. 8.° gy. Anacreon , new Ed. 181 5 , 8.^ 69. Poems hy John Hall of Durham ^ new Ed. 181 5 , 8.^ 70. Poems hy William Hammond i655 , new Edit. 1816, 4.° 71. Sir Walter Baleigh's Poems ^ new Ed. 1814? 12.^ 72. TheHallofHellingsley^ a Tale., 3 vols., 1822, 12.° 73. Memoirs of K. James's Peers ^ ^799* ^° PREFATORY LETTER, TO * •* -^ ■¥• r- Y- ^ * -f- M Y DEAR Geneva, 7 Feh. 18244 The following detached Papers were written at tl)e dates respectively affixed to tliem. This may be an amusement, which you will not blame : but yon will ask , a why print them ? » — I answer : because they seem to me to con- tain truths J which are not only intrinsically important j, but the reverse of trite, ^^/hat is stale, however just, will not bear repetition : though it may please those weak intellects , which can only comprehend what is fami- liar to them ; and dislike that which puts their faculties of apprehension to the trial. Nothing differs more than the purposes w^hich dlffefent authors propose to themselves by their writings. Some use them as the means of pecuniary profit , or at least of worldly success and exaltation in society and in the bu* siness of life. Such men are the slaves of public opinion \ and must follow and flatter the passions and prejudices of mankind , instead of going contrary to them , and of eft* deavouring to correct , or expose them. Others are Cay*' ried by an irresistible impulse to search for Triith \ and place their whole gratification in the intrinsic value of th§ discovery. VI >r.VFArorx"Y LETTKU. « But what is the proof of the discovery ? Are not errors w as likely to take place here , as in the opinions of the w multitude ? w — It may be admitted , that labour may not succeed ; cultivation may not produce fruit; talents may err.; genius may misapprehend false lights for genuine I But will ignorance therefore judge more accurately than knowlege ; passion and interest decide more justly than calm and abstract reflection ; and coarse and dull capaci- ties penetrate deeper than native acuteness , sagacity , and force ? — In these days Men born for better purposes have no shame in pampering the appetites of the Multitude. They laugh to themselves , while they cry in secret ; « qui vult decipi ^ decipiatur ! » — Yet neither the fields of moral phi- losophy , nor of history , nor of fiction , are exhausted ; — nor ever will be exhausted ! — Books are multiplied , which only load libraries , and encumber or mislead the mind : while almost all that requires to be entered upon, is shunned as if it were evil and pestilent ground. It is ihe domination of popular opinion which has effected this, L'Abbe Brizabd in his Eloge on L'Abbe de Mably, says, « Les Lettres lui offroient un asyle ; il se refugia dans leur sein ; il prefera I'etude , son cabinet , ses livres , une pauvrete noble et libre a toutes les seductions de la for- tune ; et aussi - tot qu'il eut pris son parti , on ne le vit jamais jeter un regard en arriere. N'ayant rien a pretendre ne rien a perdre , ses sentimens etoient a lui : il ne fut point oblige d'enchainer ses idees aux idees des autres , d'adopter leurs opinions , et de recevoir , pour ainsi dire , ses pensees toutes faconnees de leurs mains : il crut qu'il falloit d'etre soi. II se separa de la multitude , et mai'cha presque seul dans I'etroit sentier qu'il s'etoit trace. Ses principes et son caractere , ses ecrits et sa conduite tran- chcrent toujours avec le gout dominant , et le Ion general de son siecle. v ~ rrvJ-.FATORV LKTTaU. VII Again in the Notes it is said , lliat « Son desinteresscment etoit tel , qu'il ne relira rien de ses ouvrages ; a peine exigeioit-il quelques exemplaires pour les presens d'usages ; bien different de ces litterateurs qui n'estiment dans le commerce des Muses que le profit que ce commerce leur rapporte. » In the paths which the public taste favours , there is no difficulty to find authors : — it is in the walks of laborious research and profound thought that the rarity lies ; in which excellence is an obstacle to fame ; and in which there is no encouragement but the internal satisfaction of self-devoted enthusiasm. I do not recollect an instance of a writer for hire , or of one mainly influenced by lucre, whose productions have continued in repute with posterity. Profit comes from a quick and indiscriminate reception : what is of lasting in- terest , and depends on the approbation of master minds , is of slow progress. It is , as in the animal and vegetable world : what is of rapid growth , is proportionally short- lived. Milton's Paradise Lost required the weight of the authority of the leading talents of successive generations to procure for it the due reception. If the merit of a literary work is to be tried by the number of readers , whom it interests , what work of genius can be put in competition with a Newspaper ? Many publications are calculated to circulate exactly in proportion as they vicious. What is so popular ,^ as personalities, satire, scandal, and libel? « But if the Public v/ill not hear , why not let them go »; their own way without vain exertions to controul them ? » — Is it certain then , that the exertions are quite vain ? — Are there not a few choice spirits , Avho may be touched and pleased ? If there be truth , if the production contain any thing of life , some of the seeds are sure to fall in a congenial soil! But if it do no good , if it be erroneous ^^ Xlll PREFATORY LETTER. or dull, — so long as it neillier flatters any Yice, nor pro- pagates any miscliicf , wiiom can it harm , unless the author in his pocket ? If" it be harmless to others , the author at least lias been amused, and innocently occupied: — nor, if he has missed the truth , is it possible that he can have avoided to improve and strengthen his mind by the exer- cise ! — - Will any one write but with the hope that what, he writes may some day be brought to the test of other men's minds ? And who, till he has written, is sure of the clear- ness and rectitude of his own conceptions ? The importance of the topics , which are discussed in this volume, will he differently estimated by minds and dispo- sitions differently formed. Many of them are questions which will almost daily recur to a certain class of literary devotees: and moral and conscientious minds are always pleased with whatever contributes to allay the restlessness of doubi. Providence , indeed , has permitted a portion of mankind to remain content with a sensual existence , free from the disturbance of inquisitive thoughts , and of anxious fears regarding the ends of our Being , and the purposes of the intellectual capacities with which we are endowed. But there is a sleepless fire , which , if not universally , is ivldely implanted in the human heart ; and this fire is ever at work to stimulate us to higher hopes , and to urge us to explore the more shadowy qualities of that part of our nature which allies us to a more spiritual slate of exis- tence. -^— Into these subtle and invisible regions there are many who feel a reluctance , and still more who feel an incapacity, to go. But yet there are enough to satisfy the pride of him who holds the torch to them. The abstruscness of metaphysical and psychological stu- dies renders the pursuit of them very difficult. The only sane fountain of intelligence is to be sought in strict iu" PREFATORY LETTER. IX ternal examination ; and the best lights are of course to be had, where the capacities examined are brightest. But per- sons of lively thought, active sentiment, and strong ima- gination , have seldom the patience necessary for this strict and laborious scrutiny. The task therefore falls for the most part on those whose resources are less rich , and secrets less worth unveiling. In this field then much remains to be explored ; and all that is drawn from this rich and genuine fountain is a treasure gained. Though a large portion of those who write for the Press , are but mere echoes of echoes , and continue to multiply the same ideas and expressions , still enfeebled and become more imperfect at every remove ; and though of these the proof that it is a mere copy is so obvious as to permit no doubt ; yet there are other small portions of authors , who tread upon the confines of originality ; who sometimes for a moment enter within the boundaries ; whose efforts therefore it would be an unjust severity to stifle ; who may at least have a chance of being useful ; and who by some lucky collision may contribute some sparks to enlighten the world. If it were to be assumed that mankind are already arrived at the acme of human intelligence ; that all of good and wise which can be thought and said , has been already adequately thought and said , the Human Mind would soon lose its vigour , and by no slow descent fall into torpor and imbecillity. It is impossible to be stationary : if we do not endeavour to be progressive , we shall be retrograde. On many sub- jects much doubtful speculation must be hazarded before we arrive at the truth : there must be much sifting ; for the golden ore will sometimes be unexpectedly found amid dust and rubbish. — It would be a most censurable severity to suppress every thing which does not unite perfection of genius and X PREFATORY LETTER.. truth : I mean , of that which aspires to be of a general nature : for what is temporary and occasional must always be called for ; and requires only novelty of application ; not of matter. He , who tasks himself to develop principles and senti- ments , undertakes an arduous and high function ; and ought to be treated with candour and favour, if he shews abilities and exertions in any degree commensurate to his ambition- Facts , which form the matter of history , are , ■when the interest derived from novelty bas ceased , only valuable so far as they illustrate principles and sentiments. These last alone form the essence of the fruits of the high- est efforts of the human intellect : to these last alone may be ascribed the c|ualities of ubiquity and eternity. — The rewards of permanent literature are so distant , so contingent , and so shadowy , that the fires necessary to sustain the pursuit must be of the purest and most inex- tinguishable kind. What touches transient , personal , and narrow interests , gives a strong though quickly-spent im- pulse ; it supplies false strength; and affords factitious aid which for a little while is mistaken for genius. The mass of Human Beings are born to know only so far as they are taught ; to strike out no new lights ; to form no new lessons ; to clear up nothing which is obs- cure ; to withdraw the veil from nothing which is hidden. Few of them know much of what books or conversation will teach ; and none of them know any thing beyond. — ■ Not only is that , which is new and just , reserved for the discovery of gifted minds; but the most original pow- ers often catch light only by fits amid surrounding dark- ness. The flashes come and are lost again: and it is only by repeated intensity of view, that what they display is at length clearly distinguished. But of the Few , who possess the faculties of original PREFATORY LETTER. thought, some are overpowered by diffidence to waste the precious inheritance by compiling from their predecessors: while of the Deficient, many are urged by arrogance and vanity to make impotent efforts at thinking for themselves, which end in vapour or absurdity. Despondence sometimes makes the strong limit their toils to humble uudertakings : and the Public is always willing to judge them by their meanest , . and not by their best works. It is not believed that he who has employed him- self in the timid and unambitious occupation of Editor , can produce compositions , — much less inventions , — of his own. And such an one perhaps does very ill in losing his time in labours , which a common dull mechanical atten- tion will execute much better than his excursive talents. Literature , which was formerly tlie solace of wisdom in solitude , the refuge of the afflicted , and the balm of the unfortunate , is now become the dirty instrument of the Cunning , working their way in society over the heads of unintriguing merit. The whole cast of opinions inculcated is the cast of men of the world : every thing is estimated by its fitness for success in life ; and every thing ridiculed which is not calculated for that end. All observers notice the decided triumph with which an adroit man, daily con- versant with life, by the aid of very moderate talents and acquirements takes the lead in company, over one of great abilities and knowlege who has lived much out of the world and alone. It is thus that the mechanical litera- ture , which is in possession of the public ear , turns the weapons in which it deals to its OAvn account. It knows where the laugh is ready ; and its first aim is to destroy the respect , which wards off aggression. What is called good common sense , is very often nothing more than a mean preference of direct and selfish interests to those noble and ideal ambitions , by which only any thing great SII PREFATORY LETTER* is ever performed. The world does not require to be ren- dered more acute in what self- interest prompts : it requires only to be encouraged in those rarer faculties and pas- sions , by which the present is sacrificed to the future ; the near to the distant ; and what is before us to that "which is absent. An endeavour is constantly made to divert the public mind from the true tests of intellectual superiority. Yet there is no just opening for difference of opinion on the subject. No one of sound mind who has read and though t^ for instance , can doubt what constitutes poetical genius. No one can doubt that its primary quality is an imagina- tion of things noble, pathetic, or beautiful. Dry Reasoning will not do ; abstract moral truths will not do ; ingenious and correct deductions from profound or nice observation will not do : - — nay , mere fancy , though vivid , — the lively representation of a particular reality , — is not the power which constitutes the primary quality of a poet. There must be fiction , creation , invention : — the mind must combine anew the materials which the fancy collects from without. But the combination must not be incon- gruous and monstrous : it must be probable , and accor- ding to the laws of nature : and it must also be subhme , or fair , or tender. Imagination of what is grotesque or revolting or mean is not poetical : because the purpose of poetry is to give refined and virtuous delight. Indiscriminalive and blundering minds take Imagination in its unlimited sense to be synonymous with Poetry. But if the above position be true , a poetical imagination re- quires other qualities than mere invention or fiction. If mere novelty be sufficient , without regard to propriety and verisimilitude , there can never be much difficulty in invention. PREFATORY LETTER. xilt But in a late stage of society , ivhen manners are Tery corrupt , and sentiments lake a temperament of iaclitious fever , the simplicity of tiulli has lost its charm : Tvhat is piquant and stioiulative is alone endured ; — and if tlie impulse be violent , no matter how short its duration ! — Works are now written for vendibility alone ; and there- fore are framed to the humble faculties and acquirements of the Blultitude : And Criticism for the same reason , i];« stead of directing its efforts to cheer the labours and extend the influence of Genius and Learning , applies all its ingenuity to conlirm the Multitude in the vain conceit of its own right taste. It is said by the advocates of the liberty , or rather licence , of the Press , that the guilt of popular errors must not be attributed to it ; because it follows, not leads, the popular opinion. — This is true : — but then it is equally mischievous in re-acting upon it , and confirming it. Mercenary writers do not trouble themselves about con- victions : they have no fixed oj)inions : they are the mere conduit-pipes of what springs from others ; and transmit without care or enquiry whatever is poured into them. But what supplies occasion to pause and reflect ; what gives hints for doubt , and data for enquiry and examina- tion , cannot be useless , unless it be done feebly or igno- rantly or perversely. Too many of mankind , indeed , are utterly indifferent witli regard to the intellectual nature of their Being : — • they are content w^ith the luxury of the material blessings of tlieir existence : they are affected by no uneasiness to have those doubts resolved , about which they never felt any curiosity : and tliey have no deaire to ascertain the qualities fitted for success in that line of ambition, to which they arc totally insensible. ItlV PriSFATORY LETTER. 10 Feh, 1824. I had written thus far , when a work fell , yesterday , into my hands, in which I have found, (almost through- out , ) an extraordinary coincidence of opinion with that which I have advanced in this Letter , and endeavoured to enforce in almost every part of this volume. As these opinions are strongly opposed both to the prejudices and the necessary modes of thinking of the generality of rea- ders , I am more anxious for the support of an author of credit on this subject, than for the praise of novelty. It is true that authority cannot turn error into truth ; and that the proposition , which is built upon reason , can stand by itself. But there are certain conclusions directly opposed to the stream , on which it is impossible to avoid a little self-distrust. One may suspect some self-deception ; some radical misapprehension ; some unperceived influence of passion or prejudice. But the concurrence of a man of acknowledged learning and talent , of a different age and nation , and of different habits , satisfactorily removes the fear of the operation of accidental and irrelevant impulses upon one's mind ; and is evidence that the source of these conclusions is to be found in general principles , and the common laws of reason. L'Abbe Trublet ( * ) in Essais sur Divers Sujets de Lit-- terature et de Morale fQ.^Edit. Amsterdam , 17 55, iiS^J in his Chapter containing Reflexions sur le Gout , ou Von examine la Maxime ; qu'il faut ecrire pour tout le monde I (vol, II. p. 10 J says: « II faut ecrire pour tout le monde , si Ton veut plaire ii tout le monde ; mais , pour arriver a ce but , il faut ecrire dune maniere moins parfaite , que si Ton n'ecrivoit que pour les gens de beaucoup d'esprit. » P. 22. C^) Obt. 1770, aet. 74. PE.EFATORY LETTER. XV P. 26. « II y a des Ouvrages qui ne sont plus repan-^ dus , et plus generalement goutes que d'autres , que parce qu'ils sont moins eslimables , et moins estlmes en effet des vrais connoiss^rs. lis ne sont a la portee de tout le monde que parce que leurs Auteurs , peu capables de penser au - dela , n'etoient point eux - memes des esprits, superieurs. Les Auteurs ne doivent done pas toujours me- surer leur merite a leur succes. lis doivent croire au con- traire qu'il y a de grandes beautes qui ne sont pas d'ujh gout si general que de moindres , lesquelles y par cela meme , sont a la portee d'un plus grand nomhre. » (*) « L'Ecrivain qui pense beaucoup , et qui fait penser , ne sera jamais rEcrivain de la multitude. Elle ne sauroit monter jusqu'a lui ; et il ne pourroit descendre jusqu'a. elle , qu'en se rabaissant, » P. 58. « La plupart des Ouvrages que le public estime le plus aujourd'hui , ne sont parvenus que par degres a cette approbation universelle. Un succes trop brillant dans les commencemens , est un mauvais prejuge pour la suite ^ et ne prouve souvent que la mediocrile d'un Ouvrage. Des beautes qui sont a la portee de tout le monde , ont bien- tot fait leur impression. De grandes beautes sont quelque- fois moins frappantes ; et il est rare qu'un Ouvrage du premier inerite obtienne d'abord les suffrages du grand nombre. L'estime du public n'est jamais plus constante ,. que lorsqu'elle s'est fait attendre quelque tems. » P. 60^ « Quant a ceux qui veulent plaire a la posterite plutot qu'a leur siecle , qui ambitionnent une gloire du- rable plutot qu'un succes passager , la prudence leur dicte d'ecrire pour le petit nombre. Le sort d'un ouvrage fait pour la multitude , est tout au plus de demeurer entre les mains de la multitude j mais il ne passe point dans celles. (*) «Mr. de la Motte, Dlscours. sur laes de Castro. •>->- XVI PREFATORY LETTER. des personnes d'un es^^rit suptrieur. An - con 1 1 aire , un Ouvrage fait pour le pelit nombre , parvient a I'aide du tems dans les mains de tout le monde. Les gens d'esprit elevent peu-a-peu les es2:!rits les phis mediocres. On se fait lionneur d'etre de I'avis de ceux qui passent pour avoir le plus de lumiere et de discemement. La vanite qui fait d'abord parler comme eux , mene ensuite a penser et a senlir comme eux. Ainsi les esprlls se perfectionnant de jour en jour , tel ouvrage trop fort pour le public vivant il y a cent ans , seroit tres a la portee du public au- jourd'hui. Nous sommes plus eclaires que nos ancetres , et nos descendans le seront plus que nous. II pourra done bien arriver qu'ils feront assez pen de cas de quelques Ouvrages que nous estimons beaucoup ; et qu'au-contraire lis en estimeront beaucoup quelques aulres, auxquels nous ne rendons pas une entiere justice. Au feste , il y a en tout tems de bons esprits , qui jugent comme jugera un jour la posterile ; il y a en tout tems , si je puis m'ex- primer de la sorte , nne posterite vivante. » Such , among others , is the reasoning of L'Abbe Trublet on tiie opiiiicn that popidarilj is a test of literary merit. The following seems to me exceedingly w^ell discrimi- nated as to novelty of thought , on which there is a me- morable opinion of D.^ Johnson, (in his Life of Gray.) P, H2. « Pour combatlre ce ^xo, personne n'a jamais cru , qu'une pensce neuve est celle que personne n'a dd avoir y M.* Dcsprcaiix se jelte dans rextremite opposee , lorsqu'ii dit , que c'est an contraire une pensee qui a du venir a tout le monde, 11 est vrai , que quelquefois une pensee tres-biillante n'cst au fond qu'une idee commune , yevetue d'un tour ingenieux. II est vrai encore qu'une pensee neuve parolt c[uelquefois si nalurelle , qu'on est PREFATORY LETTEFx. XVII surpris qu'elle solt neuve , et qu'on s'imagine qu'elle a du venir a tout le monde. Mais il y a aussi des pensees qui annoncent et qui caracterisent un genie superieur , des pensees dont on sent bien que tout le monde n'est pas capable ; et ce sont sans doute les plus belles. Les autres nous font plaisir ; celles-ci s'attirent notre admiration ; et tel Auteur a merite pour un petit nombre de ces pensees , d'etre mis au rang des plus grands hommes. On the effects of the occupation of writing , tlie follow- ing seem to me admirable : Vol. IV. p. 4. « La plupart de ceux qui sont dans I'habitude d'ecrire , n'aiment pas a lire ; cela ne les occupe pas assez vivement , et il faut qu'une lecture soit tres- piquante pour ne leur paroitre pas insipide , en compa- raison de la composition. Independamment de I'amour propre , on s'amuse bien davantage avec son propre esprit qu'avec celui d'autrui. « II vaudroit pourtant mieux faire le contraire , et lire qu'ecrire , du moins pour imprimer. Cela est moins vif, mais plus tranquille , et n'a point de suites faclieuses , soit pour la sante que te travail d'esprit detruit souvent , soit pour la reputation que I'impression expose toujours , et qui , repondit - elle aux voeux de 1' Auteur , vaut rare- ment ce qu'elle coute. » P. 7. « On compose pour imprimer ; j'imprime pour composer. Si en composant je n'avois pas le but d'impres- sion , mon travail ne seroit pas assez anime pour me sauver de I'eiinui. Quel qu'eut ete le sort de mes Essais , etc. , j'en avois deja retire, avant de les publier , un fruit plus precieux que le succes meme. lis m'avoient long-tems occupe sans trop m'appliquer. » « On peut dire de la composition , comme de la vertu j» PREFATor.Y LETTER. qu'elle est a elle - meiiie sa recompense , par le plaislr qui l*accoinpagne. » « Si les gens de Lettres pouvoient se "borner a ecrire , a la verite dans le dessein d'imprimer, mais sans I'effectuer jamais , ils seroient peut-etre les plus heureux des liommes. » « Ordinairement il n'y a qu'a perdre pour un liomme qui a une certaine reputation d'esprit , a donner quelque chose au public. 11 est rare que I'ouvrage reponde a ce qu'on attendoit de I'Auteur; presque toujours on le croyoit capable de mieux. Beaucoup de gens d'esprit, en devenant Auteurs , ont perdu une grande par tie de I'estime dont-ils jouissoient parmi leurs amis et leurs connaissances ^ et qui de-la s'etoit repandue dans le public. » P. II. « Le terns de I'etude et de la lecture pent etre regie et mesure , non celui de la composition. II y a d'heureux momens de genie qui ne reviennent point ; il faut done en proflter , non - seulement quand ils viennent , mais encore , si la sante le permet , tant qu'ils durent. » « On n'exprime jamais si heureusemcnt sa pensee , du moins on ne Fexprime jamais si vivement, que dans le premier moment qu'elle vient a I'esprit, C'est alors qu'elle plait davantage. Ensuite on se refroidit pour elle. » P. 10. a It est bien peu d'Auteurs quelque estimes et quelque modestes qu'ils soient, qui ne pensent encore plus avantageusement de leurs ouvrages , que le Public , et meme que leurs partisans les plus zeles» II ne seroit pas juste d'exiger d'un Auteur meprise , qu'il pensat de ses ouvrages comme le Public ; ce seroit lui commander I'im- possible. » — 'P. 23. « La grande marque d'uu bon Ouvrage , c'est qu'on le Use une seconde fois, sinon avec autant de plaisir que la premiere, du moins avec autant d'estime. II en est pour lesquels Testime augmente a chaque lecture , ce sont les excellens. » PREFATORY LETTER. XIX « Les ;^crivains qui ont plus d'eclat que de solidite y et plus d'esprit que de jugement , perdent beaucoup a etre relus. Deux autres sortes d'Ecrivains y gagnent , les pen- seurs J et ceux qui sans penser autant , ecrivent avec jus- tesse et precision. » But what is most to the purpose of this Prefatory Letter j 7 find in the first chapter of vol. i. of Trublet that which will make, much better than I can do, the apology I had intended to urge for the matter and manner of the Work now offered to the Public ; which J have chosen to make up of Detached Thoughts, Trublet begins witli a chapter « sur la maniere d'ecrire » par Pensees Detachees. » P. S. « Quelle consolation pour ceux qui aiment les Lettres , quel secours pour les Auteurs , si les grands hommes qui sont morts , sans avoir compose les ouvrages qu'ils mediloient , avoient jette sur le papier, comme Mr. Pascal , quelques des pensees qu'ils devoient y faire entrer, et surtout ces principles pensees qui devoient etre la base de tout I'edifice ! « Souvent ce qu'il y a de meilleur dans un Ouvrage , ce sont ces premieres idees , ces pensees qu'on a trouvees en soi sans les cliercher , et qui ont ete Foccasion de I'entreprendre. » — P. 6. « Combien le hazard n'amene-t-il pas de pensees, qu'on ne pent plus retrouver au besoin , et dont il ne reste qu'un souvenir confus ! II y a d'heureux momens dans la vie que ne reviennent pomt. D'ailleurs la chaleur de la conversation , et les idees des autres , font quelque- fois naitre des pensees qu'on auroit cherchees inutilement dans le cabinet , et a tete reposee. XX PREFATORY LETTER. « Quand meme on se rappelleroit aisement toutes les pensees qu'on a eues sur un sujet , des qu'on veut le trailer, combien d'autres pensees, qui n'ayant point de rapport a ce qui fait le principal objet des etudes et des ecrits d'un Auteur , sont par-la entierement perdues pour le public. » P. 7. «Qu'est-ce qui fait plaisir dans un ouvrage , a un Lecteur homme d'esprit ? C'est ce qui Teclaire, ce qui le fait penser. Tantot ce sera quelque principe lumineux; tantot une nouvelle preuve d'une verite ; quelquefois un tour extremement lieureux pour exprimer une chose , a la verite assez commune , mais qui n'avoit jamais ete aussi heureusement exprimee. Voila ce qu'un homme d'esprit cherche dans les Livres , et ce qu'il aime a retenir. Mais souvent il ne rencontre dans de gros volumes qu'un petit nombre de traits de cette nature. « « C'est un grand eloge de dire d'un Livre , qu'il fait penser ; et c'est un grand plaisir que la lecture d'un pa- reil Livre. Or tels sont surtout les bons Livres de pensees dctachees. Un Lecteur , homme d'esprit , et de reflexion , devient Auteur , en lisant Pascal , la Rochefoucauld , la Bruyere, » P. \i. « La maniere d'ecrire par pensees detachees , est, a certains egards, d'un grand secours pour la memoire. Le meillenr moyen de bien retenir ce qu'il y a de plus essentiel dans un Ouvrage d'une certaine etendue , c'est de le reduire en maximes , en sentences , en plusieurs articles. » P. 1 3. « On quitte et on reprend un Livre de pensees detachees , quand on le veut ; c'est une commodite. Mais on n'en coutume pas la lecture tant qu'on le veut ; elle n'attache pas assez ; elle fatigue meme. » — P. 23. Je crains qu'il n'y ait dans cet ouvrage quelques endroits trop abstraits et trop metaphysiques. Je n'annonce PREFATORY LETTER. XXrl que de la Litterature et de la Morale ; et sur cela le Lcc- teur ne se prepare pas sans doute a beaiicoiip d'attention. Je I'avertis neanraoins qu'il trouvera quelqucfols une asses long suite de raisonnemens, dont il seroit difficile de bicn sentir la liaison et la force , sans quelque application » P, 24. « On ne sauroit gueres aprofondir un sujet, quel qu'il puisse etre , chercher les causes des effets les plus communs , et dcmeler les differences delicates qui sont entre les objets , et un mot philosoplier , sans etre un peu abstrait. Mais etre abstrait et etre obscur , c'est la meme chose pour ceux qui sont accoutumes a faire plus d'usage de leur imagination que de leur esprit. Un Ou- Trage clair pour cette espece de Lecteurs , c'est celul qui les eblouit , et qui les remue vivement. Au contraire un Lecteur Pliilosophe ne trouve souvent que de Tobcurite et de la confusion , ou les esprits les plus bornes croyent Toir I'evidence la plus lumineuse. « — ■ As to REPETITIONS wJilcli , I cim wcll aivarc , cvill be one- of the first objectiojis made to my own Booh , / cite the following passage from Truhlet's A^'ertissemejit to his voL iii, « Je me permets jusqu'aux repetitions , et c'est bien pi« que les contradictions. Ces repetitions \ient de ce que j'ai beaucoup medite cliacune de mes pensees , et de ce que les memes se sont presentees a mon esprit en divers terns. Or revenant a ces pensees , ou ces pensees revenant a moi, il m'est venu aussi differens tours pour les exprimer ; et lorsque , peut-etre par amour propre , j'ai ete erabarrasse sur le choix , je les ai tons mis » — Vol II. p 35g. « J'avoue que je repete volonliers une verite tres- utile , parce que je crois cette repetition utile elle-meme , surtout quand c'est queiqu'une de ces verites que les prejuges ou les passions contestent encore sinon ouvertement , du moins dans le fond dii coeur. Quoiqu^ XXII PREFATORY LETTER, communes , quolque dites cent fols , elles ne I'ont pas encore ete assez souvent , ou assez bien , tandis qu'elles ne sont pas encore generalement crues , on qu'en les croyant on n'agit pas en consequence » « Les meilleurs choses qu'on puisse dire aux hommes , sont peut-etre deja ecrites ; mais on ne les cherclie point ou ellei sont ; on ne lit que les Livres nouveaux. On a grand tort sans doule , mais enfin' on Fa ce tort. » — But I must refrain from farther extracts , lest I should be accused of intruding on you the thoughts and expres- sions of another person , rather than my own : — even ■while it is to meet the charge of singularity of opinions. However I must justify my assertions of the small trust to be put in popular taste by one of the highest of all human authorities. In that sublime but neglected poem the Paradise Regained of Milton, the Poet at the commencement of Z?. iii, represents our Saviour shewing to Satan the vanity of worldly fame, and the improper means by which it is generally attained : and in that magnificient reply , is this passage : « Thou neither dost persuade me to seek wealth For empire's sake , nor empire to affect For glory's sake , by all thy argument. For what is glory but the blaze of fame, The people's praise , if always praise unmix'd ? A miscellaneous rabble , who extoll Things vulgar, and well weigh'd , scarce worth the praise, They praise , and they admire they know not what , And know not whom , but as on(? leads th(> other; PREFATORY LETTER. And what delight to be by such extoU'd ; To live upon their tongues , and be their talk , Of whom to be dispraised were no small praise , His lot who dares be singularly good ? The intelligent among them , and the wise , Are few ; and glory scarce of few is raised. » One of the scourges of modern Literature is Periodical and mercenary Criticism. But I have , since the former part of this Letter was written , found something like an admission of my opinions even in one of the Critical Journals themselves , — (a very able and primary one in- deed, — ) the Quarterly Review for Dec. 1823. N.^ lviii. In an Article on Pulpit Eloquence , are the following passages , at p. 3o4. « The spirit of our Times affects what is vague , vast , indefinite ; exaggerated passion , vehement emotion , wild flights of imagination ; a language of perpetual tropes and figures , regardless of their congruitj or relation to the subject J or to each other. The Public Mind is loose and incoherent ; its element is restlessness and agitation. Feeling and genius are the catchwords of the day : hut the idea of feeling is mere excitation , without regard to any end of purification or improvement: genius, the running riot and creating a multitude of images , beautiful in them- selves , hut without order, object, or meaning. This is the tone of much of our popular poetry , — dreamy , mystical, with neither plan , nor system ; and criticism , the vassal slave of our poetry , has as noble a disdain of being in- telligible , as that which it pampers with u:iceasing adu-^ I at ion. w — It is time to lay down my pen ; — or I shall make my prefatory Letter as long as ray Book. Geneva, 10.*^^ March, 1824. G N O M I C A, '■^m-*-' CONTENTS. Prefatory Letter Page v Ch. I. Author's inirpose 1 — If, Stron^feeling the only source of eloquence. 6 — III. Early passion for poetry 11 — IV. Speculative and practical wisdom, Pitt and Burke compared 15 — V. Accidents 20 — VI. Learning 22 — VII. Genius 23 — VIII. Abilities 33 — IX. Heart 35 — X. A great mind and great heart 37 — XI. Time will destroy false pretensions 41 — XII. Multiplication of Books 42 — XIII. Birth, etc 43 — XIV. Artifice in poetry censured 44 — XV. Selfish and Public Concerns 45" — XVI. Quiet and Ease 46 — XVII. Merit above Birth 46 — XVIII. Exaggeration. Popular favour 47 — XIX. Memory 51 — XX. The Beaten Path 52 — XXI. Succession of Authors 55 ■ — XXII. Dante , Milton , Tasso , Gray 55 Ch. XX1I[. — XXIV. — XXV. — XXVI. — XXVII. ^ XXVIII. ^ XXIX. — XXX. — XXXI. — XXXII. — XXXIII. ~ XXXIV. — XXXV. ^ XXXVI. — XXXVII. — XXXVIII. ~ XXXIX. ~ XL. — XLI. — XLII. — XLIII. — XLIV. — XLV. XLVI. XLVII. Gnomica. Page Enjoyments are in the mind 57 Improvement of age : extinction of powers by Death 59 Retirement 61 Vanity 62 The desire of esteem and approbation. 64 Gibbon 66 Of the poetical character. . 68 Birth combined with a competent fortune 71 Mellowness of age id. Frailty of memory , 75 TVordly cunning 76 Vulgar taste » 78 Paucity of the woj^ks of English poets. 80 Common-place characters 81 Knowlege of Moral Truth 82 Mental preeminence the effect of cul- ture 86 Inequality of destinies 88 In what compositions an union of all the mental qualities is displayed. 89 Knowlege comes too late 90 Ubiquity and perpetuity of Gtnius. . . 92 Regret for thepast. Serpentine wisdom^, ^^ Expansion of genius not overcome by adversity , or difficulties ^S Minute and scientific exactness of description of natural scenery^ not the most poetical. — Mischief of false theories 98 Inequality of mental gifts 101 Extrication from localities* 103 Contents. xxvii Pa^c Ch. XLVIII. TJie bent of Nature bej'ond the domi- nion of accidents 103 — XLIX. Addison , Dry den , Johnson. 104 — L. On the charge that men of genius and high talents 'want judgment and prac- tical sense 105 — LI. Active and passive wickedness 120 — LIT. Innocent pleasures 121 — LIII. Some fancies delight most in the images of artificial institutions 124 — LIV^. Imperfect thinking is pairful^ and re- quires j^elieffrom the light of stronger . minds * 126 — LV. « Woes cluster » 128 — LVI- T//e development of Genius often acciden- tal and unexpected 129 — LVII. Fame 131 — LVIII. Does nobility in England spring from , or does it involve^ brilliant personal merit ? 133 — LIX. The matter of literary composition more important than the workmanship. . . . 139 ' — LX. A clear view of our condition. Proper estimate of inches 140 — LXI. Taste abundant compared with Genius : — but even Taste not general l43 — LXII. The truth of theory not impeached by occasional instances of the erroneous conduct of its promulgators 144 — LXIII. Knowlege of what men are ^ better fit' ted for success in the world , than of what they ought to be 147 — LXIV. The same observations applied to litera- ture ... 149 xKviii Gnomica. Page Ch, LXV. The guide of leading minds is neces-^ sary 150 — LXVI. The Beaten Path the most happy. . . 151 -*- LXVII. Opposition between the speculative and practical skill of Genius 153 <— XL VIII. Honoursof Birth independent of Riches. 158 — LXIX. Genius improperly defined to be a general capacity accidentally ap- plied 159 •^— LXX, The value of independence 162 — LXXI. Cunning and Selfishness 164 — LXXII. Busy Novels 165 • — LXXIII, In what manner a Poet should write his own Zjife 166 — . LXXIV. Proper requisites of Tales of Fiction. 468 ■ — ■ LXXV. Duties of a Biographer 1T3 <— LXXVI. Distinction between genuine and fic- titious enthusiasm 174 — LXXVn, Traits and consequences of the en- thusiasm of Genius 189 ^— LXXVIII. Distinct sources of the different cha- racters in poetical composition tra- ced 184 — - LXXIX. VFhat are just claims to public notice. 187 — LXXX. Dangers of Imagination. , 189 ^ LXXXI. The Vision of Poetry 190 •— L XXXII. Fixed principles of poetical taste in the Soul 192 — LXXXIII. What are called the prejudices of a native sagacity^ are generally veri- fied by time 194 «— LXXXIV. Successive ductility and firmness of highly "gifted minds, id. Ch. lxxxv. — LXXXVI. — LXXXVIF. ^ Lxxxvin, — LXXXIX. — xc. — XCI. — XCII. — XCIII. -^ XGIV. — XCV; — XCVI. — XCVII. ~ XGVIII. — XGIX. — G. — CI, Contents. xxix Page Opinions of unprincipled worldlings. 195 ^kenside^ and Didactic Poetry. . . . 197 The proper criterions of original thinking 198 The voice of the Multitude , not ihe test of merit 203 What constitutes the value of Fancy. 204 The purity . of the mind , and the rectitude of motive , determine the - merit of the action 207 Belief in the general selfishness of Mankind destroys peace , and brings despondence 209 Familiarity lessens the ugliness of . Evil ; — of which still the traits are certain , and cannot be mis- taken 211 Anxiety for the future 213 LiOve of Gain breaks all restraints but the iron bonds of Power 215 The Neglected Poet ; (a poetical fragment.) 217 A Poet must be exalted in his own private feeliiigs and habits 221 The aggravated evils of that adver- sity, which is driven to seek com- fort in delusions 225 Repetitions of opinions , Jiot alwaj s tautologies 227 Gray's Travels 229 Pictures of the penetralia of poetical minds ^ curious and instructive.. , . 231 Just Invention 235 XXX ' Gnomica. Page Cu. CII. Tests of originality 237 — cm. Nobility may be made too numerous and common i 240 — CIV. A day without a line ; {a Sonnet.) . . . 242 . — C V. Speculation and action 243 — CVI. Tebaldo ; a poetical fragment 246 — CVII. The line of worldly success. — Use of hooks 256 — CVIII. Sincerity in composition 260 — CIX. Progress of Poetry 264 — ex. Poetry , not an Art of words 265 — CXI. Analysis of the faculties of poetical ge- nius. 267 — CXII. Pursuits of Genius as virtuous and justi- fiable , as those of more active life . . 270 — CXIII. Writings of Borrowers useless , cumber- some , and due to the fire 273 — CXIV. Originality 275 — CXV. Critique on two of Grays Odes 280 — CXVI. Metaphysical Poetry 283 — CXVII. True nature of Poetry 2S4 — CXVIII. A good Fable is of primary necessity to constitute primary poetry 286 — CXIX. Edward Phillips's Opinion of the Fable proper for an Heroic Poem 287 r — CXX. The notice of what is great can seldom he new 290 — CXXI. What is borrowed , need not be posi- tively new : but must be neither stale^ nor trifling 291 •— CXXII. English Poets^ who have written prose. 292 — CXXIII. Sonnet , i8 Nov. 1828 295 — CXXIV. Beauties of Shakespeare , id. Contents. x>?xi Page Ch. CXXV. ISfotices of Collins , the Poet 299 — CXXVI. Milton little admired by his cotem- poraries 302 — CXXVII. On the thirtieth day of November , 1823 306 — CXXVm. To Lord Bacon, 2.1^ Aug, i823. ... 312 — CXXIX. Popularity not indispensible to useful authorship - 313 — CXXX. Remarks on certain passages in VFords- wortlis Prefaces to his Poems, re- garding Popularity 314 — CXXXT. Objection to a particular position of Wordsworth regarding the purpose of poetry — CXXXII. Resolution and firmness necessary to render Genius effective 322 — C XXXIII. Fame is empty : but the intrinsic plea~ sure of the legitimate occupations by which it is gained, is solid and durable 325 — CXXXIV. On the difference between Classical Poetry , and liomantic Poetry , exemplified in Horace's Epode , ^^^-"^ « Beatus iJle , » and Milton's « II Penseroso. » 330 — CXXXV. Conclusion 335 G N O M I C A. CHAPTER I, 23 March 1 823. 1 HE desire to leave a memorial of oneself is generally, if not universally, implanted in Human Nature : « For who to dumb Forgetf alness a prey This pleasing anxious Being e'er resign'd ; Left the warm precincts of the genial day, Nor cast a longing lingering look behind ? » {^^ Some men spend their lives in action ; some in speculation : I have no events to tell , which can interest others : my days haVe past in soli- tary musing ; in the activity of the mind , — not of the body: and I have nothing but thoughts and sentiments to register. I will not fear ; because he who can only preserve the appearance of ability by manage- ment and resei've , must be conscious to himself that he wants ability : and if he feels this con- C) Gray's Elegy. 2 GNOMICA. CH. 1. sciousness , what satisfaction can he derive from a credit given to him by the world for that which he knows he does not merit ? There is one charm in composition , without which all else is vain and lost; — the charm of writing naturally and frankly. (*) The fear of artificial rules, on which technical critics and authors so much insist , destroys all eloquence. It is the experience of a mind highly gifted and higly cultivated , which an author is anxious should not perish with him. The conclusions of his observation and reason , the permanent sentiments of his heart, at once enlighten our understandings , and excite our sympathies. The faculties of the head , the susceptibilities of the heart, belong not to the arbitrary distinctions of Society ; and are , for the most part , in- dependent of fortune , intrigue , or adversity. They were common to Surry and Sackville ; and to Rousseau and Burns. It is useless to know the plausible things a man can say, unless we know the convictions of his bosom. We cannot surrender our con- fidence, except to him whom we find free from ostentation and disguise. (*) Gray also expresses this opinion in his advice to ISichoUs : and Muller expresses it strongly in his early and eloquent Letters to Bonstetten. GNOMTCA. CH. I. 3 Even of the small proportion of authors , who aspire to orginality, nine tenths draw from no other fountain than Memory, They exert their toils to recollect what will appear most inge- nious and most striking ; and dress it up in tinsel language for the purpose of obtaining an hollow and meretricious fame. Tinnit: inane est. We soon turn from such things with disgust ; and seek out some other empty novelty, itself to be deserted in endless succession ! — Solid truth , conveyed in clear and forcible expression, can alone attract permanent regard. And we then search it , not in derivative autho- rities , but in those from whom it sprung. A great deal , which appears obvious when put into words , is often missed by those who seek it in far-fetched subtleties. What have we since, which comes so home to our bosoms , as that which is to be found in BACo?f's Moral Essays , which were first published before the death of Q. Elizabeth? The opinions of the multitude fluctuate with every age and fashion : the opinions of Litera- ture and Genius only are consistent and durable. We appeal to them from the blind , arrogant, and cruel caprices , or the selfish or factious misrepresentations, of temporary popularity; from 4 GNOBIICA CH, T. the insolence of vulgar clamour ; or the derision of confident ignorance! There is nothing more erratic than the freaks of the mere understanding: systems after systems, have been built up by sole argumentative pro-. cesses , to be destroyed again by succeeding discoveries ; while the taste and tests of excel- lence of the productions of the fancy and the heart are always the same , — subject only tQ the momentary delusions of fashionable folly. Without fancy , all is particular , narrow , and personal ; confined to circumstances , many of them accidental ; — yielding no general lesson ; and uninteresting beyond s^lf. Fancy , unlimited by time or place ; soaring beyond mere matter ; and having her treasures ^nd objects always present at her commixnd , can compare and combine as she will : her stores wait her bid-^ ding ; change their place at her nod ; and em- body themselves into whatever individual shapes she chooses to contemplate. It cannot be pretended that these recorded authorities of what is wise and true, are not wanting. They are to be founj in books ; — but they are not to be found in the coarse modes of thinking of practical mankind; which pften ^iTiake the wisdom of Books appear ob- solete , unless their lights }>e renewed , and their flames stirred from the ashes in which they gre buried, GNOMIGA. CH. I. 5 It may be said , that in the multitude of Books , and the multitude of Minds which pro-^ duced them , authority may be found for any absurd opinions ! — But to offer an authority for an opinion , merely because it is to be found in Books , is the act of a fool. To give it weight, the hand of acknowledged Genius and Virtue is requisite. — It is probable that practical men have as little inclination, as they have leisure, for any conside- rations or enquiries that the calls of each succes- sive business, in which they are engaged, do not impose on them. They think all beyond these, superogatory : - they deem them airy notions ^ in which it is idleness to be occupied. When a man's experience is confined to his own actions , it may be said in general that the busiest of Human Beings is but a countless cypher. What are the active parts of the lives of Dante and Petrarch ? Buried in oblivion : or if known , insignificant compared with the actions of innu- merable men of common character ! — That part, and only that ^ which has ubiquity and immate- riaUty , has made them the heirs of universal fame ! — If the writings of these splendid luminaries did not exist, many historical facts would induce us to believe that the Centuries in which they lived were ages of ferocity and barbarism. But 6 GIVOMICA. CH. I. from these, a reflecting mind will doubt that such ages were as much inferior in refinement and wisdom to ours, as modern assumption delights to suppose and represent them. Collision of intellect among the living contri- butes to extensive and deep judgments : — but when the collision embraces all the eminent of departed times , how much more comprehensive must be the comparison and the conflict of materials and faculties! CHAPTER 11. 24 March, 1823. cr Quiconque a une ame energique , un esprit rempU d'idees claires , d'images vives et justes, parle et ecrit bien tout nalurellement » , Muller. I know of but one source of good writing : — to think and feel justly and forcibly ! All that has other origin , is hollow and tinsel ornament. But who can think justly and forcibly , who has not vivacity of fancy; any more than feel strongly, who has not susceptibility of heart ? They , who study not the substance of the thought , but only its expression , are comparative triflers ; like those persons in real life whose whole merit lies in their exterior manners. G?^OMICA. CH. II. -J? Whatever represents things in false colours J to whatever we cannot turn in our sober mo- ments , when sorrow and reflection have made us wise, ought to be rejected as neither a deep nor genuine product of genius. The heart will never approve what is wTong ; nor what is artifi- cial , or capricious : the fancy soon tires of all but truth* They who have not within them the deli-* cate mirror which reflects the real forms of things , are only moved by representations of monsters and extravagances. The scenery of this material world ; the native grandeur and tender- ness, or wildness, of our thoughts and emotions, are sufficient to satisfy the active faculties of the most gifted Beings. There is no uniformity of taste in what is out of the course of l^ature : no two ages think alike in such aberrations: change and novelty are the essence of their charm; and therefore no author, who has gained distinction by such means, ever preserves long the notice he has attracted. No false thoughts are to be found in any of the ancient Classics^ who have been handed down to us as the favourites of successive centuries. They never deal in exaggerated images, and impossible combinations : the moral truths they deliver are the truths of all manners , places , and ages ; such as pervade our general nature , and regulate the universal principles of human conduct. Those 8 CNOMICA. CH. Hi factitious enthusiasms, which philosophy and calm reason reject , are unknown to them : and all the tenor of their sentiments and reflections conf rms itself to that regulated and temperate experience^ in which the science of morality is nurtured and Hpened. To soften our affections 5 to balance good and evil; to contrast the innocent delights with the sufferings and misfortunes of life ; not to magnify human frailties , but to pity and forgive them ; especially when set off by redeeming virtues; — these are not the graces merely^ but the substance^ of the ingredients necessary to the works which aspire to immortality in the departments of senti- ment and fancy* All sorts of excesses in every thing intellectual or material are followed by satiety and disgust : it is the inevitable property of our nature. The effect of disgust is ineffacible ; at least when it arises from bookSi We never recur to the work^ from which we have experienced this effect. Our greatest poets have been great philosophers ; and many of them excellent writers in prose as well as poetry. They deal in truths ^ which ^ though in another form , would afford equal matter for their philosophical works. Thus Gray's poems are nloral philosophy, vivified by poetical feeling, and poetical illustration. All their splendor is the native splendor of the sun of genius : — it invi- GNOMICA. CH. II. g gorates; — not exhauts! It expands those tender emotions of the heart , which want nurture , into flowers and fruit. These Poems call up no forced raptures ; but compose our thoughts ; and warn us against those false hopes and ambitions , which will not endure the calm hour of medita- tion, and the « still small voice » of conscience. I doubt if any temptations of popularity would draw a genius of the higher classes into those overwrought fictions and coloiirings , in which secondary abilities so much indulge^ It is a sort of hot-bed temperament , in which the former cannot breathe : like the fresh fragrant flowers of the fields and woods , which put forth their bril- hant but chaste colours , and exhale their odours^ to the free air ; but sicken and die , when shut up in the close heated apartments of Man; It requires so much knowlege , observation ,- reflection, reasoning, and judgment, as well as imagination and sensibility , to unite moral truth \vith all the charms of poetry , that the rarity of these united merits cannot be a matter of just wonder. It is easy to collect a farrago of gaudy images ,- outre sentiments , or glittering language : these require only a ready memory, and a continued application of particular labour. They do not de- mand even one of the primary faculties of the mind or heart. And when all their purpose is effected, lO GNOMIC A. CH. It. they have not added one atom to human know- lege; nor one virtuous emotion to the human bosom. For what do we Uve; and whereby can we redeem the frailties , to which poor mortaUty is subject? — By the good we do to others 1 — - And how can we do more good, than by enhghtening the moral understanding ; and awakening into life the seeds of virtue buried in the bosom of man ? But the tinsel versifier, and the dealer in extra- vagant fiction, must not aspire to the honour of being among these benefactors ! They only tickle the ears , and agitate the dull intellects, of those who are out of the reach of good from literature; but who are open to its abuses and poisons. Books are now multiplied to engross the misap- plied energies, to confirm the errors , and to in- flame the passionate views, of the great mass of a people who want the leisure and independence, if not the abilities, to search deep, and judge coolly. Where pretended wisdom is in fashion, the unobtrusive voice of the real Sage is drowned in the clamours of noisy arrogance. There is however a delight in the pursuit of what it becomes us to know; in the study of our moral nature, and the tendencies of our affec- tions; of the employments which it is good to follow; of the pleasures, which are innocent,. GNOMICA. CH. III. 11 and the discipline which is necessary. — In all these there is an intrinsic gratification , which is its own reward. CHAPTER IIL Poetry, 25 March 182S. I cannot tell , how early I took up the passion for poetry. It could not have been later than my fourteenth year. I can hardly think it to have been accidental : I presume it to have owed its attraction to its coincidence with the warmth and colouring of my mind. I found a more cordial sympathy with the images and sentiments de- lineated in the pages , and expressed in the language, of poets, than of prose-writers. But long before poets unfolded to me the beauties of na- ture, its scenery impressed itself poetically on my mind. Almost all my childish amusements were in the open air ; in the fields and woods : and the various aspects of morning, noon, and evening were connected with every favourite occupation. I had an eagerness and energy in all my pleasures, which in infancy can scarcely be expected to be under the controul of reason : for , alas ! that eagerness and energy have been too little dis- ciplined and moderated even by age 1 (|3 GNOMIGA. CH. Ill, When I began to pay attention to books, those of which the manner was most glowing, of course most attracted me. I looked for imagery and sen-^ timent ; not for cold methodical reasoning ; nor for those dry facts, or abstract precepts, that represented nothing of the emotion with which I mixed myself in every concern, That intensity of pleasure, with which the early senses are moved in those to whom nature has given great susceptibility, is the spring of poetry: ■ — but the gift is dangerous ; for it requires the most skilful regulation; and constant and cons^ cientious controul. It is not till it mingles itself with the operations of the understanding , and those moral affections which emanate from the heart , that it becomes beneficial or amiable to others ; or unbalanced by exhausture , regret , and disgust , even to self. — If reason will not make a poet , reason must come in aid , to discriminate , methodise , and direct. But the exact and seasonable application of reason is so difficult , that it almost always begins too early or too late. He who calls the chill breath of reason to suppress the fire before it has got its enduring strength , will probably entirely extinguish it: he who summons it late, will pot call in its aid , till the flame is unmanageable. The temperament of a Poet , however , even when prudently and wisely managed , is not Xhe i ClfOMICA. GH. Ill, 1 3 temperament of happiness in this coarse world : though Sarasa (*) seems to think it may be made so. Our quick feehngs , rendered more acute by. refinement, are, even when under the controul of virtue , perpetually exposed to irresistible sor-^ rows and pains. An anxious conscience is never satisfied with itself. Possession never equals our hopes: and, if at any period we are contented with our own lot , we cannot see any of those around us unhappy without sympathy with their sufferings , or perhaps an afflicting suspicion that we might have averted their misery. This sensitiveness belongs to all great poets : — -• it has its source in the fountain whence Poetry- flows. It is the grand feature of Dante and of Petrarch: it is the very essence of the golden vein of poetry of our own pathetic , moral, and inimi^ table Gray. When Poetry is considered as a trifling art , it arises from viewing it as it is exhibited in the compositions of versifiers , or witlings ; or of those who prostitute their gaudy genius to raise extravagant wonders. « Truth is » always , « suffi- cient to fill the jnind , » even when it seeks to exercise the highest flights of fancy. The business (*) See Sarasa, Ars semper Gaudendiy Jena, 1740, 4.