^^
Vc^.Sf.
B7eG
GNOMICA
h-\
GNOMICA:
DETACHED THOUGHTS, SENTENTIOUS,
AXIOMATIC , MORAL AND CRITICAL :
BUT ESPECIALLY
WITH REFERENCE TO POETICAL FACULTIES,
AND HABITS.
BY
Sir EGERTON BRYDGES, Bar/,
R. C. de S. etc. etc.
GENEVA,
Printed by W. F I C K.
Feb. mdcccxxiv.
( 75 copies only. )
(«)
THE AUTHOR,
ON HIS BOOK .
ENTITLED GNOMICA.
-TLnd thus I wander on ! From day to day
The lore accumulates ; the pondering mind
Pierces some region new ; some cloud expells ,
That sat upon it ; casts a wakening ray
On some neglected spot ; or strives to find
In some forgotten Poet's strains the spells
Potent to raise his memory from the tomb ;
And round it call fresh flowers once more to bloom :
Enforces some exploded truth, that long
Folly and Ignorance have leagued to veil ;
Fearless defends the genuine sons of Song;
And scorns I he minions whom the rabble hail !
"Were praise my aim ; and were the clamour loud
Of n/imlc multitudes the wild desire ,
Tbat foaming in my turgid bosom burn'd ;
Not thus had been mine idle pains bestow'd ;
]Not thus been spent th' unprofitable fire,
That still by those it courted had been spurn'dl
But I have other aims : within my soul
Other ambition glowing , scorns controul :
Within my brain , wild as the ]\orthern lights
Th' Autumnal evening shews , whose radiance gay '
Quick- glancing , now enraptures , now affrights ,
Gnoniica.
*)
Visions in mingled shade and snnshine play ! —
Restless they play; and ever as the beams
Of brightness some returning cloud obscures ,
Sinks my gloom*d heart ; my wasted spirits die :
Then grateful is the toil intense , that seems
To clear the gathering darkness; and allures
Hope to my bosom back ; and bids me high
In confidence again re-lift my daring eye.
For what is he , whom groveling on the earth
Mean Self-abasement holds ? His very birth
He curses , as decreed in evil hour;
Within his breast all frightful Passions reign ;
Hatred , and Jealousy , and Envy lour ;
Blackness unmingled ; and unbalanced Pain.
But I have struggled long; and when the flame
Died in my bosom ; and my waning force
Scarce thro' my limbs the languid life-spring drew,
By vigorous effort I have dared to claim
Revival of my spirit at that source ,
Where the Muse deigns her votaries to renew
By cups divine of her Castalian dew.
And now I sink no more : — the looks that freeze.
No more with death-like cold my heart can sieze :
The blame , the scorn, the glance, the hollow sneer,
The feeble praise that damns , the cavil sly
That in half-utter'd whispers meets the ear ^
Comments perverse , the bold artillery
Of Critic Ignorance that can rely
On crowds prepared its standard still to join ,
Aud when it sounds the onset , form the line I
All fruitless waste their malice : — calm I view
The gathering mischief in the cauldron brew :
Inward the bubbling poison turns its fires;
And burning in its fieadlike source expires !
(c)
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 unchill'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 t
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 recoiling arm;
And blast the rage that strove to deal the deathlike barm.
But why is glory to the wise denied
id)
Why flourish in the sun of wordly smile*
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 I — Let him spend his nights in sighs,
»His days in lonely gloom: — but let him go
i>Far from the chearful haunts of Man to raise
»His chill laments ; and leave the light and gay
»0n gilded wings of Pleasure , while they may ,
»Beneath the sunshine of their fate to play ! » —
But what must happen , there is joy to sec
In its bold colours painted to our view 1
We love companions in our misery :
We love the tears that are to Pity duel
There is a grandeur in Adversity ,
If still to her resolves heroic true ,
Thongh bending to the storm , she lifts on high
Her head unconquer'd o'er th* assailing crew ;
And in defiance bids the foe bis blasts renew ! —
But once more cease , my Lyre 1 thy trembling strings
For even wildly sounding liavc no rest :
From my full heart still breathe th' incessant sighs ,
(«)
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 j
Th' unwiinkled 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, ia.ti» March y 1824.