® Also Wolff, Vhilosophia M o rails , 17 5o, il^i , Halle, 3 vols 4.° f4 GNOMICA. CH. III. of genuine poetry is, not to represent the caprices of an individual imagination , but to embody the forms that visit more or less distinctly every sen- sitive and moral intellect. This, as every one knows , is Shakespeare's idea of poetry : and thus Gray says , fc Yet oft before his infant eyes v^ ould run Such forms as glitter in the Muse's rays With orient hues unborrow'd of the Sun. » It is into Poetry that we must look for the happiest and most eloquent illustrations of moral truths ; for the sentiments that warm the heart ; for the wisdom that animates while it instructs. He , to whose mind this outward shape of things, this scene of the material world, offers nothing but for analysis and calculation , is defi^ cient in that property which raises us highest in the scale of mortal Beings; that which repre- sents reflectively within us , by visionary types ,, the grandeur and beauty of the Creation. Yet even this mighty power would be com- paratively degraded , were it only a representa-f tion of these material forms existing externally, These images of matter become thus associated with the more elevated treasures springing from the internal operations of the Soul, ("") (*) The French Translators in their Notes to Goethe's GNOMICA. CH. lYi S CHAPTER IV. Practical Wisdom. 26 March ^ 1823. There is a great desire in the world to make a distinction between speculative and practical wis* dom. There is no foundation for it: — what is Hommes Celehres tie France au dix-huitieme Steele , Paris, 1823, 8.° — have expressed lliemselves well on what they deem the characteristics of French poetry : and which are certainly the characteristics of genuine poetry. « Si la poesie consiste comme nous le pensons, non dans le merveilleuse , mais dans les images , un peuple , qui ^ par le caractere de son esprit , n'a d'attrait que pour les realites , peut pretendre encOre aux couronnes poetiques. Qu'on examine les ecrits des grands hommes dont s'honore tiotre litterature, on verra que dans leurs ouvrages les beautes vraiment Jrancaises sont toujours puisees ou dans ces touehantes realites du coeur , les sentiments et les pas- sions , ou dans ces nobles realites de I'esprit , les grandes idees de politique , de morale , ou de philosophic ; en un mot , dans la peinture fidele de ce qui nous environne , Ou de ce qui lious eprouvons en nous-meiiies. » p. 261. « La Muse Francaise , que le vrai seul inspire , n'en marche pas raoins I'egale de ses soeurs , et n'a point a se plaindre de son partage. » p. 263. The Editors however add another characteristic of the French , not quite so consistent with true poetry. « Les Auteurs Allemands ont beaucoup cherche a exciter la terreur par des recits d'apparitions nocturnes. » etc. « Jamais ce genre ne prendra parmi les Francais : en France on est trop moqueur , et trop raisonneur. » p. aSy. i6 GPfOMICA. CH. iv. not practically true , cannot be speculatively true^ The error may be partly attributed to a confusion of the truth with the execution of the truth. They whose opinions and designs are wise, are not always skilful or resolute in putting those opinions and designs into action. The hand that executes best , seldom belongs to him who plans best. And not only unskilfulness of hand , but want of composure and self dominion , may disable one from the personal application of what his under- standing dictates. This disunion between theory and conduct is so very common , that as it has been found that they who have been powerful in speculation , have so very frequently shewn themselves foolish in life , the discredit has spread from the specu- lator to the speculation : and because profound thinkers have done weak things , it has been sup- posed that their thoughts , however specious y W^ere not just. But such inferences are confuted by the whole history of mankind. They are indeed inferences favoured by , if not springing from , the wishes of those who entertain them. They gratify the love of degradation, which belongs to the mean hearts of inferior intellects. But is the wisdom of Bacon's Moral Writings ^ is the force and justice of any of his speculative opinions, to be called in question, because his conduct was sometimes jnore imbecile than that of ordinary men ? G?ro3iiCA. CH. iv; i^ But if the fruit of intellect is thus improperly- brought into doubt , it is not less observable , that men of practical dexterity generally get credit for talents which do not belong to them : — not indeed because the judgment is wrong , which is supposed to be just ; — but because that which is the mere application of what is already prepared, and which is required to be no more, — is assumed to originate from the mind of him who applies it. Providence has ordained that very humble abilities should be sufficient to direct the mass of those , wdio carry on the routine of human affairs. They go in the beaten channel, and move with the stream. There is, indeed, an immense series of grada- tions in those who are borrowers. Some few rise to the highest rank of secondary talents , from the extended treasures out of which they draw their applications; from the readiness and hap- piness wdth which they apply them ; and fi^om the vivacity and merit of their expression and manner. Yet if it be believed , as it too often is , that men of these gifts and acquirements , who thus become qualified to make a figure on the theatre of active society , are equally endowed by nature to attain distinction as speculative authors , there exist strong reasons to shew that this belief is not accurate, 3 1 8 GNOMICA. CH. IVi The merit of what the understanding supplies in practical life does not depend upon its origi* nahty , or its universahty ; but on its adaptation to the occasion-. In the best C') hooks nothing is temporary , or particular : the merit depends on no extrinsic circumstances ^ no accidental com- binations ; ail must be essence ; and therefore it can place no pretensions on convenience of time or place , nor confer any honour except on the fountain-head. I can scarcely recollect a single generalisation, in all the splendid speeches of M/ Pitt. He pri- ded himself upon profundity of judgment ; upon expedience ; upon a prudent and sagacious ma- nagement of all the circumstances of the moment* It cannot be denied that in these respects he was a great and illustrious Statesman. (^*) On the? (*) It need not be said, that books of compilation are here excluded : these are like shops , where articles of manufacture are placed for the convenience of sale ; and which can claim no participation in the ingenuity of the manufacturer. (**) He had other extraordinary qualities besides these: ■^^' a great fortitude and decision of mind ; — a command of language, at once lofty, and yet clear and popular: — an eminently lucid arrangement of his ideas ; and a sono- rous voice. To these was added a disinterested and sublime love of glory ; and a total exemption from the entangle^ ment of all petty pursuits and passions. GNOMICA. CH. IV. 1 9 contrary , the speeches of Burke , whom nature intended for a literary genius , abound every where in such generalisations : all their matter extends beyond the occasion ; and forms the principle , by which all similar subjects may be equally enlightened. It is true , that for the par- ticular purpose this abundant wealth was some- times cvimbersome; it dazzled the understandings which it was intended to instruct ; and it ex- hausted the feeble attention which it was applied to excite. Burke therefore furnished one of the instances of that deficiency of practical prudence, which is sometimes united to consummate specu^ lative wisdom. It need not therefore be denied that Pitt's talents were altogether better adapted to execute the functions of Ministerial Government , than those of Burke. {^) To attempt to enter into the radical distinc- tions in the mental powers of these two very eminent men , may be perilous. I am , however (*) Pitt entered so early into public life , that he had 00 leisure to search deeply into the pursuits of literature. But if he had , it does not seem to me that he would have attained the same eminence in literature , as in the conduct of State-Affairs. I think that if originality of thinking , and generalisation , had been among his native gifts, they would have shewn themselves more in his Speeches. 2Q GNOMIGA. GH. V. Strongly persuaded that the difference is to be attributed to Pitt's defect of fancy. Without fancy, a man may be able and wise in his rea- sonings and judgments on what is actually pre- sented to him ; but he has no materials on which he can exercise his mind in speculative matters • The faculty, which peoples solitude, and gives life and action to a contemplative retreat , is wanting. If Pitt had but a sterile fancy , he had still less sentiment. His powers, mighty as they were , were the powers of understanding and memory. These he had in magnificent propor- tions; and they were so readily at his command , and so severely exercised from childhood , that for that which his understanding offered , hi^ memory always supplied him with perspicuous and adequate language; so that all his concep- tions were set off to the best advantage ; and he became a master, not only of his own ideas , but of all he heard from others. He habitually profited by the more painful labours of other intellects : he « gathered the honey , which the bees had made for themselves. » (^) CHAPTER V. Accidents, Many accidental circumstances concur in brin- ging forward , or obstructing native endowmentSj (*) Sic vos non \obis mellificatis , apes ? — GNOMTCA. CH. V. 1 1 as well as in giving a bent to the course they pursue. Education , station , health , locality , prosperity or misfortune , society , profession , employment, conduct of friends, and all the varieties of life both active and contemplative, must necessarily operate both in the trains of ideas habitually indulged , and in the colours given to them. But they need not operate to alter the truth of the ideas, which are thus acci- dentally caused to predominate in an individual : they only operate in directing the choice of them. It may however be remarked, that nature is still so very predominant, that any or all of these accidents have far less influence than would be supposed. The mental character bestowed at the birth still breaks out under all disadvantages, and in defiance of the pressure of all controuling circumstances. Burns is a modern and striking instance of this assertion. It may be true that the very humbleness of his birth augmented rather than depressed the vigour of some of his qualities; but it necessarily impeded the force of others. When the body is wearied and borne down by severe daily labour , and unprovided even with the necessaries of life , how mighty must be the intellectual spirit, which can still throw off the incumbent weight; ancj interest its heart, and busy its brain , with the airy visions and senti- ments of brilliant and tender imagination! a 2 GNOMICA. CH. VI. Theoretically, those outward circumstances, which are calculated to produce ease of mind, would seem propitious to the developement of the fruits of genius. Facts appear to teach us a different lesson. Spenser could not have enjoyed ease of mind , when he wrote the Faery Queen ; nor Milton when he was composing Paradise lost ! Perhaps the faculties may require to be kept in great commotion , to enable them to attain their due energies. CHAPTER VI. Learning:, Learning is one of the accidents to Genius, without which it is scarcely possible that its pro- ductions can reach any high excellence. It will be said that Shakespeare had it not. But if it be admitted that this immortal dramatist had not the technicalities of learning , he surely had its substance: — he was profoundly versed in the history of mankind ; of their characters ; and of the events which arose out of those characters : his observations of life must have been gathered from multifarious experience , and innumerable memorials , written and traditional. GNOMIC A. CH. VII* a J CHAPTER VIL GeniuSi Whether a man has acted through Hfe pru- dently and with wordly wisdom , or with a want of worldly sense ; — whether his judgment has been erroneous , or he has suffered his passions to overrule his judgment ; — he must be tried j if he be an author , by the truth and merit of what he has written, abstracted from all influence of the course of his conduct and actions; — The admission of this principle would tend to diminish very considerably the value 'and interest of an Author's biography. At the same time it is quite impossible, actually, so to detach ourselves from all operation of an Author's character and history. There is an irrepressible curiosity^ inhe- rent in our natures, regarding those to whom we have resorted either for mental instruction or mental entertainment* This has been amusingly described in the outset of the Spectator* -^ But it is much more important to develop the internal movements ^ and gradual progress , of the mind* Some have doubted , whether Mankind are not born with equal intellectual capacity ; and whether the future difference does not arise from Culture, or accidental impulse. It would be a 24 GNOMICA. CH. VII. waste of time to refute seriously an opinion sd absurd , and so demonstrably falsified by a com- mon attention to the diversity in the earliest appearances even of half a dozen children. The minds endowed with mirrors which receive external impressions with clearness and vivacity , and reflect them with exactness ^ probably give much earlier appearances of brilliance, than thosd of which the more fervid receptacles amalgamate such impressions instantly with their own stores; and recombine and reconvert them into new shapes. In one case the receptacle is passive : iri the other ^ active. In the latter case , there are more complex operations to perform , in which , perhaps , a temporary confusion may precede distinctness. But it must be observed , that in calling the mind in the former case passive , it is necessary to understand the word with much qualification. It is only comparatively passive. The Fancy does not seem ever to be an exact mirror. It always rejects ,' if it does not add. It may be said , that this is the gradual effect of culture and discipline. But the fancy of poets, which is the strongest fancy , always exercises this choice ; — and this is a faculty, which displays itself not less power- fully, — often more powerfully, — in early youth. Hence it seems that even the purest and. GNOMICA.. CH. VII. 2 5 simplest fancy undergoes some intellectual in- fluence and controul. Whether the receptive faculty of impression is ever at the same time strong and indiscriminate, may be questioned. It is probable, that the same feebleness of powers, which causes the impression to be weak, causes it to be without selection or prominence of fea- tures. Another proof that the Fancy is not entirely passive is this : that on two different minds the same objects do not merely impress themselves with different degrees of force , but with a selec- tion of different circumstances; or unequal de- grees of prominence of the same circumstances: which must be attributed to a difference in the character of the other powers of the mind opera- ting on the selection. — It must not , however , be supposed ^ that , because nature lays the ground-work , and bes- tows all the sources of intellectual preeminence, therefore nothing depends on cultivation, ma- nagement , personal exertion , or even accident. There is yet more of native power than philo- sophers are apt to admit, even in that which seems to involve an high degree of Art. That Pope Avas a poet of great labour and great tech- nical skill , will be denied by no one : and among his compositions , his Essay on Criticism is one in which, from its very essence, these ingredients 4 ^6 GNOMICA. CH. Ylli are strongly exerted. But upon this poem Johnson Justly observes , a one of the greatest , though of » his earliest works, is the « Essay on Criticism, » » which , if he had written nothing else , would » have -placed him among the first critics and the » first poets, » etc. — « / know not , whether it be » pleasing to consider that he produced this piece y> at twenty, and never afterwards excelled it : —^ » he that delights himself with observing that J) such powers may be soon attained, cannot but » grieve to think that life was ever at a stand, » (*) There are some classes of poetical composition^ to which we may suppose the fervour of youth best adapted : but a didactic poem on Criticism seemed of all others most to require mature knowlege , and long practice in nice and refined thinking. All the original results of the human mind , which display themselves in the higher depart- ments of literary composition , are , in truth , the fruits of complex powers, and complex exer- tions. We must not therefore decide one period of life to be more propitious to the production of particular works than another , because it is more propitious to the development of a single faculty. In youth hope is more glowing ; ambi- tion is more ardent; and toil is more vigorous* (*) Life of Pope, w. 35;* I GNOMICA. CH. Vir. 2^ Rnowlege therefore goes farther ; imagination is more active ; and makes a better use of her stores; and eloquence effects what study and toil cannot reach. If Fancy were the mere result of a strong im- pression on the material organs, it would surely be always more lively in youth. But it cannot be doubted that the intellect and the heart have some concern in this impression : and the intel- lect continues to ripen at least till middle age, which also renders the emotions of the heart more mellow y if not more deep. Let the native understanding be as acute as it will, it can seldom collect all the materials ne- cessary for its operations without the lapse of a long course of years. The most valuable knowlege for works of genius , as well as for works of instruction, is moral knowlege. But without ex- perience, without long, attentive, and matured observation of life , our moral knowlege must ba faint , imperfect , and uncertain. These considerations fill me with a firm con- viction, that even works of pure fancy, of the highest order, cannot be produced but by a con^ currence of endowments and acquirements , of which the union is extremely rare, Every great poet, who has stood the test of ages , has had , in addition to a bright fancy and a powerful invention, a strong and com^ 2 8 GNOMICA. CH. VII. manding reason, and an intuitive sagacity, im- proved enriched and controuled by a Jong con- tinued and accurate observation of human Hfe. Mere wild , wanton , undirected , unenhghtened imagination is unworthy the subhmer ambition of rational Beings. Yet if it be but imagination , however absurd , extravagant , and monstrous , modern taste and modern judgment seem resol- ved to pronounce it true poetry, flowing from true genius. A high degree of uninformed, unregulated, fancy and imagination exists very strongly in madmen , and even in fools, In « those flights of imagination which pass the bounds of nature , » the great poet may well in- dulge : but they must have that sort of probabi- Uty , of which the belief is consonant to the un- forced excursions of the human mind. The mighty genius <.(- delights to sport in the wide regions of » possibility : reality is a scene too narrow for yy him. » But still it must be possibility , — or wh^t is deemed possibility. It must be in the direction to which the general mind tends, though it may go farther than others: — it must not be hi a bye-path, of which the whole novelty and interest lies in the deviation. It is a consciousness of weakness, a fear of inability to excell where others contend , that seduces into these bye-paths. What engages the GNOMICA. CH. VII. 29 thoughts and feehngs of others, it requires supe- rior strength to represent better than others. Kovelty of objects has an attraction extraneous to the power of the painter. But the constant occupation in the pursuit of Truth, under its appearances of magnificence, tenderness, and beauty, requires the acutest talents , and sharpens and refines the noblest. Is it nothing to carry the lamp into the inmost recesses of the temple of the heart, and unveil their secrets to the curious eye ? Imagination supplies the light; and identifying herself with the keys which open every avenue , moves as a spirit through all the labyrinths , Avhich encircle the inmost shrine where the fountain of the soul springs up ! — These are inventions , these are discoveries , far grander than building baby-houses of glitte- ring toys , and combining heterogenious mate- rials into surprising monsters. There is, in following out such studies, a con- stant exercise of all the faculties of the mind. Learning observation, memory, judgment are all in incessant request. A profound skill in moral knowlege cannot be acquired without a Avide experience, long and deep researches into history, an accurate perception , and a nice comparison. To these must be added a taste for the grand and the beautiful ; a clear fancy ; and a sensitive 3o . GNOMICA. CH. VII. heart. What grand effort in poetry can he made without these ? Without this knowlege , how can characters be invented with due regard to the probabihties of human passion and human rea- son ? Johnson properly says , oithe great, business of the human mind is the religious and moral knowlege oj right and wrong: the next is an acquaintance with the history of mankind^ and with those examples which may he said to embody truth ^ and prove by events the reasonableness of opinions. » — « Those authors therefore are to be ready that supply most axioms of prudence ^ most principles of moral truth y and most materials for conversation : and these purposes are best served by poets , orators ^ and historians. (^^ But unless the poets be of the quahty I describe , how vainly would such matter be sought among their pages? — Is it to be found in that which is furnished by the crazy invention of impossible Beings ? by exhibiting purity and refinement in untutored barbarism ; and tenderness , generosity , gran- deur , and wisdom in ferocity , sensuality , and wickedness ? That, which fills the imagination merely with wonder , let it be as splendid as it will , conveys but a short-lived pleasure, It is necessary to satisfy the understanding, and to gain the fiat of the> '*) Life of Milton, GlVOMICA. CH. VII. 3 1 heart, as well as to strike the imagination. That, to which we cannot satisfactorily and profitably recur at moments of sober reflection , when vanity has ceased, and the trying realities of life have tanght us to be sage , is but a showy and surfeiting bauble. It is from wisdom and truth that we seek for consolation : delusions nauseate : we AA ant no exaggerations of false passion , and false brilliance : our own heated perceptions have already magnified objects too much: we want the charm of the Sage , that dissipates these unreal rays : not the dangerous spell of the evil Magician, that augments them! — False beauties are always changing; — change is their essence : Truth is constant and eternal. Time tries it ; and brings it out : as fire separates the genuine ore from the dross. The most bril* liant passages of Shakespeare , Milton, Spenser, Dryden , Pope , and Gray , are as true as they are brilliant. They are most of them as applicable to life , as they are to the visionary and abstract pleasures of the mind. All apologies for deviations in poetry from that which sound wisdom can approve, drawn from the plea that they are but a poet's dream , or a poet's fiction, are the hollow apologies of impertinent vulgarity and ignorance. Truth is as much the business of the poet , as of the philo- sopher , though he conveys it in a different 3*2 GNOMICA. CH. VII. dress , and seeks to produce conviction by a different path. It is admitted, that the human imagination has a perpetual tendency to aberrations; to distem- pered ideas ; to distorted or exaggerated Hghts : but it is not the business of the real poet to fostet and perpetuate these : — on the contrary, he ought to give all his efforts to correct and super^ sede them. He may win a short popularity by indulging and encouraging them , because we delight to have a seeming justification of our faults: but his gain is the wages of meanness and corruption ; it is at the expence of his integrity and virtue. If the mere power of representing strongly an image strongly impressed on the mind be suffi- cient to entitle one to the merit of a great poet, without regard to the character of the image represented, it must be owned that a powerful picture of any distempered or erroneous vision or passion, which has dominion over the mind, is first-rate poetry. The understanding corrects the wrong impres- sions of the Senses ; and controuls the over- wrought colourings of Passion. Without the super- intend ance of reason , Imagination is like a ship at the mercy of the winds and waves , without a pilot or a rudder. Beattie says of his Hermit^ that « He thought as a sage; but he felt as a jnanh GNOMIC A. CH. VIII. 35 It is in the blended result of these two operations of the mind , that perfect poetry consists. CHAPTER VIII. Abilities. The faculty of clearly conceiving the thoughts of others; of preserving them in the memory; and of redelivering them with perspicuity , and even elegance , is bestowed by Providence not sparingly. To this degree of intellectual endow- ment is applied the term , abilities ; in contra- distinction to genius ; which is the susceptibility of original and powerful impression; and when it is of the highest degree , has the additional faculty of new combination. The fame , which is acquired by such abilities is seldom brilliant or lasting: their use depends on readiness of appljing what is the production of others. The merit therefore ceases with the occasion. Whenever another application becomes necessary , resort will again be had to the ori- ginal ; and not to the copy. IS^ineteen twentieths at least of all literary pro- ductions are of this secondary nature. They soon therefore sink into oblivion , as they are super- 34 GNOMICA. CH. VIII. ceded by those which new occasions call forth. Temporary historians , poUticians , moraUsts ; poets, novehsts, wits, flutter into life under the factitious heat of the rays of fashion , and die again like butterflies. feut eten of this large portion who want origi- nality , a small pairt only possess the power of accurately conceiving , and justly applying. The majority have only a capacious memory encum- bered with stores of confused thoughts, which for the watit of discrimination and judgment rather mislead than benefit. — The greater number of our modern compila- tions of miscellaneous literature afford only an idle stir of memory , without offering any food for the understanding , the heart , or the fancy. Thousands of dry, fruitless, minutia3 are heaped together; and we are called on to fill our heads with trifles which pall the attention , and with- draw us from that love of books , of which to diminish the interest is to rob us of one of the most virtuous charms of life. Whatever confounds in the public opinion genius and solid learning with such empty pre- tensions, is a deep and extensive evil. The esteem and respect of authorship has long been decli- ning ; and is now almost extinct. The meanest capacity , and the most vulgar acquirements, may suffice to make a mechanical author: and in these GNOMICA. CH. IX. 35 days thousands of mechanical authors, no better endowed , start forth , and make a bustle in the world. When such men are seen in the characters of authors , their want of consequence is conta- gious , and spreads to literature itself. CHAPTER IX. The Heart. It is not sufficient for just eminence that au- thors should have the power of thinking inge- niously : they ought also to think both rightly , and nobly. That light conviction , which uplajs round the heady* but does not touch the heart, is not to be trusted. It sits too superficially ; and is sometimes transient ; and often easily suspended. It seems indeed as if the mere reason is not adequately operative of itself ; and that a convic- tion , before it be deeply fixed , requires the approval of that intuitive sense which appears to be intimately connected with the heart. Whether it be in original thought, or in that which is derivative , the fiat of the heart alone gives that sincerity, which is strong enough to impel to action. Mere ingenuity : -— nay , mere splendor^ of genius wandering in wrong paths , never yet left 36 GNOMIC A. CH. iX. behind it fruits , which retained the esteem of posterity. The internal facuhy of the heart , which is active in some, and only a passive susceptibility in others , is a gift of nature. It presides over the judgment ; and aids or opposes it according to the bent of its operations. Nothing is of genuine and perfect sublimity or' grandeur, which has not something in it of pathos: and nothing can have proper and real pathos, which is false. Above all, it must have truth, if it regards morals ! — And here it may be asked , « what is moral truth ? » Religion , natural as well as revealed , tells it us : a regard to the happiness of our fellow- beings tells it us : a regard to our own happiness tells it us : a regard to the dignity of our nature tells it us : the sympathies or aversions of our hearts tell it us. Those impressions , which in our moments of sober rellectiqn , when our evil passions are pas- sed away, do not retain the same character, and do not receive the consentaneous emotions of the bosom , are not morally true. It may be safely observed , that no writer, whose thoughts and sentiments the experience of mankind has found to be incorrect , — much less which the experience of mankind has dis- proved — has retained his seat in the temple of GJfOMICA. CH. X. 3^ Fame. All the moral matter, which forms the basis of the works of HomtT, Yirgil, Cicero, etc. has been proved to be the deepest and most accurate, at which mere human wisdom could arrive. These is a factitious or momentary enthusiasm , under which those who labour, may feel gratified by exaggerated representations consonant to their own prevailing temperament : but a more general and enlarged taste dissipates or rejects these par- tial colourings. Calm musing and sedate conside- ration break the clouds of error, and strip de- lusive coruscations of their brilliance. That, which vanishes before prolonged reflection , is of little value. CHAPTER X. A great mind , and great heart. I ISov. 1822. All is vain and worthless, but a great mind, and a great heart. — But what is a great mind and a great heart ? It will be proper to examine , explain, illustrate, and discuss, before we attempt to define ! But we may assert , that a great mind and a great heart are formed of a compound of the highest sorts of capacity, enriched by feeling , and directed by virtue. — 38 GNOMICA. CH. X. Solitude is the field of contemplation; and, consequently , of the employment of our noblest faculties. Events therefore, and the actiye parts of the life of a man of genius, if any part of it has been active , are of comparative insignificance. Y^t the Public likes incident better than specu- lation ; and has little taste for observation and reflection, except v^hen it is attached to action. It is difficult therefore to make any biography interesting to the common reader, which is not stored with incident. A large part of what passes in society is mere insipid, useless, momentary ceremony: it springs put of a confused chaos of ideas ; and , as it was imperfect in its birth , it ends in abortion. A great mind is controuled in society by the coarseness and dulness of vulgar characters. In solitude it has (c Ample room , and verge enough , The characters ofn soul « to trace, » At the same time an occasional mixture with the bustle and conflicts of human Beings is useful and instructive. There is no birth , or rank , or wealth , that can supply those primary qualities of the mind, or heart, which give the aristocracy of ]N[ature. Un- fortunately the possessors of this high preemi- GNOMICA. CH. X. 89 rience do not commonly know its value , till too late in life. They do not (nKnow their own worth; and reverence the Ijre.y) The consequence is , that they do not steadily follow their own propensities with a dignified calmness and satisfaction. Without the advantages of fortune , or at least, independence, it is indeed not very practicable to pursue those abstracted and unmercenary occu- pations , which supply no means of subsistence : but for which the Public Patronage ought , ( though it seldom performs this duty , ) to fur- nish rewards. The lots of our existence are strangely, and mysteriously cast. To our imperfect perceptions they often appear contradictory and perverse. It is not easy to support dignity of mind under poverty and meanness of condition. Mean thoughts and sentiments are too often inherited from mean parentage. But not always : the ge- nuine and lofty spirit surmounts them ; — wit- ness Burns! To embody the fine visions of the mind ; and to render them capable of being communicated and circulated : what is this but to add to the highest species of human riches ? But taste will not do this : memory will not do it : powers of 4o GNOMICA. CH. X. reasoning will not do it ! — It requires not only quick perception, and deep sensibility; but vivid fancy , and plastic imagination. It is true, that it may be decreed that many should pass through this state of Being in a course of mere negative innocence; doing neither good, nor harm. We are ignorant of the inscrutable purposes, for which Providence may so design it. Such persons may enjoy life , though they may not have the ability to define , or the power to communicate, their pleasures. External objects may fill them with admiration , or gentle thril- lings , in proportion as they are grand or beau- tiful. But such pleasures die as quick as they come ; leaving no trace behind them , after their leparture. The love of distinction for what is intrinsically excellent , is a generous and lofty ambition ; a desire which all great minds feel. To pass through life in obscurity is a fate, to which they cannot reconcile themselves : but obscurity is not the necessary effect of solitude ; they can teach or delight from the shades: their voice can be heard from the deepest woods. GNOMICA. CH. XI. 4^ CHAPTER XL Time will destroy false pretensions , 26 Bee. 1822. Concealment and disgnise Avoiild be vain, were they desired. All false pretensions must cease by the calm and nnprejudiced scrutiny of Time. Ability and inclination will be fonnd to discrimi- nate, and weigh with truth and justice , all the separate or combined qualities which a litera :y production exhibits ; or which an author gives proof of having possessed. Art may often for a moment cover over defects and weaknesses with factitious and plausible hghts : but these will disappear before cool and attentive examination. Thus secondary authors often conceal penury or vulgarity of thought and of knowlege by the artifices of style. The eye and the ear may be caught : but the understanding will soon correct the delusion. That which depends, not upon the thing said, but upon the skill in saying it, is of very transient interest. — 42 GWOMICA. CH. XII» CHAPTER XIL Multiplication of Books. 16 Dec. 1822. If there be no end of multiplying books which ; i but a repetition of what has been already put into print , that which comes from the pen of him who not only thinks for himself, but thinks vigo- rously and justly, may yet be useful, meritorious, and even necessary. Those faculties , which enable us to think rightly and to feel rightly , and adequately to communicate our thoughts and sentiments, on questions Avhich have not hitherto been duly decided and explained , are not very common. Or they are so seldom brought into fruit by proper culture , that the rarity of their occur- rence must add much to their value , whenever they are worked to maturity. That which is taken at second hand , has scar* cely more than a technical use. Passive knowlege may be beneficial to the possessor; that which is active is alone important to the Public. — It is not true, that all that can be Avisely said, has been said before : — even a new mode of saying it may perhaps elicit a new truth. — But copies can never be equal to what is ori- ginal : they have always the inferiority of com- parative faintness. — GNOMrCA. CFI. XIII. 4^ CHAPTER XIII. 'Birth , etc. 25 Feb. 1823. The Public for the most part considers birth and titles as trifles unbecoming the serious attention of a sound and enlarged mind. They seem to me to have their value : though , where a value is put upon them , it is seldom placed upon its true foundation. I do not think that they can make amends for deficiencies, moral or mental: on the contrary, they seem to me to create an addi- tional demand for them. They ought to act both as incitements and ornaments: first, to generate a noble emulation ; and afterwards to crown that , to which they have given origin. He , who possesses this distinction , is less tempted to sacrifice elevated and unmercenary occupations to the pursuit of wealth. I presume therefore that the regard to splendid birth , which has been entertained by all nations in all ages, is built upon deep and accurate moral wisdom. A due consciousness of illustrious descent ought to be a perpetual talisman , and a perpetual impulse. It ought at once to be a spur to rival the past, and a memento of responsibility for the conduct of succeeding generations: it ought to 44 GNOMICA. CH. XIV. bring with it the constant recollection that the possessor's posterity may thus inherit the dispo- sition to pursue glory rather tlian selfish gains! — It may be said, that this possession (or preten- sion or accident, if the objector chooses so to call it , ) often fails to produce these good effects. Are we then to argue from the abuse of a gift ? Is not wealth also as often abused ? It may be urged that the wealth which a spendthrift throws away , another receives. But does it not often corrupt the receiver , as well as the spender ? CHAPTER XIV. Artifice in Poetry censured. a3 Dec. 1822. Wherever there is an atternpt to supply the want of native fancy or native sentiment by Art J the effect is sure to shew itself in a straining 'Axev false beauties ! — Art therefore seems always mistaken in the proper aim ; in the proper objects of resem- blance. Imagination is not sufficient, unless the imagi- nation be just: unless it have poetical proba- bility. — Almost all false poetry is a mistake of the proper duties and proper objects of imagination. Genius may not succeed perfectly without the GNOMICA, CH. XV. 45 addition of Art : but Art can do nothing without Genius. What is the cause of that lameness of expres- sion , as well as crudeness of thought , into which so many of the old minor poets fall , after having kept themselves on the wing for a little while ? — It is false fire. There was a good deal of affectation in the sonnet-writers of Q. Elizabeth's reign — such as Constable, B allies, Gabriel Han>ej, Watson, eic. — Nor were the pastoral songs of that sera, except very rarely, without a good deal of quaintness. The French school of poetry , which succeeded the Italian, approached more to the poetry of the understanding and reason. The Poets of Ch. ^'s time wanted both fancy and sentiment. — But most of them had a lively and acute intellect. , There may be fancy without sentiment : — but seldom sentiment without fancy. The fancy must first present the image, before occasion is given for the sentiment. CHAPTER XV. Selfish and public concerns. 3 1 Oct. 1822. Between too much and too little anxiety for private and selfish concerns, the line of demar- cation is exceedingly difficult to be traced. 46 GIfOMICA. CH. XVI. XVII. Then comes the question , who is of use be^ yond himself and those immediately connected with him ? Are authors of use? And what sorts of authors? Dealers in Imagery ; Sentiment; Observation; Reflection ; Reasoning ! — CHAPTER XVL Quiet and Ease. What is there in life worth having, but quiet and ease of mind ? Nature has implanted in us the desire to be spoken and thought Avell of. — If we can prove that our occupations have been innocent and virtuous; — still more , if useful to the Public , — shall we silently bear malignant misrepresentations of our conduct and habits? To exhibit rectitude and elevation of thought, is a merit which Ought to conciliate affection and esteem. True views of life lead to satisfaction , and to virtue. CHAPTER XVII, Merit above Birth. What can a man say of himself, but that he has led a life , which he would not lead again , could life be renewed ? — Experience teaches him his errors too late. GNOMICA. CH. XVIII. 47 All vanity and disguise are mean and unavai- ling. A man must stand or fall by his own real and intrinsic strength or weakness. The power of thinking and feeling forcibly and justly, and of communicating those mipressions to others , is a praiseworthy distinction. Why should a man rely on birth ? Milton and Gray were sons of Scriveners ; Colhns , — of a Hatter; Akenside and Rirke White — of Butchers ; — Chatterton, — of a Parish Clerk ; — Shenstone, — of a farmer ; — Beattie , and Burns , — of pea- sants; — ^ Pope, — of a linen-draper — Prior,— of a tavern-keeper ! — - CHAPTER XVIII. Exaggeration. Popular Jafour. 28 Jan. 1823. The habit of exaggeration adopted by those who write for the mob , and for temporary pur- poses , is very disgusting , and very mischievous. The astill small voicey) of reason , wisdom, or taste, is never heard amid these clamours; which are, (to use Burke's beautiful simile,) the noise of the grasshopper filling the air with its incessant chirps, while the Ox is chewing the cud in silence, under the shade of the British oak* 4S GNOMICA. CH. XVIII. All is calculated to exite transient attention on topics, on which the passions of the multitude are alive : — which topics are in a little while as much forgot, as if they had never been raised. — If we then turn back to them , the very people, who for the moment were most heated by them , wonder most how they could ever have found any interest in them. This is an incon- trovertible proof, that all their claims to notice were factitious. — How very few of the Articles in the**^, which at the moment of publication caught every reader, possess any longer the smallest zest! — If they had intrinsic value ; if they were written with sober and solid wisdom , this could hardly be the case. It is hence to be inferred , that there is nothing original j or nothing just , in the fonde of them : and that all their claim to attention lay in the application of the matter to some ephe- meral topic. — They are seldom the originators of abstract truths ; of novelty in generalization ; of a new tint of the mind arrested , and cloathed in lan- guage ; of a new , striking , elegant , and just , form of words : iiWhatoftiVas thought; but ne'er so well express' d^ii ( as Pope says. ) All is catching, but hollow: — plausible at GNOMIC A.. CH. XVTII. 49 first, but not capable of enduring the assay. It is (njineer work » : and when it is pierced , you soojn get beyond what is solid and genuine. It IS nowhere sincere : but all for momentary effect. It has the ingenuity of the head : but has not been sanctioned by the approval of the heart. The results of a calm , philosophical , and eco- nomised judgment alone caji continue ala^ajs to be standards of opinion. Ask one of these Reviewers in private what he thinks of a large portion of the works . which he has lauded to the skies : he will shake his head ; and cry «poor stuff! — mediocrity ! — absurdity! — corrupt tinsel!)) etc. — but he will add, that adventitious circumstances rendered it an object of paramount policy to impress to the utmost the credit of the author, or of his work, on the public mind ! But just in proportion as these adventitious circumstances have lifted an author and his works into temporary distinction, they are both left to their own worthlessness, as soon as these causes have ceased. Those versatile talents most able to take ad- vantage of occasion, are only fitted for occasion: they must swim with the stream; and fly with the wind : they can make no way by themselves. They can give no nev/ impulses to the mind : nor be resorted to, as the fountains of new opinions; 7 5o GNOMICA. CH. XVIII. of which the justice causes the future admissioti to be the consequence of the discovery. Nothing is of much value, which does not continue to please , after a repetition of perusals* All the talent, understanding, art, discipline, labour , upon earth , will not supply the original want of fancy ; and want of that internal sensi- bility which springs irom the heart. It may judge with perfect rectitude of that which is the produc- tion of these endowments: but it cannot originate such productions. The origination must issue from the picture which the fancy presents , and the emotion raised by the picture so presented. It is by this that the poet is enabled cc To snatch a grace bejond the reach of Art. » The persons who think and feel for themselves , are more rare than even the most severe suppose. Opinions on important subjects are , for the most part, made up of so many complexities, and nice particles of ingredients, so subtle as to escape the power of language to point out , — that weight of authority will go , and ought to go , a great way in procuring assent. The habit of writing as an advocate , and not as a Judge , is destructive to the soundness and consistency of opinion* If often happens that men , who are not skilful GNOMIC A. CH. XIX. 5 1 and clear arguers , come by native intuition and sagacity to just and solid conclusions : — and in this way men of poetical genius arrive, by the aid of the lights of imagination and feeling, at the conviction of the deepest truths. An adroit logician often abuses his faculty ; and misleads by the most wilful and vile sophi- stries. Unsought touches proceed from Genius, which the Artist vainly attempts to emulate. Enthusiasm and Sincerity are indispensible attendants of Genius. CHAPTER XIX. Memory. 25 B^c, 1822. Memory is not an original power of the mind : it is the duration of any act or impression , of any power of the mind : — whether it be an im- pression of fancy, or imagination , or sentiment, or reason ; or mere conception or intelligence. If the merit of a work of fancy is to consist in the exactness of the representation , not only must the receptacle of the original impression have been clear and brilliant ; but the memory of it must have endured in full force at the moment employed in creating the reflection of it. 52 GNCMICA. CH. XX. But a brilliant fancy generally unites to itself something of the faculty of imagination; and this last faculty supplies, perhaps heightens, whatever is lost by the memory. How Fancy and Memory can be confounded as the same powers , is to me very astonishing! Each , they say , is the revival of something in its absence. But fancy is not the act of revival : fancy is one of the things revived. Fancy has no reference to time : fancy is not a substitute : it is an original. When we say that fools have long memories, the memory is only of the impressions of such trifles as they are capable of receiving. CHAPTER XX. The Beaten Path. lo Jan. 1821. In working up one's way thro' the difficulties of Life, the effects of long and patient perseve- rance are beyond the power of prospective esti- mate to appreciate. I make this reflection , after a night of anxious thought, and of feverish and tormenting perplexity of internal discussion. But it is not possible to calculate precisely and duly the effects even of the past perseverance , without laborious and strict examination, and without full and comprehensive data before one ! * GT^rOMTCA. CH. XX. 53 I have puzzled myself with conjectures , till every nerve became distracted ; and after all, only to end in false hope, or false fear ! In the arrogance of flighty and soaring expec- tation , a young man of active and ardent intel- lect enters the forest of Life in the confidence of being able to explore and penetrate paths of his own , without regarding the beaten track, or resting on the labours and experience of others. He is sure to be a victim both to self-delusion ; and to the artifices of those who are interested in leading him astray. Him who keeps in the beaten path , no one attempts to disturb. He goes on safely v/ithout talent , or skill , or knowlege , or vigilance. He might be misled by conjectures, and probabili- ties, and arguments , and assertions : T\iq beaten track is a plain fact , visible to the eye ; which no one can mistake. Another source of error in the calculation of a Theorist, is the assumption that Mankind are governed by reason ; and that that, of which it can be proved that it ought to be , will be ! — It is not so ! Mankind are not governed by reason ! It is all interest , and prejudice ; and rivalry , and conflict , and intrigue ! Optimists will say, that the greater liability to fai- lure, to which talents are exposed, the more it is as it should be! That it brings those, to whom nature 54 GIVOMICA. CH. XX. has been niggardly in intellectual gifts , upon a level with their superiors! I know that it is impossible to convince a large portion of the world, that a person can really pos- sess great and sound abilities , unless he has pro- ved himself practically prudent and sldlful. But 1 have endeavoured to shew , that the best chance of going what the world calls right , is ^f^to follow the leadtr. » ■ — It will not be denied , that even an ideot can do this ! « Of what avail then , » it may be said , « are abilities , if they will not enable a man to direct himself right ?» It might as well be asked (to apply a ludicrous illustration ) of what use is a taylor who makes a suit of cloathes well for ano- ther person , if he makes a suit for himself which fits him badly? As we descend into the vale of Life , we are apt more to value those gratifications which are called substantial ; and less , those , which are called imaginary. This is strange ! — as we ap- proach nearer to the world oi Spirits , we become more enamoured of the Material! Riches then begin to take a new estimation in our eyes : and we are all for solid enjoyment! But wealth also is found to be empty and pleasureless with many who have possessed it from youth to age: they would willingly barter much of it for what most of those, who possess it, find «a bubble » GNOMICA. CH. XXI. XXII. 55 when attained ; for fame, rank, and distinction! — while they who thus find them «a bubble, » think themselves ilUrepaid for the sacrifices they have made to acquire them. — CHAPTER XXI. Succession of Authors. 1822* The country, that ceases to produce authors, ceases to cultivate literature. They are the im- pelling oars, that keep the bark in motion. New circumstances, — even the demand of novelty and freshness of language and manner, — require a per- petual renewal of writers. No age is stationary : if it is upon the decline , authors are wanted to lessen the rapidity of the decline : if it is advan- cing, authors are wanting , to keep pace with the rapidity of the advance. CHAPTER XXn. Dante , Milton , Tasso , Gray* When we read the allusions of Dante, Milton, or Tasso, to their worldly misfortunes, how our souls alternately tremble and swell ! 56 GNOMICA. CH. XXIL The writings of such men open to us , as it were , the oracles o^ a superior state of intelli- gence ! li is as if v/e were beholding a brilliant sky with its illumined clouds , and saw nothing but shapes of fantastic splendor : — and while we were long and steadily gazing , a magician should supply us with a glass, by which those shapes should at once take precise and legible forme ; and disclose to us some revelation of Angels! — The grand ideas, which these inspired poets open to us , might without them have dis- played themselves to our eyes in their fantastic shapes ; but these are the magicians , who give them legible and intelligible forms! All the grandeur of the visible and invisible world is a confused assemblage of lights , which it is left to the labour of human genius to develop, arrange, and bring into shape. To this high calling all poetical endowment continually feels itself impelled. It is an exercise , of which the neglect causes the soul to fall into languor and sickness. Of that languor and sickness Gray is a striking illustration. Fogs huddled up the flame of his mind ; and it bred humours and gangrened ; — and he died! How was Dante employed ? Dwelling on the perturbed actions of his early life ] and venting his bitter but sublime indignation in sounds which will never cease to echo on the wings of GNOMICA. CH. XXIII. 5^ the winds ! How was Milton employed ? In dis- missing the memory of proscription and ingrati- tude for active services of State ; — in alleviating the privations of blindness by busying himself with the War of Angels, and the Garden of Eden! CHAPTER XXni. Enjoyments are in the mind. 1822. It is a cold and blind opinion that we cannot make the world of our enjoyment in a great mea- sure , what we choose to make it. It is the mind, ■which creates the noblest and liveliest part of the enjoyment : and the mind is under our dis- cipline, and at our command. The materials for its operation can never be exhausted , and its capacity of new combinations is endless. As life advances, the intellectual powers be- come more diversified , the vague ideas of youth become more precise ; and a sagacious knowlege of mankind contrasts happily with the warmer pictures of the fancy and the imagination. We throw off all peculiarities, not only personal, but of station or time ; — - all local and national habits ; and think and feel as citizens of all the civilized globe : — as belonging to the past and the future, as well as to the present: and equally interested in the history of intellect and morals^ 8 58 GNOMICA. CH. XXIII* If we suppose a mode of invention , a delinea- tion of character, a tone of sentiment, a form of expression and style , peculiar to a single country , — ( and experience proves that we may suppose it, — ) all the sound principles of criti- cism shew that it must be wrong. The reverse of this is equally true, both as to extent of time and place. Johnson speaking of the test of time says : « To works , of which the excellence is not absolute and definite; hut gradual and comparative ; to works not raised upon principles demonstrative and scientific , but appealing wholly to observation and experience , Jio other test can be applied than length of duration , and continuance of esteem. What mankind have long possessed, they have often examined and compared; and if they persist to value the possession, it is because frequent com" parisons have confirmed opinion in its favour. The reverence due to writings that have long subsisted, is therefore the consequence of the acknowledged and indubitable positions , that what has been longest known has been most considered; and what is most considered is best understood. » Had we the age of Methusalem , we could not live long enough to muster all the moral know- lege, that History, illuminated by Fancy and Imagination , offers. We could not live long enough to master the good books necessary for GNOMICA. CH. XXIV. 69 this purpose , which Europe has produced only since the Revival of Learning. The extreme igno- rance of modern superficiality and prejudice sup- poses that these were barharous ages. This cannot be justly said even of the three centuries which preceded what is thus called the Hewi^al of Learning, The manners and compositions of the Troubadours are a sufficient refutation of this silly calumny. CHAPTER XXIV. Improvement of Age : Extinction of powers hy Death, 1822. As the powers of the mind expand and streng- then , the sources of happiness greatly increase. The eager desire of knowlege , when it exists in youth , is baffled by a feebleness of capacity , and languor of attention, that sickens and at last sa- tiates by the daily experience of renewed hope ending in disappointment. As the faculties have become matured , and have gained by a long course of exercise a facility of execution which leads to the accomplishment of what they undertake , they find a certainty of gratification in their labours , which carries them on without abatement of energy , or weariness of effort. 6o GNOMICA. CH. XXIV. The mind feels no joy so great as the conscious- ness of its own power , and nothing more morti- fying than that of its own impotence. The age therefore of a cultivated mind is often more com- placent , and even more luxurious , than the youth. It is the reward of the due use of the en- dowments bestowed by nature: while they, who in youth have made no provision for age , are left like an unsheltered tree, stripped of its leaves and its branches , shaking and withering before the cold blasts of winter, In truth , nothing is so happy to itself and so attractive to others , as a genuine and ripened imagination , that knows its own powers , and throws forth its treasures with frankness and fearlessness. The more it produces , the more capable it becomes of production; the creative faculty grows by indulgence; and the more it combines , the more means and varieties of com- bination it discovers, When Death comes to destroy that mysterious and magical union of capacities and acquirements which has brought a noble genius to this point of power , how frightful and lamentable is the effect of the stroke , that stops the current which was wont to put this mighty formation into activity ! Perhaps the incomprehensible Spirit may have acted in conjunction with its corporeal GNOMICA. CH. XXV. 6 1 adherents to the last ! Then in one moment what darkness and destruction follows a single gasp of breath! — CHAPTER XXV, Retirement. Though Retirement is necessary to cherish those seeds of great genius or great knowlege , w^hich nature sometimes confers , yet it requires nice judgment and unbending discipline to ma-^ nage this retirement rightly. It is subject to a thousand dangers and destructive misuses. It often encourages us into a fatal over-estimate of ourselves, from want of the opportunity of comparison ; and this is followed by disappoint- ment , bitterness , and misanthropy , because others do not award to us the same portion of merit or power. It often brings on languor, and even torpor, from want of the presence of the stimulant of competition, All however which is lost in idle company , beyond that which is absolutely necessary for recreation , is positively pernicious. It breeds idle passions; it fosters prejudices; it debilitates; it degrades. 62 GNOMICA. CH. XXVI. It happens that the greater part of the Uves of most of the great geniuses of the world has been an active hfe. Change and variety give a vigour to the ideas , and freshen their colours. When Grief takes possession of the mind, nothing is so conducive to the disease as Retire^ ment. CHAPTER XXYL Vanity, Of all the Passions , Vanity is that, of which the gratifications are least , and the rewards most at the mercy and caprice of others. It is founded on a deception ; and a deception , which , being apparent , immediately provokes its own defeat. To seek distinctions for those merits , which we are conscious belong to us, is a different thing. This may be Ostentation: it is not Vanity: sometimes it arises from a better motive than Ostentation. It may be sought as a more satisfac- tory test of that desert , which we believe that we possess. To be satisfied with ourselves , seems to be an almost universal desire , implanted in us by Pro- vidence for some good purpose : this feeling appears to be absolutely necessary for that com- placence , without which there can be no enjoy- ment , nor sense of respectabiUty, GNOMICA. CH. XXVI. 63 The confidence , that arises from the calm consciousness of just pretension , discourages Envy, and drives her from her aim , to scatter her arrows in the air : — she throws away her quiver; and becomes as servile as she before was fierce and insolent. He , who has real qualities of preeminence of an high kind, may so apply them, by the aid of prudent management , as to obtain all the advan- tage over the world to which they entitle him. In truth , high talents , highly cultivated , may be almost victorious over sickness , and many of the human misfortunes that most touch the heart. But this cannot be without virtue ; without fortitude, and incessant discipline of the feelings; v/ithout judgment; without an entire elevation above the vanities of the world. To see men possessed of talents to win the applause of the wise , wasting their time and energies in seeking the admiring gaze of Folly, and the shouts of the senseless Mob, fills one with a mixture of pity and indignation. Heaven in its mercy has bounded the views of those , whose capacities are only fitted to exe- cute the duties of a narrow sphere , to limits equally narrow. They think only of Self, and those immediately connected with Self; and sup- pose all to be idle waste of toil , which concerns itself with any thing beyond. « My business is 64 GNOMICA. CH. XXVlt. » with my o(^n affairs , » they cry : « that is suffi- » cientfor me, without meddling with others ! Let » others do the same : and then all will he well! » That extended reflection which places its own happiness and consequence on the welfare or improvement it confers on others , is to them incomprehensible ! CHAPTER XXVII. T/ie desire of esteem and approbation i [822. It is an irreversible inherent in our nature, to desire the good opinion of others; and to be soothed by their concurrence in our sorrows. This creates an impulse , that seldom fails to vent itself in an appeal, by which it may be gratified. But this is not true of our sorrows only: we wish to make the world converts to us in all our opinions; and when we feel that we have suffi- cient strength in us , we are not satisfied without bringing them to the test of the public judgment. The experiment is often perilous; and many learn by the trial how much they have over- estimated themselves. When, in the process of putting into execution the object of their ambi- tious desires they find their strength fail them , GNOMICA. CH. XXVir. 65 they are apt to resort to artifice to give them a false appearance of power : but affectation is the herald of weakness ; and precipates their fall. Conscious power is always direct: an author does not resort to the trick of covering his thoughts with false splendor, till he at least sus- pects that the thoughts have not force enough to maintain themselves. He , who is fall of the thought itself, will not waste his time and labour upon superfluous ornament. But young authors of doubtful genius are al- most always affected. If strength grows with their years , they throw it off : otherwise they continue affected through life. The fear and delicacy of a youthful mind , even where there is strength , often makes him shrink from venturing his own genuine opinions. He is apt to suppose that something more re- condite , and far fetched , is necessary ; and is afraid to rely on the simple tints of truth. Expe, rience gradually shews him , that what springs naturally in the mind , is equally acceptable to all. 66 GWOMICA. CH. XXVIII. CHAPTER XXVIII. Gibboji. 1822. Gibbon, as he perceived his gigantic v^ork growing beneath his hands , must have felt a mighty swell of triumph. To have digested , and arranged into lucid order , the recondite materials of such an extent of time and place , — what an Herculean task ! What a proof of the effects of steadiness , calm- ness , and perseverance ! His talents and labours indeed bore little simi- litude to those of a poet. His business was rather in sifting , criticising , clearing away , and recom- bining upon a more compressed and more con- venient plan^ than in creating, supplying senti- ment , enriching with wide speculation , or pre- senting imaginative and brightly - coloured pic- tures. It must be confessed , that there is a vast preponderance of mechanism in his work : and therefore that the long and continued perusal becomes wearisome. We are always travelling over a plain : the inequality of mountains and vallies never comes to relieve us : or it is rather like a canal , for which human labour has pierced heights and profundities ; and brought all to a strait line , and a level surface. GJYOMICA. CH. XXYIII. 67 When the poet arranges and combmes, he also creates part of his materials ; and embodies aerial essences. If therefore his work accumulates to sufficient size , he beholds an edifice raised at his call , neiv not only in foim but in matter. But if the difficulty ended with creation > it might still be comparatively easy. Mere novelty of matter will not do , unless the matter be of a certain excellence of quality. Mere whim may mix up new ingredients , of Avhich it may con- stitute a fantastic building. To use Johnson's test, not only must the ideas of a poetical edifice « he neiv, » but they must be so conformable to the general sympathy of the human bosom , that a he that reads them must persuade himself that he always felt them, » To effect this , requires such a perpetual stream of native energies ; such an intimate acquain- tance with the varied emotions of the heart ; such a power of unforced imagination ; such a faculty of identifying oneself with the character represented , as nature bestows on very few in the lapse of ages. But an author may be far inferior to all these high pretensions , yet deserve well of his cotem- poraries , and of posterity. He ought to be ori- ginal ; he ought to be iniaffected , frank , and sincere. If his object be truth ; if his first im- 6S GNOMICA. CH. XXIX. pulse be to communicate what presses upon his own bosom , he cannot totally fail in con- veying either instruction or pleasure. CHAPTER XXIX. 0/ the Poetical Character. 1822. Notwithstanding all the fine things, which it has been the custom to say of poets , nothing perhaps has been said, which is equal to the merits of the true poetical character. Poetry is the oracle , which forms the channel of union between the intellectual and the ma- terial world. There is a world within us , of which it is the interpreter. Inspiration is not improperly attributed to poets. — The habit of contemplating what is sublime or beautiful , sometimes makes them fastidious , or severe, in judging of the mass of mankind; and sometimes makes them what unfeeling cen- sors call melancholy and querulous. They see mankind endowed with a capacity to be happy, yet making themselves and others miserable by their vile passions , and dull pursuits : — their intelligence shews to them the inmost recesses jind evil workings of the human heart ; — and GNOMICA. CH. XXIX. 69 this susceptibility receives excessive pain from that , which to common dispositions is harmless. Are we asked , why Providence orders , or permits , those magnificent emotions to be pro- duced by human inspiration and human skill , which are not produced by the realities of life? The answer is , that Providence may no more deign to explain its mysteries in this , than in a thousand other important but inexplicable ques- tions. Providence has ordered , that of innume- rable objects of matter, all the delight should arise from the associations which the mind adds to them ; and which common intellects can only perceive by the aid of the lights that the poetic talent furnishes. It unhappily is found that Poets do not always know their duty, nor perform this service as they ought. They do not suppose that it is their business to pourtray the natural associations, to which the human bosom offers a prepared mir- ror : but persuade themselves that an higher merit will be attained by exhibiting some capri- cious and forced association of their own , in which they think there may be more novelty , and hope there may be more genius. But there are cases , in which it requires more power , and more brilliance to follow nature than to invent : and more skill to bring out the changing and evanescent tints that dance about, 70 GNOMICA. CH. XXIX. and dazzle like the hues of the sky, than to create those grotesque combinations , which can interest only by producing surprise. Such things are effected by an artificial ima- gination , which requires neither sensibihty , nor the knowlege of the human bosom. The imagination which brings forward the visions that lie at the bottom of the human soul, is a flame that blazes with the pure light of Truth; and does not seek to throw its rays upon the hobgobleries of the false Enchanter's forests ; but to illumine the shrines of Elysian gardens; and the delicious shades of Eden and Paradise. To the true poet belongs a depth of intimacy Avith all Moral and Psychological knowlege : his mental resources must create for him the pic- ture of Man in all his conflicting emotions : he must identify himself with the actor, and with him who is acted upon : he must feel as they would feel , and speak as they would speak. This is what no art can do ; what no reasoning can effect ; what no labour can approach. If we could suppose a person of these gifts in full possession of his faculties ; conscious of his powers, and Avilling to exert them; yet free from those counterbalancing evils of life , with which it seems the destiny of our nature too often to be overwhelmed, he would be a sort of God , both from his aptitude to receive and GNOMICA. CH. XXX. XXXI. 7 1 to confer happiness ! To such a mind all the forms of things , that animate and adorn the Globe , must be rapture ! CHAPTER XXX. Birth combined with a competent property. 1822. Education ; independence ; ease ; an inter- course with those ranks of society , which excite refined emotion ; leisure to pursue honour rather than interest ; an habitual intercourse from in- fancy with those dignified sentiments which teach us to prize fame above selfish and sensual grati- fications , seem all to constitute the appropriate sphere , in which honorable Birth combined with a competent fortune is entitled to move. CHAPTER XXXI. Mellowness of Age. 1822. Though the Soul must be assumed to be an Essence separate from the Body , yet in its association with the human form , it is long be- fore its powers are expanded into maturity. If 7 2 GNOMIC A. CH. XXXI. it be new to this world , it has every thing to learn on its own account , independent of the obstructions which its « mortal mould » opposes. Very young men have in a few instances pro- duced prodigies of blazing genius. But perhaps it may be pronounced that those productions have almost always wanted mellowness. Language does not flow easy , full , and comprehensive , till after long use. But time and experience are still more necessary for that selection of cir- cumstances, from which all perplexing details have withdrawn themselves. Age gives a « sober certainty » to the senti- ments ; and Memory is softened by a tone of tender melancholy , which speaks with an al- tractive and overcoming authority. The associa- tions gathered in an extended course of years become richer , more contrasted , and more deep. They seem uttered under a sort of more aweful responsibility , as of one who is about to deliver his account. They are free from the false vivacity of mere animal spirits; and strike as the results of long and calm meditation. All knowlege , when first acquired , causes a state of mental fervor , which is not suited to its due appreciation. Time and collision in the brain , assign it at last its proper place. The ma- terial and immaterial world gradually unite them- selves into a rich and inexhaustible texture : — GNOMICA. CH. XXXI. -yS but this is the work of years of intellectual attention and toil: at first they are separated, discordant, and apt to act in contrary direc- tions ! It is only a long intimacy with the affecting- events of life , that combines the various appea- rances in the scenery of Nature with our most touching moral affections , sensations , and re- collections : that hangs a vision on every tree; and sees the images of former dehght in the flying colours and fantastic shapes of the clouds. The young are light-hearted : or if they have grief, it is commonly the result of intemperate passions , or over-heated fancy. In the old , grief is not loud, or vehement; but contemplative, rational , moral , and softening : — in the asso- ciations therefore that it makes, it teaches les- sons of wisdom; and improves the understanding, as well as mends the heart. A rich fancy is like an Jiolian harp, that catc- hes the passage of the breeze , and throws out music from the contact. But the depth of the tones depends upon the richness, the activity, and the preparation of the strings. — Who but must lament , when the strings, Avhich fifty years have mellowed, are broke , and sound no more! — Shall we not then be filled with regret, Vvhen the machinery of a Brain , that an Avhole life has been bringing to perfection , stops for ever, and lO 74 GNOMICA. CH. XXXI. all the tablets on which thousands of memorials were inscribed , become blank ! — It is the destiny of our mortal state ! — We know not why the slightest injury to our bodies, dependent on a thousand trivial casualties , may at any time destroy our corporeal existence ; and thus prematurely turn to nothing all the treasures that the mind has been accumulating! — But it a strong motive for not losing a day in registering all that it is in our power to preserve. The long night may come, when we least expect it; and the eternal veil of darkness may efface all that is written upon the mirror of our minds! "What passes within the temple of the human intellect, cannot be guessed but by the aid of the outward symbols of language. The richest and most abundant genius appears to the com- mon eye only like him , who sees nothing except that which is embodied without him. Who could have guessed at the internal existence of the pictures and sentiments , which Cowper's Task ha^ exhibited , till the Author's pen brought them into bodily shape , and thus exhibited them to the view of others ! But even an Author himself very frequently does not know what is within him, till he thus brings it to the test. Beneath the mantle of his mind lie hid a thousand images , of which till he begins to disturb the veil , he did not suspect GNOMICA. CH. XXXII. ^5 the existence. Gradually the forms come forth; and brighten , and multiply , as he continues the operation. Let no one flatter himself that they will come forth of themselves ; that they will burst the pall that covers them, without effort; and that in- dustry is necessary only where the native gift has not been conferred. No genius , when he feels the feebleness of his first steps , can guess the mighty course he is capable of running at last , by the aid of energetic and long-enduring exercise. CHAPTER XXXII. Frailty of Memory. 1822. Let no man lull himself with the belief, that what he once knows, he shall always know; — and therefore neglect to register those medita- tions and observations in which he has occupied himself. The value of what he will accumulate by continued industry , will gradually display itself. The register enables him to compare his ideas; to derive confidence from their uniformity; or to found amendment on their inconsistency : to take advantage of the varying colours of dic- tion , which varying humours suggest ; and to 76 GNOMICA. CH. XXXII. catch the flying distinctions , which some hap- pier ray of brightness discloses. Will it be objected that it induces a careless habit of composition , of crude thoughts , and imperfect language ? It may be answered , that it at least brings the thoughts to a nicer test, than when they are suffered to hurry through the mind without an attempt to cloathe them in words. He Avho reserves all his efforts for great occasions , will find his powers stiff and cons- trained from Avant of practice and habit : and this want of ease will destroy the good, and make that , which is trite , intolerable. When all depends on one throw of the dye , it is impossible to have that self-possession, which is necessary to excellence. He, whose fame is to depend on repeated displays , does not com- mit his all upon a particular occasion : he there- fore feels himself complacent ; — and the very carelessness with which he lets out his strength, gives it that charm of native vigour, which goes far to ensure success. — CHAPTER XXXIII. Worldly Cunning, High hopes and just ambitions have very little chance of worldly success , without bending to worldly means. Vigour and swiftness will not win GNOMICA. CH. XXXIII. 77 a long race. Management , secrecy, economy of thought , maneuvre , intrigue , are all necessary for success in the contest with mankind. The contender must act ; and not talk : — Avhen he means most , he must say least ; — and when he intends to move to the right , he must seem to be about to start for the left. He must waste no anger in threats : he must execute his ven- geance without notice ; and cover it with smiles, while he executes it. The whole moral and intellectual process, by which such an habit of conduct is acquired , is destructive of the course of discipline by w^hich genius is cherished and fructified. The exact conformity between thought and expression is among the primary ingredients of speculative genius. To habituate oneself to speak the reverse of what one thinks , is the meanest of all human debasements. It corrupts the whole internal structure of Man , and makes the blessed gift of language the mere instrument of deceit. What test can there be of the rectitude of thought , when communication does not bring it to the standard of the judgment of others ? He who writes what is plausible, rather than what is true , has no eloquence ; no fixed prin- ciples ; none of that inspiring presence of the objects he delineates , which is the great sign of real genius. 78 GNOMICA. CH. XXXIV. Whenever men of genius have gone into the world , they have been remarked for that open- ness and sincerity , which AvorldUngs call the greatest of all indiscretions. It was a notorious trait in the character of Burke, (i) CHAPTER XXXIV. 1822. It is strange , how easily the minds of the great mass of readers are interested ! They are stirred by what revolts a reader of acute per- ception and nice taste. Characters rudely and shapelessly delineated , in coarse , bald , clumsy language ; without sentiment , or reflection ; — not brought into difficult and hesitating con- flicts ; but thrown together in an ordinary way ; — meeting without motive , and acting under the impulse of superficial chance; therefore de- veloping no secret and curious spring of action; and laying open none of the hidden movements of the soul : — even these form the matter of Narratives , which engross for hours the atten- tion of those who will read no other class of books. (^) See an anecdote exliibiting a similar trait of Lord Chatham in Lord Orford's Memoirs of Geo. 11. GNOMICA. CH. XXXIV. J^ To such readers they must act as magical signs , which conjure up the images confor- mable to their own fancies , or to the recol- lections of their own experience. It is thus per- haps that their minds have been habituated to behold mankind in association: — looking upon human beings as accustomed to act without depth of thought, or discrimination of character ; and delighting themselves only with figures in motion ; — with bustle and sound ! They who are familiar with pictures of life better drawn , better grouped , better con- trasted ; exhibited only in situations of deep interest ; and holding no language but that which is eloquent, pathetic, or full of deep and saga- cious observation , nauseate these unintellectual, unskilful, vulgar, common-place delineations; — as he , who had continually gazed on the pro- ductions ol Salvator Rosa, would look on the scene-paintings of a Fair ; or the daubs of a showman in a Market-place! Yet I am not sure , that even this reading is not better than no reading at all. Whatever stirs the mind innocently, hoAvever rude it be, is better than stagnation. 8o GNOMICA. CH. XXXV. CHAPTER XXXV. Paucity of the works of English Poets. 822. Few of our English Poets have produced any great quantity of compositions. It seems , that either the labour was too exhausting ; or that other pursuits more satisfactory, or more plea- sant , withdrew them from the Muses. It is at least impossible to deny the inference from these facts , that great difficulties obstruct the attain- ment of superiority in this Art. For my own part , I should assign the most effect to the exhausture of animal spirits. There is a glow and ardour necessary for the genuine production , of which few persons can sup- port the heat long together. Every object des- cribed is present in full splendor to the agitated eye of the Poet. Nothing less can give him the true vigour; — those brilliant colours of language, without which the work is all hollow , still , lifeless form ! All the abilities that ever informed humanity, all the perfection of Art, never supplied the defect of this ideal presence , — any more than the chisel of the Statuary can give to the cold marble , which it models into the human shape , a voice and beating heart ! GNOMICA. CH. XXXVI. 8 1 Language itself , even when the feehngs and ideas are perfect , is long before it submits suffi- ciently to a poet's command. It is seldom that it presents itself easy , ripe , and full yet concise , till after years of incessant exercise. CHAPTER XXXVI. Common-place Characters. 1822. It probably happens to numbers of Mankind, that their outward senses are quickly and live- lily moved by that , which they have no mental mirror within them capable of reflecting : nor of which perhaps they have even a memory suffi- cient to recall, distinctly, the nature of the im- pression made. Such persons cannot bear solitude , or their own thoughts. Reading is to them dry , barren , and motionless. But sometimes the possession of animal spirits makes them entertaining compa- nions: and if they have a ready judgment of that which is presented to them , not unuseful mem- bers of society. They often , amid the bustle and irritation of company, even outshine the specu- lative genius, whose powers are better fitted for silence and solitude. But all their faculties and means of superiority die with the occasion : out II 8 2 GNOMIC A. CH. XXXVI. lasting neither the time , nor the place in which they were displayed. If Man is designed to have wants, and enjoy gratifications, beyond those which are necessary for his corporeal existence , then the use of what supplies more visionary and exalted enjoyments, cannot be questioned. c(But» says the dull matter-of-fact censor of manners , « give me one who performs well the duties of life ; who goes through the daily rou- tine of actions , which the calls of his neigh- bours impose upon him ! I want no flowers and whims , and airy castles which every wind may disperse ! » It is well that the blind xan thus content themselves with their blindness. Were three fourths of mankind to knoAv their own deficien- cies , discontent with themselves Avould make life hateful to them. Ordinary understandings are but the creatures of the circumstances, in which they are placed : they see not beyond the manners , the habits, the passions, the objects of ambition, the conduct , of those with whom they associate : they have no spring in their minds capable of altering or enlarging these views. They cannot see that , if it is the business of the majority to confine themselves to the due performance of their own narrow part , it is the business of others to direct the conduct of the whole , or GNOMICA. CH. XXXVII. 83 of large portions , of their fellow-beings. They do not see that those judgments or rules of action , -which end in themselves , can be of little value. He , who dislikes generalisations , exhibits a strong symptom of a dry , unfertile , intellect. He can behold, or comprehend, nothing but in its actual workings and details : and always mis- takes the accidental form for the essence. But as he, who is engaged in speculation , is commonly less fitted for action, than he who does not concern himself with any thing but that which he is doing ; and as there must be jnanj to obey , for one who directs , all this is the arran- gement of apparent wisdom for the proper move- ment of human affairs. Our anger therefore at encountering these narrow notions is not well-placed. We ought to consider them as necessary appendages to the station of those who entertain them. We ought to pity , rather than resent them. CHAPTER XXXVII. Knowlege of Moral Truth. 1822. It may seem easy to discover the Truth , and to relate it : but the rarity of those who have 84 GNOMICA. CH. XXXVII. done so successfully, proves the mistake of this supposition. The mass of mankind go on blindfold from day to day; or see only the little circumference within the reach of their own feet and hands. Providence has ordered that the veil shall not be with-drawn, but to those who shall have rendered themselves worthy of it by intellectual culture , applied to the expansion of intellectual gifts. But there is a delight , which outruns expres- sion , as we behold that veil receding before our view: as we see objects clear up, and take their respective outlines ;, shapes , and colours : as the eye becomes strong enough to gaze without being dazzled ; and to distinguish variety without being confused ! The moral congruities of human life ; the nice dependencies ; the deep and concealed order of conllicting appearances ; the good lying hid under seeming evil; the frequent folly and emptiness of what appears great ; and the dignity and gran- deur of virtue in obscurity and distress ; — these are not revealed to light and vulgar minds : or if the memories of such minds are loaded with les- sons which explain them , these lessons are re- peated in the manner of parrots ; and the repea- ters still wonder and doubt in their hearts as much as before; or throw them off from their consideration as rapidly as the words escape from their lips. GNOMICA. CH. XXXVII. 85 They talk as others talk ; and act as others act; and are kept in the right direction only hy mo- ving with the stream. All great moral writers of all nations have generally come to the same opinions upon main points which regard practical life. And this must have been done sincerely , and in right of their own original conclusions ; because he , who has taken opinions at second hand , and repeated what he borrowed from others , has never yet gained a permanent reputation. This shews the consistency and certainty of MORAL SCIENCE ; and obviates all suspicion , that its doctrines are the result of caprice and hazard. The false opinions in Morals , which present them- selves to the understandings of men of inferior capacity, or of violent passions , arise from the contracted scale on which they view objects. They see but themselves; and forget, or omit, all beyond. What is their interest according to this narroiv regard, is the reverse of their interest, when they embrace the consideration of others : because if it be just to act to others as they pro- pose to act , it is just for others so to act to them. It is their interest therefore to forbear , that they may not expose themselves to retribution. The foundation of all Poetry is Morality : and he who has so much occupied himself with the ornamental and technical part of Poetry , as to 86 GlYOMICA. CH. XXXVIII. have neglected laying the foundation properly, will rather please at first than continue to possess a durable interest. Even Pope is said to have been not an entire master of the scheme of Moral Philosophy, v^hich he attempted to convey to the world through the pleasing and rich channel of Poetry ; and of which he is reported to have borrowed too much from the confused theory of his friend Bolinbroke. CHAPTER XXXVIII. Mental preemineTice the result of Culture. It having been observed ^ that as the Earth will not bring forth her best fruits but by the labour and care and skill of Man , so the Mind will not produce its best works but by culture and toil; it is a fair inference that excellences, not only uncontemplated but even beyond hope, may be attained by the enduring exertion which shall long continue to stimulate native power. It often happens that when we first contem- plate a subject , it is all obscurity : but after long and patiently poring upon it , the clouds gradually withdraw themselves ; and all becomes as transparent as a pure stream , that shews the bed over which it runs , brilliant as a mirror. GNOMICA. CH. XXXVIII. 87 Burke's mind continued to improve to the last. Johnson's powers were in an equal state of pro- gressive vigour almost to tlie last. And Dryden's most nervous and best poems were notoriously- written on the verge of seventy. The decay of the Body may counteract the growing faculties of the Mind: but if the Body remains neutral, the Mind that is kept in proper exercise, is certain to augment its capacity every added year. It is possible, that in the mere freshness and activity of Fancy , or tenderness of Sentiment, a poet may be more glowing in youth. In whatever is not mere Imagery , or simple Sentiment, but is compounded in part of that which is intellectual, it is more consonant both to reason and expe- rience to suppose the reverse. The digested and conquered treasures of the Mind increase with tae days that produce them ; and practice adds wonderfully to facility and readiness of use. It was never intended that we should under- stand the relation between matter and intellect , unless darkly , until we had refined our un- derstandings, and ameliorated their powers, by discipline , long exertion , case , and art. 88 GNOMICA. CH. XXXIX. CHAPTER XXXVIII. Inequality of Destinies. 1822. The lots of Life certainly seem to be cast with great inequality of Good and Evil. Deep, frequent, and inevitable Misfortunes seem often to be the fate of those , vs^ho apparently do not deserve them : and whole families appear to be marked out as the victims of Sorrow, Sickness, Injustice, Oppression , or premature Death. It is a sublime picture to behold inA great man struggling with the storms of Fate: y> but will this reflection console him for his suffe- rings ? It is true that « The hues of Bliss m.ore brightly glow , Chastised by sabler tints of TFoe : » but then they must be in some degree propor- tioned to each other ! The wand of Imagination may pierce through clouds with effect, where sunshine is behind them: — but where it is all darkness, the deeper the wand goes , the more the despondence. There are delusions , whicii are beneficial and virtuous: there are delusions which are dange- rous and wrong. To drink the oblivious cup of Imagination may sometimes enable us to subdue GJyOMICA. CH. XL. 8q Grief: but it may sometimes lull us into neglect of our duties. To fix the line of distinction , is a subject of perpetual uneasiness to a conscientious mind. CHAPTER XL. In what compositions an union of all the mental faculties is displayed. It is not easy to believe that excellence was ever attained in any high department of Compo- sition, but by an assemblage of all the best powers of the Mind : fancy ; imagination ; sentiment ; strong , and active , versatile , reason ; memory. All the great moral conclusions, expressed with that energy with which great genius expresses them , are , in general , the complicated result of all these united powers ! Above all , this is illustrated by the pen of Dante , in whom this union is exhibited with the most force , and the most conciseness. It appears also most majesti- cally in every part of Milton's two great Epic Poems ! So much for the narrow idea, that imagery alone constitutes true poetry! 12 go GWOMICA. CH. XLI. CHAPTER XLI. Knowlege comes too late. 1822. It is among the ills which our destiny has incurred , that Rnowlege, and the due appretia- tion of Rnowlege, come too late. When we are grown old, and have a short space before us, we see what mighty things could have been done, if we had made use of the time which is past. But the feelings of those , whose senses are best fitted to lay in the stores of future emi- nence, are apt at an early age to be too tumul- tuous for calm study. It is probable that if the reason and judgment are predominantly exercised in youth , and the more creative faculties of the mind but little called into action , it will happen, that , as years advance , the intellect will become too dry and sterile. A cold, fastidious , repudia- ting judgment is not compatible with those plastic energies , which alone produce what is great or beautiful. The Memory may be exercised to the oppres- sion of more dignified and more effective facul- ties ; and may induce an habit of dependence, sufficient to destroy the self-reliance which is a necessary cooperative stimulus in the work of Invention. GNOMIC A. CH. XLI. 9 1 In the course of experience , innumerable im- pressions are made upon us , which form Hnks of association with the records of past times ; giving them an interest and use , which they wanted in our younger and simpler years. This may be a reason why we are often carried through that labour in age , which the strength of youth could not accomplish. — And are these labours of trivial import ? If a whole population were made up of men of business who work for hire or lucre , and whose livelihood or whose ambition depends on such work , then all the higher productions of literature ; — especially the works of Fancy and Morality, — might be considered as mere flowers of empty ornament, which, if they gave some plea- sure, might still be deemed not even innocent; but rather , seducers of the understanding , and undue softeners of the heart. This is however to suppose a state of society not advanced beyond a very low point of riches and civilisation. The highest object of Riches is to obtain the command of independence , refine- ment , and luxury ; to be at liberty to cultivate and enjoy all those improvements of the mind , to which Providence has permitted that we should reach by labour and ingenuity. — There cannot exist a more important benefactor to Society , than a man of literary genius, who duly exerts his powers. 9^ GNOMICA. CH. XLII. CHAPTER XLII. Ubiquity and perpetuity of Genius. [822. Ubiquity and perpetuity are the mighty prero- gatives possessed by the author of great and soUd genius. The worth of whatever illustrates the moral or intellectual state of Man ; of whatever reflects the most touching sentiments of the human bosom ; is so fully felt , that sooner or later it will find its way among the enlightened part of Mankind. Books may indeed be endlessly multiplied without adding to human knowlege : but just thoughts , which are original to the writer , and are adequately expressed , can never be useless. It would be well , if we could blot out all the authors who write from memory , and at second- hand. They are like that sort of legal witnesses in a Court , whose testimony , if they speak only from hearsay , is rejected by a Judge. Whether he, who by the aid of a clear memory can supply himself with all the ideas , and all the knowlege , which he wants ; or he , on whom Nature has conferred the power of originating them , is the most happy , — is a very compli- cated question. The original thinker is commonly in a struggle: and the fever of intense thought GNOMICA. CH. XLIII. gB often wears and exhausts him. But he conse- quently enjoys a force of mental gratification , and a consciousness of power , to which others are strangers. CHAPTER XLIII. Regret Jbr the Past. — Serpentine wisdom. 1822. In looking back upon the Past, I can see innu- merable cases in which my present judgment of things would have directed me to have acted otherwise. Probably this is but one among the common misfortunes of humanity: age and expe- rience , when it turns backward its eyes , and examines the road it has travelled over , generally sees much which it ought to have avoided; and many points , which it ought to have reached by other paths. When we most Avish to become independent of others , we are so weak as to use means, which put us most at their mercy: and to raise the envy and rivalry of others, we furnish them with the easiest means of defeating us. Impatience ruins us : calmness and perseve- rance win the race. But there is another rule for success, still more potent than even these : that which the sagacious 94 GNOMICA. CH. XLIII. Sir Henry TFotton , who knew the world admi- rably , gave to Milton as a direction for conduc- ting himself in his Travels : i pensieri stretti , ed il viso sciolto : (thoughts close , and looks loose,) One may go still farther : « scarcely let your left hand know , what jour right hand is doing, » There is a cold self-confidence , which goes far to secure the fulfilment of its own desires: but open boasting , and ostentatious assumption , provoke their own defeat. A man may do the most audacious things : but he must conceal his auda- city under the most humble and deceitful demea- nour. Nothing is conceded to right: every thing, to intrigue and sinister motives. Those great talents , which commence their conduct in the world , as if they believed man- kind such as their own noble imaginations pre- sent them as aspiring to be , are always disap- pointed and defeated at every step. The most active and ruling passions in society are Vanity and Envy : but in a great number of persons , ( probably the larger proportion, ) they are under a great deal of management ; because a sort of instinctive sense tells them , that the outward appearance of these passions would en- tirely defeat the object they seek. Where they do appear , there is all the crime without any of the success. Against open Vanity and open Envy every one is in arms. GNOMICA. CH. XLIV. qS If it did not happen that worldly encouragement is often necesary to give play even to the purest and most direct talents , their common inaptitude to gain this encouragement might be the less regretted. For in the effort to gain it , they often sacrifice more substantial qualities : and w^hen they are drawn out of the retirement , where they are the masters of their own free thoughts , they lose the native vigour in which their main merit would lie. But genius is sometimes ignorant of the extent of its own capacity, till strong excitement has brought it into full exercise. CHAPTER XLIV. Expansion of Genius not overcome by Adversity or Difficulty, The very things , that would seem to operate against the advancement of Genius, and the ac- quisition of knowlege , are sometimes the grand instruments of their progress. At other times Genius brealis through all obstacles , and acts in defiance of them. It is not much ease , which gives the faculties power to play. There is a degree of severe exer- cise necessary , which strong excitement alone 96 GNOMICA. CH. XLIV. can prompt. It is said of Lawyers, that no one ever persevered to distinction in that laborious pro- fession, whom some strong necessity did not urge to great and laborious effort. Neither adversity therefore, nor other avoca- tions, will crush the expansion of Genius : — sometimes they will not even impede it. Burns and Bloomfield are instances of this. The powers of the human mind vary so much, require such different food, and display them- selves at such different periods of life, that no universal rule on this subject can perhaps be established. But whatever debilitates toil , and weakens attention , cannot , surely , be doubted to operate unfavourably. Man is so strange a compound of inconsistent qualities ; our virtues and vices so border on each other; and so often cross the line; — that the imperfect regulation of our hearts is, above all, in continual inimicality with the improvement of our intellects. Our passions put us into straits, •which will not allow us the free play of our reason. Vapours rise before us ; and limit or dis- colour the objects of our sight. We court these vapours , because our eyes are not strong enough to behold the truth. But Truth , and Truth alone , must be the pur- suit of Genius, and of Learning. Nothing else will secure fame; nothing else vvill make an author's GNOMICA. CH. XLIV. g-J writings live. The flimsy plausibilities of perver- ted talent will disperse , like fogs before the Sun. He may be above the influence of the vain passions of the world, Avho chooses to be so. In- dependence , firmness , dignity , rectitude of thought, will secure him respect: they will ope- rate as a charm against insult and depression; they will bow down the insolence of riches, and the scorn of rank. But there is a dazzle both in wealth and in titles , which few are strong-minded enough to be unmoved by. And it happens too frequently, that when this strength of mind is assumed, it degenerates into countervailing as- sumption , which takes the shape of a coarse rudeness. The stern virtue , which thus finds itself at leisure to unmask Truth , and hold those un- restrained conversations with her , for which the submission to worldly desires disqualifies us , is probably among the very rarest of human distinc- tions. Milton perhaps had it: Bacon had it not: and Addison had it not. Will it be said that a greater mixture with human frailties makes us more familiar with them; and more tender to them? Must then the mind be ignorant of that , of which it has not had practical experience? Will it be contended that Shakespeare's conception of the characters of Lady Macbeth J Othello, Lear, Hamlet, etc., i3 98 GIN^OMICA. CH. XLV. arose from personal observation ? The more free the mind is for the play of its faculties, the more strongly and the more truly it will conceive ! We know scarcely any thing of the private history of Shakespeare: — but it must be pre- sumed , that his mind was free from great cares, sorrows , and difficulties , because he always dis- plays an elasticity , a chearfulness , a sunshine , quite incompatible with the load of anxiety and woe ! In Milton we perceive more of suffering and of gloom ; — but he throws off the incumbent weight like a giant. In Dante, and in Tasso, the elastic force, which no oppression could destroy, is more extraordinary. Indeed in the case of Tasso it shews the strength and blaze of human genius , in a light of which the wonder can never be exhausted. CHAPTER XLV. Minute and scientific exactness of description of natural scenery not the most poetical. Mischief of false theories, 1 822. I remember that D.^' Aikin somewhere recom- mends a poet to describe with the eye and the precision of a Naturalist. This betrays a very narrow and erroneous conception of the prin- GNOMICA. CH. XLV. QQ ciples of Poetry. To follow this advice would be to act directly contradictory to the business of a poet. It assumes him to be not only a mere describer of material objects ; but a describer of them in detail. He praises, on this account, T. Warton's First of April; of Avhich the fault is, that it is too much confined to mere descrip- tion; and too little enriched by sentiment and reflection. A great Poet loves Nature : but he loves it only in association with Intellect. If therefore he is sometimes tired of mere scenery, it must not be supposed that his love of the grand features of landscape ; of rural objects ; of the changing hues of seasons ; of the sun , the skies , and the air; is affected! He must sometimes prefer to contemplate all these things through the medium of his fancy, which can combine them with the internal stores of his intellect. — At the moment that outward objects present themselves , they often rather disturb than complete the internal operations of the mind. It is not at the moment of their presence , that the effect of the riches , which they infuse , is accomplished. Erroneous theories are very mischievous. They act like a blight , or hang like a weight, on many spirits. If those who are bold y regard them not , others who are more timid and diffident , 100 GNOMICA. CH. XLV. but not with less genius , are overcome by them. — How many good poets have false theories in the art of poetry suppressed ; and how many bad poets have they hatched into birth ! JN^ature need only be left to herself; and the intellectual fruit of a man of genius will always take a proper form. Whether it take the form of imagery , or sentiment , or reflection , or all combined , it will be in its proper place. But the multitude are always taught to set up some temporary exclusive test of excellence, (generally artificial,) which is, consequently, for the most part wrong. Each varying test , elected by caprice , rules its little day ; and is forgot. But each in succession brings forward an hun- dred technical competitors , who die with their prototype. It is curious to observe how the augmenting and kindUng force of Dryden's genius augmented his powers of precise description in his last days, ( as his Fables evince , ) probably without having increased the perspicacity of his eye for natural scenery. Several astonishing instances of this are exhibited in the unrivaled Tale of Theodore and Honor ia, it is true that Gray Avas a Botanist ; and Rousseau was a Botanist: but other great poets may be named , who perhaps knev/ not the leaf of an oak from the leaf of an ash-tree. — GNOMICA. CH. XLVI. 101 CHAPTER XLVI. Inequality of mental gifts. 1822. It may be asked , why Providence should deal so unequally with her mental gifts ? Then let it be also asked, why one human being is born robust or beautiful , and another weakly or de- formed ? Why one is tall ; another short ; why nature gives one an amiable temper and dispo- sition ; to others one which torments themselves and all within their reach ? We know not the cause of these inequalities : we are sure that they generally exist ! Of the varied seeds of genius, thus bestowed, the nutriment and expansion depends on the nicest management ; and often perhaps upon accidents , which no management can controul. An excessive excitement of the sensibility may be fatal: a blight of it may be equally destructive. The neglect of the intellectual faculties may leave the sensibility without use ; and the over-use of them may turn aside the native force of outward impressions. The deepest genius is not always the most ready ; or soonest developed. Strong ingredients are often long in working ; and in their first con- flict boil and bubble , and throw up noxious 102 GNOMICA. CH. XLVr. Yapoiirs. What is the result of extensive and compUcated views , is not so readily mastered, as slight and superficial prospects. Difficulties and seeming failures will discourage a meek tem- per: the profound self-confidence, which alone can carry genius forward , will surmount it. When genius pines beneath discouragement ; when neglect palsies its powers ; it is wanting in a necessary ingredient. It ought to know by its own internal movements, that of which it may at last be capable, when no one else can see them! But many may think , ( while they suppose what are called works of genius might be pro- duced by half the world , ) it is no matter whe- ther works, to which the name of genius is ap- plied , are produced at all ! To inaccurate or slight thinkers, the remote effects of every production of intellectual emi- nence must be utterly hidden. They do not per- ceive , or they imperfectly perceive , even its immediate effects either in instruction or amuse- ment: while force or elegance of language, a happy delineation of an interesting image , or a glowing expression of just sentiment , is alone an accession to our mental wealth. The Nation , that has brought its language to an high degree of power , is advanced many steps in the scale of * human beings ! GNOMICA. CH. XL VII. XL VIII. 103 CHAPTER XLVII. Extiication from Localities. 1822. It is natural to cling to the scenes of our nati- vity. A heart of deep feeling will tear them away, not without long and convulsive struggles. But they must be rooted up , whatever be the pangs it cost. Change of soil is necessary to give vigour to the stem ; and colour and flavour and purity to the fruit. CHAPTER XLVIII. The bent of nature beyond Ihe dominion of accident. 