3^
PREFATORY LETTER.
M
Y DEAR * * *
Geneva, 7 Feb. 18^4.
The following detached Papers were written at the dates
respectively affixed to them. This may be an amusement ,
which you will not blame : but you will ask , « why print
them ? » — I answer : because they seem to me to con-
tain truths , which are not only intrinsically important ,
but the reverse of trite. "What 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 which different
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 en-
deavouring to correct , or expose them. Others are car~
ried by an irresistible impulse to search for Truth ; and
place their whole gratificatiqn in the intrinsic value of the
discovery.
VI ^RKfATORY LFTTKR.
« But what is the proof of the discovery ? Are not errors
to as likely to take place here , as in the opinions of the
» multitude ? » -^ It may be admitted , that labour may
not succeed ; cultivation may not produce fruit ; talents may
err ; genius may misapprehend false lights Tor 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 , w^hile they cry in secret ; « qui vult
decipiy decipiatur I » — 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
the domination of popular opinion which has effected this.
L'Abbc Brizard in his Eloge on L'Abbe de Marly, says,
ft 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 ^toient 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 ,
sns pensees toutes faconn^es de leurs mains : il crut qu'il
falloit d'etre soi. II se s^para de la multitude , et marcha
presque seul dans I'etroit sentier qu'il s'^toit trac^. Ses
principes et son caractere , ses ecrits et sa conduite tran-
cherent toujours avec le gout dominant , et le ton gent^ral
de son siecle. » —
PRKFATORY LETT3R. . YH
I . : .
Again in the Notes it is said, that ^"'* ' •*'' '
« Son desinteressement etoit tel , qu'il ne relira rien die
ses ouvrages ; a peine exigeroit-il quelques exemplaires pour
les presens d'usagcs ; 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 nOt
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 witb 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 m competition
with a Newspaper ? Many publications are calculated to
circulate exactly in proportion as they vicious. What ia
so popular , as personalities , satii*e , scandal , and libel ?
« But if the Public will not hear , why not let them ga
» 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 , who 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 9^
congenial soil ! But if it do no good , if it be exToneous ^
YIII PREFATORY LETTER.
or dull, — SO long as it neither flallers any vice, nor pro-
pagates any mischief, whom can it harm , unless the author
in his pocket ? If it be harmless to others , the author at
least has 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
f
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, wall be 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 doubt. 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
widely 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 liolds 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 in-
PREFATORY LETTER. IX
ternal examination ; and the best lights are of course to be.
had, where tlie 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 j
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 imbecilUty.
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 has ceased , only
valuable so far as they illustrate principles and sentiments.
These last alone fomi the essence of the fruits of the high-
est efforts of the human intellect : to these last alone
may be ascribed the qualities 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 sa
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 al
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 undertakings : and the i?ublic 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 ucionbitious 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 the 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 own 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
XII 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 rarjer 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 thought,
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 sublime ,
•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. Xlll
But in a late stage of society , when manners are very
corrupt , and sentiments lake, a temperament of faclitious
fever , the simplicity of truth lias lost its charm : what is
piquant and stimulative is alone endured; — and if the
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 Multitude : And Criticism for the same reason , ii-
stead of directing its efforts to cheer the labours and
extend the influence of Genius and Learning, applies all
its ingenuity to confirm 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 opinions : 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
■with regard to the intellectual nature of their Being : —
they are content with the luxury of the material blessings
of their existence : they are affected by no uneasiness to
have those doubts resolved , about which they never felt
any curiosity : and they have no desire to ascertain the
qualities fitted for success in that line of ambition, to which
they are totally insensible.