1822. It can scarcely be deemed a fair question, what course of life it would be prudent to pursue; what would lead to most worldly success; and what would make the individual and his connec- tions most happy ? The individual is not the master of himself ; or of his destiny. He has calls to which he cannot be deaf; he has feverish de- sires which indulgence only can allay. The invo- luntary workings of the mind are always harras- smg his attention ; and while ideas that visit and 104 GNOMICA. CH. XLIX. haunt him , remain imcourted and unstudied, he is detained in a state of dissatisfied irritation , which ends in languor and despondence; and sometimes utter loss of faculties. But in addition to all the principal qualities of genius , a certain degree of fortitude , or ad- ventrous spirit , is necessary to enable it to exert and display itself. Discouragements and blights are sure to attack it ; and erroneous criticisms are sure to mislead it. CHAPTER XLIX. Addison , Dryden , Johnson. i8a2. Addison was an admirable critic as well as a beautiful writer; and understood to perfection all the principles of poetical invention , and poe- tical ornament. Dryden's talents and style were stupendous; but his feelings and his taste were variable and capricious. Johnson was a gigantic master in judgment; and even in taste, when he chose to put his mighty powers to the stretch ; as his Preface Xo Shakes- peare demonstrably proves ; but on common occasions he was perverse, hard, and sometimes coarse and vulgar, in his opinions. GNOMICA. CH. L, 105 CHAPTER L. On the charge that men of Genius j and high Talents, want judgment y and practical sense. (1) lo Now 1822. Is it true , that men of genius and high talents always want judgment ; and are unfit for the conduct of affairs ? Or is this cry nothing more than the mode , by which coarse , dull , hard- headed men reconcile to themselves their own deficiences ? It may be said , that the former class may think and judge rightly upon admitted data: but that their warmth is apt to assume inaccurate or false data ! This may sometimes happen : but not exclu- sively to genius and talents: — and coldness may as probably see too little of facts , as Warmth may see too much of them ! — Genius indeed is, from its generous and noble nature , too commonly inclined to give mankind credit for more virtue and philanthropy than they possess. In this respect genius is undoubtedly more liable to err in its premises ^ than common minds. And we hear enough every day of the charge of « arguing right upon wrong premises* » (^) This is the entire and unaltered copy of a Letter actually sent at the date by the Post to England. «4 106 GWOMICA. CH. E. But then we are bound to avoid the dishonesty of taking advantage of this supposed deficiency of judgment with regard to the assumption of premises , as a pretence to throw doubt on the accuracy of judgments founded on admitted premises. Mere vulgar men , of dry hard business , do indeed frequently contrive to conduct things to a successful issue , without being able to give satisfactory reasons for what they do ; or shew any principle of action. They blunder on by a mere sort of tact ^ which may be said to have something of the character of instinct. But then this does not apply when any question is raised ! — When that happens , it must be determined by the rules of reason , and the principles of justice. Men of business never raise abstract questions: and with still more certainty it may be said , that they are never capable of resolving them ! — - It was never said , or thought , that men of genius, or high talents, were fitted to execute the drudgery of their own designs or speculations. The question is , what faith is to be put on the soundness of the designs or speculations ? — Now the soundness of a design or speculation must be two-fold. — Not only the superstruc- ture must be true , but \ht foundation must be good. — GNOMICA. CEI. L. 107 The genius , or talent , therefore , is not soUd , of which the products do not partake of both these quahties ! With regard to execution , a General in Chief, who forms an able and profound plan of a Cam- paign, is no otherwise to blame for the ill exe- cution of any of the respective parts of his Gene- rals of Division , than so far as it depended on his own discretion to make choice of his instru- ments or agents ; and so far as the choice afforded him was sufficiently ample ! — I say then , that if the design or speculation^ taken abstractedly , be not solid , he who forms it must want solid genius or solid talents. It is necessary to notice the words « abstract tedly taken » because where the design or specu- lation touches SELF , there passion may intervene to colour and falsify. I presume it is to this last circumstance that we must look, as furnishing a reason to account for so many men of genius having led a life of error, and exposed themselves to an unbroken series of disappointments and misfortunes. The knowlege of these distinctions, if they are true , is not unimportant. Coarse practical men are so puffed up with their own success ; and are apt to use such degrading raillery on unfortunate genius or talent , that whatever has a tendency to set them right in the minds of men^ 108 GNOMICA, CH. L. must be benificial. So far as the encouragement of INTELLECT is uscful OF Ornamental to So iiety, every thing which tends to degrade it ought to be counteracted. Intellect throws its direction in unseen ways, even upon those who imagine themselves to go on only by the impulse of mere brutal force. There is a sort of awe and respect which it is necessary for high minds to command, before they can be enabled to exert the influence which it is so desirable that they should carry with them. If the false stigmas, which the sordid wretches, engaged in carrying on the haphazard game of common life , are so anxious and expert to cast upon them , should succeed , a large portion of Genius would be blighted in the bud; and never advance towards fruit or flower! It cannot be denied , that there is a species of serpentine cunning, which in the world's eye, and for the purpose of worldly ends, is a good substitute for wisdom. This consists principally in deceit, in simulation and chssimulation , in taking advantage of men's passions and follies, by the plausible profession of principle or honou*- rable sentiment, only for the purpose of a lure or trap; and abandoning them the instant they cease to answer some selfish benefit. But such opinions do not deserve encourage- GNOMICA. CH. L, lOQ ment. They lead to every thing which is base. And the mass of mankind are too much disposed by their own mean passions and private interests, to give them every nutriment in their heads and hearts , for which they can find any pretext. To justify them therefore in theory, to set them up , as entithng those who put them in practice , to deference and high authority , over genius and high talent , — as if these two last were rather for show than use — is going beyond practical abandonment into theoretic depravity ; is making virtue a sound ; and deliberately and systemati- cally confounding the distinctions of right and wrong! It must be recollected that these arguments are in answer to those , who make an attempt to decry or diminish the weight of the authority of Genius or high talent ; to lessen the prima facie leaning in favour of the rectitude of their deci- sions or resolves , or reasonings , or sentiments ! — We know that , strictly these ought to depend solely on their own intrinsic strength and truth. — But where collateral presumptions towards the contrary side are set up , it is time to speak out in their defence. No man ought lightly to be driven from his hold at a late period of life. He has long taken his stand ; and probably no other is open to him. If he is decidedly wrong, indeed, it is never too 110 GNOMICA.. CH. L. late to give away : but others ought to be very- cautious ; and very sure of their right, before they begin the attack : — no doubtful arguments or plausibihties will justify it! — At this late period , and where there is no opening for a retreat , it is not in human nature to bear, A^ithout a severe struggle, such an effort to destroy one's self-complacence. Unquestionably Multitudes of human Beings discover , on looking back , when near their jour- ney's end , that they have been wandering in wrong paths. — They are bound to endure their own discoveries, however painful: but it is not to be endured, that they should have the sight of these errors , ( still less supposed errors ,) rudely obtruded on them by others : and it is least of all endurable > if it should happen to be done for private ends ; or the gratification of malignant passions ! , The common opinion would deem, that there is a superfluity of subtle and over-refined rea- soning and sentiment in all this. — Mankind in general , it may be said , are not so very scrupu- lous and full of solicitude in their latter days : or in any part of their lives. It may be granted that the mass of society are very much hardened, if not brutalized, in the daily conflict of human necessities, human inte- rests, and human vanities. — But there are great G3r03IJCA. CH. L. Ill numbers , who are alive to all the mental disquie- tudes which I have mentioned. And these are they , to Avhom the most respect is due; and on whose happiness the infliction of such severe in- juries is a flagrant crime. Sensibility may be morbid : it may be selfish. Its care may be to avoid pain itself! But whence does that pain to selj- often spring? — From re- gard to the pain or ill doing of others] Tt is not selfish therefore in its cause; if it be so in its effects ! A good deal is said against sensibility ; — and more especially since the time of Rousseau ! — But very little skill is used, or pains are taken , to distinguish the true from the false. — Both are confounded , — the use and the al)use — in one sweeping condemtiation ! As far as Genius is concerned , it is quite im- possible that any eminent degree of poetical, or moral, Genius should exist without it. — If the senses were not susceptible and vivid , the fancy could never be duly furnished. If the heart were not tender, or active and strong, in its emotions, there would be a deficiency of all just and im- pressive sentiment ! Poetical or moral Genius therefore could no more exist without sensibility than a fountain without water. The art and duty lies in the discipline, direc- 112 GIVOMICA. CH. L. tioii, and controul of this sensibility. If not pro- perly managed, it cannot be denied , that it may gradually absorb all regard but to its own selfish pains and pleasures : but it then changes its nature ; — and becomes rather corporeal and personal j than mental : for surely there is an original corporeal sensitiveness, which belongs to many who have hearts naturally hard; and cer* tainly not softened by time and age. But persons of sensibility deep both by nature and culture , may have it still ruling over them in all its force even while they may be the cause, both to tliemselves and others, of great suffering. — If nothing is to be deemed sensibility towards the happiness of others, but that of which the effects are happiness to others , we judge by a principle which must throw the frailty of poor humanity into entire despondence! — The will must sometimes be taken for a redeeming virtue, even where it ends in wishes and dreams; leaving the act unaccomplished , unembodied , as airy as a passing vapour; — or if effected, productive of an opposite end* Tiie conscience with regard to others, the scru- pulous and anxious desire to do as one would be done bjy is indeed immeasurably different in diffe- rent persons. There are a few noble Beings, in whom not only the benevolent feeling is ready to take place wherever the occasion is presented 5 GNOMIC A. CH. L. 113 but which is not suffered to evaporate in internal emotion ; but is urged in every practicable way into action, I have seen one or two instances; but the trying solicitudes to which such high virtue is exposed , are almost too great for the human heart! — There is a sort of coarse practical benevolence, little touched by painful sensibility , which Pro- vidence seems to have ordained as more consistent with the fallen state of the ordinary class of man- kind. That those operations of Genius, which are occupied in the delineation of the visionary part of our nature, should be assigned as a blessing and ornament to us; and yet that a large portion of those who are warmed and cheered hy its beams , should be insensible or ungrateful to the sources whence they derive these enjoyments , may perhaps be a dispensation to hide from them the mortifying sense of their own native inferiority. 11 i\W. 182a. I am fully aware of the surprise with which many persons view these sorts of discussions, which tliey call not merely idle, but vexatious. It is not to be denied, that many are not at leisure to pursue them, and many are not found with a capacity to pursue them. But there are otiiers , who have both the leisure and capacity ; and in 114 GNOMICAv CH. L. whom it seems a desertion of duty not to pursue them. A part of mankind are as much destined for speculation, as others are for mere action. To them, it it not sufficient to go round and round in the same mechanical steps , like a blind horse in a mill. But all sophistry is detestable; all that kind of artful discussion, which goes just far enough to confound the simple , plain , and true colours of things ; and disturbs and displaces every thing , without replacing any thing. The weapons of discussion should not be permitted to those who have not the talent , the integrity , or the leisure to use them fairly. — There is nothing which gives one a more des- pondent view of human nature , than the impres- sion that principle and reasoning have nothing to do with practical life: — that they are mere ornament; well enough for the idle amusements of the closet , but not capable of being brought into use! If this be true , then this same principle and reasoning become subjects of odium and evil, because they are then the tools for deception and fraud to work with ! If it be said that sagacious common sense hits on right means, and aims at right results, in the conduct of human business, though it may not be easy to explain them by , or reconcile them to , GNOMIC A. CH. L. 115 what is deemed correct principle and correct reasoning , then it must be inferred that man is intended to be governed hke brutes, by some- thing in the nature of instinct rather than of in- tellect ! Perhaps it will be answered, that all the objec- tions made to the impracticability of speculative opinions are solely directed against carrying them to unbending extremes ; and thereby allow- ving no exceptions or qualifications. But this is not accurate; the objections made are to the general truth of them: for though al- most ail principles will allow of some limitations; the general rule must be taken to be binding, till the ground of exception is clearly and strictly shewn. Whereas these practical Solomons insist upon the presumption being against the Sage of abstract Principle ; and arrogate to themselves the right of throwing the ojius probandi on him 1 Hence they cannot without inconsistence deny , that the position to which they hold is this : that general reasoning and principles are to betaken as generally wrong ! ! ! There is another mode of varying the charge against the applicability of general truths, which these practical Solomons sometimes resort to. They raise a question of prudence and expe- diency as to time , place or person ! It may be admitted , that Truth is not to he 116 GNOMICxi. CH. L. Spoken at all times , in all places , to all persons. But the reserve ought to be used very sparingly and cautiously. Sincerity and frankness are in general most beneficial virtues ; and the habitual practice of the contrary falls under the odious immorality of dissimulation or falsehood. If this be the foundation of the charge of want of judg- ment or common sense, it proves them to wish to substitute for them nothing else than heartless, selfish , and dishonorable cunning! mCome theny> the Solomons will now proceed to argue « let us bring all this subtle conflict of plausible argumentation to the only sound test : — the test of experience ! PFhat is the sort of sense y that succeeds in the world? Is it not the very sense which the men of abstract and speculative wisdom deer J? » Admit it: — Avhat does it prove? Why that wickedness is more calculated to succeed in the world , than virtue ! — That Deceit will be more prosperous than Integrity , and openness ! and that when the Solomons say that a man of high Genius wants that part of Intellect cal-' led Judgment, they mean that he wants that free- dom from conscience which adapts all the means and ends of the understanding to the accom* plishment of its own personal and selfish interests! If it be the effect of high talents, and the noble thoughts which almost always accompany high GNOMICA. CH. L. 117 talents , to deal with mankind as if they were better than they are ; and thus to expose them- selves to defeat by placing confidence where it is not deserved , let not this be attributed to a want of judgment ; but to the self- sacrifice of Virtue ! It is the price which Virtue pays; — and the suffering which is to entitle it to part of its rewards ! If therefore the frailty of human nature may be forgiven for wanting this virtue , it is yet too much that \\i^ possession oi it should be made a charge liable to censure, and which may justify /// usage ! — Many things , which may be forgiven , cannot be defended: and he who not only commits errors, but obstinately persists in arguing them to be truths , is much more faulty for the second part of the offence than the first. If he cannot distin- guish truth from falsehood , he is an helpless fool : if he defends it in defiance of knowlege , he is still worse ! Hard men go often blundering on , pig-headed ; and find even Walls give v. ay before them : but if they should be near knocking out their brains at last , what colour have they for lamentation or abuse ? They are apt to mistake their hard-headedness for skill: and therefore encourcige in themselves a self-confidence, which leads them in the end to meet obstacles , or snares , or quagmires , which 118 GNOMICA. CH. L. they cannot overcome. It is quite impossible that these men , who boast of their judgment or com- mon sense , should penetrate into the real lights of steerage, when they come inio the wide sea ; and when broad dayhght fails; and they lose the sight of land. — They know nothing of the internal movements of the human bosom ; they have no compass to direct them in unknown seas; they mistake appearances , not of ordinary or daily occurrence : The calm that precedes the tempest they suppose to be the presage of a long continuance of fair Aveather ; and they sport with their position in a blind and rash security. When the storm bursts, they rave, as if Providence had committed treason against their self-delusion ! — If real judgment in the conduct of human affairs be (as I conceive it ought to be) mainly occupied in the double task of deciding the pro- bable course of events under given circum- stances, and of choosing the rule of right ap- plicable to such events , then who can possess that degree of intelligent capacity , which is equal to this task, but one who has an intimate insight into the springs of human action ? Will it be pre- tended that these plodding fellows , to w^hom is ascribed this cool judgment and common sense, have any such insight ? If the opinions, here combated , were merely opinions thrown out in a particular case for a GNOMICA. CH. L. 119 particular purpose , they might not be worth all this toil of ideas and words to combat them. The obvious partiaUty of the view that promp- ted them, might be left to be their sufficient answer. ■ — But they are opinions very exten- sively , very generally, if not universally, cheris- hed. The cause of this may be that they flatter the popular conceit ! The mass of mankind neither are , nor can be , conversant with abstract principles , and specu- lative wisdom. The idle mind , which takes every thing care- lessly as it comes; and makes itself the sport of whatever interest , or caprice , or folly , successi- vely throws up in the air , will sneer or smile at all this labour , ( or froth as it will call it , ) about nothing at all ! But if no one takes any pains to disperse the vapour , or bubbles , they will accumulate and conglomerate at last, till they sit upon the human understanding like a mantle of pestilential dark- ness ! • — Let them , who feel no irritation at such prevalence of error, lull themselves in their ease as long as they will ! I do not blame them. But if others cannot take it quite so quietly , let them have their own way ; and incur no censure for endeavouring to bring forward , what they deem to be truth ! 120 GNOMICA. CH. LI. Moral doubts sit upon some minds like night- mares on the breast. There is no breathing till they are thrown off! — CHAPTER LI. Active and passive wickedness. 7 June 1823. There are a portion of mankind who do not he- sitate habitually to commit evil for the purpose of gaining what ti.ey deem advantageous to them- selves : others only incur it occasionally, to escape from some personal pressure or infliction which they suppose still more painful or injurious to them , ti.an the fault into which an overpowering fear drives them. The former are actively vicious : the latter only passii>elj so. The former are the demons, who are allowed by the mysterious destinies of Providence to trouble , Avound , rob , and desolate society : the latter may be pitied and forgiven, if they can- not be esteemed. Ambition , love of power , of money , of pleasure ; pride ; vanity ; all prompt the restless and strong spirit , which has no cons- cience , to X\\\s prepense wickedness ! Undoubtedly tlie end they have in view is sure to disappoint them ; and they load themselves GNOMICA. CH. LII. 121 with the giiilt without attaining the gratification which they expect. Innocent pleasures , on the contrary, if they fall short of our sanguine hopes, yet leave no sting behind them. Pleasures at once innocent and refined , such as occupation in the high and unmercenary de- partments of literature , do not seem to me con- sistent with habits of active evil. They offer but a remote , contingent , and improbable mode of gratifying vanity ; and they procure no sensual good : while they constantly awaken , and retain in a lively state of sensibility , that conscience which makes a state of criminal conduct a state of torment. Intellect may indeed be perverted to advocate and propagate error ; not to seek and develop truth. But then I am prepared to dispute , and , ( I think , ) to disprove , that such an occupation belongs to the high departments of literature. Yet as this is a question of interminable extent , involving the most nice and profound distinctions between the uses and abuses of learning , it cannot be entered upon here. CHAPTER LII. Innocent pleasures. 1823. Whether we may surrender ourselves to the innocent pleasures which life offers to us ; or 16 122 GNOMIC A. CH* Llh submit to uncongenial toils for the sake of that worldly advancement , which good men will seldom attain, is a subject on which moralists may differ ; but where the generous mind will lean to the former position. Let what is called the business of life be con* ducted by men of business : — a Coarse complexions > jdnd cheeks of sorrier grain » will do for that. Those nice apprehensions and exquisite sensibilities which belong to gifted and cultivated talent , those elevated ideas which raise the attention above the petty watchfulness necessary for defence against the wiles of dis- honesty and self-interest, are incompatible with the hard adroitness , the immoveable patience and dulness , by which common affairs are ma- naged. To put one above these things, is the best use of riches and birth and station. , On the different destinies and duties of Man, there is a noble sonnet by Milton. Our state of existence here affords no satisfac* tory enjoyment, which is not partly intellectual. The pleasure of the magnificence and the beauty of natural scenery would be very imperfect, if it ended with the gratification of the sight. The emotions , the reflections , and associations rai- ded internally by these images, are what consti- GNOMICA. CH. LII. 123 tute the great and improving delight of them. To pass one's days in such an appUcation of the faculties of the mind, is a course of happiness which approaches at once to purity and grandeur. The mind is at liberty in the quiet of the country to examine its sentiments , to pursue its researches , and to digest its observations , un- disturbed and uninterrupted. It is by studying ourselves , by turning our attention inward upon those secret movements which we can only know from our own hearts , that we can arrive at a skill in the hidden springs of human conduct. Men engaged in the daily bustle of active life , in the feverish conflicts of society , have neither time nor calmness to examine any thing but that in which they are actually engaged. They cannot look to principles , so as to compare , or genera- lise ;. or extend their thoughts beyond the pres- sing expedience of the moment. !15ut by the side of all human pleasures , even the most innocent , there lurks some danger. This refined and delicious quiet , these hours of softening and elevating occupation , often ener- vate us , or render our sensibilities too acute for the necessary intercourse with the world , which the indispensible duties of society impose occa- sionally on all. The mind ought to have dominion over this material part of us :, — but still that dominion ought to be limited by some coun.- 124 GNOMICA. CH. LIII. teracting controul from the circumstances to which our existence here is exposed. Positive happiness is quite impossible in this state of mortaUty. Goodness itself could not he entirely happy , while it would see so many others miserable. « Each has his sufferings : ail are men , Condemn d alike to groan ; — The tender for another's pain ; Th' unfeeling for his o(vn.:o CHAPTER LIII, Some fancies delight most in the images of artificial- institutions, 1823. There are some ingenious men , whose fanciest and imaginations are almost exclusively delighted or interested with what is artificial , accidental , and temporary, especially in manners and society; and who do not find sufficient piquancy in the conduct, passions, sentiments, reflections, and reasonings common to our general nature. This was strikingly the case with a man of undoubted genius ; Horace Walpole, the third Earl ofOrford, His powers of combination were skilful and vivid^ but they were always historical , feudal , and aristocratical. He was a master of a rich store of GNOMIGA. CH. LIII. 125 picturesque, striking, clear , well-arranged know- lege , set off by lively sallies of wit , and subtle remark: but it was all drawn from the particular operation of a particular class of the artificial institutions of past times. His friend and school-fellow Gray, though scar- cely less conversant with history , manners , and arts, yet had a genius of an higher kind, to which this knowlege was subordinate. It is true that it formed part of the materials of his Lyric poem , The Bard ; — but not the most poetical mate- rials : his Elegy, and his three great Moral Odes, rest all their force upon the images of Nature : and this is even still more striking in his sublime lyrical Fragment on Vicissitude^ in which I do not hesitate to pronounce the following stanza among the most perfect specimens , which the Poetry of any country can produce. . « Yesterday the sullen Year Saw the snowy whirlwind fly : Mute was the music of the air ; The herd stood drooping by : Their raptures now, that wildly flow , No Yesterday nor morrow know ; Tis man alone, that joy descries IVith forward and ra^erted eyes. » The fancy may be struck with a mighty Gothic mansion with its towers, embattlements , turrets , 126 &NOIVIICA. CH. LIV. and spires : but if it be not at least equally struck with mountains , precipices , deep vallies, forests, seas , and lakes , one is apt to suspect that part of its susceptibility \s technical, d^nd. factitious. There is a quickness of talent, which by early and continued culture may be fanned into a kind of artificial heat , — ^ but which derives no fire from the heart. CHAPTER LIV. Imperfect thinking is painful ; and requires relief from the light of stronger minds, 1823. A large portion of mankind pass their time in a state somewhat between sensation and thought: — a little beyond th^. first; but npt attaining the last. It is the business of literary genius to help this twilight state into clearness, and to draw for- ward this intellectual sensation into actual thought. The brightest minds do not, at all moments, themselves escape from the former of these states. A sort of indistinct, undeveloped pleasure, a suc- cession of indigested, unexamined, thoughts and images , occupies the brain , but makes no distinct impression; and still less leaves any trace which can be communicated or defined. GiJfOMICA. Ch. liv. 127 Sometimes we are in a disposition of calm in- dolence , which is content with this half-sens^ual existence. But there is a spirit withtrrtis , which rouses us again , and reminds us that we are in- tellectual beings ; which awakens our curiosity ; and will not suffer us to pass unheeded the nu- merous subjects of contemplation , that solicit our notice* But weak and faint minds cannot conquer them by all their efforts: they require the lamp of higher capacities to lead them : they need the lines to be traced, and the forms embodied for them. Then , when these evanescent shapes are thus pictured to them , they acknowlege the like* ness , and flatter themselves that it is exactly con- sonant to their own previous perceptions^ There is nothing more painful and irritating than the perpetual alternation of feeble impres- sion and escape or evanescence ^ with which the faculties of perception and judgment of an half^ thinker are harrassed; It is a law of our nature to desire to understand what excites our attention : and so it is inherent in us^ (according to our en- dowments )) to experience some kind of mental movement at most of the objects that strike our senses. When our ideas are confused, and we are conscious of the confusion , we feel a self-abase- ment , resulting from the evidence of our own incapacity. But a luminous author is a magician 128 GNOMIC A. CH. LV. who dissipates these clouds , and puts the depen- dent reader in good humour with himself. The charm does not work alone upon the rea- der : perhaps it has had the same effect upon the author. In the task of enlightening others , he often works his own thoughts out of crudeness into maturity , order , and transparency. Till we bring our conceptions to the test of language , we are not quite sure of our own mastery over them; CHAPTER LV. « Woes cluster. » 8a3. It is a part of our mortal destiny , that misfor- tune should breed misfortune , and injustice breed injustice. He who can bear least , has most put upon him ; and time, instead of counteracting, gives force to calumny. He is like the wounded Deer , which all the rest of the herd attack. The world always supposes that the chances of rectitude and of wisdom are against him who is unsuccessful. Yet success depends more often upon an adaptation of conduct to the baseness of the world. He who believes mankind better than they are , will always lay his schemes in a way w^hich is likely to be frustrated. Sir Robert Wal- pole was a successful Minister , because he always GNOMIC A. CII. LVI. 129 arranged his designs on a full conviction of the baseness of public men. Lord Chatham. , indeed , with a bolder and loftier genius, made his agents, by the fire of his resolves , what he wished them to be. The good however, who have not Lord Chat- ham's vigour, cannot alter the human character by their own more virtuous principles : if there- fore they give faith, where faith is not merited, they become the victims of perfidy and fraud. But who will pity them ? The deceiver will have not only all the gain; but all the credit and applause. In the strange caprices of human affairs even worldly skill will not always command success. But no man does prudently to complain : ..for if he tells the Public that he is unsuccessful , it will double its efforts against him* CHAPTER LVI. The development of Genius often accidental and unexpected. 1823. Genius breaks forth under the most unfavou- rable circumstances ; and when it is least expec- ted : and it as often disappoints hope , after its future bloom has appeared most encouraging. High responsibility sometimes paralises effort; J7 130 GNOMICA. CH. LVI. while he, who goes on gradually and calmly ^ advances imperceptibly even to himself, and attains his strength before he meets with a blight. But the existence of fithe gem^i (i) that is buried in « the deep caverns » of the soul , is fre- quently unsuspected, till accident brings it forth : and many go to the grave, without a guess on the part of others , or even of themselves , what a treasure they carry thither. There are flames of an early force , which will burst out in spite of all checks and obstacles : there are others , which though bright and powerful at last , are feeble in their origin , and require to be long nursed and cherished and impelled. Buried genius is always painful to him , in whose bosom it is closed. It seeks for free air; and to be hailed by the cheer of the human voice : it pines to ascertain its strength ; and try itself in rivalry with those who scorn or neglect it. Its habits, its morbid sensibilities, all tend the same way as if its powers were acknowledged ; yet without the same candid indulgence from the world. It is quite impossible that the feelings of feve- rish unvented genius should be calm. The ori- ginal and most vivid stores of the fancy must ( ^) $ee Gray^s famous Stanza, i.^Full manj a gem-o etc. GNOMICA. CH. LVI. 131 necessarily be in proportion to the susceptibility of the senses. The flame therefore must be lighted within: and if no opening is given it, must be- come dangerous. Burns , I remember , says , that the discharge of his feelings in poetical composition quieted his tumultuous bosom, which while he was brood^ ing over them was like a collecting tempest. It is an incident to the social part of our being : we always soften our griefs by the communication of them to others. The grief which cannot speak, is despair: Curce leues loquuntur : ingentes stupent. (i) It is sincere and unaffected emotion, which is one of the most decisive and indispensible marks of true poetical composition. If the poet does not both feel and communicate it , he fails in the powers of his high calling. CHAPTER LVII. Fame. 9 June 1823. I have cited an hundred times, (but I cannot too often cite it,) the noble passage in Milton's Lycidas: « Fame is the spur, that the clear spirit doth raise To scorn delights , and live laborious days, » (*) See the opening of Tickell's noble Elegy on Addison.^ 132 GNOMICA. CH. LVII. The desire of esteem, credit, kindness , praise, is indissoluble from the constituents of our being. But the spur that Milton speaks of , is the spur of a passion which has more extensive aims : vhich looks beyond the narrow circle of those with whom we associate , and whom we encounter in daily life. It is admitted that merit will not always secure the attainment of it : but then the deeds, to which it has prompted , survive , and are the secret consolation of him who has performed them. The following eloquent and majestic pas- sage by Johnson in his Life of Milton , is calcu- lated never to lose the power of imparting that glow of emotion , which its first perusal gives to every generous mind. « F<2/2Cf ( says the critic,) can hardly forbear to conjecture with what temper Milton swveyed the silent progress of his Paradise Lost , and marked its reputation stealing its way in a kind of subterraneous current through fear and silence. I cannot but conceive him calm and confident , little disappointed , not at all dejected , relying on his own merit with steady consciousness , and waiting without impatience the vicissitudes of opinion y and the impartiality of a future gene- ration. » i GNOMICA. CH. LVIir. 133 CHAPTER LVIII. Does noh'ditj in England spring from, or does it involve, brilliant personal merit? 4 June 1823. In England not many great families have been enobled by the merits of eminent individuals; and still fewer , after being enobled , have pro- duced eminent men. The following have been raised to the peerage by the personal deserts of him on whom the ho- nour was first conferred. 10. Leeds; Marlborough ; Dorset ; Wellington ; Salisbury ; Exeter ; Camden ; Bridgewater; Shaftesbury ; Nottingham ; Coventry ; Oxford ; Aylesford ; Cowper; Macclesfield • Warwick ; Tho. Osborne. John Churchill, Thomas Sack^ille, Arthur Welleslej, Robert CeciL William CeciL Charles Pratt. Thomas Egerton. Anthony Ashley Cooper. Heneage Finch. Thomas Coventry, Robert Harlej. Heneage Finch. JVilliam Cowper. Thomas Parker. Fulke Grenle. 434 GNOMIGA. CH. LVIIl. 20. 3o. 40. Harcourt ; Hardwicke; Chatham ; Bathurst ; Talbot ; Mansfield ; Liverpool ; Malmesbury ; Clive; Nelson; "" Orford ; Whitworth; Eldon ; Bolingbroke ; Torrington ; Trevor ; Hood ; t Duncan ; f St. Vincent; Melville ; Lake ; f Sidmouth ; Clifford; King; Grantham ; Holland ; Hawke ; Walsingham ; Grantky ; t Simon Harcourt Philip Yorke. Williajn Pitt. Allen Bathurst, Charles Talbot. William Murray^ Charles Jenkinson. James Harris. Robert Clive. Horatio Nelson. Robert Walpole. Charles Whitworth. John Scott. Henry St. John. George Byng. Thomas Trevor. Samuel Hood. Adam Duncan-. John Jervis. Henry Dundas. Gerard Lake. Henry Addington. Thomas Clifford. Peter King. Thomas Robinson^ Henry Fox. Edward Hawke. William DeGrey. Fletcher Norton. GNOMICA. CH. L\III. 135 Rodney ; * George Rodney, Dorchester; * Guy Carleton. Renyon; f Lloyd Kenyon. Amherst; "" J^ff'^^J Amherst, 5o. Thurlow ; f Edward Thurlow. St. Helens; Alley ne Fitzherbert. Hutchinson; * John Hely Hutchinson, Sheffield ; John Baker Holroyd. Abercromby ; * Ralph Abercromby, Erskine ; f Thomas Erskine, Line do ch; * Thomas Graham, Hill ; ^ Rowland Hill, Beresford(Visc.);* William C. Beresford, Colchester; f Charles Abbot, 60. Stowel ; f William Scott, Harris ; * George Harris. Oriel; f John Foster. NB. Those with this mark {f[) are modern lawyers. Those with this mark (*) are Army or Navy; — modern. Without speaking of the Living , or those very lately deceased , the most eminent of these are Sackville, the two Cecils, Egerton, Ashley^Cooper, Churchill, Pitt, Fox , Yorke, Talbot, Ring, Pratt, Clive , Nelson , Hawke , Rodney. All these are historical names ; and Sackville at least stands high in literature; while Chatham would have been a literary genius of a prime order , if he had not been a Statesman. 136 GNOMIC A. CH. LVm, We come now to the eminent men , which famihes already enobled have produced. Surrey ; Worcester ; Bedford ; Devonshire ; Dorset ; i Cornwallis ; Bute; Shrewsbury; | Derby ; Pembroke ; Denbigh ; Stamford ; Winchelsea ; Chesterfield; Essex ; Carlisle ; ( Henry Howard. (E.) Somerset ( M. of W.) William ( Ld. ) Russell. William Cavendish ( D,} Charles Cavendish, Charles Cavendish, Henry Cavendish (F, R, S^) Charles Sackville ( E. of D.) Charles Sackville ( E, ofM,) Charles Cornwallis. ( M.) John Stuart. ( E.) John Talbot (E.) Charles Talbot (D.) Tho. Stanley. (E.) Ferdinando Stanley, ( E.) J as Stanley. ( E. ) JTilliam Herbert. (E.) Henry Fielding. (Author.) Lady Jane Grey, Sir Hen, Finch, Philip Stanhope. (E.) Arth. Capel. ( E,) Charles Hoa>ard, (E. living.) (1) Author of the Century of Inventions. GNOMICA. CII. LVIII. 137 A A Cooper, C^.^ E.) Geo, Berkeley, f i.^^ E.) Geo. Villiers. (i.^ D.) ( Ld.) Heri^ej. William Coivper , poet. Waldegrave. ( 3.^^ E.) Francis North, f i." lA G.J Fred. (i.^ Earl.) Phil. Yorke. (i.^ E.) Cha. Yorl^e. (L.C.) Pit. Hon. JFilliam Pitt. M.^^ Catherine Talbot. Piob. B. Jenkinson. (E. v.) Horace TValpole. (Z.^ E.) Richard Howe. ( \.^^ E.) Rob. Devereux. (i.^ E.) Rob. Trevor, (i.^'' F.) Geo. Clifford. (3.^E0 A dm. Byron. Geo. G. Bjron. ( L.^ B. v.) Rt. Hon. Cha. J. Fox. Hen. Fox. ( L.^ H v.) Geo. Ljttelton. f i.^^ L.) Thomas Ljttelton. (i.^ L.) ^ LotelandHol-f John Percival. ( i.^ L.^) land; \ Rt. Hon. Spencer Percivah 46. Wellesley ; JFelleslej. ( M. v.) It must be recollected that this regards th6 existing Peerage,- Miiny celebrated men may be i8 Shaftesbury; Berkeley ; Jersey ; Bristol ; Cowper • Walde grave ; Guilford ; J Hardwicke ; | Chatham ; Talbot ; Liverpool ; Orford ; Howe ; Hereford ; Hampden ; De Clifford; Byron ; | Holland ; | Lyttelton ; ] 138 GNOMICA. CH, LVIIl. found among the families , which are extinct : such as Lord Bacon, Sir Philip Sydney, Lord Clarendon, Lord Somers, Edward Vere Earl of Oxford, Horace Lord Vere of Tilbury, Robert Dudley Earl of Leicester , William Pulteney Earl of Bath. The number of eminent persons contained in the two preceding Lists is about one hundred: —* and of these many must be admitted to belong to a very subordinate class of eminence. The names of Howard ( Earl of Surrey , ) Sackville , Pitt , Fox , Lyttelton , North , Yorke , Byron , Cavendish, Cooper, Cowper, Wellesley , will al- ways stand prominent. There is perhaps something torpifying in the operation of rank and titles : — because they secure respect without personal exertion. And who can arrive at mental or moral distinction without great exertion and toil ? It has not happened that they who have given their names to the Administrations of State-Affairs in the station of Premiers have always belonged to the first class of Talents. It was not the case with the Cecils , Osbornes , Bennets , Cliffords , Harleys , Walpoles , Pelhams, Butes , Grenvilles, Graftons , Rockinghams , Portlands , Percivals. A few of them held the hight post merely in right of their rank and property. Walpole was a singular instance of the power of mere downright solid GlN^OMICA. CH. LVIII. iSg and sagacious practical sense. The luminous com- prehension and noble decision of Pitt qualified him , in right of native endoAvment, to take the lead in directing the grand and complex move- ments of the stupendous machine of Politics , which had grown up in his day. Fox was more subtle, more acute, more refined, more original; but better formed to analyse , and object, than to propose ! The chances are, that a Being of the finest order of mind will shrink from the boisterous struggle , or hollow danger, of the sea of public politics ; which allows no moment of rest , nor any indul- gence of those nice feelings , or romantic senti- ments of honour , that cherish the fountain out of which issue the grander streams of the Mind. Moderate talents are never wanting to fill with decency, but without distinction, those secondary offices to which birth and property elevate the members of powerful families. CHAPTER LIX. The matter of literary composition more important than the worhmanship . lo June 1823. Few authors place their merit upon the novelty and sterling value of their materials : writers in general rely on the skill of the workmanship. Yet,^ 140 GNOMIC A. CII. LIX, if both cannot be had , the first is surely of vastly imore importance than the last. It requires more strength and self-confidence than authors com- monly possess , to look into life and their own experiences , rather than into books , for the sources of what they put into their literary pro- ductions. It is the destiny of some to live for the purpose of developing the invisible links, that tie the ma- terial to the immaterial world. A clear apprehension , and a good judgment , aided by memory, enable persons, totally deficient in genius, to write not uncreditable books, of tem- porary interest and use. VV hat they write, however, is almost always drawn , mediately if not imme- diately ^ from authors whp have preceded them , even though it should have been more directly qaught from oral information. But tlie highest genius will not bring forth fruit without long and toilsome culture. CHAPTER LX. A clear view of our condition. Proper estimate of Riches. lO June 182,3. ^Nothing is more comfortless than to travel tlie paths of life in a state of blindness of all around us ; ignorant of our relative positions ; and of tiie GNOMIC A. CH. LX. l4l various duties required of ourselves and others. It is a disquietude , whicli keeps us in equal anxiety, when we ought to be content, and when we ought to be watchful , and to exert ourselves for a change. What to desire, and what to avoid, is the prime knowlege in our journey through this bewildered existence. What dazzles us in life , is almost always a delusive light. Calmness , reflection , sedate consideration ;, and dispassionate balance, of the good and evil of what inflames our wishes and solicits our choice in the passage , is an habit of virtuous and wise mental discipline, which cannot be too much encouraged and assisted. Vv^'e ought to learn that rank, dignities, and riches cannot make us happy, unless the mind be duly enlightened and regulated. All the most acute and most permanent pleasures of our exi^ stence are equally open to ail equality of intellect, independent of adventitious possessions and ad- vantages, if the mighty Noble blazing in his wealth turns with scorn from the simple dress and humble shed of the genius unendowed with territory or revenue, the genius can turn with scorn at least as profound from the imbecillity andliollowness of intellectual gift, or acquirement wLlcii tuat deceitful wealth covers. In the latter case the disappointment is accompanied by some- thing like the disgust one feels at tue fraud of false appearances! 142 G.\OMJCA. CH. LX. There is in titles and riches a tendency to enervate ; and to make the possessor content without exertion. But the powers of the mind will not expand tiiemselves witiiout the applica- tion of both labour and skill. Some strong im- pulse is necessary. Of those who already enjoy distinction without pains , how much is the impulse weakened ! — TiiC value of riches would be inestimable , if we knew iiow to use tiiem. Pope ascribes to the first Lord Batiiurst (( The sense to value riches , with the art To enjoy them , and the virtue to impart ; Not meanly , nor ambitiously pursued , Not sunk by sloth ^ nor raised by servitude, y) (*) It is a noble panegyric; and was, I believe, justly bestowed. (-) It does not cost any mighty expenditure of faculties to fill the memory with stores of what others have written or said : but perhaps it re- quires more tlian a sound judgment to apply them properly : and how much greater talents still , to originate such as is thus borrowed ! — (^) Moral Essays. Ep. iii. v. 219 — 222. (2) Allen Earl Batlmrst was created a Peer in 171 1 ; and died at a great age, 1775. I know not if he was himself possessed of great abilities : he was a wit : — and it is something to be even the companion of men of genius. — fl GNOMIC A. CH. LXI. l43 CHAPTER LXI. Taste abundant compared with Genius: but even Taste not general. 27 June 1823. It may be observed that if Genius be rare , and the sensations and emotions of Genius rare , few can sympathise with the pictures of its thoughts and feelings. But if the actwe quaUties of Genius are rare , the passive qualities are not sparingly bestowed. Great numbers can have those senti- ments , feelings , and images , awakened in them by others, which they cannot themselves origi- nate: — just as present images deligLt and agitate them , which , when removed , they cannot by their own act recall with any vivacity. They can recall them by the aid of others , even in their absence. These, I presume, are the persons , to whom is , on^ this account , assigned the quality of Taste : — persons of a minor and less plastic sensibility ; — but refined , judicious, and well- directed. Even these , however , are not so numerous as the world wishes to believe. It has been ascer- tained , since the controul of authority has been a good deal dismissed from the public mind , that the Public sympathises principally with Avhat is coarse , or trifling , or sensual, or extravagant, or 144 GNOMICA. CH. LXn. superficial, or erroneous. It loves art for art's sake; and delights in the glaring marks of thatj of which the principal merit lies in concealing itself. In every age has there been a resort to artifice, as a substitute for that Genius , which in every age is so rare. It is the same with Taste: they who have not the reality , endeavour to acquire and indulge that which is factitious* The fruits of Truth and Wisdom, of Genius and of Taste , are unfading and eternal : the fruits of factitious and forced ingenuity have in their very essence the seeds of early death and oblivion. CHAPTER LXIL The truth of Theory not impeached by occasional instances of the erroneous conduct of its promulgator. 28 June 1823. It has been already said , in a former chapter, that what is not practically true cannot be theorem tically true. But it does not follow , that he who thinks truly and wisely, always acts truly and wisely. Our passions may blind us in the appli* cation of our own wisdom to our own case. Our will may not obey our conviction, and our desires may impell us to run hazards in defiance of our reason. GNOMIC A. CH. LXit* 145 In tlie history of Genius and Talents therefore, it has sometimes appeared that men possessed of the most enhghtened wisdom , and the most pro- found reason, have conducted themselves with a folly and imhecillity , of which even common men could not , except rarely , have been guilty. Such were several traits in the life of the illus- trious and unrivalled Bacon. Still, he who thinks with elevation, purity^ and rectitude , must , where great temptation does not derange his reason ^ be elevated , pure, and right in the general tenor of the intellectual part of his existence* And let not the cold-hearted and hard-headed flatter themselves that it is suffi- cient to act with an ordinary correctness ; which perhaps common sense and common example, may shew them to be the path of self-interest ! -— The mind must also be virtuous and pure : the thoughts must be generous, refined, and intel- ligent : the heart must be benevolent, tender j and aspiring! If a strong imagination operates violently on an heart of sensibility ; such an heart also re-acts forcibly on a powerful imagination. It is not easy therefore j when these are united in large portions^ to avoid those occasional excesses of intellectual delusion , which mean cunning and cautious prudence delight at once to condemn, to ridicuk , and to profit by* * 19 1^6 GNOMIC A.. CII^ LXIL Men of artificial minds are not equally in danger of these delusions. Their labours have little concern with the heart : they are executed by that part of the mental faculties, which is called the intellect^ directing the imagination into whim- sical and unnatural combinations. Nothing , which is not true , — ( that is , con- sistent with poetical probability , ) — can proceed from , or affect the heart. No representation of manners such as never existed, nor can exist, can convey instruction ; or even any durable amusement. To invent without regard to truth or nature , is as easy as it is misleading. If Truth did not furnish the same sources of interest , of emotion , and grandeur , as these capricious and improbable inventions ; if all the objects of Truth were exhausted , and had be- come trite , then some excuse might be found for the indulgence in these tasteless whims. But Truth is inexhaustible : its subjects of distinc- tion , combination , and description , exceed the reach of all the variety of Genius and knowlege , which has ever yet appeared ; or is ever likely to appear. GNOMICA. CM. LXITI. l47 CHAPTER LXIII. Knowlege of what men are, better fitted for success in the world , than hnowlege of what they ought to be. 28 June 1823. The understanding , which is exercised in ac- quiring the knowlege of what mankind are in fact, is much better fitted to succeed in the world , than that which is employed in discove- ring and elucidating what they ought to be I Yet the first is commonly debased by its habi- tual intercourse with those to whom its attention is directed : while the other elevates itself into an higher order of existence by its constant con- templation of what is refined , lofty , and grand. Never yet was any human Being utterly un- touched by the contagion of that, with which he has had perpetual intercoui^se. Let us , on the contrary , survey Milton inces- santly brooding, through the days and nights of many a dark and calamitous year, on his immor- tal task of Paradise Lost I All his images and conceptions must have been impregnated with the glory and magnificence of the Creation , on which his mind was occupied! He could only behold Wickedness in its grandeur , its courage , ambition , and openness : — not in its groveling artifices, underminings, frauds, and falsehoods! 148 GNOMIC A. CH. LXIII. Therefore he was left iu poverty, neglect, and privation; in an humble and mean state; scorned and trampled on by yulgar Greatness ; and unr cheered by the voice of Wordly Fame ! The higher pursuits of Genius were never yet pursuits, which led to wordly exaltation : and, T am firmly persuaded , never will be ! — Indignation is the common and perpetually- excited feeling of a noble mind , when it meets Avith what is base. Yet if it does not disguise this indignation, it raises enemies too numerous to be resisted : if it does disguise it , it will soon cease to feel it ! — All history illustrates the success of those cha- racters Avho have taken advantage of their know- Icge of the weaknesses of human nature. Thus Sisinondi draws with great force the character of Mattheu Visconti, ( Le Grand) Prince of Milan ^ who died 1 3^ i . « C^est par ses talens politique s , Dar sa connoissance profonde du cceur humain , des interets et des passions de tons ceux quit vouloit conduire; cest par son cahne au milieu de V agitation , par sa promptitude a se determiner et sa Constance apoursuii^re son but; c est par son habilete a feindre , souvent a tromper ; par son talent pour assujettir des caracteres rebelles ^ pour dominer des esprits indomptables , quil s'ele^a par-dessus tous les princes de son temps, » (^) (1) Ital. Rep. V. 53. See also the Author's LeUers froim the Continent, 1821, p. i33. GKOailCA. CH. LXIV, l49 CHAPTER LXIV. The same observations applied to literature. 28 June 1823. The same observations , which are appUcable to the means of success in the world , are appU- cable also to the means of success in literature. To be popular , it is necessary to conform to the vulgarity of popular taste. In fabulous invention , the characters are most interesting to the mob , which are most like themselves : or which by the most exaggerated degree of extravagance are most calculated to rouse their sluggish faculties. To elicit nice traits in the moral movements of our mysterious nature , is to deal in evanescent distinctions which they cannot perceive. To describe those noble swellings of awakened sen- sibility , which the conflicts of life are frequently drawing forth from minds highly endowed and highly cultivated , seems to them a sort of bom- bast , in Avhich there is more pretence than mea^ ning. They consider nothing , which is not fami- liar and ordinary , to be sincere and real : — and when they deal in what they suppose to be facti- tious , the more factitious and unnatural it is , the better they like it! — What is true , and what is dignified , cannot surely be a subject of doubt to any sound mind* 150 GNOMICA. CII, LXIV, There are moments of sober and aweful thought, when we reject all vain affectations, and capri- cious fancies; when we seek to be acquainted with our nature , such as it is ; and to acknowlege no delusions. Then idle mirth , and jokes which do not belong to the real concerns of life, are rejected as false and injurious colourings ; and we seek to exercise our imaginations and our sym- pathies only where experience proves that they ought to be called forth ; and uhere it improves our know lege and enlightens our reason to exer- cise them ! — But the multitude of mankind have not by culture and discipline brought themselves to this state of intellect. Thinking is not with them a task : they escape from the coarser occupations of life into the lighter regions of thought, merely for recreation : and \\ hatever is grave , or reminds them of their dicfects, would be penance; — not amusement ! CHAPTER LXV. The guide of leading minds is necessary. 5 Feh. 1823. It is quite idle to assume that the generality of minds do not want guides in the wilderness of thought. Leading opinions are as land-marks^ GNOMICA. CH. LXV. 151 that point forward , as ^vell as bacla^ arcl. But they \^ ant to be perpetually renewed ; and per- petually new-pointed. I search incessantly in great authors , for gene- ralisations , axioms , and broad outlines. The knowlege of the comparative value of characters, and authorities; of ambitions, and wishes , and stations ; and modes of sentiment , and rules of action ; is almost as necessary , as it is ornamental and gratif) ing. Thousands are ca- pable of being taught , who are not capable of discovering the truth. Sometimes there is a slumbering spark in the mind, \a hich the application of a ray from another's mind draws up into light. Want of self-complacence and discontent are the results of a partial , narrow , and ignorant view of things. Rectitude of thinking , and rectitude of feeling, mutually act , and re-act on each other. CHAPTER LXVL The beaten path, the most happy. 3 June 1 823. I am inclined to believe that a man would do well for his own happiness , never to quit the beaten path: *— but if I admit this, I must admit 152 GNOMICA. CH. LXVI. that happiness consists in the absence of genius oi* talents : for genius and talents never did , and never will confine themselves to beaten paths. To examine , explore , and make new efforts , is of the essence of these qualities. In the mean time they incur hazards and disappointments, to which the beaten path would never have exposed them. Yet it cannot be conceded , that speculation , and reasoning , and a resort to principles , ought to be considered as matter of mere curiosity and amusement; and not be attempted to be applied practically. It is true that the most ingenious , plausible , and apparently conclusive reasoning often over^ looks some ingredient or circumstance , which operates practically, and which therefore justifies the opinions which have been taught by expe- rience. But if we were to make no attempts at advancement in knowlege on. this account, we should first be stationary , and then retrograde* It is only by repeated deductions from principles, and repeated trials of them by the test of expe- rience , that we can arrive at the numerous pro- found and deeply laid truths , which amend and exalt our nature. Particular failures are the price we must pay for knowlege and extended wisdom* Genius , especially in youth , is apt to carry this adventrous spirit much too far for its own quiet or safety. Cunning and self-interest is always GNOMICA. GH. LXVli. 