WV PRLrATORY LLTTLTV.
10 Feb. 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
l)y 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 fG.^ Edit, Amsterdam , 1765, 11.^ J
in his Chapter containing Reflexions sur le Gout , ou Von
examine la Maxime ; qu'il faut ecrirc pour tout le monde t
fvol, II. p. 20 J says :
« II faut ^crire pour tout le monde , si Ton veut plaire
a tout le monde ; mals , pour arriver a ce but , il faut
ecrire dune maniere moins parftiite , que si Ton u ecrivoit
que pour les gens de beaucoup d'esprit. » P. 12.
i*) Obt. X770, aet. 74.
PREFATORY LETTER. XT
P. 26. « II y a d«s Ouvrages qui ne sont plus repan-
dus , et plus generalement goutes que d'autres , que parce
qu'ils sont moins estimables , et moins estimes en effet des
vrais connoisseurs. lis ne sont a la portee de tout le
monde que paree 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 sueces. lis doivent croire au con-
traire qu'il y a de grandes beautes qui ne sont pas d'un
gout si general que de moindres , lesquelles , par cela
meme , sont a la portee d'un plus grand nombre. » (*)
« L'Ecrivain qui pense beaucoup , et qui fait penser , ne
sera jamais I'Ecrivain de la multitude* Elle ne sauroit
monter jusqu'a lui ; et il ne pourroit descendre jusqu'a
elle y 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
eette approbation universelle. IJn sueces 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~
t6t fait leur impression. De grandes beautes sont quelque-
fois moins frappantes ; et il est rare qu'un Ouvrage du
premier merite 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 terns. »
P. 60. « Quant a ceux qui veulent plaire a la posterity
plutot qu'a leur siecle , qui ambitiannent une gloire du-
rable plutot qu'un sueces 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 5 mais il ne passe point dans celles^
(♦) «Mr. de la Motte, Discour's sur Ines. de Castro, ■tx
XVI PREFATORY LETTER.
dei personnes d'un esprit superieur. Au - contraire , un
Ouvrage fait pour le petit nombre , parvient a I'aide du
tems dans les mains de tout le mondc. Les gens d'esprit
flevent peu-a-peu les esprits les plus mediocres. On se fait
lonneur d'etre de I'avis de ceux qui passent pour avoir le
plus de lumiere et de discerncmenl. La vanite qui fait
d abord parler corame eux , mene ensuite a penser et a
sentir comme eux. Ainsi les esprits sc 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 dcscendans le seront plus que nous. II pourra done
bien arriver qu'ils feront asscz pcu de cas de quelques
Ouvrages que nous estimons beaucoup ; et qu'au-contraire
ils en estimeront beaucoup quelques aulres , auxquels nous
ne rcndons pas une entiere justice. Au resle , il y a en
tout tems de bons esprits , qui jugent comme jugera un
jour la posterite ; il y a en tout tems , si je puis m'ex-
prlmcr do la sorte , unc posterite vivante. »
Such , among others , is the reasoning of L'Abbe Trublet
on the opinion that popularitj is a test of literary merit.
The follo-vving seems to me exceedingly well discrimi-
nated as to novelty of thought , on which there is a me-
morable opinion of D^ Johnson, (in his Life of Gray.)
P, 112. « Pour combattre ce que personne n'a jamais
cru , qu'une pens^e neuve est celle que personne n'a dd
avoir, MJ Desprcaux se jette dans rcxtremitd opposee ,
lorsqu'il dit , que c'est au contraire une pensce qui a dd
venlr a tout le monde. II est vrai , que quelquefois une
pensee Ires-brillante n'est au fond qu'une idee commune,
revelue d'uji tour ingenieux. II est vrai encore qu'une
pcns^e neuve paroit quelquefois si naturelle , qu'on est
PREFATORY LETTER. XVIf
surpris qu'elle soit neu\e , et qu'on s'imaglne 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 , the 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-
piquanle pour ne leur paroilre 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 facheuses ,
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 vceux de I'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'ennui. Quel qu'eut ete le sort de mes Essais ,
etc. , j'en avois deja retire, avant de les publier, un fruit
plus precleux que le succes meme. lis m'avoient long-tetns
occupe sans trop m'appliquer. »
« On peut dire de la composition , com me de la vertu ,
XVIII PREFATORY LETTER.