153 on the watch to urge it into snares : to make it pay the cost , and then to defraud it of the ad- vantages. There is no contending with cold- blooded, hypocritical , Proteus-like artifice. They , who have no sincerity, whose weapons are simulation and dissimulation , are sure fabri- cators of their own selfish fortunes ; — but they are a curse to society ! — CHAPTER LXVII. Opposition between the speculative and practical skill of Genius. 28 July 1823. Either nature implanted in me , or habit and indulgence of fanciful wishes has nourished in me^ a strong and wild ambition , iinited with a sensi- tiveness and unfitness for the bustle of the world and the roughnesses of contest , which have ren- dered the success and pursuit of the objects of that ambition at once unavailing and in the high- est degree painful ! — There are certain subjects , dn which nothing less than the observations of severe experience will correct the generous errors of Imagination. They who are prudent and suspicious in youth ^ are cold and hard-hearted in old age, 20 154 GNOMICA. CH. Lllio In the closet , the judgment of a man endued with warm sensibiUty may operate : because there he is in a state of tranquilUty. — But long fami- liarity and custom alone , can enable such a mind to exercise its understanding with due self-posses- sion in the irritation of crowds and the turmoil of action. A man may be endowed with the powers and principles of strong judgment : but it requires toil , care , and exercise , applied to a particular subject, to enable his judgment to be skilful on that subject. It always seems a question with the mob , how a man , if his great talents are admitted , could have failed to be successful? — They therefore, cannot , when unsuccessful , have belief in the greatness of his talents ! — But for the reason I have given , and for an hundred others , great talents may not be practically successful. — Nine hundred and ninety out of every thou- sand men , are men whose talents are made by their occupations : therefore made almost mecha- nically. Such men perform their parts decently ; — disgracing nothing, and improving nothing. They take things as they find them : they never think for themselves ; and they do , as they are bid ! — Acuteness of mind , and the practical applica- tion of it , do not always concur. GNOMICA. CH. LXVII. 155 A feeble or perverse temper may be connected with a strong intellect : and morbid and pusilla- nimous nerves with a bold spirit, and with aspi- ring , adventurous, thought : — while a firm and equal self-confidence is sometimes wanting to the most brilliant talents. Sometimes young men of ardent, enthusiastic, mental powers have at their early age judgments solid and accurate in speculative points , but erroneous as far as regards the manner of uniting those speculations with realities. The presence of the objects themselves deranges their ideas : and they become unskilful, blundering, confused, and sometimes absurd. As age advances , this liability to derangement gradually subsides: their ideas take that precision and certainty, which can be taught them only by experience and practice; and they become composed , self-confident , and firm. It may be doubted , how far this uncounterac- ted inaptitude for society may arise out of acci- dental circumstances : viz. how far it may arise from a want of opportunity to live in society; and how far from a disinclination and abhorrence to it 1 — In some , nothing but age can cure this irrita- ting and tumult-raising effect of Society : — in some not even age can cure it ! — but the major part can be cured by familiarity with society at any age. 456 CrNOMICA.. CH. LXVII. That knowlege , however , which is derived from practice , will , if it has no foundation in ability , go but a little w ay. The calmest mind, the mind of the least feeling, will soonest derive the benefits of experience : but its effects will be the least deep ; and its pro- gressive improvement will soonest terminate, That which is calm at first , will be dull at last. Excessive susceptibility is an obstacle at first: but afterwards the source of all that is eloquent and great. To indulge high ideas of what men ought to be , misleads and deludes when we begin our intercourse with them : but is in the end the sti- mulus to impel, irnprove, and command mankind! An high imagination , undamped by proof to the contrary , exalts the power and the virtue of others. In proportion as the disclosure of the reality lowers our preconceptions , and corrects our exaggerated and romantic estimates , we rise in our own opinion , while others in the same degree fall! — Self-confidence injures him in whom it has no proper base : — but to him who has a foundation to support it , it is of primary use ! In proportion therefore as he comes to an accurate knowlege of mankind , his chance of success augments. All these things shew that genius and talent must always be estimated with due indulgence GNOMICA, CH, LXVII. 157 for any apparent inconsistency in practice. So many accidental circumstances must concur to the happy and successful development of them , that we must not be surprized that they often fail , where great expectations had been ratio- nally raised regarding them. Of those men whose talents are of a slow growth , we are apt to suspect the superiority to be the result of labour and acquirement. Genius generally shews incontestible marks of its exis- tence even at a very early age : tho' an inter- course with the world may often for a time overset , or check it. Yery few are so dull and impotent in ability, as not to be capable by the means of toil and industry to master what are called the technical acquisitions of literature. But he who can only do this, can add nothing to the stores of human knowlege. There is a very wide difference between great talent and great shrewdness. The latter may re- sult from nicety and closeness of observation united to a familiarity with a constant suspicion , and predominant thoughts of evil. Great talent may have exercised itself in what is possible, what is right , and what is noble ! — in schemes for the improvement of human nature; and the exaltation of human morals! — But ability is shewn in innumerable ways, even 158 GNOMIC A. CH. LXVIir. where it fails to give worldly wisdom: while plodding mechanical sense often serves us much more effectively in the intercourse with actuat life. CHAPTER LXVIII. Honours of Birth independent of Riches. I July 1823. Either there is , or there is not a value and an honour in splendid descent. - — If there is , it is independent oi Riches. Otherwise a man's descent may be valuable and honourable to him one half his life : and the same descent valueless and honourless the other half : for he may be rich the first half ; and have lost his property the second half ! — But if it be contended , that Riches only influence the honour and value up to a certain point, then who is to draw the line ? who is to determine , wdiere it is to begin and where it is to end ? — That which most rationally is requisite to confer the stamp of value on descent , '\% personal merit. It is from the persojial merit of the Ancestor, that the lustre is supposed to be derived : and it is in the inference which it raises of the personal- merit of the descendant , that the wise will place- the weight which they give to it. GNOMICA. CII. LXIX. 159 If we do not allow Riches justly to confer emi- nence , how can we reasonably allow eminence to be conferred by a descent from Riches ? Perhaps if Riches be not that which confers the stamp , it may be pretended to be eldership , or possession of the title ? — Did not then Mr. Pitt derive as much honour from the blood of his father Lord Chatham , as his elder brother the present Earl ? — And how shall we settle the scales of personal merit ? Are men to be tried solely by the public stations they fill? by their intercourse with active life ? CHAPTER LXIX. Genius improperly defined by Johnson to he a General capacity accidentally applied, 29 July 1823. What Johnson has said in his Life of Coivley regarding Genius carries such weiglit with it in right of the just fame of the autlior, that, even though it is clearly erroneous, it requires more than ordinary force and authority to produce a confutation of it which shall alter the public opi- nion ; and the more so , because it is a doctrine which flatters the prejudices and passions of secondary minds* 160 G]>rOMlCA. CH. LXIX. In the course of a literary life somewhat exten- ded , I have always taken every opportunity to protest against this doctrine ; and to endeavour to disprove it. It would be tedious to repeat the arguments which I have so often urged ; but I am happy to cite the concurrence of a very popular and most able work in the positions which I have always maintained. « From the time that Mr. Locke exploded in- nate ideas in the comm.encement oj the last cen- tury , there began to be a confused apprehension in some speculative heads y that there could be no innate faculties either; and our half metaphysi- cians have been floundering about in this notion ever since: as if, because there are no innate ideas , that is j no actual impressions existing in the mind without objects , there could be no pecu- liar capacity to receive them from objects ; or as if there might not be as great a difference in the capacity itself as in the outward objects to be im- pressed upon it. IVe might as well deny , at once , that there are organs or faculties to receive im- pressions j because there are no innate ideas , as deny that there is an inherent difference in the organs or faculties to receive impressions of any particular kind. If the capacity exists (which it must do) , there may , nay we should say there must , be a difference in it , in different persons , and with respect to different things. To alledge that GyoTiicx. en. lxix. 161 there is such a difference , no more implies the doctrine of innate ideas , than to say that the brain of a man is more fitted to discern external objects than a block of marble , imports that there are innate ideas in the brain , or in the block of marble. The impression , it is true , does not exist in the sealing-wax till the seed has been applied to it: but there was the previous capacity to receive the impression ; and there may be, and most pro- bably is , a greater degree of fitness in one piece of sealing-wax than in another. That the original capacity , the aptitude for certcdn impressions or pursuits , should be necessarily the same in diffe- rent instances J with the diversity that we see in inens organs , faculties , and acquirements of various kinds, is a supposition not only gratuitous, but absurd. There is the capacity of animals ^ of idiots y and of half idiots and of half -madmen^ of various descriptions; there is capacity in short , of all sorts and degrees ^ from an oyster to a Newton : Yet we are gravely told, that wherever there is a power of sensation , the genius must be the same , and would , with proper cultivation , produce the same effects. No, say the French materialists ; but in minds commonly well orga- nised ( communement bien organises ) , the re- sults will , in the same circumstances , and with the same average capacity be the same : there will 21 162 GNOMICA. OH. LXX. be the same average degree of genius or imheci* lity — which is just an identical proposition, » etc* « There are , beyond all dispute , persons who have a talent for particular things , which accor- ding to D.^ Johnson's definition of genius, proceeds from u greater general capacity accidentally deter- mined to a particular direction I But this , instead of solving ^ doubles the miracle of genius ; for it leaves entire all the former objections to inherent talent^ and supposes that one jnan of large general capacity is all sorts of genius at once, » etc. Edin^ burgh Review y Art, Life of Sir J, Reynolds , voL XXXIV. p, 83 — 85. CHAPTER LXX. The value of Independence. 5 Jag. 1823. Whoever has Hved long enough to have much commerce with the world , must have found from experience , that he who relies upon others places his faith on a weak and failing anchor. It was under the weight of this painful convic- tion, that on 7 Jan. iBaS, I wrote the fragment of a Poem , from which the following Stanzas are selected. GNOMICA. CH. LXXI. 163 I. If the calm wisdom, which in sober age Teaches the mazy paths of Hfe to thread, In youth were ours , we by a gradual stage Should gently journey to our mortal bed! 2. False faith, false hopes, false pleasures lead us on; Till deep entangled in delusion's net, ( The moment of escape forever gone , ) In lasting chains of ruin we are set! 3. For wild desires , which, when possess'd, bestow Scarce a short moment of uncertain joy. We pay long lingering years of certain woe. Which patience cannot soothe , nor prayer destroy ! 4- To catch the favour, that will never come; To win the praise , that is an idle sound , On others' wanton will we fix our doom ; And in the yoke of servitude are bound ! ^' O. There is no bliss , but on ourselves depends ; There is no mercy in another's heart ; No anchor-ground in hearts of fickle friends ; No fountain , that will aid in need impart ! 6. The feeblest power in hand , ( which prudence heeds Too lightly, the most humble wish to fill,) 164 GNOMICA. CH. LXXI. In true substantial value far exceeds The chance of emph^es at another's will ! etc. etc. CHAPTER LXXI. Cunning and Selfishness. 24 May 1823. Of all men the most heartless and contemptible are cunning men: men cdvise in their generation, » as the world calls them : men , who care for nothing but as it seems to promote their own private interests. We could not have implanted in us such a longing after abstract truth , but for some good purpose : and such a delight in thoughts and sentiments intrinsically noble and touching ! There are minds, to which these are as necessary, as food to the body. Is there then any use in admiring grandeur and virtue , which we do not practise ? To this it may be observed that some are made for speculation , and some for action : some for matters of use ; and some for matters of orna- ment: some to work; and some to enjoy! — l]ut idleness is not happiness : and forced em- ployment not always misery. Left at our free will , we too often brood on our own evils; or GNOMICA. CH. LXXI. 165 sink into a languor , which is worse than positive pain. To suppose it sufficient to be furnished with the knowiege of vhat is of mere necessity, is mean and grovehng. Our animal wants , and the management of a material existence, may be sup- plied or directed by a very small quantity of in- tellect. But the selfish think all beyond this to be a waste of faculties, in occupations at best amusing ; and generally empty and fruitless. The glory of self-benefit reflected back from the performance of usefulness to others , is the true and virtuous principle of action. It is the consciousness of having deserved well of the Public , which cherishes our self-compla- cence , and enables us to bear with neglects and privations. 'No one likes to be a cypher : it is a feeling of repugnance innate in the hnman bosom: The love of distinction is a spring to honourable actions. But how few can gain real distinction ? CHAPTER LXXI I. Biesj Novels. ■-'] June 1S23. Readers love biography and history , because they seem to teach by experience , rather than J66 GriomiCA. cii. lxxiii. by speculation , and theory. They Hke to contem- plate what is embodied; not what is abstract. They therefore like all incident and character in Tales ; not sentiment and opinion. And thus the style and manner of Werter has ceased to be fashionable. For the same reason common readers prefer y«rce.y , and ballets ^ and what is called stage-scenerj , to regular Plays which address the understanding and the heart ; such as those of Shakespeare and Otway. There is a sort of ideal life , which may perhaps amuse , if it does not instruct the mind : some- thing affecting to be the representation of reality without being so : something which enlivens by change and novelty ; and refreshes the \yorn out thoughts : something which is chearfut , and does not agitate too much those bosoms, which only want ease. CHAPTER LXXIII. In what manner a Poet should write his own Life. 1 July 1823. Were a Poet to write his own Life , tlie reader ought to require that he should state frankly his taste , amusements , and inclinations ; his habits , his hopes, and disappointments; the characters, with wiiom he has been conversant; his own calm GWOMICA. CH. LXXIII. 167 and experienced judgment on the line of ambi- tion he has pursued; and the mode he has adop- ted of effecting his views ; and the pleasures and pains , which life has brought upon him. The reader would thence judge whether he was a poet by nature or by accident : whether his feelings made him so ; — or only his ambi- tion 1 — It is the heart, operated on by the Fancy ^ which makes a Poet. The heart thus throws back its impulses on the Fancy , and urges it to a nea> combination of its images: — and hence comes Invention. Art then can never make a poet : nor is it at the will and option of the human intellect , whe- ther it will cultivate and attain poetical imagery, and poetical feeling. No accidental studies nor occupations can change the nature of that original vividness of fancy , and susceptibility of emotion , which is the gift of Providence to the Individual Being. He , whose Fancy is bright and whose sensibi- lity is strong, need not necessarily put his visious and his emotions into language : but till some powerful concurrence of circumstances over- comes his nature , he will always be susceptible of them. Every one can try his own taste , sentiments , and thoughts by tests which are not capricious. 168 GIVOIVIICA. CH. LXXIV. He can ascertain whether he heartily sympathises with those whom the consent of Ages Las decided to be the most noble , the most tender , and the most wise ; or with those more common authors whom Fame has placed in a lower station. He can then compare, ( perhaps with less certainty,) his own feeble efforts at execution with theirs. But he may make himself easy , that what were deemed the excellencies of the human mind in former ages , will continue to be so , through ail future times. It is not reserved for a late period of society to develop faculties of a nature or a degree different from those whicfi ever appeared before. Such novelty is always suspicious: and, if it attracts for a little while, soon loses its charm. CHAPTER LXXIV. Froper requisites of Tales of Fiction. 17 June 1823. All Tales should have a strong reference to unforced human sympathy: — They should relate to life : to what is possible , — and not impro^ hahle, in a state of exalted human virtue and re- finement. They should open to us examples of magnanimity, noble sentiment, sublime passion, and splendid wisdom. They should shew the spirit which pervades and elucidates all the com* GJfOMICA. CH. LXXIV. 169 plicated machinery and conflicting operations of social ties. — Not violent unreflecting , brutal ferocious passion: — not the mere joy , whicli arises from the alternation of bodily activity and bodily rest: not the daring heroism of thouglit- less ferocity : not the love , which is a sensual impulse ; and the generosity which is an uiireflec- ting instinct ! — Tl]at , which is consistent with the general scheme of life; which forms a part of its diversi- fied plan ; which is , or at least is believed to be, a portion of our nature ; which in our sober mo- ments of philosophic reflection we can admit and approve; — ought to form tlie matter of tliat highest order of composition, to wliich human genius can aspire. — Why should we go to savage nations , and savage times , for those virtues , and that wisdom, which Providence has ordered sljould alone grow up under culture, mental labour, and refine- ment ? We are to look in the permanent poets of the first class for the highes.t lessons of human intel- ligence : — we are to learn from them tfje dic- tates of morality ; and the tones of true and vir- tuous emotion ; — we are to hear from tliem , in language strong, elevated ^ and harmonious, whence we may draw consolation ; and how we 22 170 GNOMICA. CH. LXXIV^ ought to comment on this mysterious state of Being ! But how is this effected by those , who repre- sent an order of things , and a conformation of characters , which no one beUeves ever to have existed ; and of which no one beheves the exis- tence even possible ? It is not our business to aggravate the evils of life ; but , if possible , to exact comfort from them : to follow out that inspired theory , which is laid down in Gray's Fragment on Vicissitude : and to shew how Virtue and Wisdom may triumph over Misfortune ! Rage at the destinies of Providence ; hatred and fierce revenge in return for neglect or injury; a defying glory in crime, because Virtue is not always rewarded ; — may susprise by their bold- ness; and overcome by the force of the lines, and the briUiance of the colours, in which they are painted. But it is not till the understanding approves, what the imagination admires, that ■we are satisfied. — When the pause comes ; when the sober moment of consideration returns, the charm is dissipated ; and we no longer find pleasure in what we know is a delusive pic- ture. -— GWOMICA. CH. LXXIV. 171 He , who has looked on human nature with a sorrowing, sympathising, and affectionate heart; appalled at its vices ; touched by its misfortunes, and glowing with affection and wonder at its virtues and beauties , is formed to give a very- different cast , and very different interest to his fictions, from him who is defiant, proud, sar- castic , and unsparing ; — who v/ould lash the world into the shape which suits the encourage- ment of his own propensities ; who forces his own views by the pow er of his eloquence upon the reluctant eyes of others ; who by the phan- tasms of his pencil terrifies the beholder into A^' or ship ! — All invention must be under the impulse and direction of the affections we have experienced , and the observations we have made : — unless indeed , the affections and observations be sup- plied by the memory of what we have learned from others; — in which case they v^ill want freshness , force , eloquence , and nature : — - they will probably be extravagant or trite : and will neither raise interest , nor give instruction. What we suppose ought to be; what we con- ceive of good , separated from the evil , which , in reality , too often counteracts it ,. a powerful ima- gination can embody ; animate with life ; and put into action. To do this , requires something more, it must be admitted, than a vivid fancy : it requires 172 GNOMICA. CH. LXXIV. that fervor and skill of intellectual faculty, which can combine ; which can detach , and reunite into one whole ; which by presenting it in unity- can give to it passions sentiments and opinions appropriate to the new creation ! — Tiiis pregnant and plastic faculty is the gre^^t faculty of genius. It is rare, — especially when the materials in which it deals are, at the same time, of a prime quality ; and when the whole is under tlie direction of a cultivated , sound, and enlarged judgment. — - If half our existence were not intellectual ; if \^ e were mere creatures of matter , all care and toil expended in ideal fabrics would be idle , or at best useless. But the employment of our thoughts; — and the right employment of them, — is what our nature and our happiness require. We must think in some way : --- and therefore if we do not think right, Ave shall think wrong ! — All human beings think and feel; in the absence of realities^ some visionary representation of them , however imperfect , is present to the mind. The uncultured mind , therefore , requires to be instructed and led: — food must be found for it : if what is proper is not furnished, it will assuredly take what is improper : — at the best , what is proper can only have a chance against the improper : — but the chance is worth the trial ! — If change of scenery and air be often necessary GNOMICA.. CH. LXXV. 173 to the body , change of thoughts and images is equally necessary to the mind. A.nd how can this be produced so probably and so effectively as by a rich and eloquent fiction ? Locomotion is often impossible: solitude is often unavoidable! CHAPTER LXXV. Duties of a Biographer, 5 Aug. 1823. All exaggerated , and all injudicious, praise is an offence against the public understanding; and an injury to the individual on whom it is lavished. If credit is given to it, it misleads : if it is denied, the denial encourages a scepticism, which will not be confined within its proper limits. What is injudicious , may set up , as worthy of commen- dation , that which does not merit it : or, by applying to a person what did not belong to him, may raise in others the false expectation of being able to combine what is incompatible. The qualifications of a Biographer, though not commonly regarded , ought to be of no common class, either in kind , degree , or number. His spe- culative notions ought to be enlarged and just : his observation ought to be acute , vigilant , and accurate : his faculty of intellectual distinction, nice and sagacious: his sentiments, generous and 174 GIfOMICA. CH. LXXVI. warm ; his fancy lively ; and his coinmand o language clear , and elegant. To weigh out praise precisely as it is deserved, is to raise edifying examples to those who suc- ceed ; and to teach men to rely solely on their proper merits for the rewards they desire. CHAPTER LXXVI. Distinction between genuine and fictitious enthusiasm. iG Maj- 1823. The exact degree of enthusiasm, which ought to prevail in poetry calculated to be permanent , may not be capable of being defined with entire precision. It ought however to be the enthusiasm of the heart; not of the animal spirits. It ought not to be in the smallest degree forced. It ought to be sober, inherent, regular, and constant. It ought to be such as others of sensibility can follow , without being themselves raised to a fac- titious temperament. It ought to be under the controul of reason , morality , observation , and experience. Its lively colours ought not to be the decoration of Falsehood ; but the illustration of Truth. Why should we delight in representing characters , whose whole joy is in doing evil for evil's sake ? There is grief and vice enough in the world : — but it is not all grief, nor a// vice! GifOMiCA. cn. LXXVI. 175 But when the public taste has been accustomed to these pungent sauces . it feels what is chaste and sober to be insipid. In the end , all excess satiates and palls : but the delirium sometimes lasts a long while. — The amalgamation of reason and feeling which experience justifies, alone constitutes the beauty of composition. There are sentiments which are a balm in the evils of life ; which con- secrate woe , and turn it into an half-joy ! — These , if they are accordant to our general na- ture, if they are in unison with the tones of the human bosom , it is the business of the poet and the moralist to embody and enforce. — There is seldom any enthusiasm in the French- School of Poetry, on which the schools of Dryden and Pope were founded. The best poetry of Q* Anne's reign is flat, and wants vigour and elo- quence. Prior is never pathetic , though he is sensible and ingenious and witty. Parin^el is na- tural , easy , and elegant : but he is deficient in terseness and strength ; and perhaps in origina- lity. Addison , as a poet , is for the most part un- imaginative; inanimate, and common place. Gay is colloquial , feeble, and trivial. There is no doubt that Pope rises on particular occasions to high enthusiasm. There is a pathetic enthusiasm in Tickell's Elegy on Addison, 176 GJNOMICA. CH. LXXVI. Thomson is full of enthusiasm as to the scenery of nature : and Young was an enthusiast. Savage had a tinge of enthusiasm upon particular topics. Hammond was an enthusiast in love ; but without imagination. Akenside was a philosophic enthu* siast ; — but without moral pathos. Shenstone and Lyttelton were too deficient in vigour to he enthusiasts. Collins , Gray , Burns ^ were all pure enthu- siasts. Beattie was an enthusiast, till metaphysics put out the hre. T. Warton had a kind of tech- nical enthusiasm. Cowper's enthusiasm was calm, practical , and domestic. — Neither Hayley , Jerningham , lior Jephson had any conception of enthusiasm. Enthusiasm is the test of genuine thought or sentiment ; — of sincerity , or conviction. He who thinks and feels faintly , dares not trust him- self; and alway seeks the disguise of some affected and fictitious thought or sentiment. What is strongly impressed upon us , has too much domi- nion over us to allow us to doubt. Variety and Affectation are commonly the result of want of self-confidence. A false colouring is attempted as a substitute for weakness and sterility. — All apparent technical labour and skill in com- position is inconsistent with that tone of enthu- siasm, which must seem sincere in the Author, before it can communicate real enthusiasm to the reader. GNOMICA. CH. LXXVII* 177 Enthusiasm moves rapidly onward : it cannot stay to examine , and polish, and attend to minute accuracies. Mere propriety goes but a little way in reaching exciellence* But it is this , perhaps >, that so often disquali- fies enthusiasts for execution ; and causes them to leave the communication of public fruit to those who are their inferiors in the higher quali- ties ; but who are better artists. Hence the field of Glory is left open to mediocrity ; and a large part of the compositions circulated and handed down are better fitted to the approbation of mechanical critics , than of a genuine lover of the Muse. It is fear of ridicule which extinguishes erithii- siasm in a large portion of those in whom it is implanted : constant intercourse with the world , and the desire to appear like other people , polishes away all energies. The laugh, the sneer, the sarcasm , are the weapons of society : aiid the nil admirari is the prime rule of what is called good company^ They who behold men only in active life^ see nothing but a coarse selfishness : a cold disregard to all interests but their own ; a watchful calm- ness, never off its guard, and always ready to take advantage of others ; and a total scepticism as to any other motive of action than individual good* All ideal gratifications; all benefits , which 9,3 178 GNOMICA. CH. LXXVI. are not matter of substance, they deem empty and affected ; and they consider it a sort of visio- nary folly to place any sincere value in them. But all good poetry deals almost exclusively in these iV/ea/ pleasures : and deals in them as things in which it believes , and not as mere matter of ornament , and pretence. It is the beliefs which is the true ingredient that gives force to the charm. Reality is more rich and captivating than the most extravagant romance , if the associations which coexist with it in high minds are joined to it. It therefore can never want grandeur , or pathos , or beauty , or interest. But to survey it only by the tests of the dry philosophy of dull minds , is to strip it of all its prime attractions. There are certain principles infixed in the structure of the human intellect and human bosom , according to which the imagination and the feelings pursue their natural and almost in- voluntary course; — with more or less vigour and brightness according to the degree of native endowment of the individual. To rouse , kindle , and direct these , is the poet's business 1 We ought to combine with the proper objects of fancy such intellectualities , as are not only ingenious and plausible , but virtuous and sound. — All trickery ; all desire to raise wonder , and gratify by a momentary novelty , ought to be GNOMICA. CH. LXXVII. 179 avoided. There is enough Grandeur and Beauty in Nature, without resorting to extravagant in- vention. CHAPTER LXXVII. Traits and consequences of the enthusiasm of Genius. 1 5 July 1823. Enthusiasm always accompanies high Genius ; which seems destined to the nice and difficult perception and development of the ties and links between the material and visionary world. But it is this enthusiasm which so often, in prac- tical life, leads wrong him who is under its in- fluence. When he applies it to realities , when he believes it will be found in action , he will be a victim to his faith. In some men Genius expands, as if by bursts of inspiration , in early youth , many years before it diffuses itself over the whole character and ac- tions ; so that the gifted person appears to all common observation , deficient and foolish. IN'o- thing but his own self confidence , and knowlege of his own internal resources , preserves in such cases the respect of others towards him. But Genius is never ignorant of its own powers, even when they are totally hidden to others. Eagerness , vanity , shyness , tumultuous feelings. 18Q GNOMICA. CH. LXXVII. often make it appear imbecile or absurd to others , when the possessor is sufficiently sensible of his own internal strength, But the majority of mankind, who are foolish in action , are still more foolish in the closet. Genius is known under all its disguises , awk^ wardnesses , and eccentricities , by a thousand traits; — by some burst of forcible sentiment- by some unexpected nicety and novelty of distincr tion ; by some image , or struggle at an image , romantic and grand ; by never dealing in com- pion-place, but giving constant signs of an un- borrowed course of thinking. Yet to vulgar apprehensions men of Genius often appear in their youtli very inferior to men of ordinary acquirements. What is Genius , can surely admit of no ratio- nal doubt, Strong, just, and noble Imagination, displaying itself in visionary invention , must be Genius ! — If we could suppose a man to exhibit this , who seemed dull in learning , barren in acquirement , ?ind blundering in the common intercourse of life ; still from the proof of possessing this faculty we must admit his Genius. It is in the register and discussion of these par- ticularities and inconsistencies, that the great value of the biography of Genius lies. We want to have the picture drawn with truth and frankness. GNOMICA* CH. LXXVII. 181 The mere relation of the events , which are com- mon to all men, unaccompanied by the notice of the peculiar manner in which they affect Genius , is as dry and uninstructive as it is unamusing. We know that all are born , and die , and eat , and drink , and sleep. We want to know , of Genius, the prevailing temper , and passions ; the voluntary occupations and amusements ; the pri- vate sentiments ; the sincere convictions ; the unaffected taste; the natural predilections; the judgment regarding its cotemporaries ; the opi- nion of its own faculties and deficiencies; — its hopes and fears; its ambitions; its comforts ; and its sorrows. The generality of mankind have no fixed and absolute predilections of sentiment and thought. They take what is taught them by others; and are therefore always liable to have it changed by the last master. It never sits upon them uneasily or inconveniently : and can always be thrown off whenever it is in the way. Men of talent , there- fore , without genius , can always accommodate themselves to the world : — because their feelings, and impressions , are not inherent, but borrow ed. There are invisible charms attached to the whole scenery of nature , which it is the business of tlie poet to decypher , like an unknown lan- guage ! It requires a rare native penetration and brightness of perception to effect this. The im- 182 Gl^OMlCA. CH. LXXTII* pression on common minds is faint, confused, and too dim to be tracec" : — and that which is taken at second hand from other painters , is of no real value. In proportion as a mind is pleased with the Hvely description of a temporary state of artificial manners , it has no taste for the simplicity of nature. This is the characteristic of the French above other nations of modern Europe : they are more struck with art than nature ; and have more of *;he ingenuity of the understanding than of the heart. They are always great admirers of their own temporary manners : and assimilate the costume cf all ages and people to their own prevailing fashion. In the time of Louis XIV. therefore they made Romans speak like the petit maitres of their own existing Court. They are always justly called reasoners in poetry^ rather than dealers in the higher flights of Imagination. The understanding works more with them than the lofty enthusiasm of the fancy and the heart. They have a keen talent for observation ; and a lively sense of the ridiculous. They are therefore more shrewd than sublime ; and more lively than pathetic. Thej^ whose main talent is fitted for , and exer- cised in, quick and nice observation of what is daily passing in society , accustom their minds to what is mean and little , rather than what is great^ GTfOMICA. CE. LXXVII. 183 and suit their conceptions to what is familiar, selfish , and coarse. Tiiis minor sort of Genius is more the result of study and art, than the Visionary and Sublime. But how many more readers does it please ! — Nothing delights them like pictures , which they call drawn to the life. — But surely , the pictures ought in themselves to be beautiful , or grand : — we ought not only to have the truth; — but sublime or affecting truth. It may be said that the exhibition of those comic scenes , those little drolleries and railleries , which enliven society, cheers the heart, and nou- rishes charity and benevolence towards mankind: that portraits of severer virtue , and nobler im- pulses of intellect , are such as the mass of the people have little sympathy with; and can derive no practical lessons from : that what is matter of lively and accurate observation is more rational and solid than what is matter of ideal and baseless invention ; and that a sagacious understanding is much more worthy of admiration and praise, than a wild and speculative imagination. Thus the admirers of Fielding, in preference to Richardson and Rousseau , were always found among the sober and busy part of mankind. But it may be observed that this alledged truth of portrait is very commonly a mere assumption. Pictures are not necessarily true, because they 184 GNOMICA. CHi tXXVIII. are familiar and coarse. I doubt if any of the characters in l^om Jones are particularly true to nature : the prevalent introduction of the fami- Har manners and habits of the day deceived readers ; and made them mistake costume and accidental habit for universal features of society. Are books not to be written but for the com- mon reader? Is the judgment of a common under- standing to be the test of excellence? •=— CHAPTER LXXIII. Different sources of the different characters in poetry tracedi t4 July 1^23. As to what belongs to a Poet to do: — he may delineate his own feelings , if they are peculiar ^ forcible, striking, and just; — or those of an invented character* The former will have the best chance of being accurate and profound. Some have a lively invention: — ' but more in- genious than just ; which enters not into the depths of the human heart; but only takes things as they appear upon the surface. Some are under the constant dominion of high passion, which deepens imagination in proportion as it is streng- thened by it. GiVOMICA. CH. LXXVIII. 185 Some are poets in their own lives and feelings: others , only in their ideal creations. It follows from hence that the memoirs and characters of those poets are most interesting , whose Oivn personal experience furnishes them with the subjects of their poetry. All else sits light upon them ; and is often wanton, capricious, and extravagant. A great poet's mind and heart are the mirrors , whereby the noble dreams and visions of the Intellect are to be reflected back upon the world. All voluntary movements of the imagination find a ready sympathy in other minds: those which are the result of effort and toil , have a peculiarity in them , or take an accidental course, for which other minds are not prepared. Why is it expected , that Genius , from whose higher sensibility all its powers of delight are to arise , should yet possess all the common-place coldness and complacence of those , who on tliis very account resort to borrow w^armtb from their fire ? It is the disquiet at ordinary tliings , and the agitation at the sorrows and difficulties of huma- nity , which swells the heart of genius till it vents itself in poetical effusion. One hates the unnatural and stupid boasts of that cold heart , which only feels or pretends to 24 186 GIVOMIGA.. CH. LXXVIIl. feel according to the dictates of duty or chill reason. What men are by art , can never excite much interest , or afford much instruction. What is done by toil the next man's toil will supersede: the strokes of nature have a positive and unal- terable value. There is a dim idea of beauty and excellence beyond reality , which lies at the bottom of our hearts. The magical powers of the poet make it burst its searments, and blaze into light. The out- line of similar forms seems impressed upon all : or at least the poet's power turns them into simi- larity. To represent what is common can surely afford but a very vulgar pleasure. What we see every day in life, we do not want to be taught. But what is worse, these representations are very generally vulgar , yet not correct. They paint things accor- ding to the blundering perceptions of dull and uninformed minds. And yet even these coarse , shapeless , unintelligent, pictures give pleasure to the multitude of uncultivated readers; because they bear sonie similitude to what themselves are accustomed to conceive of the same subjects. When a young Jady of more memory than genius , more liveliness than depth , more quick- ness than examination , writes a IS^ovel , she be- trays in every page the trifles with which her GIVOMICA. CH. LXXIX. 187 mind is full ; and the tests of value , which she applies to the events of life. CHAPTER LXXIX. IFhat are just claims to public notice. lo May 1823. It is quite impossible that any one can have a just claim on the public notice, except in right of qualities and exertions which are of a public nature. Birth, rank, riches, are mainly personal and private. Propriety in moral conduct does not extend its effects beyond the circle of individual intercourse. Any extraordinary effort of mind communicable to all the world, excites an interest in all the world towards him from whom it proceeds. But still nothing is worth telling which is not applicable to others , either as instruction or amusement. A life of study is not always an happy life ; it often destroys health, and depresses the spirits. But yet the mind , that has vigour , requires exer- cise , as well as the strong body: and the faculties^ which lie useless , stagnate and breed diseases.^ There are times when we desire to know the thoughts of others ; and other times , when we are anxious to digest and perfect our own thoughts. As we grow older, we read less , and think more. iSS GlYOMICA. CH. LXXIX. It then becomes necessary to recur to the thoughts of others ; — not to give foundation to our own ; but only as elucidatory or confirmatory of them. The external scenes of nature produce very different effects upon the senses of different people. With some , they form vivid impressions on the fancy, mixed up with the rich stores of intellect and sentiment. To reflect back these by the means of adequate language, is to afford aid and illumination to feebler minds. It has always been my desire to prove that , of which I have always felt a perfect conviction ; — that poetical feeling is not SLpr^etence , but a rea- lity. — Most men feel too little ; and a few , too much! All seek their pleasures: but some seek vir- tuous , or innocent pleasures ; others , selfish and corrupt ones. The pleasure derivable from in» structing or amusing others , is a virtue. — We cannot love virtue without being in some degree virtuous. A genius does not in early life accommodate himself to the world, like one of less predominant and fixed propensities. — As experience and necessity gradually bring him into closer con- tact with society , he approaches at last nearer to this ease and pliancy : — but it is then too late to serve him with the world : and he cannot in 3uch advanced days begin a course of ambition GNOMICA. CH. LXXX. 189 which his superior abihties might, if commenced earher , have rendered easy to him. — CHAPTER LXXX. Dangers of Imagination, I 6 June 1828. Imagination, though the most brilhant, is the most dangerous of all the mental faculties. It often leads as to pursue TFill-d-TVisps , — ignes fatui, — till we fall into quagmires and pits. It makes us reckless for ourselves to the darkness and tempests around us : — and reckless also for those dependent on us , who possess not our charm to keep off the pain of the actual evils which are present to us. It is often urged, that if we did not rely on this cup of delirious comfort , we should make more struggles to avoid misfortunes , which might be kept off by caution and prudence. Men of imagination live upon circumstances as they appear to themselves ; — not as they appear to others. They who live by bare dry facts , live by one common standard : they do not substitute w^hat is ideal for what is actual: and when evil comes , they see it only as evil. Fame , the most airy and unsubstantial of all the objects to which Imagination gives colours, yet is an object for 190 G]NOMJCA. CH. LXXXI. which nature seems to have implanted in us a strong passion. The history of mankind provesi how many soHd advantages have at all times been sacrificed for the attainment of it. If it exists even in those , who have little imagination , is it extra- ordinary that it should flame brightly in those who have a strong imagination ? — To love glory before profit , is to make the intellectual part of our nature predominate. — It is the source of all that is unselfish and gene- rous. We can have little other reward than fame and self-satisfaction for our noblest actions. Money does not pay us for facing death in the fields of battle. The work , the toil of half a life , which secures us immortality , does not pay us in money ! — CHAPTER LXXXT. The Vision of Poetry. . Having entered into numerous discussions re- garding poetry in my former Chapters , I may be allowed here to borrow some description of it from my numerous loose poetical fragments. It is part of an Ode , written at Naples , 20 June , 1820 , entitled GNOMIC A. CH. LXXXl. IQI THE VISION OF POETRY. I. A slumber siezed my frame ; And as in deep repose My limbs beneath a spreading oak were laid , A Vision came; And Forms of heavenly beauty rose; And one above the rest in splendor was array'd ! Her eyes were bright Almost with an excess of light; And glory round her shone, Like Angels on their throne! I gazed; and trembled while I gazed; Then all around me songs of heavenly voice were raised ! 2. A harp was in her hand ; And at each pause of sound With wave of winged arm she struck the strings: A chosen band An imitative note rebound ; And thro' the circling space the swelling chorus rings. With eyes intent Upon th' Angelic Spirit bent , A tone more aweful still Begins mine ears to fill : « Hear, favour'd Subjects , hear! » she cries : <:(. Strike bold , while at my nod new mimic worlds arise. » 192 GiyOMICA. CH. LXXXll. 3. Then spread before my sight Elysian realms as fair, As Paradise to Adam first appear'd : A golden light Invested all th' ambrosial air; And trees and shrubs and flowers thro' all the scene were rear'd. In every bough Music breathed out the grateful vow; And Shapes of Grace and Love Sported in every grove : Ear , Eye , and Heart were full of joy ; And all that breathed with life, felt bliss without alloy. etc, etc, etc. CHAPTER LXXXIL Fixed principles of Poetical Taste in the Soul, 4 j4pril 1823. If there be (according to Descartes) fixed prin- ciples of truth in the Soul : — moral standards , by which the impressions of the senses must be judged and rectified , a Poet's images and repre- sentations must be tried by those tests , before they ought to be pronounced just and beautiful. GNOMICA. CH. LXXXII. 193 To do otherwise, is to make Poetry the mistress or hand maid of Error! All which raises Pity in false places ; all Avhich makes Vice appear beautiful ; all which encou- rages those delusive appearances of pleasure , which the first appearances of the fancy are apt to derive from a thousand objects of life, cannot be admitted among excellent poetry ; — because it wants a primary ingredient of excellent poetry : ' — truth, and wisdom. IN'ature , lovely Nature! but to thee, 1 lift th' adoring eye , and bow the knee ! I scorn th' unholy, coarse, factitious fire, Which w^akes with clamourous notes th' unwilling lyre ! Only where thou with voluntary glow Bidst the heart's melted current freely flow, I wait to catch thy wafted music's voice , And in the truths it tells , alone rejoice ! Exhausting raptures , charms of dazzling glare , Which shine to draw astray , then melt in air, Ne'er , sung by thee , delirious pleasure breathe ; Nor tempt the Poet with a d) ing wreath ! Fresh as the waters of perennial life. Flow thy clear streams of song mid human strife! Untouch'd by time , unclouded hy the change 25 194 GNOMICA. CH. LXXXIII. Of transient taste, thy strains of music range Upon the wings of the eternal Year; And fresh , as when the world began , appear ! CHAPTER LXXXIII. JVhat are called the prejudices of a native generally verified hy time. 17 July )823. I am one of those who feel no particle of doubt in the conviction , that whenever we give up what natural sagacity and plain reason sug- gest to us , we are sure to go wrong , and repent of it : that is , we may reason a priori with a cor- rectness approaching as near as jDossible to cer- tainty ! But, unquestionably, it is still more satis- factory to have the test oi facts , to resort to , as a guidance. CHAPTER LXXXIV. Successive ductility and firmness of highly-gifted minds. All sensitive minds have a tendency to suspect themselves. They are at first alarmed by objec- tions ; and examine with some anxiety whether the charges against them may not be true ! That GIS^OMICA. CH. LXXXV. 195 ductility , which yields to be led by inferior minds, is not uncommon even among the highly- talented ! But if once talent is roused , and pro- voked to investioate its own o-oinions , this tem- porary weakness is put aside ; and the more it is pressed , the hrmer it becomes ! CHAPTER LXXXY. Opinions of unprincipled worldlings . ici July 1823. There are a numerous class of mankind , who entertain the belief, tiiat there is so much un- certainty in the conclusions to be come to , and the judgments to be pronounced in human affairs , that a superior degree of ingenuity and management , with the mixture of a little so- phistry , may turn the balance either way , as desires or interests may prompt. But they who think so , entertain a false con- fidence , and a false belief! Tlie} may succeed , and do succeed , too often , when they have weak people to deal with I But Avlien once the question is fairly raised , they will have an hopeless and hazardous contest ! There are others ;, who will enter into no argument : but rely entirely on bodily strength, and animal courage: on the maneuvres of per- 196 GNOMICA. CH. LXXXV. sonal solicitation and secret misrepresentation; on private assertion , Avhere there are none to controvert ; and private insinuation where there are none to contradict! I make due allowances for the natural tendency of the human mind to delude itself into opinions accordant with its wishes or interests! Certain colourings and exaggerations may be expected and forgiven ! But the outlines and main colours of the things themselves cannot be reversed , or changed ! Black cannot be made white ; and what is crooked ^ cannot be made strait! When such attempts are successful in defiance of the conviction of him on whom they are suc- cessful, because the conceder is desirous to gain the good will or good word of him to whom he makes the concession , the conceder falls into a most grievous delusion. Such a recompence , ( were it worth having , ) was never yet gained in this way ! No man feels kindness , or gives praise, to him whom he has deluded ! It is admitted that it is very long, before a generous mind can be fully impressed with these severe truths ! There are many principles , rules , and doc- trines, which ought not to be admitted to be brought into debate. To suffer the question to be GNOMICA. CH. LXXXVI. IQ? entertained, is to encourage those, who are ad- ventroiis enough to try any thing which their interest prompts , to persevere in those efforts which ought to be crushed in the bud. There is no glaring fact , ( as indisputable as that t vo and two make four , ) which will not be disputed , if it be left to a man's conscience , and sense of shame , whether he will dispute it , or not ! CHAPTER LXXXVI. Akenside, and didactic Poetry. 6 jiyril iSiS. Akenside , with a mind more rhetorical than close, sought out a metaphysical subject, on which he might hang all his profusion of orna- ment , and endless amplitude of illustration. He seems to have delighted more in the splendor of the dress , than in the merits of the matter which it covered. He never deals in those vigo- rous or nice touches , which move by their force , or enchant by their just and happy pre- cision. He has no concentrated strength : he exhausts by expansion. To a genuine lover of the Pvluse it is difficult to give much interest to Didactic poetry. That, of which the primary object \^ preceptive ^ has in it 198 GNOMIC A. CH, LXXXVI. something almost incompatible with the first principles of poetry. Among the Ancients indeed Lucretius has set an example of this sort of com- position. Akenside had only to throw into a poe- tical form the prose essays of Addison on this subject. I think that his ideas seem to have been almost all d€rivati{>e ; and to have been more upon his memory, than upon his heart. His poem exercises the mind with variety : but he never rouses the intellect , or moves the feeUngs. It is the enthusiasm of a mind heated with study , and fermenting with the richness of the fruits it has gathered. It par- takes too much of the air of philosophic disci- pline for the erratic visions of a poet's taste. Akenside , however , striking out a compo- sition, which was considered to have had , (per- haps justly , ) a new character , gained by it immediate and extensive celebrity. Without novelty , there are scarcely any in- stances of the acquisition of popular fame. CHAPTER LXXXYII. The proper crilerions of original thinking. 9 April 1S23. I call ORIGINAL those opinions , which result from the operations of an Author's mind upon GNOMICA. CH. LXXXVII. 199 his own experience. That which he draws from his memory of what others have said , and which he repeats because he supposes it will raise the reader's estimation of his talents , or his morals , is worth nothing. It is a false coin , which is mischievous , and ought to disgrace the utterer. But original , as well as borro\'v ed , opinions are worthless unless they are just. And how shall we determine their justice ? Time and the con- currence of other good judgments must deter- mine it. If a man frankly utters , w hat he sin- cerely thinks , he will be generally right j or he is not fit to be an author : for it is no qualification, to be able to avoid error , so long as a guide is followed. But then it may be said , that though he ought to w rite only what he thinks , he should not write all he thinks : that he should only shew his best face ; and not be seen in dishabille ! — But are we to judge of any one by such partial appearances ? It is from the knowlege of a man's character , as a ivhole , that we receive instruc- tion ! A man gains nothing by impressing a falsely- favourable character of himself : it cannot last : and if it could , it would be of no benefit to him. «It is not my own portrait)) says Montaigne, (c that thus gets favour : it is the portrait of another. » 200 GNOMICA. CH. LXXXVII. Absolute freedom from affectation is a primary ingredient of genius. The effects of art , manage- ment, and reserve, are cold and lifeless. They are like the chill light of the Moon; that shines, but does not fructify. We talk of caprice of opinion. There is no caprice of opinion among the highly -endowed, and highly cultivated. It is with the multitude , that opinion is capricious. Look through the great writers of all ages and nations ; and the confor- mity of moral conclusions, and of the sentiments of the heart , is miraculous. If there be novelty in moral or sentimental thinking, we may be sure that it is wrong : Pro- vidence has not ordained that truth in morals, or in the movements of the heart, should first be discovered at the end of thousands of years. There is in the human bosom the same perpe- tual principle of moral truth; and the percep- tions of the senses , and the processes of the understanding, make their way to it in the same manner. The fashionable principles of poetry therefore in England , which have for the first time been set up in the present Century, may be concluded to be utterly wrong , for that reason alone , were there no others. There are however others , sufficiently numerous and incontrovertible. It is a miserable perversion of mind, which renders GNOMICA. CH. LXXXVII. 201 all the accumulated instruction and deliglit of multiplied ages distasteful and insipid. It is the certainty of knowlege derived from the arguments of illustrious men at different aeras and under different circumstances, wiiich gives to it its greatest satisfaction. The moral , biogra- phical , and historical literature of England alone is some^yhat dry, and barren : it is by combining with it those of Italy and France that its inex- haustible attraction continues to augment upon us. Why should England suppose that it engrosses all genius, all wisdom, and all virtue ? It partakes them but in common with other countries. Authors must be tried by the fertility , tlie force, the sagacity , the accuracy, the brilliance, the eloquence, the moral feeling of t'leir minds : — not by a little technical skill; by laborious correctness, and mechanical method. It is by degrees th.at t\i^ mind arrives at that self-confidence , whtch enables it to rely on its own impressions; and to draw from these only sources of true intelligence ; rather than to found theories on imperfect observations of hidden movements ; which exhibit false lights , only to mislead. What is written in youth , is generally ambi- tious : what is written in age , is the mere vent of fullness of die mind. The first is more bloom- ing , and shewy : the second , riper and mellower, a6 202 GNOMICA. CH. LXXXVII. We do not continue for any length of years to load our memories , without bringing what we collect to the test of the judgment. We separate what our experience confirms from that, to which our anticipating fancy alone had given weight. — The works of young authors therefore are hut rarely of substantial texture : the ingredients are commonly light ; and the combination wants flavour. Even the imagination , which is supposed to be more restless and glittering, is not so deep and strong. The judgment , as it grows more paramount , prunes it of a good deal of foliage and blossom ; but it thus shews the real fruit to more advantage. He who can pass through the vicissitudes of a life prolonged to middle age , unimproved by practical testimony, must be deficient in common perception and the most common understanding. How much more strongly must this apply to those of great mental gifts ! The difficulty is to find proper channels of communication; to find oc- casions for pouring out this knowlege. What is nea^ will probably be lost , if it waits till entire dissertations proper to each subject , in which it may find its regular place, can be executed. There are , however , men who have given over literature before their middle age : but I doubt , if they could be men of native genius , or native GNOMICA. CH. LXXXVIir. 203 talents. What a man thinks strongly , he will not be content till he speaks , or writes. I am not sure that the life of an author is an happy life : but yet if the seeds of authorship be in him , he will not be happy except in the in- dulgence of this occupation. Without the culture and free air which these seeds require , they will wither and turn to poison. CHAPTER LXXXVIII. The voice of the multitude not the test of merit. 9 April 1823. It is quite impossible to secure Fame by legi- timate means , though it often comes by those which are illegitimate. — It is therefore a duty to repress any anxious desire for it. If it comes — well : — but if it keeps aloof, let it go ! — It is sufficient to have deserved it. Horace therefore says strangely, Paulwn sepultce clistat inertice Celata Virtus, — Of all the absurd positions that can be laid down, there is none more absurd than that the voice of the multitude is the test of merit. An quicquid stultius quam quos singulos contemnas, eos aliquid putare esse unwersos? (^^) (l) Ckero 5 Tiisc. Quests I. 5. c. 36. 204 GNOMIC A. CH. LXXXIX. If the multitude are guided by their own indi- vidual judgments, which is the privilege now claimed and exercised, we may guess what those judgments will be ! — He who levels himself to vulgar apprehensions, vulgar feelings, and vulgar language, must be necessarily more popular, than he who is above them. As to prejudice, — that is certainly prejudice, which merely rests upon authority ; and for which there is no apparent reason. But a large portion of the opinions received and handed down to us by men of eminent genius or talents, have a foundation as rational as it is ancient. Mankind were much happier when they thus had resting places for their thoughts , instead of throwing every thing into doubt and disorder. Yet Truth need not vex herself ; she will have her day again and again ; while Folly once rejec- ted never revives ; — but becomes rotten and odious : some contemptible progeny may spring from her ashes ; to flourish for a moment ; then to be treated as they deserve. CHAPTER LXXXIX. What constitutes the value of Fancy. lo j4pril 1823. The value of a fancy is little ;, till it becomes aggregated with the operations of the mind. h-^ GNOMICA. CH. LXXXIX, 205 Therefore he , who passes through a succession of beautiful scenes, does not arrive at their value and use , till time and leisure give him an oppor- tunity to contemplate upon them. He whose opinions merely ai-ise out of the occasion , and are only applicable to it, cannot transfer the results of his mind to another, because he cannot be able to relate precisely all the facts and circumstances attending it. He , whose mind is pure , does not fear to put it upon paper , where he will find a permanent monitor of what is wrong. But the imaginations and thoughts of many are cloudy and dark ; — arising not merely from faint perception, but from evil passions. We must not force our thoughts into perverse and unsocial routes ; but rather watch and follow their native excursions. That which is common to our nature , and at the same time virtuous , can alone interest and instruct us. We quit these perverse paths , as soon as they have lost their novelty. We take up things as passing visions , to be contrasted to the similitudes of real life ; but which we cannot endure as systems. It is difficult to guess , why , while the paths of beauty and grandeur and health and instruc- tion are unexhausted, and some of them' untra- versed , human faculties should waste themselves in seeking error thro' roads crooked and mon- strous , and difficult and wearisome ! -— 206 GNOMIC A. CH. LXXXIX. Habit may reconcile an individual to any pecu- liarities of mental combination. How can the picture of such peculiarities interest those who have not contracted the same habits ? Or can he justify the attempt to encourage these habits? Yet it will be said that the delineation of these peculiarities is often found \o please. — Why? — Merely because it is new : whereas it pleases the author ^ because it is habitual] Tiiere are two degrees of Invention : one is discovery only; — the other creation. We may discover what exists ; but which has hitherto lain hidden. We may create : but we are bound to create with a regard to probability. — In the first class we may associate sentiments , moral principles , and reflections , to a simple fancy : in the last class , there is tiie complex operation of tfie imaginative combination, and of the creation of the intellectualities appropriate to such new existences. Tijis is not a mere dis^ covery ; nor even a simple creation ; but a double creation ! — There are among human Beings , those who are born with noble capacities , and generous hearts i but there are too many, who are deficient in both these qualities. — GNOMICA. CH. ex. 207 CHAPTER XC. The purity of the mind , and the rectitude of the motive determine the merit of the action. II ^pvil i8:i3. Without purity and elevation oimind, no man can be good or great. Useful things effected through bad motives, (if they can be so effected,) confer no just honour upon him. It may be said , that a man's mijid is only to himself; and that the world can judge by actions alone. But the mind is an index to the real character of the actions: and to know the mind, therefore, is to have the best clue to the proper judgment of the actions. We are not sent into the world to pass through life with the misty and incurious apprehension of brutes. K thousand invisible as well as visible objects are about us and around us , and solicit our internal meditations , as Avell as visit our senses. Mere material action is but a small part of the duty involved in that which it is the task of our Being to perform. But common capacities want every light and guide to assist them in this more shadowy and mysterious part of our nature. Nay, the finest minds cannot always follow and render perma- nent the effects of these passing gleams , without the exertion of long skill and practice. 208 GNOMICA. CH. XC. It is a perpetual watchfulness of one's own internal movements, a study of Self, (i) that can alone give this skill. This is the only source , that is open to him : all else is veiled or disguised. If this be true , there is no subject on which an author can produce information so important and so profound as on Self , if he treats it with ability and candour. But he must take care to dwell on what is applicable to others , as well as to Self : he must mix up little of what is adven- titious , and which does not spring from our general nature. Every man derives a satisfaction from knowing the ground on which he stands ; what are his pretensions ; and on what he can rely. Whatever we can rescue from the caprice of incapable, imperfect , or inconsiderate opinion , is a valuable step in our progress towards complacence. The conflict of light or prejudiced opinions ; the uncertainty into which the multitude , some- times from ignorance , and sometimes from de- sign , attempt to throw every thing , checks energy , and creates disgust and despondence. If from strict and repeated self-examination we can assist in attaining this desirable result , our labour will not be useless. What is ill- (^) See from Montaigne and Descartes all the Meta- physical writers down to Dugald Stewart. GNOMIC A. CH. XCI. 209 received or neglected at first , will , if it be true , gradually and imperceptibly work its way , and produce its fruit. CHAPTER XCI. Belief in the general selfishness of yncuiJdnd destroys peace ^ and brings despondence. 16 Jug. 1823. If experience should once force upon us the conviction that every human Being seeks only his own selfish interest, our vigilance and anxiety could never have a moment's rest. But this is surely not the case. It is only general with certain classes of society, whom their necessities , their want of independence , and their constant and familiar intercourse with the demoralized and fraudulent part of mankind, harden and embrute. What would become of public virtue , of tliC spur to undergo bodily labour , and the waste of mental spirits, and perils, and even deatfj, — if it were so? — Where would be the stimulus to fame , or to any unmercenary pursuit ? — There must be such an active principle as that of benevolence in the world ! Men ivill do good for the sake of good! for the internal satisfaction, which it gives to the conscience , and tiie heart ! 27 210 GNOMICA. CH. XCI. Is it possible, tliat all fair words can be intended merely to draw Lim, to whom they are addressed, into a snare or a pit ? He, who lives upon the vitals of tlie necessi- tous , who « laps the blood of sorrow » ; — cc Extortion mounted on the pamper'd steed, Which the last tears of starved Misfortune feed)) (1) may do so ! — ^ But all the world are not tygers , vultures , hyaenas , leopards , or crocodiles , gam- boling or moaning , tiiat they may dart on their prey unawares ! Yet it is not by public services , and benefit to others, that men become rich, and advance them- selves in the world : nor is it generally by genius or talents that they arrive at greatness! Tue mean- est faculties , always watchful to promote their own individual interests , are mucii more calcu- lated to effect tiiese ends ; and much more gene- rally succeed. It is strange, but it is true, tiiat Providence permits duplicity and hypocrisy , and false faitii and cunning, to carry away the spoils and the laurels in this life ! (') Fitzalblni. G^-03IICA. CH. XCII. 211 CHAPTER XCII. Familiarity lessens the ugliness of evil : of tv hick still the traits are certain ; and cannot he rnistahen. 21 July 1S23. WliCn we cl\« ell a long Ns^-Lile on an evil subject, we lose sometliing of the force of the revolting and glaring hnpressions, which strike us whenever ^ve return fresh to it. Men may by degrees habi- tuate themselves to hear the most palpable and self-evident truths disputed! There is a certain point, up to Avhich Candor may be asked and permitted to go, in judging of other men's actions intentions and declarations. But to go beyond that point , is to allow the nature of things to be reversed ; to admit that there is no real difference between crime and innocence ; justice and injustice ; right and wrong : that meum and tiium may be absolutely confounded ; and that the boldest and subtlest man may always be made to appear in the right! We judge of crimes in Courts by rules, which leave no x)artic[e of doubt in the mind of an in- telligent and wise man. (^) ]^o man feels a diffi- (-) It is not of these strong lines cf separation that the Quarterly Review^ (IS^J^ lvi. vol. xxviii. i823 ^ p. 536 J spealis , when it says , in reference to me Opposition in Parliament 071 the Affairs of Spain ; «.the evidence of what 212 GNOMIC A. CH. XCII. ciilty in distinguishing between murder and man- slaughter: — between the premeditated scheme and the accidental ebulhtion of momentary pas- sion : between the system prepense of unlawful gain ; and the irregularity of means by which the want of fortitude to endure gets out of a dange- rous and unforeseen scrape 1 I say , that there are marks of distinction , which , wherever they occur , can admit of no doubt ! and which no man in his senses would allow to be argued away ; or would ever hear any argument about ! If there be no distinction between right and wrong ; — if a bold man can do what he will with impunity, and without loss of reputation, by is right and what is wrong , is not always striking and conclusive ; there is often room for debate; and it is one of the most antient and usual employments of oratory y to make the worse appear The better reason , to perplex and dash Maturest counsels. « The people have in all ages and nations , been sus- pected of a tendency to take the wrong side of a quesdon^ -■ — of being averse From all the truth it sees or hears ; But swallows nonsense and a lie With greediness and gluttony. And , though it have the pique and long , Is still for something in the wrong. » GivoMiCA. CH. xcn. 213 having the courage and dexterity to support an argument that black is white ; then, in the society where such things prevail , everv thing is at the mercy of the most daring and the most uncon- scientious! — Property, fame, every thing which constitutes the happiness and supplies the wants of Man , — even bread , — is thrown off its base; and tossed into the air, to be scrampled for, and grasped by the strongest and most dextrous hand ! CHAPTER XCIII. Anxiety for the future. 1 8 Alio,. 1823. We have it on holy authority that , sufficient for the day is the evil thereof: yet this must not be understood , that a calm foresight and pre- caution are unnecessary. Even these , however , when only leading to the use of fair and virtuous means , are too commonly inadequate to ward off the misfortunes, — the complicated adversity, — which wicked men have the power to inflict on the sincere , frank , and upright. Ah\ why then should they know their fate ; Since Sorrow never comes too late ; And Happiness too swiftly flics ? 214 GNOMIC A. CH. XCIII. Thought would destroy their Paradise, — No more : — where ignorance is bliss , Tis folly to be wise ! » There are , however , some evils which a prospective care may avert ; and some , which it may lessen. But the habit of anxiety grows by feeding : and the uncertainty of the future aggra- vates a disease which hves upon fear. Nothing then is so desirable , as the indepen- dence , Avhich can secure us from being exposed to this cancer-worm of the heart. Riches , rank , station , — nay fame , respect , esteem , love , — are all at the mercy of the interests or the caprices of mankind : — without the forethought , mana- gement, and solicitude , which outweigh their value , we must not even hope for them ! Better to let them come or go , as they will , than thus pay too highly for them ! But a competence , a competence not much below those common comforts and conveniencies which early habits have rendered necessities, cannot be dispensed with , unless at the cost of unqualified misery ! So far then foresight, and anxiety for the future, must not be cast aside. Thus it is , to be in a situation in which either alternative is uneasi- ness , torment , gloom , and despondence! To brood over our sorrows ; to anticipate ill ; and to contemplate what is before us till the morbid and terrified fancy sees nothing but GNOMICA. CH. XCIV. 215 gathering clouds and bursting tempests , can protect us from no aflliction v, hich is in store for us; but only weakens the fortitude requisite for endurance ; and often adds ideal miseries to the real ones which are already insuppor- table! — On the other hand , an hollow safety , a delu- sive hope, a supine inattention to the Storm , (c That husJid in grim repose expects his evening prej , )) increases danger, and multiplies the chances of ruin by giving efficacy to many modes of destruc- tion which might otherwise be escaped. The future is for tiic most part hid from us by the wisdom and beneficence of a merciful Provi^ dence. If tfje sufferings which await us were unveiled to our eyes at the commencement of our career , would it be possible for human for- titude to meet and go through its destiny ? — CHAPTER XCIV. Love of Gain breaks all restraints but the iron bonds of Power. 21 Jiilj- 1823. He who , being exposed to the temporary evils and injuries of a breach or defiance of law or conscience on the part of others, — has not the 216 GT^OMICA. CH. LXXIX. moral courage to endure tbem in the interval till protection or retribution can come, is at the mercy of whatever the cupidity or malice of scoundrels may choose to inflict ! The alternative may be grievous ; but the lesser evil MUST be boldly incurred ! We may be incUned, a priori, to believe that men who have supported a decent character in the world , will , if not from conscience , yet from fear of the world's censure , be under certain restraints as to their actions ; and not break those limits, within which the appearance of some degree of coarse and homely honesty is included. — - But experience proves that it is not so ! — There is , among the crowd of men engaged in getting their livelihoods, and making their for- tunes , a very large and appalling portion , who have no restraint whatever but what they deem , upon a calculation of all their means , a prepon-^ derating chance of exposure and punishment. They are utterly insensible to any emotion of generosity , or sting of regret , or reluctance : they do not feel a moment's hesitation to take advantage of kind confidence ; or to deceive by the most shameless pretensions of hypocrisy : at the instant they deal the blow of ruin , or ad- minister the poison of death , they shed crocodi- lian tears; they talk of the vanities of this world; of the worthlessness of pelf ; of the emptiness of GNOMICA. CH. XCV. 217 earthly advantages ; and the only comfort to be had in purity of conscience ! If at last you detect them in robbery ; they cry , like Robin Hood , that « they only rob the rich ^ to give to the poor I ^^ Nothing will keep them in the right path but the iron rod of force and power. They will plun- der even under the gallows! They laugh at re- proaches ; words are wind to them ; — and they regard nothing but blows ! Yet with all their cunning and dissimulation, they expose the cloven foot to a shrewd eye at every turn ! — Men sometimes become so habi- tuated to evil , that they at last lose the percep- tion of the lines between right and wrong. -^ They then betray themselves , when they are not aware of the discovery they are making. CHAPTER C X V. The Neglected Poet (A Fragment, ) 29 May 1823. Why mourning still ? Why does thy Sun depart With thine hopes buried in thy gloomy heart ? Thine earthly hopes ! for hope of pleasure here Ought still to travel onward to theiier ! If man is born to trouble , thou thy share, Not discontent , art also born to bear ! ■28 218 GNOMICA. CH. XCV. Why shouldst thou free from envy seek to find The paths , where half that tread them , wander bhnd ? Tis fear and want of confidence , that pour The poisonous bitter on the bosom's store ! If hght before thee shines ; if backward shines Light of the past ; ungrateful then repines Thy spirit , that , as beams of morning , gay , Should still unclouded throw its setting ray ! If not to thee belongs the noisy fame , That echoing clamours round another's name ; Wrapt in thyself , if thou art left alone To sigh thy fancies to the breeze's moan , Thou hast a world around thee , which thy wand Can marshal , call , dismiss at its command ! Lord of thyself , thou boldest from thy throne An empire , despot monarchs cannot own ! The hate of Man ; the coward , chilling blast , That upstart half- taught Ignorance would cast Upon thine artless strains , if but the spell, Firm to its purpose, should th' assault repell , Sun-pierced, like vapours foul that blot the sky, Back to its den of deadly fumes would fly ! Sin, Error , Falsehood , restless Plot , Deceit , Corruption , daring Violence , repeat From day to day upon this warring globe, (Where Man puts on for woe his mortal robe , ) Their ever- working tasks. — It is the lot. Which from the Book of Life Man cannot blot. G]>fOMICA. CH. xcv. 219 Folly and Wickedness , by Heaven's decrees , Honour and profit here triumphant sieze ; While Virtue mourns ; and Wisdom silent sits ; And Genius heard , ( if heard at all , ) by fits , Praised with an ideot shout , is left in tears Lonely to waste the winter of his years : Hiss'd if he touch the heavenly chord; and told , The glass to Earth's impurities to hold ! etc. etc. etc. O thou immortal, and etherial Queen, Who never by unholy eye art seen; Thou , who in secret hold'st th' inspiring reign Oe'r all that ever breathed the genuine strain ; Where dost thou dwell ? Where Earth Iier glories spreads In mountains , vales , seas , lakes , and woods , and meads ? Or rather thro' th' empyreal air dost fly , Filling all space by thy ubiquity ? Thence passing thro the hicart of Pvlan , thy wing Touc-jes the mountains whence the waters spring Of Castaly ; — when out the torrent flows ; And bears th' entrancing strain of jo} s or woes ! Unlock'd by thee^ there , mj stic Goddess , lies Tlie source , whence Bards to power resistless rise ! It is not thine , to bid the human brain Plot its fantastic forms with whim insane ; Force to distorted shapes the simple store , That Memory treasures of external lore ; 220 GNOMICA. CH. XCV. Then bid the voluntary maniac tell , That in his busy mind creations dwell ! Not to thine ear may such blaspheming tongue Outrage by childish boast the sons of song ! O Thou, of mien severe, to Truth allied, And solemn Wisdom ever by thy side ; How dost thou scorn the piles of glittering ore Raised by the false Enchanter's gaudy lore ! Thou who, companion fit, as Bards (^) have said, Sat'st by , with wonder mute , when worlds were made , Tis thine to picture with thy pencil warm The shadowy shapes then moulded into form : But most of Man; and in his heart to trace That sympathy with every outward grace, "Which trembles with mysterious joy or pain; Then bursts unbidden to the vocal strain ! Glowing beneath thy smiles , the melting chords Catch from thy breathing lips the magic words; Then out the swelling notes of music ring; And with wild rapture quivers every string ! But mimic Art , that mocking Power divine , The great Creator's wonders would outshine; — Poor driveling Art, that with a puny hand Bids toys and monsters rise at his command Then with an ideot smile of self-applause , IN^ew forms the soul , and gives to nature laws ; (1) Collins. Ode on the Voetical Character, GNOMICA. CH. XCV. 221 Sports witli its work, by blind conceit betray'd ; Then worships the vain idol it has made! Art ! pitiless , iinpitiable Art ! — Rise , thou true Goddess ; and the lightnings dart, Which from thy forehead blaze; — then down shall fall Her fanes of false religion; — shrines and all! But thou, immortal Power, art merciful; And wilt not over human bosoms rule With rod unsparing : thy all-bounteous eye Will view man's yain endeavours with a sigh ; Forgive his boasting follies ; and will still To higher aims direct his froward will : Upon his labouring fancy, dark with toil. Perplexing and perplex'd , sometimes thy smile Will beam a casual light , and genial glow, That bids the purple tide in freedom flow Thro' the reviving heart, dispersing clouds Whose vapour every generous bosom shrouds! Then the false Seer , arising from the cell , Where with his demons he was Vvont to dwell. Comes forth to incense-breathini? day, and views The golden Sun; and feels his heart diffuse A joy unknown before; and sees around All nature spread before him ; every sound Breathes music to his ear; and every sight Strikes to his soul ineffable delight. « Give me thy lyre , thou only Queen of Song ! » Only to thee » , he cries , « to thee belong 222 GNOMICA. CH. xcv. » The' harmonious strings of Truth ! Upon those strings » Great ISature her enraptured fingers flings; » And draws out notes, which Heaven ordains should fire » With rapture due immortal man's desire! » Within my cave full many a ^eary year » My tortured chords have striven to wake the tear » Deep-buried in the human breast : — in vain y> I urged the twisted wires ; my noisy strain » Fell dull and lifeless on th' insensate ear; » Or roar'd with senseless joy ; or writhed with maniac fear! » I hail'd strange Imps from the delirious Hall, » Where Spirits , as I deem'd , were at ray call ! » They were the fictions of a frantic mind , » Forced into Avildering shapes , with fury blind , » By pride audacious, and an heart of stone » Impiercible by movements not its own! » But thou , celestial Emanation , sprung » Coaeval with that prival Day , which hung » This pensile Orb within its azure space , » Who saw'st the' Omnipotent his fabric trace, » Beheld'st with eye congenial Chaos yield , » And every form of Earth to life reveal' d ; » Nor saw'st th' external shape alone design'd; » But saw'st infused in Man th' immortal Mind ! » Not thine the toil , to strive with fruitless art GNOMICA. CH. XCV. 223 » The mirror of Creation to impart ! » Still at thy touch or call each form awakes ; » And every shape its breathing likeness takes ; » Each movement of the soul ; each inward thought ; » Embodied to material view is brought; » Each dim-discover'd tract , which human sight, » Unaided , faintly sees , is raised to light. » Thus falls the film from the false Mage's eyes; And thus th' harmonious Harp of Truth he tries : With force he throws his hand across the wire ; But at his touch no music will respire : The power that rules it , sits the soul within ; No outward hand the due response can win. With rage the lyre he dashes to the ground ; With dying shrieks its thousand fragments sound; And in dispersion sad lie broken round. Then thro' the air shoots forth a glittering ray ; And a light mocking Laughter seems to say, « Look up ! behold the glories of your feat ! » A thousand other lyres are prompt to greet » The gifted hand ! » — and sitting on a cloud A Quire of Angels strike their harps aloud : And harps above his head descending play ; Just mock his grasp ; then sail on winds away. Meantime in swelling stream th' eternal lay Sounds thro' heaven's concave , by the gifted ear 224 Gi^roMiCA. CH. xcvi. Heard plain on earth , whiles with mysterious fear It listens to th' unwonted din of Song , Mazed at the strife celestial choirs among! CHAPTER XCVI. A poet must he exalted in his own private feelings and habits. 21 April 1823. If a Poet, or a pretender to Poetry, should prove to be, in his private character and habits, of ordinary modes of thinking ; of ordinary feel- ings , desires , passions , and ambitions , these facts alone would render the genuineness of his poetry suspicious. A real poet must delight in visionary pleasures: his enthusiasm must be ardent : he must be en- marveled with grandeur, and enraptured with beauty : he must place his hope upon founda- tions, where dull minds would despair. — He must not vie with petty rivals in vulgar pursuits: he must not see things merely in their hard material form , unsurrounded by the rays sup- plied by imagination. He must live, not in the world as it is ; — but in a world of his own , such as his imagination dreams that it ought to be! GNOMICA. CH. XCVII. 225 Gray, in the view of the world, was cold and fastidious : but when his enthusiasm could in- dulge itself with confidence , he delighted to nurse these visionary propensities; witness, the ardour with which he encouraged himself in the belief of Ossian : and the accidental hearing of the Welsh Harper , which prompted him to finish his Bard ! He who examines , dissects, and calculates, be^ fore he admires , can never admire with warmth* Vivid fancy, active and powerful imagination, and strong feelings, united with forcible intellect, and a successful cultivation of language , are ne- cessary to make a poet. Glow of colouring is one of the characteristics of Genius: but excellence and novelty of form are also requisite* Glow of colouring was never yet attained by labour and artifice* CHAPTER XGVIT. The aggravated evils of that adversity , which is driven to seek comfort in delusions. 29 July 1823. He , who places himself, or is placed by Mis- fortune , in a situation , to which tiie application of the light of Truth gives an exposure painful ^9 226 GNOMICA. CH. XCVIT. and difficult to be endured , is often driven to seek the delusions of Imagination , and to encou- rage erroneous colours and false views of things, rather than to seek to dispel them. Thus it is that botJi misconduct and adversity often tend to mislead and blind the understan- ding , as well as to afflict and consume the heart. It is true that very wicked men are often very strong-headed ; — accurate observers ; and acute- reasoners : but then they are men, who see things exactly as they are ; at least in a narrow and worldly point of view. The consequences they predict, are precisely those which are likely to ensue : and though they ought not to ensue , if this life were a life in which Virtue were destined to be rewarded , and wickedness to be punished, the understanding of such men becomes more shrewd, and skilful; and their hopes are kept alive , in proportion as their observation continues close to experience , and allies itself to reality. He , who joins folly to wickedness ; who is wicked and yet unsuccessful; he who proposes wrong ends by inadequate and mistaken means ; has no consolation for the ill he commits. There are , however, evils in the world, which are not the result of bad intentions ; but of mis- taken judgment , and ill-founded wishes : — of expectations , perhaps , budt on a supposed con- duct of mankind different from that which a GNOMICA. CH. XCVIIT. 227 nice and sober attention to actual life would justify. There is no guilt in this: it may often arise from a charitable and generous habit of im- puting to others stricter principles and more honourable motives than belong to them. But it often leads into snares , which human fortitude is not strong enough to contemplate in their native frightfulness. Then error begets error : one delusion propagates another : and though the imagination may flourish and even augment , the understanding ^x^eakens and decays. Sometimes indeed , this is only confined to a particular topic; while on all others the mind continues sound : — but it is , in general , more or less contagious. — CHAPTER XCVIII. B.epetitions of opinions not always tautologies. 23 May i8a3. These Papers contain opinions principally on Poetry , and more particularly English poetry, in which perhaps there may be a good deal of tautology : but in the endeavour to impress some great principle, it is probable that the occasional variety of the language which may have suggested itself at the moment, will have contributed to 228 GNOMICA. CH. XCVIII. enforce the development of the idea. — It is only by repeated renewals of our labour that we arrive at the mastery over some of the difficult and evanescent distinctions of the mind : What is borrowed and ready-made for us , seems quite easy in the adoption : it is not , however , so easy to create. There are minds , which will take nothing without examination ; without going through the process of thought themselves. But if they do by any chance, either to fulfill an imposed task , or in hurry or weariness , write from memory , and not from conviction , they lose whatever charm , or force , they had before ; and become inferiors even in a very minor class, I am quite convinced that Sincerity is one of the primary charms in the poetry of Burns : and that if he ever used memory , it was only to aid him in expressing his own images and feelings. J St Y^g cannot surrender up our minds to any one , whom we do not think in earnest. 1,^ I^o affecter of feelings ever really hits the true chords. G^'OMICA. CH. xcix. 229 CHAPTER XCIX. Gray's Travels. 27 Jan. 1S23. Griy in his Travels with Walpole , 1 739-1 741 , followed the usual routes through France and Italy. The first object of magnificence in scenery which seems to have struck him was the position of the Grande Chartreuse , which he visited in an excursion from Lyons to Geneva, by the line of Savoy , in the direction of Chambery. He afterwards crossed the Alps by Mont Cenis to Turin , and Genoa : and thence back to Pla- cenza , Parma, Reggio , Modena , and Bologna. — Whence he crossed the Apennines to Florence and passed over these ^Mountains again , at another point , to Rome : and terminated his travels south at IN^aples. — On his return, he passed northward thro' Lombardy to Venice; and thence back through Milan to Turin : and homeward by the same route as he came. The qualities which fit a man to travel to ad- vantage, and to relate his travels to advantage, are not common. Correct and profound obser- vations upon life , manners , and politics, are not very easily made : a fine and accurate taste for the Arts , though pretensions are often made to 230 GNOMICA. CH. CXIX. it , is very rare : — and a description of the scenery of nature, clear, yet not feeble ; — for- cible , yet not ostentatious and overwrought; enthusiastic yet simple and unaffected ; — with « words » not glaring and pompous , but such as c( burn y> with genuine fire; — is not to be effected by any but by a mind of the most rich poetical power. Gray possessed this high and enviable endow- ment. It requires a brilhant perception: but this is not all : it demands something far beyond a mere brilliant perception. The choice of features and circumstances is partly formed by an exqui- site intellectual sensibility and judgment ; the exact line between that which is too general, and that which perplexes by minuteness , is sel- dom duly seen or duly adhered to. Gray's pictures, though rich, are never strain- ed. He still uses an economy of phrase : he leaves an impression, that his ideas are still richer, than his words ; that «more is meant than meets the ear » ; and that his raptures are so unsought, that they break out in spite of him. It does not require much ingenuity to be florid ; to round sentences ; and to embroider with clusters of images and metaphors. But there is « a sober certainty of delight » in what Gray undertakes to register , that carries with it an authority and faith not to be resisted. GNOMICA, CH. C. 231 C H A P T E R C. Pictures of the penetralia of poetical minds , curious and instructive. 12 J'-df J 823. The impression on the mind , wliicli is violent , is not always clear ; because its violence may make its effect tumultuous. It is long before the tumults caused by the vivacity of the Senses of Genius subside. When therefore the man of Genius enters life, he sees every thing through a mist. To be successful in the world , it is necessary to see things exact^ as they are. But tliere is an additional cause why men of Genius do not do so. They see things as they wish them to be : or as their imaginations represent them. The belief that mankind are more virtuous or more benevolent tiian they really are , leads the believer into perpetual snares. The seeing things in tljeir precise and exact colours, is that useful faculty which is called shrewdness or sa- gacity. But he may be slirewd in the closet , who is confused and deranged in tlje conflict of action. It is the perpetual contest between imagination and judgment, whicii is among the evils that tor- ment Genius. — A consciousness of this inconsi- 232 GNOMICA. CH. C. stency haunts it : and always occupies it in struggling to develop and reconcile it. All the mysteries of our strangely -united intel- lectual and material nature exhibit themselves in full operation in persons of Genius ; and thus court its observation , and harrass its curiosity. Pride , hope , sorrow , temptation , submission and repentance , impel , delude , and afflict the kindling fancy and susceptible heart of persons highly endowed. When they are tempted to lay the pictures of these curious emotions before the world, they perform a most difficult and impor- tant service in opening the penetralia of intellect* Thus when Rousseau and Lord Byron paint their strange perturbations and wild passions , they awaken all the secret springs of the human mind and human heart from their cells. When a Poet has long dealt with these visio- nary subjects, he courts rather than strives to appease this agitated temperament of intellect. It is the source of his occupations, and the instru- ment of his fame. He does not encourage that cold philosophy , which by destroying his won- ders, and rendering him calm and easy, would at the same time extinguish his enthusiasm. In some Beings Nature seems to have implanted a Satanic love of wickedness ; a revengeful joy at the sorrows and misfortunes of Mankind ; as if in retaliation for success ill -deserved^ or unme^ GNOMICA. CH. C. 233 rited distinction bestowed on meanness and folly: — or as if in anger to the Creator for not having bestowed enjoyments more congenial to the hopes , desires , and imaginations of an aspiring Soul! Grand thougbts, and eloquent and magnificient language often arise from a mind thus construc- ted and disciplined. The contrasts between the most sublime or exquisite forms of ideal beauty , and the hate- fulness of vulgar and loathsome reality related with bitter force , become doubly striking in the productions of Genius so constituted ! The very freedom from restraint and boldness which it gives , is a great assistant to success. We love the representation of violent passions; and feel a sympathy with them , even when we do not experience them originally in ourselves. Those gentle spirits , which see every thing correctly and amiably, but feebly and faintly , have none of the attributes of Genius. Labour and polish will do but little. We want energy and strong impulse. What authors cannot feel, they cannot imagine ! — The taste in England , as well as in Germany , is a taste for what is striking and powerful. The French have always liked better the poetry of reason and good sense. And the Court of Ch. u. introduced this taste into England; — and it 3o 234 GNOMIC A. CH. C. continued to prevail till the death of Pope : viz. nearly ninety years. That which followed , tho' it took a little more boldness and energy of lan- guage and dress , yet continued for the most part tame in thought and sentiment. Art , and techni- calities, predominated. The wild flights of real passion; the perturbations of a strong mind dis- appointed , indignant , and daring ; had not ven- tured to cloathe themselves in unpremeditated and unforced poetry. There may be a clear fancy , and an active imagination, without much passion : — but this defect must always retain a poet below the high- est class. V/hat is merely material can never impress and affect, like that which is combined with intellectual emotion, when that intellectual emotion is calculated to agitate the heart. All those associations , sentiments, and reflec- tions , which are generated by an intense and long-continued reflection upon a subject , have for the most part a peculiar and constrained con- nection with it , which raises no instantaneous and unprompted sympathy in the reader's mind : and which therefore seldom , if ever , touches his heart ; — because the heart must be touched instantly , if at all. There is a natural sympathy of the heart with certain images , which is not the result of reasoning or meditation; but the immediate result of intrinsic impulse. • — To feel G^OMICA. CH. CI. 235 this; and to have the clearness of perception, and command of language , by which he who feels can communicate his feeling to others ; are far h^om hem^ the same thinc^.I — CHAPTER CL Just Ifivention. J 111 The word - dealers in poetry are men of ready memory, and a certain degree of technical skill. — They hare a feeble fancy, no miagination, and little feeling. It is not necessary that a Tale of InA'ention should adhere to the daily minutifp of actual life. These minutiae continually chanoe with the fashion of the day ; and what is interesting while that pre- vails , becomes absurd , after its us^ge has passed. Coarse minds can only be operated upon by the associations of the actual events with which thev are conversant. What is abstract, or general, or visionar\', does not touch them. But great in- tellects delight m the sublime and indefinite outlines of Avhat is general : — with them the very particularity, which rouses dull faculties, destroys the charm. Invention duly exercised, is the noblest of all our mental faculties. — But it must have its 236 GNOMICA. CH. CI. sources in the strong , native, and virtuous emo- tions of the heart : it must he supphed by moral knowlege, and directed by moral wisdom : its materials must be enriched by sagacious enquiry, and profound thought. It must be impelled by energy , enthusiasm, and love of glorious fame. It must deal in what is grand or beautiful in sentiment, imagery, and thought , and what is eloquent, and noble, or elegant, in expression. At a crisis when the Public, — that is the Blultitude , — are accustomed to be indulged with something more piquant, more full of inci- tement , than what a sound intellect can supply, or approve , these things indeed may seem flat and dull to the generality of readers. Glaring colours, monstrous combinations, have unfitted the eye for what is chaste and genuine. As he , who has long lived in the delirium of wine , festive company , throngs of people , and pom- pous shews , would sink into apathy or despon- dence amid the quiet grandeur of solitary Nature: or would pine for want of refreshment beside fountains of the purest water ! To invent an human character, at once pro- bable, interesting, elevated , and virtuous , is no light achievement of the mind. — To put it in motion ; to create incidents in which it may dis- play itself, augments the merit. — Copies of rea- Hty would probably be coarse and dull. — Reality GNOMICA. CH. CII. 237 is always in the way of our most dignified and most refined feelings : it crosses them ; and in- fuses something bitter , or something ordinary and degrading. It is only therefore in characters of Invention that we can keep the stream exalted. — It must not be such as moments of passion alone delight to represent , and which moments of reason condemn. It must be passion sanctioned by reason. It is of the essence of the fancy and imagina- tion of Genius, to colour deeply; to exalt and improve : to give the likeness ; but to give it heightened. — It is therefore incompatible with the essence of Poetry to choose ugliness , defor- mity , and squalid misery for its theme. If it were otherwise , it would be its business to render what revolts , more revolting. CHAPTER CII. Tests of Originality. 4 Jane 1823. The test of Poetry is , whether the author shews the marks of inspiration: whether he seems under the unsought dominion of the Muse ! whether lie is under the force of a fulness, which struggles at language no further, than as it is the vehicle of thought ! 238 GNOMICA. CH. CII. They wlio labour much at the workmanship, cannot be under tiie influence of much enthu- siasm. Whatever image is taken tiro' the medium of the t}pes of language is necessarily unoriginal. Language should follow , not precede, the origin of an image. It may be doubled , if they wlio derive the image from the language, have any thing more than a technical perception of the image: with tlem the language is the substance ; not tlie vel icle. And tiiis distinction seems to me to pervade the compositions of all secondary poets. The image itself is not present to them; but the words of some predecessor. Dugald Stewart speaks of a memory of ivords ; and not of things. The dealer in words is a workman of technical compositions. Such compositions may dazzle ; but they never cause simple and profound impres- sions. Men of memory are ductile and ready : t! ey catch all ciiaracters , but are possessed by none. Tuey never draw from nature : they have no self- motion \ but alw ays derive their impulse from others. Wiiat comes to us thro' the medium of language, we may reject, when we v. ill: — but what comes direct upon the mind , it is not in our power to set aside. A Genius therefore is never a GWOMICA. CH. CII. 239 master of his feelings or his thoughts. His ener- gies , his enthusiasms, the « possession of the spirit » , shew themselves in defiance of his at- tempt at controul : and he becomes a character marked by pecuharities; eccentricities; and per- haps, imprudences. Every thing of personal history in the bio- graphy of poets is confirmatory of this position. Of ail, whose productions are admitted by the test of time to be of the genuine ore , the per- sonal characteristics are energy , deep or quick sensibility, fixed opinions, unaffected love of the vast or the beautiful ; and a contemplative , visionary , unworldly turn of mind. Images are always present to them ; — images of the mind, not of external objects. If they were dependent on the presence of external objects , they woukl be at the mercy of place , time^, and accident. The great distinction of a poet is to be visio- nary : to live in an ideal world. I do not believe the representation of external objects to be the purpose of poetry : but the representation of mental images , in association with feelings and reflections. I do not believe the explanations , which me- taphysical philosophy furnishes , proper to form the spring of poetical pleasure. Therefore a di- dactic poem , explaining metaphysically the/?/ea- 240 GNOMICA. CH. cm. sures of Memory oy pleasures of Hope , is fLinda- mentally erroneous. Poetry looks to instanta- neous effects ; not to those which are produced by the gradations of a chain of reasoning. This analysis, this dissection , is the very thing that destroys the charm. In Invention , there must be a grandeur and softness of soul ; an energy and tenderness of affection ; a brilliance and majesty of fancy ; a penetration and sagacity of judgment; an insight into that course, which, by the decrees of Provi- dence , the passions of Man almost universally follow. When, about twenty-eight years ago, the system of English poetry , satiated with words instead of images, underwent a violent revolution , it seems to have passed , not from words to thoughts or visions , but from words to realities ; or whal; were deemed realities. — - Hence it fell into alter- nations of coarseness and extravagance. CHAPTER cm. Nobility may be made too numerous and common. 3o May 1823. Nothing is more idle and nonsensical than the talk of unthinking , mean-passioned, people on the subject of the Peerage, GNOMicA. CH. cm. 241 When it is contended , that it ought not to be indiscriminately and profusely conferred , these people are up in arms, as if there were a wish to confine it to a ]?rwileged Few ; and to refuse it to Merit, and to Riches, which they often argue as being in some degree tan- tamount to merit. When I contend that it ought not to be too nurperous , they confound the number with the quality of the persons created. I argue , that men not particularly distin- guished in any way , either for birth, wealth , or personal merit , afford no colour of apo- logy for the augmentation of numbers ; and can only be created from corrupt motives. Personal merit , of a very high class , such as brilliant success as chiefs in war , may jus- tify the creation , — even tho' the Individual be without birth or riches. My opponents then turn round upon me , and say that Mobility without riches is dange- rous : and therefore that it is necessary to in- troduce the creation of the Rich at the same time , to counterpoise this weakness. But why mere riches ? If this absurd pre- tence for a counterpoise be admitted , cannot riches be found united with birth and merit? ' The meaning of these puzzle-headed arguers is merely to find a colour for making wealth 3i 242 GNOMICA. CH. CIV. the ground of Nobility ! — They even assert that , as to confer benefits on one's country is the most just ground of reward and distinction, so commerce is the greatest benefit to a country; and therefore ought to be so rewarded and distinguished. But how are the greatest commercial Riches made? — - By deahngs on the stock-exchange; which they consider not only commerce ; but the most honourable sort of commerce! — Did the nation ever receive benefit from such dea- lings ? CHAPTER CIV. u4 day without a line. Sonnet. 26 May 1823. A day without a line! — It is not so , That I would waste this transient feverish life, That in its heat consumes the short - breathed trace Of its own passage! I would still record Each momentary pang , born in the strife Of daily turmoil with a world , wdiere grace Falls on the worthless only; where, abhorr'd By base Corruption , Virtue walks in woe ! — GNOMICA. CH. cv. 243 Shill busy is my brain : the past awakes To join the present: and the future sails Like a black mass of rolling cloud , which breaks The struggling light; and then a chill comes on: Thus sable o'er this chequer'd scene prevails, And griefs check pleasures almost ere they dawn. (^) CHAPTER CV. Speculation and Action, \o Sept. 1823. It cannot be too often repeated that Pro- vidence does not require the same tasks from all mankind ; and that our duties and destinies comprehend an innumerable variety of pursuits, occupations , and ends. To design and to execute , is often allotted to different persons and different qualifications. That nicety of observation which applies a prin- ciple correctly to a particular case , is widely different from the Genius which develops it from a large and general survey and exami- (1) This is an attempt to substitute a new arrangement of rhymes for the Sonnet. 2AA GNOMIC A. CH. CV. nation. The soundness of a doctrine ought not to be impeached, because he who teaches it is not always skilful in putting it into action. All discoveries , all that is original in the propagation of Truth, are effected by the light of Imagination. The man of Imagination is en- tided to assume his premises: but practical skill and wisdom depend upon an accurate observation of premises , over which the prac- titioner has no command. The faculties exercised therefore in specula- tion and in action are quite distinct, and almost opposite. But what is true in theory , must be true in practice : when it seems to be otherwise, the cause must be, that the principle is not really and strictly applicable to the case. When the facts come accurately within the limits of a principle , it is dangerous and inadmissible to endeavour to evade the obligation by any excuse founded on the supposition of a con- trariety between truth in speculation and truth in action. The unconscientious, corrupt, and insensible wretches , v^^ho for the most part carry on the affairs of the world , always deal in this pro- fligate excuse. The lessons of theory are with theni no longer operative , than while they make for their purpose. The instant that they come GNOMICA. CH. CV. 2-45 in their way , they get rid of them by the opprobrious epithet oi speculative dogmas! When they desire to refuse such authorities, they ought to endeavour to rid themselves of the applica- bility of the facts : if they cannot do this , the charge that the rule from which they would be dispensed is speculative , can never justly avail them. It is not meant to decry the value of prac- tical wisdom in its proper sense: but when it puts itself in opposition to theory, and claims a superiority over it ^ then its pretensions are at once false and ridiculous. It can advance but a few steps without theory ; and when it goes in opposition to it , it is sure to be wrong : that is , it proves itself to be a pretender , and forfeits the right to the name which it assumes. The use of speculative intelligence , which is often remote, circuitous, hidden, and contin- gent, can never be appretiated by men of dull faculties , hard hearts, and low and selfish pur- suits. That which is not direct in its conse- quences , and which does not tend strait to the individual's private interest , is deemed idle , fanciful , and empty. They do not think it pos- sible that any one can sincerely waste his labours and energies for any benefit except his own. In Beings of mean qualities and niean am bitions , the w^orld is content to find any thing 246 GNOMICA. CH. CVI. of good : but from the highly - endowed and the highly-cultivated it exacts incompatibilities and impossibilities. It calls on them to be as skilfu] in little things , as wise in great : — with glances accustomed to range through the Uni- verse , it calls upon them for microscopic at- tention; and invariable accuracy in trifles. When their imaginations are creating ideal existences, it charges them with crime , because they wander away from hard realities! — CHAPTER CVI. T E B AL D O. ( A Fragment, J i8 June 1823.. Pent in this mortal clay , the Spirit lives And burns sometimes, till its pervading fire Changes the earthly substance to a veil Transparent , and to golden atoms turns The film of massy darkness. In the mind Then lies all happiness. Those elements Of matter, which this human frame compose, Then yield dominion to the soul that rules O'er all emotion, will, hope , fear, and end. Sensation then expires not with itself: 10 But onward to the heart its rays are borne ; GNOMICA. CH. CI. 247 And there into its inmost shrines received , Rich with the streams where they have laved , return , And colour every thought , and give a glow To new Imagination's varying lights. In a lone Tower , that frown'd upon a glen Of beechen forest , sunk within the heights Of the gigantic Appenines, was born Tebaldo : he was sprung of generous blood In fortune's evil hour : a Troubadour 20 His father long had wandered, from his realms Exiled by tyrant usurpation : Love Had led a damsel of his Court to join His flying steps; in all his dangers share ; And vow eternal faith to him alone. Such was Tebaldo' s mother: ere he knew To prize a mother's care , the cruel stroke Of Death removed the blessing from his reach ; And then his childhood pass'd in solitude : For oft his father roved abroad ; and long 3o Long months was absent; — a devoted nurse His sole companion left. The wintry night Heard the loud winds crossing from sea to sea With mighty roar ; and Adriatic waves Mingling their spray upon the winged blast With that Mid Ocean whose broad waters part Iberian shores from Afric's barbarous land. And when the year's departing glories threw Light golden tints upon the sloping groves 248 GNOMICA. CH. CVI. Of beechen foliage , the lone pensive child ^o Would sit enraptured , half as if in dreams, And half with eye and ear drinking delight At every image, ray , tint , cloud , or sound : Or when his hands and dancing limbs would call For active exercise , in fragrant heaps He cull'd the falling leaves, and with the store Built fairy castles , and fantastic bowers. Within the massy walls of that grim Tower , The only dwelling-place he yet had known , When rain in mountain torrents fell , or snow 5o In gathering whirlwinds whelm'd the face of Heaven , He still had occupations not unfit For his excursive spirit : much of lore , Historic , Legendary , Fabulous , His Sire , in characters he knew to read , Had left: and much he read each wondrous tale ; And much his fancy added ; much his heart Swell'd with new glory, and ambition's fire. His aged fond companion still could give Store of adventures strange, which never pen 60 Had yet recorded, gather'd from the lips Of her still absent Lord : and still the bud Of his fed mind expanded with the showers Of fertilising manna , which each day Fell on its growing strength. A mouldering spire High-lifted on the battlemented square , That roofd his ruin'd dwelling, sometimes drew GNOMIC A. CH. CVI. 249 His truant feet to climb its tapering rise , And sit upon its giddy top ; and thence Catch the dim ghmpse of waters , which the chain ^o Of earthly ridge gigantic as a bar Cut into two vast Oceans : « Does that world ))0f restless rolling element divide »My Sire and me ? O how I wish that I »Could pass its aweful limits , and behold »Scenes more congenial to my wild desires ? » And now the purple bloom of youth began To mantle on his cheek ; and feats of arms , And tales of battle, on his wondering mind Held not exclusive sway : the strain , that told A lady's beauty , or a lover's woes , Began to rival, and then supersede His earlier sympathies : he dream'd of love ; And beauty in celestial charms array 'd He saw in all his visions. Wide he roam'd O'er neighbouring heights and dells and slopes ; but saw "No creature such as his rapt fancy drew. Sometimes amid the shades, on violet banks Just opening to the Sun, his eye entranced At distance drew the forms of sleeping nymphs 90 Scarce shadow'd by transparent veils , in glow Of heavenly charms: but ere he nearer drew, The vision was dissolved in air : sometimes A peasant girl in nature's simple glow , 32 250 GNOMICA. CII. CVI. Caught the rich tint from his imagination ; And seem'd an angel , till the approach hetray'd The wikl dehision. But he fed his hopes Stili with the waking dreams , which thro' the dav His mind's creations foster'd. The high notes Of many a bard inspired, from hour to hour, loo And week to week he con'd , till equal strains He struggled to indite; and as the web Of his bright textures stronger grew , he seiz'd The lyre, and struck the chords s) mphoniously To his young fablings. In the yellow^ groveo !Nymphs seem'd to people the dim shadowy haunts , And gleamy openings: cross the concave dells To the opposing slopes the harp's vibrations Flung the rebounding tones: the beechen glens Of Appenine became a fairy haunt ; no And Heaven's now irreversible decree Destin'd Tebaldo to the calling high , And only fate , to which a Bard is doom'd. The youthful Bard had thro' a toilsome day 1 1 4 Roved till his limbs were weary ; stretch'd at night On the hard pallet of his native home , He slumber'd deep, till a strange vision came; It had an angel's shape and wings : the blaze Of an angelic beauty ; and a voice GNOMICA. CH. CI. 251 Melodious , as if of celestial birth. 