qu'elle est a elle - meme sa recompense , par le plaislr qui
Taccoinpagne. »
« Si les gens de Lettres pouvoient se bomer a ecrirc ,
a la verite dans le dessein d'imprimer, mais sans I'effectuer
jamais , ils seroient peut-^tre les plus heureux des hommes.»
« Ordinairement il n'y a qu'a perdre pour un homme
qui a une certaine reputation d'esprit , a donner quelque
chose au public. 11 est rare que I'ouvrage rcponde a ce
qu'on attendoit de r Auteur ; presque toujours on le croyoit
capable de mieux. Beaucoup de gens d'esprit, en devenant
Auteurs , ont perdu une grande parlie 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 peut 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 profiter , non - seulement quand ils viennent ,
mais encore , si la sante le permet , tant qu'ils durent. »
« On n'exprime jamais si heureusement sa pensec , du
moins on ne Texprime 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. 20. « 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 comrae le Public ; ce seroit lui commander I'im-
possible. » —
P, 23. « La grande marque d'un bon Ouvrage , c'est
qu'on le lise une seconde fois, sinon avec autant de plaisir
que la premiere, du moins avec autant d'estime. XI en est
pour lesquels I'estime augraeute a cbaque lecture , ce sont
les excellens. »
PREFATORY LETTER. XIX
« Les i^crivalns qui ont plus d'eclat que de solidite , et
plus d'esprit que de jugement, perdent beaucoup a etre
relus. Deux autres sortes d'Ecrivains y gagnent , les pen-^
seurs y et ceux qui sans penser autant , ecrivent avec jus-
tesse et precision. »
But what is most to the purpose of this Prefatory Letter ,
/ 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 with a chapter « ^ur la maniere d'ecrire
» par Pensees Detachees. »
/*. 5. « Quelle consolation pour ceux qui aiment le*
Lettres , quel secours pour les Auteurs , si les grands
hommes qui sont morts , sans avoir compose les ouvragos
qu*ils mediloient , avoient jette sur le papier, comme IVfr.
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 trouvee*
en soi sans les chercher , et qui ont ete I'occasion de
I'entreprendre. » —
P. 6. « Combien le hazard n'amene-t-il pas de pensees,
qu'on ne peut 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 point. 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 alsement toutes les
pensees qu'on a cues sur un sujet , des qu'on \eut 4c
tralter , 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, sent par-la cntierement perdues pour
le public. »
/*. 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 heureux pour exprimer une chose , a la
verite assez pommune , 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 k 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
l^enser ; et c'est un grand plaisir que la lecture d'un pa-
r«eil Livre. Or tels sont surtout les bons Livres de pensees
dt'tachees. Un Lecteur , homme d'esprit, et de reflexion,
devient Auteur, en lisant Pascal , la Rochefoucauld , la
Bruyere. »
P. 12. « La maniere d'ecrire par pensees detachces ,
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 qultte 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 m^me. » —
P. 23. Je crains qu'il n'y ait dans cet ouvrage quelques
endroits trop abstraits et trop metaphysiques. Je n'anuoncc
PREFATORY LETTER. XXt
que de la Litterature et de la Morale ; et sur cela le Lee-
teur lie se prepare pas sans doute a beauconp d'attenlion.