120 It stood below Lis feet ; and gazing long With smiles of good ineffable , it spake Thus to his ravish'd ears, «0 come with me; ^Kise from this dreary solitude : the world , ))And all its joys await thee!» At the sound, Or seeming sound, he woke : but all was dark, And silent : then a chill came over him; And in the hope the vision might again Visit his longing senses, he composed Himself again to slumber: but the Form i3o Ileturn'd not : and he rose with feverish pain To soothe his restless spirits with the balm Of morning air fresh blowing o'er those heights Aerial: the faint murmur of the wave That, leagues away, foam'd on the shelving shore, He deem'd his. ear could catch: he climb'd the spire And thought he saw the white sails , ( which in song Of bold Crusader were so oft rehearsed , ) Borne on the wave quick -glancing in the Sun ; Then down with trembling hands and beating heart i 40 Fast from that giddy seat he came: a scrip, Companion of his childish walks, he seized , And rush'd to take a slight farewell of her , Who nursed his infancy , and to that hour Was almost all that he of social knew. 252 GNOMICA. CH. CI. ((Beloved, revered! a spirit calls! I go ))Beyoiid my wonted rambles ! if ray feet 5) At night-fall do not reach their usual home , »Alarm not thy fond heart ! I go to seek »My father : — and the call of Heaven impels, 1 5o ;)Vvliere Hope resistless points to Glory's paths ! » There was no pause for a reply : as if With winged swiftness his light form withdrew ; And mid the foliage of the beechen glen Eluded sight. The Dame astounded sat Mute, trembling, tearless: her amazed thought, Eeft of conjecture, sunk to vacancy: And when the night return'd , the same dull state Render'd her senseless of tlie void : .the morn Broke on her stupor ; and another day i6o Was still without account : another night ; And yet no footsteps: a low murmur rose Up from the grove that at tlie rocky base Of the lone Turret sloped t' th' dingle: blasts Tiicn shriek'd to th' Adriatic: by th' alarm The sad deserted Dame aroused, exclaim'd, ((O my Tebaldo ! thy defenceless head, »Where rests it now ? ^^ And then she wept; and tears Believed her sorrow : and from day to day Still she wept on , till a calm melancholy 170 Subdued her mind to patience ; and the time RoU'd smooth, tho' tedious; and by fits sweet Hope GNOMICA. CH. CI. 253 Would break the clouds by transient rays of light. Tebaldo rambled far ; and rested nought , Till Night's dark mantle overspread his patli. Then in an humble cot he entrance found ; And hospitable cheer , tliough homely : much His host he question'd; and his host as much Of him demanded : long his road had been ; Descending still; yet never at the base. i8o But he at length was near t^,e plain : he learn'd Many a strange tale of weary travellers Passing the same worn path : for oft the cot Tempted the wanderer when the sliades of night Surprised him at the m.oimtain's foot : a book Lay on the sliclf whicre pilgrims wont to sign Some brief memorial of tlicir resting place. Here many a name , and many a mystic note , And many a wish , and many a sentiment , Tebaldo read with curious e^^e, while thoughts 190 Busy , confused , and multitudinous , Loaded his aching mind ; and to his heart Sunk with oppressive weight ; for much of grief, Of danger, disappointment , wrong , and pain , And want, they spoke; and benefits forgot; And ill return'd for good ; and faithless love ; And Beauty's treacherous charms ; and emptiness Of station, honours, riches ; and the prayer For still retreats , where from a stormy world Virtue and Innocence alone are safe, 200 26A GNOMICA. CH. CI. cds this an omen ? is it destiny , » Tebaldo cried, «that at the outset thus »I meet a bKght to all my sanguine hopes ? » Aurora pierced the shades of night : the song Of earliest bird greeted the rising ray , When sad Tebaldo , by deep slumbers sootlied , Awaked refresh'd : \\q bade his iiost adieu With many a grateful wisli; and on his road Trudged lightly thro' the dews ; tlie mountain- tops Lost in the billowy vapours , with the clouds 210 Seem'd mingled ; and now with a wistful look He turn'd his eyes with starting tears bedew'd , But saw no Tower, that many a league was wont From topmost Appenine summits to reflect The glancing sunbeam : his presumptuous zeal Had rasiily ventured , till wliate'er had grown Twined with his heart-strings, was removed,. perchance Removed for ever : fix'd he stood ; and paused A moment as if lie his hasty steps Would backward trace ! But shame and self- reproach 220 Revived his resolution ; and again \Yiili an elastic spring he rusii'd away Still downward to tiie plain: then in the gleam Of kindling Dawn a cluster of light spires And towers and battlements announced a ville ^ Such as the illumined page of rich Rom.a:ice GNOMICA. CH. CI. 255 Had often pictured to fiis wondering eye. Ere yet an hour Iiad pass'd, fiis ready step Approacli'd the frowning fortress , where the guard Of massy draw bridge, and the spiked power aSo Of iron-tooth'd portcullis , tyrant-like , All entrance but at will forbade. Profound Tiiro' his young bosom tremors ran, and shook His light and healthful limbs, but open stood The studded folding-gates, and down tlie bridge Fell even with the path ; and peasant-trains With their green offerings loaded, greeting pass'd The fearful arch ; — and mingled with the rest, Himself of peasant-mien, Tebaldo went. Within was all in movement ; flags display'd, 240 And canopies high-lifted ; ribbon'd maids , And lads in holiday attire ; and sound Of hammers busy; and display of seats Row above row of new-raised scaffolding ; And moving bands of music , in far streets Scatter'd, that with a minglement of notes And strange conflicting echoes fiU'd the air. 247 256 GNOMICA. CH. evil. CHAPTER CYIT. Extract of a Letter. The line of worldly success. Use of Books. 12 Sept. 1823. All the good and complacence of life depends on opinion and sentiment: and all one has to do , or wishes to have to do , with fa.cts, is to keep them down , and manage them , so as not to disturb or overturn these more essential sources of our proper Being. — There is no knowlege which the vulgar think of any value except tfjat which conduces to what they ca.ll practical wisdom. — By prac- tical wisdom they mean a skill in the artifices and tricks , by which worldly-minded men suc- ceed in life over the ill-placed faith of simple rectitude. It is now become clear to my conviction that no one can advance himself in life by honest means. — Providence permits this : and we are not bound to account for it, to justify our be- lief in it. — The great weapon of success is hypocrisy and dissimulation. And if it be so , and we cannot help it , nothing is more desirable tiian to knovif that it is so — GNOMICA. CH. CVII. 257 All Other knowlege is nothing compared with an insight into the human character, — with an acquaintance with the movements of the heart; and the springs of action. — No valuable inteUigence is drawn from dry facts ; we want principles and axioms. It must not be supposed, that because there is only one mode of success in the line of ambition or riches, that therefore ail other kinds of intellectual eminence are idle and empty. — A very large portion of the mass of mankind are not destined either to pursue ambition, or to seek riches. — They have to live upon the plenty, or the competence, which their lot has bestowed upon them : and they are at leisure to enlighten or adorn their situation by wider principles of truth, and more disinterested viev,s of what surrounds them , than those who are following by detestable chichanery their own private benefit. — To such persons an ideal world is infinitely more desirable to be cultivated , than a cold and dull adherence to hard reality. — In their intercourse with business indeed it will not do: because business cannot with impunitj assnme that mankind are better than they are ; nor lay aside that suspicion and severe enquiry , of which the absence is sure to be taken advan- tage of. ~~ 33 258 GNOMICA. CH. CVII. It raises an irresistible inference that it is not the intention of onr nature , that we should always be thinking of ourselves, and our own affairs and interests, — when we consider, that no mind ^f sensibility, generosity, and virtue, can continue for any length of time to brood over its own concerns without producing morbid anxiety and diseased enfeeblement or fever of intellect. Relaxation, and a change to subjects less intensely personal, always becomes neces- sary. If food and amusement are wanted for the body, — what does he deserve who finds food and amusement for the mind ? — Yet men who devote themselves to these honourable services, are neglected , despised, and calumniated. — 1 3 Sept. The Mob are apt to say , that Books teach us nothing practical, — nothing which enables us to act better. — ■ Many books do not, — be- cause they are bad books , — written by un- sound and false minds ; — which are specious , but not wise ; — which deal in charlatanic frippery, either from vanity, or mistaken power, or mercenary desire to obtain money by pampering the corrupt appetites of the Public. GIN^OMICA. CH. CVII. 259 But a good Book jnust have influence over action , as well as thought. Yet suppose it had not, — its use is not destroyed. Human Beings are as responsible for a right mind y as for a right conduct ! It is not sufficient that good should be done ! — it must be done from right jnoti^es I The head and the heart must be pure, as well as the hand and the tongue. — When silly people talk of Poetry as an idle occupation , they do not know what true Poetry is. — Poetry is the highest class of moral phi- losophy , — animated with life , and enforcing its truths by brilliant , touching , and irresis^ tible eloquence. The narrowness and selfishness of common and groveling minds tries every one's talents and qualities, by the sole test of the degree of his success in advancing his own personal in- terests in the world ! — But so far as this is a test at all , — it is the test of mean facul- ties, and a base disposition. — A man's private interests are, in nine cases out of ten, opposite to the principles of truth and virtue. When once the intellect is directed to watching opportunity , and taking advantage of weakness, carelessness, or torpor, it becomes crooked, and rotten , even if its native tendency and power be good. Mankind are in general too stupid to see 260 GNOMICA. CH. CVIII. the use of that , of which tlje consequences are not direct. They cannot perceive tl^erefore how tliC wis<]om operates , which throws its light circuitouslj , or from a distance, — CHAPTER CVIII. Sincerity in composition, II Sulf 1823. All that is said pompously and vainly, goes for nothing. Truth and sincerity at once touch the heart and the understanding. True Genius has a character impressed upon it by Nature indelibly and irreversibly. Its im- pressions are positive, not accidental : unattai- nable by art ; and unchangeable by art. A man of mere talent may direct himself by the models which his genius and his wishes choose. What- ever therefore is held best in the reigning day, he naturally desires to imitate : — but this changes ; and he has therefore no fixed cha- racter. But what is fixed by nature, even though bestowed on few ; is sure to find a mirror in the minds of others who have it not. « Each of those illustrious writers » ( Rousseau and Byron,) says the Ed. Rev.^' N.° 60. p. 88,-— GXOMICA. CH. CVIII. 261 (c has filled his work with expressions of his » own character , — has unveiled to the world » the secrets of his own Being , — the mysteries )) of the framing of man. They have gone clown » into those depths which every man may sound y) for himself J though not for another; and they » have made disclosures to tlie world of what they w beJield and knew there ; — disclosures thai have » commanded and enforced a profound and uni- » versal sympathy , by -proving that all mankind^ » the troubled^ and the untroubled, the lofty » and the low , the strongest and the frailest^ » are linked togetlier by die bonds of a com- » mon but inscrutable nature. » — It is said that a crime will out. » — Every one is eased by the confession even of guilt ! Both concealment and disguise are always painful. But when one feels a consciousness that one's sentiments and thoughts , though peculiar , are noble or pa- thetic or beautiful , how much more strong is the incitement to communicate them! — - AVe feel a complacence from having brought our most internal and secret emotions to the test of other men's judgments ! — The shyness and sensitiveness of eenius often forbids it to do so face to face : — but fortitude returns in the closet ; aru:l it dan be content to give the pic- ture to the public through the medium of the pen. 262 GNOMICA. CH. CVIII. If we learn that a Poet, who m his writings affects to describe vivid impressions and strong emotions, does not in reaUty shew that he is more forcibly struck or more powerfully moved than the generality of mankind , we lose much of the interest we should otherwise have in his compositions: the illusion of reality is lost! — In the life of a Poet, therefore, it is the relation of these traits of characters , about which we are inquisitive ! — If we find that an author has mingled among mankind in the ordinary ^^ay; has accustomed himself to ordinary occupations ; and seems to have had only ordinary and vulgar feelings, we lose or diminish our belief of his genius. To suppose that a man can imagine strong feelings attached to an invented character , and yet not have them associated with the images of his own actual experience , appears to the eye of reason an inconsistencey and absurdity. To give a narration of what goes beyond the surface of life is perhaps difficult. It re- quires acute observation to discover ; and frankness and courage to relate. When an author tells of himself, not what he is , but Avhat he Avishes to seem to he , he furnishes no materials to the philosophy of the human mind: when he speaks of what is, he supplies facts ; his opinion may easily be mistaken as GNOMICA. CII. CVIII. 263 to what it is desirable to be ! — If he is sin- cere, and gives an unvarnished story, he need not be afraid: for the movements of the human heart are uniform ; and there are numerous points in which nature acts on a common principle , in all ! — cc But many poets of great imagination , and )) invention » ( it may be said ) « have left no » records of strong personal emotions ! » — This may be because they may not have ac- customed themselves to embody in language and preserve by the pen that part of their mental workings ! — It could not have happened that they were free from such mental workings. — But it may be asked if these emotions are desirable, or subjects of boast ? — And if tran- quility and self-possession be not a much better gift ? For those who are destined to go thro' life as passive and negative characters it may be : not for those Avho are called to act a part of dominion and preeminence. The uniform consent of mankind has con- ferred admiration on those who feel vividly , and think forcibly ! — But they must think without extravagance or exaggeration : for these are not real genius. They are the false strainings after effects, which spring from weakness. — 264 GNOMICA. CH. CIX. CHAPTER CIX. Progi^ess of Poetry. 5 ISov. 1823. Gray in his celebrated Ode , The Progress of Poesy , traces this progress <.^from Greece to Italy, and from Italy to England. y) He adds in a Note , that « Chaucer was not unacquainted with the writings of Dante or of Petrarch. The Earl of Surrey and Sir Thomas Wjatt had travelled in Italy , and formed their taste there: Spenser imitated the Italian writers : Milton im- proved on them : but this school expired soon after the Restoration ; and a new one arose , on the French model, which has subsisted ever since. » This is true: but it is so brief, as to omit some necessary subdivisions. Milton did not fol- low the same department of the Italian school as Spenser , who followed Ariosto while Milton followed Dante. At the same time the minor English Poets of the first half of the seventeenth century , such as Carew , Herrick , Lovelace , Stanley , followed the school of minor Italian poets , who had endeavoured, however imperfectly, to form them- selves on the school of Petrarch. These mixed the materials of true poetry GlYOMICA.. CH. ex. 265 with metaphysical conceits; and thus alterna- tely produced passages of h!ght and darkness. Such conceits were occasional in Petrarch : they were the essence of the ingredients most songht and valued by his successors. And thus it was that many supposed n^^als of Petrarch were subsequently raised among his countrymen , whom weak critics endeavoured to persuade the Public for a little while to have even ex- celled him. This has , indeed , been the case in all ages of literature. When a gTeat Genius appears , and attracts the attention of his coun- try 5 imitators copy faults ; and not merits. CHAPTER ex. Poetj'j , not an art of Kvords. 11 Oct. 1 823. Fashion has changed the Art of Poetry into an Ai^t of wonder-making words : and the mul- titude is so pleased with this change , that it is furious against whoever impugns it. But Poetry is the Art , which animates the past or absent events of human Beings with Ufe ; invests them with interesting circumstan- ces ; or assuming the facts as known , describes the feelings or imaginings suited to tbem in metrical language adapted to the /jre. 34 266 GNOMICA. CH. ex. Such has been the natural origin of the Epic ; and such , of the Ode , or Song. As in ad- vancing hterature these compositions became more technical , the primary ingredients and objects became more and more eclipsed by the substitudes and accessaries , till at length the substance and matter was forgotten ; and all merit was deemed to depend on the language; that is , on the glitter or surprise of the dress. One word too much , one word of cum- bersome cloatliing , is a detraction from genius , or from the object of true poetry. All illustration which outshines that which is intended to be illustrated , withdraws the attention from that on which it is the object to fix it. Tiiere is a transparent eloquence arising from force and beauty of tiiought , of wiiich tjie least artifice , the least mark of study or labour , destroys the spell. Whatever is recondite there- fore, is repugnant to the cliarm of tjis trans- parent eloquence. The effect of life , of present imagery, is instantaneous impression : not that which is evoked by slow operations of the intellect. Tales are the native subjects of poetry : these do not shut out its more spiritual parts; but give, on the contrary , the best opportunities for the display of them. Where the imaginative pre- sence of objects by raising strong emotion gives an accompanying depth of colour to tiie diction GNOMICA. CH. CXI. 267 in which they are related , a style rich and glowing is produced naturally , and without effort. But all the arts , by which this style is at- tempted to be imitated , produce for the most part empty and unaffecting sounds. No imi- tator knows where to be rich , and where to be plain : the natural and unborrowed feeling can alone teach it : and this can only be inspired by the vivacity of intellectual vision which results from an innate force of imagi- native power. Gaudy language is poetry only to the eye , and ear ; and not to the mind , or heart. It neither enlightens the understanding; nor awakens sympathy. Wherever a Poet describes what is actually present^ the poetry can consist only in the ex- pression; — the subject matter is not an ima- gination , but a reality ; and therefore not a creation. CHAPTER CXI. Analysis of the faculties of poetical genius, 3o Oct. 1823. I . If the organs of Sense are clear , the human perception of outward objects is proportionally lively. 268 GNOMICA. CH. LXI. 2. If the emotion of pleasure or pain from the perception is strong , there is sensibility of heart. 3. If the mind observes , reflects , and reasons justly upon the subject , there is understanding. 4. If after the outward object is removed , the impression of it still remains before the mind's eve as lively as when the object was actually present , there is fancy. 5. If that impression continues long the same, when an interval of time has elapsed since the removal of the outward object, or can be re- called exactly in the same state, there is memory. 6. If the images of fancy , which represent the forms of outward impressions , can be com- bined by the mind so as to create new forms by new arrangement of parts ^ drawn from dif- ferent images , and yet preserve a probability aud union of character, there is Imagination. 7. If a power of language exists sufficient to express adequately these images such as they appear to the eye of such a mind , there is literary genius. 8. If the images are grand, tender, or beau- tiful , tliej are of a poetical character. 9. If the adequate language which presents itself for images of any one of these qualities, associated with these operations of the mind or heart, is thrown into metrical arrangement, the person so qualified is a poet. GNOMICA. CH. CXI. 269 If all these qualities then are separately and' distinctly admitted to be possessed by an author, can anr one deny that he is entitled to the credit of possessing a poetical genius? Perhaps it Will be urged , that they mav be all pos- sessed , } et all in too faint a degree to pro- duce more than mediocritj ; — and that then the are of no value, — because we know fiOin Horace's authority what it is Mediocribus esse poetis. It can scarcel/, however, be admitted that an assemblage of such qualities will not go be) ond mediocrity : the cooperation will produce a gene- ral strength ; the strong will aid the weak , if some of the qualities should be weakly pos- sessed. To suppose them all possessed , yet all ' faint, and all in an equal degree of faintness, is too improbable a supposition. It is indeed to den'/, what has been already required to be conceded as a datum. But it is worthy of remark , that Avhile the credit of such poetical genius has been spa- riiiglv" and hesitatingly allowed to persons pos- sessed of ail these qualities , it has been pro- fusely lavished on many who possessed only one or two of the most prominent of these quali- ties : — such as fancy , or imagination ; — without sensibility of heart , force of understanding , 270 GWOMICA. CH. CXII. taste, judgment, or command of just, and po- lished, or metrical language. This arises from the gross perceptions and bad taste of the multitude, who prefer what is striking and exaggerated to the grace , polish , harmony , and perfection , which result from just proportions. CHAPTER CXII. Pursuits of Genius as -virtuous and justifiable , as those of more active life. 8 l^Qv. 1823. If all our life is to consist of active duties; if it be not the permitted destiny of some of us to while away our stay here in innocent amuse- ments , what multitudes are wandering in wrong paths! — To some privileged Beings it seems allotted to seek to enjoy those properties of our existence, which are gratified by the gran- deur and beauty of the Creation around us. It is not necessary that all mankind should enter into a conflict of interests , and pursue the path either of ambition , or private enrich- ment. There are many , on whom Nature has im- planted the intrinsic love of magnificence, pro- GIVOMICA. CH. CXII. 271 portion , delicacy , harmony , and tenderness , independent of ulterior ends ; without reference to usefulness , and antecedent to the graduated dictates of reason. The indulgence, improve- ment , and disciplined augmentation of this love, may be a due fulfilment of part of our earthly destination. A sensibility to the scenery of inanimate Nature , enlivened by that which is animate, is itself a virtue. It cannot be ques- tioned that its exercise purifies , refines , and warms the heart. I never cease to admire the following ex- quisite passage of Campbell , in his critique on Beatties poetry. « It is the solitary growth of the genius of Edwin » , ( the Minstrel , ) cf and his isolated and mystic abstraction from mankind , that fix our attention on the romantic features of his genius. — Instead of mingling with the troubles which deface creation , he only existed to make his thoughts the mirror of its beauty and mag- nificence. » Whatever enlightens our minds, and teaches us a proper estimate of tlaC possessions and pursuits of the world , is at once a source of present complacence , and a guide to the future. Error , doubt , confusion of tliought , are all painful at tae moment , and mischievous in their effects. Tiiere are thousands of unnecessary 272 GNOMICA. CH. CXIl. perplexities, anxieties, and regrets, which recti- tude of intellect and clearness of reflection are capable of throwing aside. TLat , v* iiich does not confine happiness to external circumstances, but places it in the Mind , is most consolatory to the varied outward conditions of Humanit "^j of which it often happens that no personal exertions or virtues can alter tiie course and destiny. — It is quite impossible that a view of things, which limits happiness to riches , and rank , and worldly success, can be true ; — because it would make the dispensations of Providence unequal and unjust; inasmuch as they would be partial and confined to a few persons. He , who cultivates and enjoys pure , refined, and disinterested pleasures himself, and has the talent and exertion to elicit and encourage them in others , is a public benefactor. If some are born to act , many more are born to endure ; ■ — and oblivious antidotes to care , sorrow , and pain , are inestimable. The faculties, which provide for the necessi- ties of mankind, which are fitted to the com- mon business of life , are coarse , and hard. Nice and highly-constituted powers feel an im- patience and revolt at such employment ; as sharp-edged instruments are turned by a block of wood. What are deemed genius and talents GXOMICA. CH. CXIIT. 273 therefore would be Avealxiiesses , if t' e proof of the real existence of t';ese qualities v> ere to depend on worldly skill and success. CHAPTER CXIIT. JVritings of borrowers useless , cumbersome , and due to the Jire. 8 xTop/. 1823. As in our late sta^e of literature, t;,e occn- pation of mercenarv authorship has greatly in- creased , the number c: niec'ianical writers has unproportionally augmented be} ond t'iOse possessed of original powers. Many reasons may- be assigned for t!;is : ^\hen men ^^ ork for lire, their business is to fill tlie greatest space in t'.e shortest time : and memory can perform t as service muc;i more raoidlv than orisfinal tliinkina;'; while what is tiius produced , is probablv more palatable to the mass of readers. Vv^'iat is trite, is easy of conception : tlie reader's understan- ding and prejudices are prepared for it : its verv' dilution in the act of transfer perhaps makes it more pleasant to the \^ eak intellects, whicii would feel a distaste to it in its native vigour. But the tendency wliich it has to discourare genius and leading talent, b/ causing them to 35 274 GNOMICA. CH. CXIII. be confounded with comparatively mean gifts and mean acquirements , which neither obtain nor deserve the respect and admiration neces- sary to excite and nourish the exhausting fires of high capacity and due effort , operates to deteriorate from year to year the force and general character of the hterature of the coun- try where it prevails. Sincerity is sacrificed to mere plausible pretensions ; and the press be- comes the vehicle of every sort of sophistry and emptiness ; and is mainly occupied as the instrument of self-interest, intrigue, and faction; and of deluding the public mind. When men wrote for fame, and not for money, they generally wrote from innate capacity ; and had neither the same interest , nor the same propensity to disguise. It were well if all the repetitions , and re- petitions of repetitions , with which the ware- houses of printers and booksellers groan , were swept into the consuming fire , — even if they were accurate : But they are often not only copies, but inaccurate and bhnidering copies. There are innumerable persons, who, adding memory to a quick conception and command of language, can borrow and repeat what others draw from the sources of their own intellect: but having nothing infixed so as to become a part of themselves , they have no convictions ; Gnomic A. ch. cxiv. 275 — and without the author's convictions what guard have we against his sophistries ? or his repetitions of sophistries? To make an original writer , it is not ne- cessary that his opinions should never have been expressed by others : but it is necessary that he should not have borroived them from others: they must be the result of the workings of his own mind applied to materials collected by himself. In such concurrence with others, is the test of truth ; but not of derivation. Still if what is said , is said badly and im- perfectly when others have said it well , the author affords a proof of his inferiority , though not of being a borrower. Penetrating and experienced critics know in a moment what is original by its very manner; — by its simplicity ; — its clearness ; — its freshness ; — its mastery over the subject. CHAPTER CXIV. Originality. lo ISov. 182,3. What was been said in the last Chapter about originality may require a little more elucidation. The common meaning , which the Multitude affix to the word , is certainly the production of 276 GNOMIC A. CH. CXIV. something which has Dot ])een said before ; — somelhiijg positively iiav. If this were the true meaning, it would exclude at least nine tenths of the finest passages of Shakespeare from the character of originality ; — of which one grand merit is their marvelous consent with the uni- versal experience of mankind. Shakespeare's ori^inaliij consists in deriving his thoughts, sentiments, and imagery, from the sources of his own intellect , bosom , and fancy; and his merit, in conceiving them with more force , and expressing them with more power and beauty , than others. If the same impressions and convictions had not occurred to otiiers , the cliances are that the major part of them would not have been just. Pope says , a True ivit is nature to advantage dress' cl ; If hat oft ivas thought, but ne'er so well expressed; Something , whose truth convinced at sight eve find, That gives us back the image of our mind. » Though this is not a definition of wit , as we now use that word, it is a definition of good writing ; and of what is the fruit of ori- ginal genius. There is, it must be admitted, some httle imperfection in wording it, because it is open to the interpretation that the whole merit lies in the expression , and that it would admit a trite thought , borrowed from others. GNOMICA. CH. CXIV. 277 But this was not Pope's meaning. Pope, I doubt not , intended to convey a position much more conformable to the observation contained in a celebrated passage of Johnson at the end of his Life of Gray, cc The Churchyard, (says Johnson) abounds with images ivhich find a mirror in every mind^ and with sentiments to which every bosom re- turns an echo. The four stanzas beguining , c are to me original : I have never seen the notions in any other place ; yet he that reads them here persuades himself that he has always felt them. » It is true that Johnson is here speaking of an originality , in which there is novelty. Yet Avhen the thought is just , the reader at least persuades himself \\12X he has thought the same before, but could not express it. One province of genius then is to be able to bring out the more imperfect , more dim , and more buried stores of weaker minds, by the faculty of clearer and stronger conception , and more adequate and impressive language. This may be done by those who conceive and express, what genius has conceived and expressed before ; — but never can be done by borrowers ; for the bor- rower is himself the patient , not the agent. As it is of the essence of a genuine produc- tion of genius , that it should find a mirror 278 GNOMIC A. Cll. CXIV. in other minds , so the eager pursuit of posi- tive novelty is always on the verge of offen- ding against this requisite. An easy, trifling, thought cannot claim merit merely because it is not derivative. The thought must have some w^eight; some depth; and must convey some light. Where, though original, it is not new , but has been expressed by other authors, it must be such, as, being exposed to difference of acceptation among inferior un- derstandings, requires the sanction of the con- currence of those which are most able. It seems then that if some critics, when they speak of originality , mean what has been neither expressed , nor thought before; others, though thought , not expressed ; others again , though both thought and expressed , not so well expressed ; they are all too narrow in the limits they fix to the use of this Vv^ord, when applied to the productions of literary genius. Suppose we should meet in the pages of Cowley , Addison, or Johnson , some interesting moral opinion exactly concurrent with one al- ready to be found in Bacon s Essays : yet bearing the clear marks from internal evidence, from the train of thought , the form of words, the raciness , the force , that it took its origin from the native workings of the author's own mind, is the value or merit of such an opinion GINOBIICA. CH. CXIV. 279 destroyed, or its claim to originality extinguish- ed , because something similar had already been given by Bacon , — even admitting that the later writer has reached no superiority of expression over Bacon ? Johnson says , of the morality of Graj's « Ode on Springs that though (k natural , it is too stale, » If this be true , it is objectionable: what is stale y ought not to be repeated, even though it spring from the unprompted move- ments of the author,'s own bosom. But I think that it is not true : at least an extraordinary beauty of expression redeems it from this stigma: the train of thought is select and lucid : and the plaintive tone of breathing senthnent is ex- quisitely touching. The morality therefore, in the attitudes in which it is placed , in the scenery with which it is associated , and in the mellow hues which are thrown upon it , is not stale. No poet has suffered under the hands of criti- cism from wrong and narrow notions of what con- stitutes originality y more than Gray. Campbell (^) seems in part, though not entirely, to agree with the opinion which I entertain on this point regarding him. Gray reversed the common prac- tice of borrowers. They generally attempt to (*) Specimens, vol. yi. p. 190, 280 GiyOMICA. CH. CXV. disguise the theft of thought by putting it in a new dress of language ; in which however the effort at variation is almost always more laboured than successful. It strikes me , that Gray's thoughts are, for the most p:iri, his ocv7i; but his excessive anxiety to enrich and finish, and add art to nature, prompts him, more often than is quite desirable , to resort to the finest gems of his predecessors to adorn his own bril- liant style with a « dazzling excess of light. » He , who boiTOWs from poverty , never unites : he disjoins , and combines with ecpial infelicity. He mistakes dislocation, and new and unsuited position, for novelty of creation: he takes to pieces; but cannot reunite so as to give life and nature. CHAPTER CXV. Critique on two of Gray's Odes. i3 i\W. x823. An allegorical Image is a species of Fiction : it is a personification , an embodiment of an abstract quality. Grays Ode on Eton College is made up of these images. But -poetic Fiction means also Invention : and Invention must be original: and is one of these figures of Gray GIVOMICA. CII. cxv. 281 original? — I think not : all their attributes consist of obvious and known epithets. — It is then in the grouping and choice, — in the com- bination, — that the Invention consists. — It is a choice , which could only be dictated by the hght of Fancy , kindled and augmented by emotion. Fancy alone would not have pre- sented such extensive and contrasted views : for reality exhibits no such images in combi- nation. Gray therefore brought before him this rich and affecting picture by the force of the creative faculties of his mind : the picture, such as he presents, was beyond what mere obser- vation and experience could supply : or if they could supply , could only supply in detached views, — separatedi^ time and place ; and not grouped together. It was an act therefore of powerful Imagination , or Fiction , to shew them in union, contrasting and relieving each other. There is something defective in the essence, the first conception, of the (^^ Progress of Poesy, y> — The « Lyre » ought to have been a person, — a Muse ; — an active, not a passive, object. — The c( Progj^ess yy depends, not on the Lyre itself, but on the characters of the persons thro' whose hands it passes ; and this destroys all unify ; for though a single object is addressed , and is intended to form the topic of consideration and celebration , all the interest and all the 36 282 GNOMICA. CH. CXV. spring of action depends neither on that ob- ject , nor on any one other object ; but on a succession of extraneous objects unconnected with each other. It is not the character of the Lyre , from which the effects are deduced ; - — but the character of those a>ho act upon it. — It may be said that an inherent character in the Lyre is implied, without which the actors could not draw such effects from it: but this is a gratuitous assumption : all the effects de- duced spring from the characters of the actors. !No such fault is to be found in Collins's, Ode to the Passions. There the actors , not the Lyre, are the proposed subjects of the Poem. Perhaps it will be replied , that Collins has in view to relate the eff^s of the Passions on the Lyre: and Gi^aj, the effects on third per- sons , of what is produced by the Lyre ; — so that the Lyre is itself the actor in the latter case, tho' only deri^^atively. But a secondary agent ought not to have been preferred to a moving principal : and Gray himself felt the inadequacy of the -passive instrument, when in the 2.^ and 3.^ stanza of the i.^ Ternary, he himself changed the « L^re » into a « Muse. » *^V^*'VV»'VW%*%^'V-W^ GNOMICA. CH. CXVI. 283 CHAPTER CXYL Metaphysical Poetry. 1 3 ISov. 1S23. English Poetry has never entirely recovered from its metaphysical habits. From the prin- ciple of representing matter thro' its spiritual reflections, it grew to deal exclusively in spiri- tual representations. Material imagery was only used as illustrative of spirit ; and not as a principal. Hence came the poetry of language, and not of matter. — Tiie thought was the fruit of the understanding : — the fancy and imagination were in the dress. — Labour, industry, disci- pline > learning , and art , now superseded ge- nius ; and no poet relied on the gifts of nature , and the unsought energies of the mind. Fiction in its simple and obvious meaning began to be forgot ; and imagination , Avhich was taken to be synonymous, was substituted as an accessary ; and not as a principal. — A new order of Poets therefore was now called forth ; and there was a requisition for a different class of faculties. I am inclined, however, to believe, that strong natural genius acts in defiance of all artificial restraints and temporary fashions. 284 GNOMICA. CH. CXVII. CHAPTER CXV 11. True nature of Poetry. Nothing tends so certainly and clearly to a distinct and uniform understanding of the true nature of Poetry , as a constant regard to the true and strict meaning of the word by Avhich it is denominated, — UoiTja-ig is creation. I think this word implies a good deal more than a mere embodiment, in rhythmical language, of images impressed on the fancy from external objects. — It means Imagination : viz. a combination made Avithin the Author's own mind , by the activity and force of his own faculties: — and it is this,- which gives it the character of invention , or cj^eation. This is also the proper and strict sense of Fiction : but Fiction in a looser sense may be, ( or rather is , ) applied to the productions of Fancy : tho' images, which already exist in the Fancy , cannot quite accurately be said to be feigned , or created. However, as it is scarcely possible for an image to be received into the fancy, without the mind adding something to it , or subtrac- ting something from it , the stores of fancy are GNOMICA. CH. CXVII. 285 always mingled , more or less , with the fruits of Imagination : and therefore every production of fancy , is more or less a fiction , or crea- tion. But the degree of Fiction is in proportion to the degree of the prevalence of Imagination , or Invention: and by this standard must the poetical character of a composition be rated. The simple junction of the approximating and consentaneous materials of pure fancy, is but a weak effort of imagination. — Rich Fiction is complex in its combinations : to bring together ingredients remote in their native position, and varied and dislinci; in their qualit}^, is ihe test of the creative power. To join matter and spirit, image and sentiment ; to associate the visible with the ideal ; — to spiritualise matter, and embody spirit ; — hie labor , hoc opus est ! This is Fiction; — this is to create new forms, and cast into them new minds ! This is to in- vent a Jieiv « Eloisa, » — and a new « Bard, » according to the Poet's own visionary and fiery notions ! — All minor poets introduce minor degrees of this sort of fiction, or invention: — but mere versifiers have none of it. — Yet tho' mind and spirit must be greatly prevalent in all high invention, there can be no poetical creation without a mixture of matter 286 GNOMICA. CH. CXVIII. or imagery: therefore metaphysical subjects can never be poetical , except in the language, dress, and illustrations: and that can never be perfect poetry , where the poetry lies only in the ac^ cessary ; and not in the principal. — CHAPTER CXVIII. ^ good Fable of primary necessity to constitute primary poetry. 1 5 iVoi^. 1823. The highest class of Poetry cannot be reached , where there is not a Fable : and therefore short poems, including Odes , seem almost, if not en- tirely , excluded from the highest class. I say almost y because it is possible, ( tliougb barely possible , ) to compress a Fable within the limits of an Ode, But a good Fable , well designed , will not do alone , unless tljere be also powerful execu- tion ; — unless the parts be richly and happily filled up. On the contrary , an ill design may sometimes be rendered attractive by a felicitous finish of the details. Tiiere is , perhaps , but one Fable in the world , which is equally grand and symmetrous in the design, and perfect in the execution: GNOMICA. CH. CXIX. 287 and that is Milton's Paradise Lost. It results from this , tliat the author is entitled to stand at the head of all human Poets. He is not fitted to be popular : — but his inadaptation to popularity arises from his ex- cellence. How is it possible that any thing so exalted, so profound, so eti serial , in winch Nature and Art have combined to do tiieir ut- most, should be within the taste, or the reach, of vulgar conceptions? CHAPTER CXIX. Edward Phillips's Opinion of the Fable proper for an Heroic Poem. i5 Koi'. 1823. Edward Philips , the nephew of Milton , in the admirable Preface to his Theatrum Poetarumy 1675, 12.° (1) expresses himself thus on the subject of the choice and conduct of the Fiction proper to constitute an Heroic Poem. It seems to me to designate so many material points of poetical creation, in so just and at the same (M ^ Selection from this scarce book, containing Phil- lips's Characters of the English Poets , till the death of Q. Elizabeth, (with many additions,) was reprinted by the present Author in 1800. 8.° 288 GNOMIC A. CH. CXIX. time so brief, yet so comprehensive, a manner, that it would be well , if our modern poets and modern critics could always keep it in mind. iilt is not ,y> says he, «« mere historical re- lation , spiced over with a little slight fiction , noix^ and a Personated Virtue or Vice rising out of the ground , and uttering a speech , ivhich makes a Heroic Poem : but it must be rather a brief ^ obscure , or remote tradition ; — but of some remarkable piece of story , — in which the Poet hath an ample field to enlarge by feigning of probable circumstances , in which , and in proper Allegoij , Invention, (the well-manage- ment whereof is indeed no other than decorum , ) principally consisteth ; and wherein there is a kind of tj'uth ^ even in the midst of Fiction, For whatever is pertinently said bj way of A lie gory j. is morally though not historically true ; and circumstances , the more they have of verisi- mility , the more they keep up the reputation of the Poet , whose business it is to deliver feigned things as like to truth as may be ; that is to say , not too much exceeding apprehension, or the belief of what is possible , or likely ; or positively contradictory to the truth of history ! » By Phillips's standard therefore, (and tiiismust be taken to have been Milton's standard,) the monstrous and extravagant must be excluded GKOMICA.. Cfi CXIX. 289 from all poetic fiction which aspires to excel- lence. Verisimility is an essential quality. We do not wonder that tl^e Mob, when tliey seek to have their imaginations gratified, re- quire violent and unnatural incitements. To be moved by proportion ^ simplicity , delicacy , and touches of exquisite fineness, requires native sensibility improved and heightened by long cultivation and comparison. No rude , unedu- cated , and inexperienced eye admires tlie beau- tiful composition and mellow tints of the schools of antient Painters , the Raffaels , Corregios , Guidos , etc. , half so much as a modern daub , glaring with new and unchaste colours , and outraging all the symmetry and harmony of nature. The poet , who aspires to 37 290 Gl>fOMlCA. CH. CXX. immortal fame , must build on opinions of uni- versal extent, and perpetual duration. CHAPTER CXX. The notice of what is great can seldom he new. 19 T^iOif. 1823. Johnson in his criticism on Metaphysical poe^ try, in his Life of Coivley , says that a those writers who lay on the watch for novelty , could have little hope of greatness ; for great things cannot have escaped former observation. » The love of novelty is always the passion of false genius. It is the desire to excite atten- tion by undue means. A deep and forcible thinker may by extraordinary felicity produce what is at once just and new : but a rational hope can only be placed in arriving at a con- currence , (m. the midst of conflicting opinions,) with the thoughts and sentiments of the wisest heads and the most virtuous bosoms. There is however a great temptation to pur- sue novelty. The notice of the Public is seldom first gained but by novelty: though that notice will never be retained long , except where the novelty is founded in truth. GNOMICA. CH. CXXl. 291 CHAPTER CXXL What is unborrofved , need not be positively new ; but must be neithei' stale , nor trijling. 20 JSo^. 1823. Is it not sufficient to say things better than others have said them; — or to rise to a par with the eminent, without having borrowed from them ? — But what is the proof of not having borrowed ? Let it be left to the honest judgment of taste and quick perception ! The tests will make instantaneous impression; — and the impression will seldom err. Of what is trite or stale, the repetition can never have interest or use. But there are in- numerable opinions and sentiments , which , though expressed before, have been but rarely embodied in language; — and only by gifted authors : — these will bear to be enforced again ; and to have other recorded testimonies of consent to them. There are thousands , and thousands perhaps many times told, who cdin judge, for one who can originate. But he who judges with the best, is too apt to think himself superior to an ori- ginator of a subordinate class. 292 Gr^-OiVllCA. CH. CXXII. CHAPTER CXXII. English Poets , who have written prose. 20 J^oi^. 1823. The number of Poets , who have written PROSE , is very Umitecl. We have in England Spenser, Milton , Cowley , Habingdon , Dryden, Addison, Pope, Lyttelton , Johnson , Goldsmith, Thomas Warton , Beattie : — and here perhaps the list may end. But it is to the glory of poetry , that the best style of Prose in our language is to be found among these : for who will deny the palm of excellence, in the style of English prose, to Cowley, Dryden, and Addison? It is not improbable that the lively mind of poets , inasmuch as it gives more of the force of nature to the thoughts , entangles itself less in the technicalities of diction : for it is the labour of art which renders a style heavy and corrupt; and which falls into temporary fashions, that change with every succeeding generation. Superficial critics may suppose that a poet is likely to fall into ^i florid stj le. A florid style consists either of excessive ornament; or, or- nament in wrong places. (^) A true poetical mind ( ^) The charge of Jloridness has therefore been most inappositely , falsely , and ignorantly , applied to Burke. GX03riCA. CH. cxxri. 293 never does this : the eners^v- of its thousfhts is the security against this fault : it is vacancy , or wealLiiess , ^vhich seeks the disguise of over- ornament : real vigour, carried forward by the rapiditv of its o^vn motion, has not leisure to stop to seek it. Of men aspiring to be authors, he who thinks powerfully , will almost alwavs write powerfully ; and it can scarcely happen that one can write powerfully without a good style. An useful book may be Avritten illustra- tive of a particular subject , without great ta- lents ; and here the value of the matter may overcome the defects of style : but to develop and communicate adequately general truths, requires general abilities ; and these can scarcely exist without attaching to them a good style. Vv'hat is general and essential , can be se- parated from its concomitants ; and yet lose nothinsf of its force or use : but of how few o authors can the matter be thus dealt with I — The herd of writers produce only what derives its Avorth from its position and particular ap- plicability ! Their productions are like highly- "wrought plate , in which the quantity of ster- ling ore is small ; and of which the price has ^Tlien his style became rich and fignratiye, it arose out of the subject; and flowed naturally, and almost necessarily, from the warmth of the thought. 29^ GNOMICA. CH. CXXII. chiefly arisen from the workixianship appHed to the form and fashion ; a value not trans- mutable , but dependent exclusively on its existing shape. The number of classical compositions in the English language illustrative of Moral Philo- sophy , which have been able to survive the fashion of the day, and stand the test of Time, may be compressed into a very few volumes. This can only be accounted for by the assumption that such compositions require a degree of genius scarcely inferior to that of poetry. Let it be examined , what authors , ( with the exception of poets , ) furnish positions of general truth to be cited on such occasions ; and the accuracy of this remark will not be doubted. The reason of this it may not perhaps be sa difficult to penetrate. It is by the force of ima- gination, that the mind brings before it the extensive array of materials^ from which general truths can be deduced. Gnomica. cii. gxxiii. 295 CHAPTER CXXIIT. Sonnet. 1 8 Isov. 182.3. He, who remote from vulgar intercourse, Aye holds high converse with the holy Muse , And seeks to soothe his sight with Fancy's hues , His mind , uplifted by the enduring force Of her etherial counsel to the source, Where from the trembling lyre celestial crews Their harmony above the clouds diffuse, Is borne away beyond the discord hoarse Of earthly jars : — but if by chance his ear To that rude dissonance approach too near. Its chords , ( refined to heavenly , ) at the roar Shrink ; and are senseltss , all aghast with fear : And now, the rapture of existence o'er. No voice but that of murmurs can he hear ! CHAPTER C X X I y. Beauties of Shahespeare, 20 i\W. 1828. The Editor of the Beauties of Shakespeare , ( an Editor , whose unfortunate fate is well- 296 GJVOMICA. CH. CXXIV. known, (1) but who shewed great taste in that Collection,) says justly in his Preface (i. there is scarcely a topic common with other writers on which he has not excelled them all : there aie many noblj peculiar to himself, where he shines unrivalled, and like the eagle , proper est emblem of his daring genius , soars bejond the com- mon reach, and gazes undazzled on the Sun, » — I cite this passage , because it seems to me to agree with the positions I have laid down in the preceding Chapters: for here Shakes- peare's excellence is not placed merely on novelty and peculiarity , but in having ex- pressed what had been already said , better than it had been said before. But so it is , that this inspired poet has an indefinable charm , even when what he says is sufficiently obvious , and is not expressed with any peculiarity of elegance or force. To make myself understood , I will cite an instance. On Fortune. (i If ill Fortune never come with both hands full , But write her fair words still in foulest letters ? She either gives a stomach , and no food ; — Such are the poor , in health; — or else a feast y And takes away the stomach; — such are the rich, That have abundance , and enjoy it not, » (^) (1) D.^ Dodd. (2) Second Part of K. Hen. iv. GWOMTCA. CH. CXXIV. 297 I know not whence this inysterions charm arises ; unless it be from the raciness of the style, as if the remark sprung from individual impression , and immediate sensation. I will add another , because it has been copied by a modern poet , in a passage which is in every one's mouth , as if it was peculiar to the last. ^ '■ icSo it falls out ^ That what we have , we prize not to the worth , Whiles we enjoy it; but being lack'd and lost , Why, then we rack the value , then we find The virtue, that possession would not show us ^ Whiles it was ows. » (^) Cowper in his Task says , « ISot to know a treasure'' s worthy Till time has stolen away the slighted good ^ Is cause of half the misery we feel. » The following highly - poetical and almost unrivalled passage is of a different kind ; and shews in what school Milton, Gray, and Collins studied their language. Fairies and Magic. « Ye elves of hills , brooks , standing lakes , and groves ; And ye , tliat on the sands with printless foot {}) Much Ado about Nothing* 38 298 feNOMtcA. CH. cxnv. Do chase the ebbing Neptune , dijid do fly him When he comes back;jou demi-puppels , that By moon-shine do the green-sour ringlets make , Whereof the ewe not bites; and you, whose pastime Is to make midnight-m.ushrooms ; that rejoice To hear the solemn curfew; by whose aid (Weak masters though you be,) I have bediinmd The noontide sun , calVd forth the mutinous winds^ And twixt the green-sea and the azured vault Set roaring war : to the dread rattling thunder Have I given fire , and rifted Jove's stout oak With his own bolt: the strong-based promontory Have I made shake ; and by the spurs plucked up The pine and cedar ; graves at my command Have waked their sleepers; oped, and let them forth By my so potent art, » (^) In the fifth and sixth Hnes of this passage we are reminded of a passage of Cowley; who yet has made an original , quite different , and felicitous application of the image. Speaking of poetical pursuits, that new and profound thinker says with inimitable beauty > « Where once such Fairies dance , no grass doth ever grow. » (1) Twelfth Night. C?^-^ Ji/i-K Ai-aX^ ) GNOMICA. CH. cxxv. 299 CHAPTER CXXV. Notices of Collins y the Poet, 21 Nou. 1823. Ill Gent. Mag. Oct. 182 3, in a a Reiaeiv of Observations on the architecture of Magdalen College , Oxford , » are a few words which con- tain a new notice of Collins , the poet. « //^e have passed many a delightful evening y* says the Reviewer , « among its Members » etc. « have eaten venison with cotemporaries o/'Collins the poet ; and learned from them that he was a pock-fretted man, with small keen black eyes; associated very little ; and was introduced into Magdalen by D,^ Payne, an uncle, whom he offended by refusing to pay attention to him ; and therefore left the University. » So little is known of CoUins's personal his- tory , that for three-and-forty years I have been in the habit of catching eagerly at every glimpse of him. In Gent. Mag. 1781, were a few original notices of him by one who remembered him , which I read at the time with deep interest and affliction ; and which have never since been effaced from my memory. Some years after- wards a few other notices appeared in another Magazine: and these, with what little has been said by Langhorne and Johnson , are , 1 believe^ SOO GNOMICA. CH. CXXV. the Slim of all that has been recorded of him. Manv remembrances of him must long have existed at Chichester, his bir'ih-place; and per- haps may still exist in tradition. Why are the inhabitants of that Citv so supine and insensible as to be silent on the subject ? D.'^ Payne is an uncle , of whom 1 have not heard before. Another uncle, whom Johnson calls Col. MartiUy is called Col. il/ar^//2 Bladen byD.'^ Joseph Warton, if I recollect right. (^) An enthusiastic admiration of Collins, which began in me in very boyhood, has in no de- gree decayed under the freezing effects of age. I never Avill believe any one a proper poet, ■who is not a poet in his heart , as well as in his head : to whom Imagination is not the mi- Stress, rather than the casual and indifferent associate. The Reason may be able by great effort and long -continued exercise to subdue a strong Imagination ; — but it will at the same time subdue and extinguish the poetical power. Collins gave himself up to the inspirations of the Muse : his habits therefore were eccentric; (^) Collins's father was a hatter. Let not the obscurity of their station deprive those , -whose blood he inherited , of the notice to which the reflection of his genius entitles them ! GNOMiCA. cn. cxxv. 301 and the fire blazed too strongly for the strength of the material part of his Being. Johnson in his character of this celebrated man , with whom he lived some years in the intimacy of affectionate friendship, has contrived to express great praise in such a manner , as to have the effect of depreciation. If we exa- mine what are the qualities which the Critic bestows on him , we shall find that he ascribes to him « vigorous faculties » , « extensive litera- ture ;y> (. — he did not cultivate the expression of sentiment ; but his vivid and impassioned imagery was calculated to awaken sentiment in the readtcrs bosom ; though lie left it to raise itself by its own force. His poe- try would have been still richer, if he himself had cloathed it in lan^ruao'e. Collins's colour and combination of words is, for the most part , his own. This probably arose from the originality and vigour of his conceptions : he who derives the suggestion of his imager) from others , must derive it through the medmm of language: and he cannot after- 302 GNOMICA. CH. CXXVI. wards separate the image from its dress: they are indissolubly identified in his mind. A factitious poet is no enthusiast: he performs his work as a task ; and not con amore : an highly-excited temperament would destroy the power to use his tools. What is done by art, is done coolly and deliberately : it arises from painful recollection, and gradual and laborious thought. But enthusiasm awakens the ideas with an instantaneous foixe, which calls up the words with them. In the diction of Collins, therefore, I do not recollect any patches of extraneous ornament. Poets may sometimes have merit of thought, who yet may be deficient in expression : but none can have excellence of expression, who are not at least equally excellent in thought. CHAPTER CXXVI. Milton little admired hy his colemporarles. 2.6 IS'oi'. iSiS. There are a body of authors possessing strong influence over public opinion , Avho are for obvious reasons extremely anxious to establish the position , that popularity is the test of merit. They are therefore always on the alert GZN"OMICA. CH. CXXVI. 303 to deny the commonly - received opinion , that MiLTOPf excited httle of the admiration or notice of his cotemporaries. But this denial on their part must surely be admitted to be vain and idle , when it is recollected that what they oppose is an historical fact: — not a mere matter of opinion. Campbell has very properly noticed , ( and indeed it had long ago been noticed,) that Lord Clarendon says of Cowley, that (c/ze had taken a flight aho<^e all men in ■poetry » while the noble historian does not even name Miltoin-. If it be said that such an opinion may have arisen from the strong political pre- judices of this luminous recorder of the events and characters of his own age , a satisfactory reply may be made by an appeal to the author's unimpeached integrity and veracity; and the whole tenor of his copious pages, in which he is not in the habit of omitting those of a contrary party to him, whenever they have come under his notice , though he may express his strong dis- sent to their political principles and conduct. It ought to be recalled to mind , that Lord Clarendon had spent his youth among Poets and Literati ; and had a great ambition of their intimacy. Milton's early poems were published at a period, when this illustrious Chancellor's youth- ful mind was open to all the charms of Imagina- tion ; and before the dry and thorny paths of 304 GNOMIC A» CH* cxxvr. Politics, in the midst of a furious Civil War, could have totally withdrawn his attention from the Muses. It is therefore demonstrative , that these compositions, so picturesque, so rich, so wild , so full of creative imaginings , so fresh from the very well-spring of poetry, neither met the great Lawyer's own taste; nor were obtruded on him by the taste of others. If bad poetry will not gain favour, where good poetry is to be found, how came Cowley's poems to meet with universal applause , and be in uni- versal demand , w^hen Milton was allowed to live little noticed , and consoled only by the calm consciousness of his own desert ? — I do not mean to depreciate Coivlej: he was an excellent man; of admirable faculties; of inimitable wit; of vast originality, depth, solidity, and recti- tude of thought ; of an heart of transparent frank- ness and purity ; and one of the most elegant , ( if not the most elegant , ) prose - writers of our language : — but that poetry of his, which Lord Clarendon says, took a flight above all other of his time , is deficient in all the prime qualities of poetry. If then Lord Clarendon was so mistaken in taste, may there not be great men in our days, whose opinions in poetical composition may prove to have been equally worthless? — There is but one certain test , — the test of time ; and GNOMIC A. CH. CXXVI. 305 a reference to the model of those works which have continued the favourites of successive agfes. Novelty may perhaps be pronounced to be an indispensible ingredient in the sources of tem- porary popuhirity : and where this is the most operative source , the popularity cannot from its very nature last: for novelty is ephemeral; and the future is death to it. That , which , while it is new ;, has also the extraordinary felicity of uniting with its novelty truth and grandeur or beauty, may continue its attractions in right of these latter qualities, when the short day of the former is past. But it often happens , that the novelty which gives the first attraction , becomes afterwards a de- formity ; and is only endured for the sake of the intrinsic merits with which it is intertwined. It is the sterling sense, and moral sweetness of Cowley J which still retains the interest of the intelligent reader , while those eccentric efforts of ill-directed wit, which were the admiration of his cotemporaries , and raised the poet in their estimation into the heaven of Genius , are perused with wondering disapprobation ; and are only borne for the sake of the rich ore which is buried in them. In sciences, mankind may continue to ad- vance with the lapse of Time , because these are labours of gradation : but that which ad- 39 206 GNOMICA. CII. CXXVII* dresses itself to the universal sense and uni* versal passions of Human Beings , is not to be limited to the taste, or the result of the happier discoveries, of one age or one nation. Science may have continued to advance from the Fourteenth Century : but have any sources ot poetical delight been since discovered ^ which Dante did not know ? CHAPTER CXXVIL On the thirtieth day of November y i823. 3o ISov. 1823. Thirty-nine years ago I expressed in a Sonnet the sentiments which the return of this day of the year suggested to me. (i) It is natural to compare with it what the experience of this long lapse of time has taught me. But to de- tail these feelings would be to enter on a field too open to the propensity to Egotism which I must restrain. The first reflection is, what hopes have been fulfilled ? What disappointments have (^) Beginning « This thy last day , dark Month , » etc» wriuen 3o Nov. 1784 : — printed in Sonnets and other Poems y published in March 1785. See it reprinted in Anti- Critic, p. i85. GNOMICA. CH. CXXVIII. 207 been incurred? What ought Time to have effec- ted ? How much , which was then cause of regret , is aggravated by the passage of almost double tlie number of years wliich I had then lived ? What is done hy labour, requires length of years to bring it to perfection : except in the mechanical and artificial parts of what it has to perform. Wliat depends on strengtli of im- pression and vividness of fancy, will be best in youth. Perhaps therefore it is unreasonable to be discontented that what was not done early , has not been done at all. But what does not depend on labour and time , may yet depend on the fortuitous circumstances of ease and leisure , or difficulties and distraction. It is true that great works of Imagination have not always been composed in a life of calm and security: witness The Fairy Queen ^ and Paradise Lost, Fortitude and self-possession therefore were among the innumerable gigantic qualities of Spenser and Milton. But it is often otherwise : and genius not weak , though far inferior to that of these divine men, may be defeated and paralysed by misfortune. There are various plausible opinions with regard to the advantages of adopting that regu- larity and system in the application of the in- 308 GNOMICA. CH. CXXVII. tellectiial powers of man , of which inferior minds so much over-estimate the effects. It often happens that an adscititious pecaUarity and mannerism is thus contracted , which distorts the judgment , and attrihutes to the force of truth what is the resuU of habit. It is therefore not so much, perhaps, regu- lar and mechanical labour , as unbroken energy at the moment of application , which consti- tutes strength and power ; and ensures success. An uneasy mind seeks intensity of toil rather for its momentary faculty of producing oblivion of all collateral subjects, than for its future good; and therefore perseveres no longer than while the effort has present interest. To have ambition , and yet not to be wil- ling to pay the price of ambition , is , in the eye of mankind , a criminal and punishable folly ; — even though the unwillingness should arise from the nicety of virtue , and sm er- roneous trust in the benevolence and integrity of human nature. It is only Avhen man fails after having used all the cunning and caution which self-interest dictates, that he is pitied. A serene, complacent, temper is most fitted to pass through tlie world without dangers or obstacles : but then it is little capable of pro- ducing those intellectual fruits, wiiicli strike the imagination by their fire , and move tiie heart by their pathos. GNOMICA.. CH. CXXVII. 309 There is a degree of serenity and exemption from care , wiucli often produces even ennui and torpor ; and benumbs the faculties. It too frequently happens , ti.at in propor- tion as one , endowed with brilliant gifts of intellect , becomes more a man of the world, he becomes less a man of genius ; because knowlege of t'le world abates his expectations, and freezes his heart. Wliile his general intelli- gence improves , while iiis judgment ripens , and his observation becomes more precise , that compression of particular powers which makes a poet, dilutes and evaporates. In society he becomes more skilful , more pliant , more communicative , and more sagacious : his eccen- tricities are worn away; and peculiarities which, (at least to tiiC common e}e, ) seemed to border on the absurd , are polisiicd into a conformity with general manners: — but ti^ese are amend- ments , which little mix themselves with his compositions in the closet; and are not trans- missible to posterity. After all , perhaps , neither discipline and labour, nor ease, nor anxiety, nor a state of strong excitement or mental serenity , have much concern with the power or feebleness, the merit or demerit, of the literary productions of genius ; — which probably depend almost ex- clusively on the faculties conferred by Nature : 310 GNOMIC A. CH. CXXVII. — subject however to the influence of the accidents which may awaken or suppress the desire and ambition of excellence in such pur- suits. He who chooses to quit the haunts of the Muses for the haunts of public life , the glory of an author for the glory of a politician or a workUing, must not complain, nor regret that he does not acquire that, for which he will neither use the means , nor pay the price. The advantages to be purchased by literary pursuits are scarcely worth the cost , if those advantages are placed in the attainment of distinc- tion and fame. For these cannot be secured either by IN^ature , or skilful conduct , or both united. What depends on the public , will al- ways be bestowed by caprice , or folly, or in- trigue. But there are other advantages , of a more generous and sublimer kind , in literary pursuits : — the advantages of virtuous occupa- tion and intrinsic pleasure, which combine pu- rity instruction and delight ; which give us the complacence and self-confidence of a more elevated order of existence, and raise us in many respects above the frowns of fortune. A life which directs its labours to public affairs , and the concerns of active business , is more showy and noisy ; but not perhaps less subject to disappointments ; while it has no similar antidote in the virtue and pleasure of the occupation. GNOMICA. OH. CXXVII. 311 He, who grasps at too much, loses all. I have something of a misgiving , that I am myself an example of this. On the other hand , there is a noble self-devotion in the love of honourable fame; — it would not be implanted in us, were it not a necessary incitement « to Iwe laborious dajsy> for the sake of others; if it were not a spur to virtue ; — and if to virtue , then to happiness! — It often happens then that they , who are blamed by others , and who even blame them- selves, may yet have taken the right path. But it is vain to demand that youth should have the wisdom which is taught by the experience of age; a wisdom, that almost always comes too late for action. Nor would that wisdom in many instances be desirable : for why should we be assured too early of that sorrow and dis- appointment , which arle our lot on earth? (i) The prosperous are not happy : we could name men loaded with worldly power , honours , and wealth , who have not been happy ! Why then should they who have been crossed at every turn, complain ? There is a virtue which is independent of success : there are gifts of nature, which caprice , injustice , or malice cannot de- stroy , or change ! There are beautiful glo wings (^) See the last stanza of Gray's Ode on Eton College. 312 GNOMICA. CH. CXXVIIl. of the heart , splendid imaginings , and vigorous textures of thought, of which the possession is too positive, and the richness too admirable to be at the mercy of envy or corrupt intrigue! But we are not to be examined and criticised and censured by mean, groveling, narrow, tech- nical rules; - as if there was not in our better natures a feeling of dehght , a sense of great- ness , far above the calculations of reason ! CHAPTER CXXVIIL To Bacon. Ill was thy fate , illustrious Bacon ! frail E'en though thou wert ; ( and who of fiuman-kind Dares boast that he is free from frailty ?) — thou, Glory pursuing, wert percliance a prey To confidence betray'd ! — Imps, who w^ith pale Dissimulation , while thy miglity mind , Intent on inward light , no outward brow Could spare of circumspection, stole away By foul corruption that great name , whose tale Has fill'd the world witfi pity and with scorn; Eedimm'd thy wondrous course with clouds of night , GNOMICA. CH. CXXIX. 313 Who for a race oi (j^ sapphire blaze y^ \vast born; Bade Genius yield to groveling Foil) 's spite ; And o'er th' immortal mind given Dulness to prevail ! (^) CHAPTER CXXIX. Popularity not indispensihle to useful authorship. 3 Dec. 1823. We know tliat self-love often deceives us in the estimate of our own qualities : yet is there no test of merit but that of popular favour? If so , there is no certain test : for nothing is more proved, than that popular favour is fleet- ing and changeable. It gives distinction, where there is no desert : it withdraws it from desert after it has conferred it. Applying this to authors , there are many who contend that , whether the Public be right or wrong , yet without the hope and chance of popularity , it is useless to write. But this is built on the false assumption tliat the sole legitimate purposes of writing are fame , or lucre. He, who v^rites to improve himself, or (^) See the character of Bacon defended in Xhe American Review (about April) i8a3. 40 314 GNOMIC A. CH. CXXX. to employ and amuse himself innocently and virtuously, has an adequate and strictly legiti- mate purpose. It is true , that his purpose may not be attained ; for he may not improve him- self, nor be either virtuously occupied , or amused : but this will not depend on the dis- appointment of popular favour : it w ill depend on the want of native endowment , and due self-discipline. His own consciousness will suffi- ciently prove to him this defect , when it exists. Friends will not fail to tell it him ; and ene- mies will never lose the opportunity of finding fault. There is little neutrality in the literary world : what is not praised from caprice or corrupt motives, is almost sure to be censured, where it deserves censure; and very often , where it deserves it not. CHAPTER CXXX. Remarh on certain passages in Wordsworth's Prefaces to his Poems , regarding Popularity. 8 Dec. 1823. Though I trust that I never read to borrow, yet I am pleased to bring my own thoughts to the test of other men's opinions for the pur- pose of comparison confirmation or correction. G^OMICA. CH. cxxx, 315 I have dwek a good deal in various parts of this volume on the position that popularity is not the criterion of merit. Within these two days, the Prefaces to Wordsworth's Poems (^) having offered themselves to my perusal , I find this subject treated in tliem with great profundity, great originality , and irresistible truth. The conclusions , to wiiich the author comes , and which he enforces , are identical with those , of wiiich , after forty years of attention to lite- rature and an anxious consideration of this subject during that long space, I have tiie most unqualified conviction; but this virtuous, reso- lute , and enlightened Critic supports his doc- trines in detail, and by reasonings and illustra- tions exclusively his own. It would be more than superfluous , it would be impertinent , for me to copy or extract from a work, which must circulate where mine cannot. Wordsworth well observes (^) , oi popular fa- i^ourites , that they wdio are the favourites of one age are never the favourites of another : but of the fauourites of the Feiv, that they who are the favourites of one age , always continue the favourites of another. This is a complete answer to the only reason (1) 4 ^Ols. 12.0 1820. ^) Vol. III. p. 337. 316 GNOMICA. CH. CXXX. assigned for relying on the test of popular fa- vour as a proof of merit; viz. its unwersalitj. If it were universal , if it were founded in the nature of the heart and constitution of Man , it would be the same in one age as in another. It may be inferred therefore , that it arises from accidental fashions and habits , and temporary- causes of interest. Men, on whom speculative fancies and sentiments can make little impres- sion , are roused by that , in which they have been practically engaged. It may seem difficult to reconcile this with a celebrated passage of Johnson , ( in his Life of Gray , ) which has been perpetually cited , and generally considered to be just , that a by the common sense of readers uncorrupted with lite- rary prejudices , after all the refinements of subtlety and dogmatisms of learning, must be finally decided all claim to poetical honours, y> — v^The Churchyard)) he goes on, v^ abounds with images which find a mirror in every mind , and with sentiments to which ei'cry bosom re- turns an echo. )) But a little reflection will shew that it is per- fectly reconcileable , if we understand this C07?i- mon sense , ( as in correctness it must be un- derstood , y to mean « the common sympathies of our nature , y> in opposition to the sense of a man of science , which « is a personal and GNOMIC A. CH. CXXX. 317 indU'idual acquisition , sloiv to come to us , and bj no habitual and direct sympathy connecting us with our felloiv-beings.y> (^) This is the mirror and the echo which Johnson must mean ; whe- ther they exist upon the surface, and are readily found; or lie mOre deep, and require more pain- ful evoking. Different tasks are assigned to different poets ; according to the character and nature of the Prophetess on whom they call. To some it is decreed « Thrice to pronounce , in accents dread ^ The thrilling verse , that wakes the dead , Till from out the hollow ground Slowly breathe a sullen sound, » (^) While others court light laughing Echoes ready instantly to obey their call. How many Prophetesses has Wordsworth cal- led , and made hear (f-from their beds of rest , » who never were evoked before ! — Who can wonder then if the lore of these Prophetesses sometimes appears a little strange? May the poet have by his example taught his successors to wake such oracles in future from their « iron sleep ! » (^) Wordsworth, iv. 307. See that noble page, and the next down to the end of the paragraph at p. 3o^. (•^) Gray's Descent of Odin. 318 GNOMICA. CH. CXXX. It may be asked , why that which finds a difficult reception at first , makes its way by the lapse of time ? It is probable that authority gradually supersedes imperfect taste , when that authority operates on the young , whom habit has not confirmed in their erroneous impres- sions and faulty associations. But just authority is itself slow in making its way ; comes forward gradually; and is received reluctantly. They who are the least cpialified to pronounce judgment, are always the readiest and the first to obtrude it on the Public ; and thus a seeming authority for the indulgence of a bad taste precedes the authority for correcting and improving it. Men of deep thought and refined understandings do not float upon the surface of society ; are not ready at every call; not easily moved; nor flexible and prompt for every task that may occur to be quickly executed. Periodical Criticism therefore falls into the hands of a more common -place set of writers , whose daily intercourse with the conflicts of society has smoothed away all energies , and made them reject the inconve- nience of all individual opinions , from the ob- vious perception of the impediments encountered by going against the stream , and of the facility of accompanying its course. They Pursue the triumph ; and partake the gale:y) their object is to flattter the public taste, that GINOMICA. CH. CXXX. 319 they may participate of its favour ; and them- selves be carried forward by those labours of others , which they find to be agreeable to the public palate : — not to oppose the cur- rent ; and endeavour to create a taste of their own, Avhich , even if just, Vvould require a long time to force itself in defiance of passions, habits , and prejudices. It is often urged as a proof of the recti- tude of Periodical Criticism that its judgment is generally ratified by the public sanction. But this is to reverse the facts: the judgment comes from the public : and the sanction from the cri- tics ; if therefore it proves any thing, it proves the rectitude of the public judgment : but I take the two to be one ; and only parts of the same opinion. If they ever differ , ^ — ( as by chance they sometimes do,) — the Public is sure to prevail : for it wdll be found that Cri- ticism is unable by any puff , or any sincere praise, to lift into favour a work contrary to the public feeling, or to depress any with which the Public is inclined to be pleased. Critics know this ; and their employers know this; and, as it is one main purpose of these Works to help forward the trade of vendors of new books they finding it to be beyond their power to render saleable what the Public, (re- solved to be directed by its own taste,) is un- ■■■i 320 GNOMICA. CH. CXXXI. willing to buy , do their utmost to help for- ward that sort of inclination which already exists ; and to push forward the market in the course in which it is willing to go. (i) CHAPTER CXXXI. Objection to a particular position of Wordsvvorth regarding the purpose of poetry, 9 Dec. i8a3. I have repeatedly delivered my opinion of the nature of Poetry , both in the present volume and in the ^nti-Critic , to this effect, — that its business is , not to gwe a portrait of reality ; — but to represent the impressions made upon the fancy , and the creations formed by neci> combinations of those impressions , together with the sentiments and passions produced by such impressions and creations. It does not seem to me that I differ from what is contained in WordsivortKs Prefaces as to any essential position regarding Poetry ex- (^) There are certain Reviews , that , besides these , have important collateral objects, which they endeavour to promote by a large intermixture of original discussion. In this respect, they require a different examination, which does not belong to the present Chapter. GNOMIC A. CIJ CXXXI. 321 cept this. 1 infer from the construction I put on page 3o3 of his fourth vohnne , that the nearer poetry in its representations resembles the passions pi'oduced by real e^>ents , the more perfect he considers it. I say that I infer , be- cause the but of this position is to justify the « language uttered by man in real life:f> — but it seems to me that in other parts the inge- nious and profound critic lays down doctrines which exactly agree with my own. In vol. 3. p. 3oo , he says : « The appropriate business of poetry is , to treat of things not as they are^ but as they appear ; not as they exist in them- selves y but as they seem to exist to the senses and the passions. » I must not transcribe the numerous beauti- fully expressed passages from the same work, by which I could fortify my own opinions on Poetry , because it would be to transcribe more than half the Prefaces, (i) (^) Many years had elapsed since I had read these Pre- faces — (of course in the original editions, — ) when the last Edition was brought me from England , in August x823 , after the greater part of this volume was printed. hi 322 GNOMIGA. CH. CXXXII. CHAPTER CXXXII. Resolution and firmness necessary to render Genius effective, 9 Dec. 1823. There is a quality , which Genius often wants ; but without which it will with difficulty , and rarely , ( if it ever can , ) rise to its height. This is resolution and firmness. Wordsworth says with the most affecting magnificence, thatw^/ze/e are select Spirits for whom it is ordained that their fame shall he in the world an existence like that of Virtue , which owes its being to the struggles it makes , and its vigour to the enemies it provokes; — a vivacious quality , ever doomed to meet with opposition ; and still triumphing over it, » (^) Wordsworth himself has exhibited XkA^vivu" <:ious quality ; — this resolution and firmness ; — and he will be rewarded for it. (^) (1) Vol. III. p. 3o8. (2) See the passage in his Preface affixed to vol. i. p. XXXIII. beginning , « if bearing- in mind , » etc. — « je/ justified by a recollection of the insults which the ignoranty the incapable , and the presumptuous have heaped upon these and my other writings , I may be permitted to anti- cipate the judgment of posterity upon myself , » etc. — See also Milton's Latin Ode to Rous, 1646, where he speaks of requiem perfunctam invidia ; — of lingua procax vulgi ; — of cordatior cetas ; of sana posteritas , etc. GJfOMICA. CH. CXXXII. 323 He , who is driven from his hold by the objections , the insults , or the neglects of his cotemporaries , can never do great things. Words- worth says , that « every author as Jar as he is great or original , has had the task of creating the taste by which he is to be enjoyed. (^) The Multitude are courageous by strength of numbers; dant animos socii: but Genius ought to be courageous by force of mind. It ought to examine well before it takes its stand ; — but having taken it, it ought not to be moved again by clamour , or artifice , or raillery , or misrepresentation , or calumny , or scorn , or insult. It should be proof against the attacks not merely of the stupid , — but of that Avhich the world calls brilliant talent ; — the art of know- ing mankind practically in all their faculties , passions, habits, and purposes; and conforming to them , and flattering them in their errors , with the view of ruling them , and leading them to their own ends ! — It is this sort of talent, which is the effective enemy of Genius : — not stupidity , or ignorance : for these last are too feeble and contemptible to do any essential in- tury. Whatever is spiritual, whatever cannot be brought to the test of the Senses , is always open to the degrading jests, insolent wit, and ^) Vcl. III. p. 33o. 524 GNOMICA. CH. CXXXII. irreverent influence of those subordinate abi- lities which are adapted to govern the intellects of the great mass of Human Beings. Ridicule , whether just or unjust, is a weapon, by which few are invulnerable. He , who supphes food to the passions of envy and malice , is sure to find hearers and applaud ers. If the real principles of poetry have a fixed and definite basis in the constitution of human nature, (i) [as it seems to me undeniable that they have , ] tlien false criticism may be ans- wered , and false ri.licule exposed. But to detect unfounded assumptions, to lay bare dist- orted reasonings , and to unravel the wilful mixture of inconsistent principles , requires a steadiness of nerve, a calm self-possession, which the irritation of attack seldom permits to a sufferer; wliile the defence so made, the mob wlio enjoyed the attack, are too impatient to peruse , and too dull to comprehend. It is pity , that men who have spent their whole lives in the coarse bustle of business and practical affairs , will attempt to interfere with the higher departments of literature. Their bent is always in favour of works in the walk of acute and accurate observation ; delivered with that point and wit , w^hich is most calcu- (*) See Wordsworth, m, 3i5. G?fOMICA. CH. CXXXIII. 325 lated to make impression « amid the busy hum of men, » — but as they cannot quite over- come the force of the universally - admitted principle , that the distinction of genius is ima- gination , they sometimes look out for the pro- ductions of this faculty as subjects for their admiration and praise : — and when they do this , they almost uniformly mistake extrava- gance for merit ; and violations of all proba- bility for creative power. There is , in short, something so contradictory and inexplicable in their system , ( if it can be called system , ) that sensitive and morbid Genius gives up all emulation and effort in despair. Meanwhile the meteors they have lifted up , have risen , only to fall of themselves : — but from their ashes, fanned by the same processes , rise and fall others in unbroken succession. CHAPTER CXXXIII, Fame is empty : but the intrinsic pleasure of the legiti- mate occupations hy which it is gained , is solid and durable. c A gentle , genial courtesy of mind , 'To those iviio ivere, or passed for meritorious y Just to console sad glotj for being glorious ; Ji'^liich is in all respects save noiv and ihen , 326 GNOMIC A. CH. cxxxm. A dull and desolate appendix. Gaze Upon the shades of those distinguishd men Who were or are the puppet-shows of praise ^ The praise of persecution. Gaze again On the most favour d ; and amidst the blaze Of sun-set halos der the laurel-brow , What canje recognize ? a gilded cloud \ Lord Byron. Genei'a , 29 Dec. 1823. I do not exactly comprehend how it is , that if' educated persons hai^e thoughts and reflec- tions, these thoughts and reflections do not come out upon paper. The quiet of the closet , and the self-possession of solitude , seem most fitted to bring them out. Yet how many who are suf- ficiently copious in conversation, are attacked by a torpedo of intellect , whenever they put their hands upon the pen. — It would seem by this , as if the generality can exercise a judgment on things presented to them , when they are unable by themselves to present the materials on which the judgment may operate. Nice opinions on the incidents , propensities and fates of human life ; animated natural and just sentiments ; strong picturesque and glowing representations of absent or created images ; — these are not to be expected but from minds highly gifted : — but something much short GNOMICA. CH. CXXXIII. 327 of these may yet have interest and convey in- formation. Many go thro' hfe , perhaps , without deriv- ing any intelligence from experience; or extract- ing any rule of direction for similar cases. A hap-hazard decision is made upon events as often as they arise , without any endeavour at comparison or distinction : nothing is learned for the future ; so that each event stands insu- lated ; and of no value but for itself. But even if bare facts be related clearly and accurately , and with a good selection of cir- cumstances, though unaccompanied by reasoning or observation , they may convey to the reader something useful to be known ; some materials for himself to work upon. Theorists are accused of a want of practical skill. It might as well be objected to the know- lege of a well-instructed and judicious farmer, that he has not an arm as strong and as prac- tised in filling the dung-cart as one of his la- bourers ! It may be said , that there is no virtue in the possession of that , which is a natural gift. — But there is virtue in nourishing it ; and ripen- ing it into fruit. Natural gifts will not advance far, without the aid of cultivation. It happens but to few , to be capacitated to extend their influence beyond the sphere of 328 GNOMIC A. CH. CXXXIII. their personal or material intercourse : — and to still fewer , that that influence should last beyond their own lives ! — He , who loves truth for truth's sake ; who seeks knowlege for its own account , without any reference to the gratification of selfish in- terests or vanities, or of momentary curiosity; is of a very different order of Beings from those, whose only purpose is some personal advantage, or pleasure , arising out of what gives occasion to employ themselves in searching for infor- mation. Innumerable are those , who can learn that which they cannot discover: and among these are many even of such as love truth and know- lege intrinsically. He therefore who is born with the ability of discovery , is responsible in duty and conscience for the waste of that ability. Probably it may be remarked , that he who can do most , can do but little : and that if fame be what he acquires , that fame is a bub- ble , not worth having ! — I am afraid , that it is so : — fame, I fear, is empty; and confers no solid good ! — When our bones are moul- dering in the earth , no a flattery can soothe the dull cold ear of death ! » — But whether it leads to fame , or does not lead to fame; — whether the fame be worth having, or not worth having; he on whom nature GNOMIC A. cn. CXXXIII. 32 Q has bestowed the faculty of original thinkino', and original composition , will not , I presimiC , be happy without exercising the iliculty so bestowed. Env% , Malice, and Love of Detraction, however, take great advantage of this, — that wen of literature and authors are sometimes found to be very foolish persons. Undoubtedly it is easy to read mucli , and bv the aid of a quick and retentive memory to acquire much , without the addition of any of the better faculties of the mind; and it is easy to write books which convey such acquirements , by the same single and inferior power. But what is so acquired and convened, will contain nothing original; nothing solid ; nothing discriminative ; will be wanting even in the novelty of illustration ; will have no force or freshness ; and will con fuse , instead of instructing , the reader , by- its injudicious jumble and misapplication of discordant materials. But to be a powerful and sound author, re- quires all the highest faculties of the mind. Men cannot discriminate with nv^velty and profundity , arrive at grand conclusions , aad express them with adee^uate clearness and strength , unless they are endowed with supe- riority of intellect. Fancy, Sentiment, Reasoning, Memory, and 42 330 GNOMICA. CH. CXXXIV. even Imagination, are necessary for all the higher orders of composition ; inckiding history , which would seem least to require the last faculty. We must have combinations of events strongly presented to the mental eye , before we can accurately discriminate their forms and colours; and imagine the passions of human Beings in conflict , before we can penetrate into motives of action! CHAPTER CXXXIV. On the difference between Classical Poetry j and Romantic Poetiy, exemplified in Horace's Epode , « Beatus ille,» and Milton's « II Penseroso. « 23 Oct. i8i8. Madame de Stael, in her beautiful work De L'Allemagne, has well described the distinct traits of Classical and Romantic Poetry. Observe the different images and sentiments of Horace and Milton , where each is delineating the charms of rural solitude. The images of Horace are all beautiful and natural ; and expressed with ex- quisite accuracy , clearness , grace , and felicity : but they are gentle and pleasing rather than bold : they are not heigthened by the hues of fancy: they have no grandeur, no wildness, GNOMICA. CH. CXXXV. 331 no depth of colouring ; and they are accom- panied by no sentiments but such as a com- mon mind would feel. Indeed I should say that the poem is purely descriptive, leaving the senti- ments to arise in the reader's bosom from the images presented. At the same time it must be observed , that we have in English a justly-fa- vourite poem , in which several of the most touching pictures are so nearly identical with passages in this Epode of Horace , that though I cannot believe that they were borrowed, it shews how the two excellent bards drew , at the distance of two thousand years , from the same fountain of Nature. Every one recollects in Gray's Elegy the lines which correspond with the pudica mulier , ( quae ) in partem juvat Domum , atque dulces liberos ^ et Sacrum vetustis extruit Ugnis focum Lassi sub adventuin viri. And again, utjuvat pastos oi^es Videre proper antes domum ! Videre fessos vomerem inversum houes Collo trahentes languido ! And again in Gray's Ode to Spring the stanza which corresponds with 332 GJfOMICA. CH. CXXXIV. Lihet jacere modo sub antiqud ilice: Modo in tenaci gramine : Lahuntur altis interim ripis aquce : Queruntur in sjluis aves , Fontesque lymphis obstrepunt nianantibus , Somnos quod invitet leves ! But what are the circumstances that attend MiLTOi'^s sohtade : ' and how is his mind em- ployed ? He reads Tales of Anights and Barons bold : he sees solemn Tourneys: beholds Beauty pre- senting the reward of Valour ; and hears aerial mnsic above and around him. This difference arises both from the disparity in the native characters of the minds of these poets ; and from the change produced by time and country in the manners , habits , religion , and superstitions. Whatever nourishes grandeur of forms , or sublimity of thought ; whatever keeps in agitation the bolder passions , produces the fittest materials and fittest age for poetry. The age of reason and philosophy , of severe understanding and sound common sense, is not the age of poetry. MiLTor^'s mind was enriched with all the splendid extravagances of the Gothic ages. What- GNOMICA. CII. CXXXIV. 333 ever was lofty ; whatever m as wild ; whatever was full of terror or darkness , accorded v> ith the sombre hues of his imagination , and the energy of his mighty faculties. He preferred there- fore the blackness of night ; the \^ ar of the ele- ments ; the hour when spirits are abroad; to the smiling landscape enlivened by the sun; the hum of bees; the soft songs of birds; and the ripple of gentle streams. The store of imposing incidents which the credulous annals of the dark ages afforded ; the peculiar and striking features of the Gothic mythology ; the endless train of superstitions •which the corrupt ingenuity of the Popish priest- hood had encouraged ; above all , the sublimity of a pure and spiritual Religion , filled a genius , naturally of the most expansive and exuberant powers , with a grandeur of materials unknown to the Ancients. It is the business of Poetry to be conver- sant with all the most evanescent movements of the Soul ; to embody them in language ; — to give to airy nothing A local habitation and a name. The mere description therefore of the mate- rial world, which is scarcely going beyond the -painter , is but a narrow exercise of the 334 GNOMICA. CH. CXXXIV. poet^s talents. To perpetuate the beautiful or af- fecting trains of ideas which external objects raise in the fertile mind , is a primary duty of this Art. It is its power to unite the material with the immaterial world, which is its highest praise. Perhaps even Milton has not in the // Pen- seroso intermixed sentiment , and associated his ideal imagery, as copiously as he might. But his figures are so selected , as to awaken profound and melancholy contemplation; and his epithets, picturesque and solemn , have all the same tendency. Milton's habits of life , as well as his native propensities , were more fitted to these visio- nary creations of the mind , than those of Horace. He passed his time in solitude ; and in unremitting study of all the extensive erudi- tion of past and present ages ; — in the neigh- bourhood of a luxurious and crowded Court, rendered odious to fjim not merely by its vices, but by the neglect with which his indignant genius was treated. — Horace , on the other hand, was a favoured Courtier; was a man of the w orld ; and would have learned in society to suppress the wild flights of an erratic ima- gination , if Nature had implanted them in him. GNOMICA. CH. CXXXV. 335 CHAPTER CXXXV. CONCLUSION. 19 Feb. 1824. The Reader has here an unstudied Collection of my Detached Thoughts. Wliat they are worth, it would be idle in me to attempt to prejudge. I am aware of frequent repetitions ; but I trust that the apology made by VJbbe Truhlet for such repetitions , (^) in such a work as this, has sufficient force in it to protect me from all ra- tional censure on this account. As to impertinent and hard-hearted censure , I have lived too many years and incurred too many acts of injustice and disappointment , to be much and long affected by it. I know that all success in this world is secured by charla- tanism, intrigue, and corruption. I know that he , who will not condescend to maneavre , and work crookedly and underliand, has as much chance of gratifying an honest ambition in the paths of public life , (*^) as he , who plays with in- tegrity and honour , has of winning a game against professed gamblers who use loaded dice ! — I know that it is exactly the same in Lite- rature , as it is in the more active walks of (*) See my Prefatory Letter. (**) There are exceptions to almost every position : but the exceptions to this are very rare. 336 GHOMICA. CH. cxxxv. Political and Professional ambition! I Imow tlie means by which popular favour is to be won: but I would sooner be a driveller than use them! For forty years I have gone my own way ; never seduced from that which tlie native im- pressions of my heart told me to be the true ; — neglected , traduced , and chilled , no doubt, and rendered gloomy, by the neglect ; but never yet allowing the clouds and rigid coldness that enveloped me , entirely « To freeze the genial current of my soull » I speak not of civil rights : tljis volume is not the place for such discussions : I speak not of the fool's hope of the security of laws in certain cases against particular classes of poli- tical power : I speak not of the rottenness and impotence of constitutional principles , perpe- tually-repeated statutes , and solemnly argued decisions of the most illustrious Judges , against the passions, the interests, or the caprices which may so happen to spring up : — all tfiese are reserved for their due channel and opportunity. I allude to parties, factions, and combinations, ( perhaps I may be justified in saying conspira- cies , ) of another kind. But if a man loves fame , and praise , let him not trust to merit; — even admitting him GNOMICA. CH. CXXXV. 337 to be sure that he is not mistaken in his own self- estimate ! And what other person will be- lieve that he is not mistaken , when the Public is not with him ! He may have friends tliat wish him well : — but what will that avail , if they have not sufficient strengt'i of mind to form their own opinions : or sufficient taste or judgment, even where they have the courage, to think rig^.tly ? The few , wlio think for themselves , and think rightly , are not those who make the most noise, and dictate to otiiers with tlie most activity and importunit} . T'je still small voice of reason and taste is perhaps heard at last : but it is long before it is heard ! Yet we cannot keep our full thoughts pent up in our bosoms : — if they have no vent , they will breed diseases , and settle into im- penetrable clouds. Without expectation of fame or praise , therefore, he who has habituated his mind to constant exercise may find an ade- quate gratification in committing his thougjis to paper and to print. For wlio ^viil write un- less with the hope of bringing the fruits of his mind to the test of at least some other judgments, however few and select? To what is to remain closed up and hid from all eves in the writer's Common-P lace-Boo k y he has no excitement to give a moment of painful labour, 43 338 GNOMICA. CH. CXXXV. or spare a moment vvhicli can be more plea- santly spent. Tiiere exists not the person who even in despair would not wish to leave a pleasing memorial of himself in some kind and partial bosom. And thus it is that I return to the point whence I commenced my course in the first chapter of this volume. My circle them is completed: and here I am called on to end. « To morro{\> to fresh woods ^ and pastures new, » While my faculties remain, the subjects of moral discussion which interest my curiosity will never be exhausted. END. CATALOGUE. ^ WORKS PRINTED AT FOREIGN PRESSES , smcE 1818. 74. Coningsby^ a Tragic Tale, Geneva^ 18 14, 12.° 76. hord Brokenhiirst^ a Tragic Tale^ Geneva^ 18 19, 12..^ 76. The Population and Riches of Nations considered. Geneva^ 1819 , 8.° 77. "What arc Riches? Genes a ^ 1821 , 8.0 78. Sir Ralph Willoughhy , a Tale. Florence^ 1820, 12.'^ 79. Atavice Regice, Royal Descents. Florence , 1820 , 4«° 80. Res LiteraricF. vol. i, Naples., 1820, 8.* 81. — — vol. 2.. Rome ^ 1821 , 8.** 82. — — vol. 3. Geneva^ 1822, 8.° 83. Polyanlhea Libroriini Vetustiorum, Genevce::=i back; ani iiii — i !lu:- For mil : _r -i:~ . ^ z _. HatKz Bbckr IVei 111 ~y boson; acf 5 ^3 -yl-te : ' . 115 e^&Kt I ki -n-iike coli — v Itu Tl^: - 1 But am I happy? — In this calm of pride; In this defying confidence, that asks No flattering tongue , and hopes no praise sincere, Is aught of joy ? Or will it turn aside The Ministers of Sorrow from their tasks ; Or soothe away th' incumbent Phantom , Fear ? Alas , such mighty powers it has not ! — Still It has a charm to ward off many an ill ! — It dissipates the blight accursed , that comes To nip the tender blossom in the bud ; It backward bends the savage blast , that dooms Fruit , foliage , to the ground , in ruin strew'd : It nurses Contemplation in her cell ; And bids the poet with enchantment dwell On dreams of fairy form created by his spell. There is no happiness : — but in the pains Of our existence multiplied degrees Vary the trial , to which Heaven ordains Each mortal's lot by its unscann'd decrees- Rule to the heart, and culture to the mind) The fortitude that bears with human wrong , And nurses still its fires; th' enduring eye. That looks on Folly's triumph , yet is kind , And keeps michill'd its energy of song , And cherishes within th' emotion high ; The Hope that never dies ; the spring of joy , Which nor clouds stain , nor earthquakes can destroy ! Virtues like these , dominion over Fate Hold not entire ; — but they can yet appall The fiendlike eye of Envy ; and when Hate Lifts the dread dart aloft , can bid it fall Without a blow from the recoilincr arm: And blast the rage that strove to deal the deathlike harm. But why is glory to the wise denied id) Why flourish in the sun of wordiy smiles Corruption , Meanness , Avarice , fraudful Gains ; All Moral Turpitude ; all senseless Pride ; Each false Pretence ; Deception that beguiles Worth of the pittance that sad life sustains ; And Genius of its self-supporting fires ? Why waits success on heartless Crime's desires ? While he , whom all of grand , and all of fair , And all of tender , ravishes with bliss Ineffable , — abandon'd to despair , — ■ Is left in tears Affliction's rod to kiss ? « Scorn to the bard , » the flippant censor cries , «Scorn , and neglect , and penury , and woe , ))Who dares with voice malign on Fortune's ways »To comment ! — Let him spend his nights in sighs, >jHis days in lonely gloom : — but let him go wFar from the chearful haunts of Man to raise )>His chill laments ; and leave the light and gay «On gilded wings of Pleasure , while they may , j^Beneath the sunshine of their fate to play ! » — But what must happen , there is joy to see In its bold colours painted to our view ! We love companions in our misery : We love the tears that are to Pity due ! There is a grandeur in Adversity , If still to her resolves heroic true , Though bending to the storm , she lifts on high Her head unconquer'd o'er th' assailing crew ; And in defiance bids the foe his blasts renew ! — But once more cease , my Lyre ! thy trembling strings For even wildly sounding have no rest : From my full heart still breathe th' incessant sighs , (O With which each tender chord responsive rings : Then by its weight of thought no more opprest, Bouyant my elastic bosom seems to rise! Yet who will listen to the self-same tone , That like the lulling wind's unvaried moan, Still murmurs on unbroken ? — Leave the space To harps that can with airier music grace The listening crowd ; and strike with livelier sound The spot where Nymphs and Satyrs beat the ground. Circling with plaudits their fanastic round : While Shout, and Laughter, Sport, and wanton Glee, Boast of the eternal reign of Revelry. And let them loudly boast ! Be theirs the breast, That has no sympathy for human woe; And ne'er took Care or Forethought for its guest ; Th' unwrinkled Ease that never sought to know In purer essences ideal joy ! — Be'they content ! — but they may find , at last , That the light pleasure , which has no alloy , If without pain , has without rapture past : And thou mayst still , though grave in looks and voice, Sometimes in extacy of heart rejoice ! — Geneva, 12.^^ March, 1824. H 18 89>R I v^\.i.^'rv*"° *-t#»^*^ lO* ANA "^ - • • • %* J) ^ Treatment Date: March 2009 >^« V -c,^ *i?^^* *^ '4'^ »-*e.*s'. '^ PreservationTechnologies -^ A^ * ^^iiSi • ^t\ ^ ♦ Avs^Al^ a world leader in collections preservation V^'V* ^ / ^P l ^ ^r %0