Je I'averlis neanmoins qu'il trouvera quelquefois une asscz
long suite de raisonnemens , dpnt il seroit difficile de blcn
sentir la liaison et la force, sans quelque application »
P. 24. « On ne sauroit guer^s aprofondir un sujet, quel
qu'il puisse etre , cliercher les causes des effets les plus
communs , et demeler les differences delicates qui sont
entre les objets , et un mot philosopher , 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-
vrage clair pour cette espece de Lecteurs , c'est celui qui
les eblouit , et qui les remue vivement. Au contraire un
Lecteur Philosophe ne trouve souvent que de I'obcurite ct
de la confusion , ou les esprits les plus bornes croyent
Toir revidence la plus lumineuse. »> —
^s to REPETITIONS iK'/iick , I am Well aivare , will be one
of the first objections made to my own Booh , I cite the
following passage from Trublet's Avertisscment to his vol, iii.
« Je me permets jusqu'aux repetitions , et c'est bien pis
que les contradictions. Ces repetitions "vient de ce que j'ai
beaucoup medite chacunc 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-elre par amour propre , j'ai ete embarrasse
sur le choix , je les ai tous mis » —
Vol II. p 359. « J'avoue que je repete volon tiers une
verite tres-utile, parce que je crois cette repetition ulilc
elle-meme , surtout quand c'est quelqu'une de ces verites
que les prejuges ou les passions contestent encore slnon
ouvertement, du moins dans le fond du coeur. Quoique
XXII PllKFATORY LETTER.
communes , quolque dites cent fois , elles ne I'ont pas
encore et^ assez souvent , ou assez bien , tandls qu'elles
ne sont pas encore generaleraent 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 chercbe point
oil elles sont ; on ne lit que les Livres nouveaux. On a
grand tort sans doute , mais enfin on I'a 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 ])assage :
« Thou neither dost persuade me to seek wealth
For empire's sake , nor empire to affect
For glory's sake , by all thy argumeut.
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 one leads the other j
PREFATORY LETTER. XXIII
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 intelHgent 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. i823. 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
aud figures , regardless of their congruity or relation to
the subject , 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 : but the
idea of feeling is mere excitation , without regard to any
end of purification or improvement: genius j the j^unning
riot and creating a multitude of images , beautiful in them-
selves y but without order, object j 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 y as that which it pampers with unceasing adu-
lation. » —
It is time to lay down my pen ; — or I shall make
my prefatory Letter as long -as my Book.
Geneva, lo.^^ March, 1824.
G N O M I C A.
'-^^^-
CONTENTS.
Prefatory Letter Page v
Ch. I. Author s Durpose , . 1
— IF, Strongfeeling the only source of eloquence, 6
— in. Early passion for poetry 11
— IV. Speculative and practical wisdom. Pitt
and Burke compared 15
— V. Accidents 20
— \'J, Learning 22
— VIT. Genius 23
— VIII. Abilities 33
— IX. Heart 35
— X. A great mind and great heart . 37
— XI. Time wdl destroy fo^lse pretensions 41
— XII. Multiplication of Books. 42
— XIII. Birth, etc 43
— XIV. Artifice in poetry censured 44
— XV. Selfish and Public Concerns AS
-~ XVI. Quiet and Ease 46
— XV 11. Merit above Birth AG
— XV 11 1. Ejcaggeration. Popular fovour 47
— XIX. M-mory 51
— XX. The Beaten Path. 52
— XXI. Succession of Authors 4 * , . . B5
—- XXII. Dante ^ Milton', Tasso, Gray 55
XXYI ' GXOMICA.
Page
Ch. XXIlf. Enjoyments are in the mind 57
— XXIV. Improvement of age : extinction of
powers by Death 69
— XXV. Retirement 61
— XXVI. Vanity 62
— XXVII. The desire^/ esteem and approbation. 64
— XXVIII. Gibbon 66
— XXIX. Of the poetical character 68
— XXX. Birlh combined with a competent
fortune 71
— XXXI. Mellowness of age id,
— XXXII. Frailty of memory 75
— XXXIII. Wordly cunning 76
— XXXIV. Vulgar taste 78
— XXXV. Paucity of the works of English poets. SO
-— XXXVI. Common-place characters 81
— XXXVII. Knowlege of Moral Truth 82
— XXXVIII. Mental preeminence the effect of cul-
ture 86
— XXXIX. Inequality of destinies 88
— XL. In what compositions an union of
all the mental qualities is displayed. 89
— XLI. Knowlege comes too late 90
— X LII. Ubiquity and perpetuity of Gtnius, . . 92
— XLI II. Regretfor the past. Serpentine wisdom, 93
— XLIV. Expansion of genius not overcome
by adversity , or difficulties 95
— XLV. Minute and scientific exactness of
description of natural scenery^ not
the most poetical. — Mischief of
false theories 98
— XLVI. Inequality of mental gifts 101
— XLVII. Extrication from localities, ....... 103
Contents. . xxvii
Page
Ch. XLVIU. The lent of Nature beyond the domi-
nion of accidents. 105
— XLIX. Addison , Drjden , 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
— LII. Innocent pleasures 121
— LIII. Some fancies delight most in the images
of artificial institutions 124
— LIV. Imperfect thinking is paiiful , and re-
quires relief from the light of stronger
minds 126
— LV. « Woes cluster » 128
— LVI. T//e development of Genius often acciden-
tal and unexpected 129
— LVIT. 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 riches 140
— LXI, Taste abundant compared with Genius :
— but even Taste not general 143
— 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
— LXJV. The same observations applied to litera-
ture 149
XK.VIII
Ch. LXV.
— LXVI.
^ Lxvir.
^ XLVIII.
^ LXIX.
LXX.
LXXI.
LXXII.
LXXIII.
LXXIV.
LXXV.
LXXVI.
LXXVII.
LXXVIII.
LXXIX.
LXXX.
LXXXF.
LXXXIJ.
LXXXIII.
— LXXXIV.
Gnomica.
Page
The guide of leading minds is neces-
sary 150
The Beaten Path the most happy, . . 151
Opposition between the speculative and
practical skill of Genius 153
Honours of Birth independent ofB iches. 158
Genius improperly defined to be a
general capacity accidentally ap-
plied. 159
The value of independence 162
Cunning and Selfishness 164
Busy Novels 165
In what manner a Poet should write
his own Life 166
Proper requisites of Tales of Fiction. 168
Duties of a Biographer 173
Distinction between genuine and fic-
titious enthusiasm 174
Traits and consequences of the en-
thusiasm of Genius 189
Distinct sources of the different cha-
racters ill poetical composition tra-
ced 184
What are just claims to public notice. 187
Dangers of Imagination 189
The Vision of Poetry 190
Fixed principles of poetical taste in
the Soul 192
What are called the prejudices of a
native sagacity^ arc generally veri-
fied by time 194
Successive ductility and firmness of
highly -gifted minds , , . id.
Contents. xxnt
Page
Ch. LXXXV. Opinions of unprincipled worldlings. 1.95
— LXXXVI. Akenside^ and Didactic Poetry 197
— LXXXVI I. The proper criterions of original
thinking, , t 198
■— LXXXVni. The voice of the Multitude , not ihe
test of merit .....; 203
— LXXXIX. What constitutes the value of Fancy, 204
— XC. The purity of the mind , and the
rectitude of motive , determine the
. merit of the action 207
— XCI. Belief in the general selfishness of
Mankind destroys peace , and brings
despondence 209
— XCII. Familiarity lessens the ugliness of
Evil ; — of which still the traits
are certain , and cannot be mis-
taken 211
— XCIII. Anxiety for the future 213
— XCIV. Liovc of Gain breaks all restraints
but the iron bonds of Power 215
— XCV. The Neglected Poet ; (a poetical
fragment.) 217
— XCVI. A Poet must be exalted in his own
private feelings and habits 221
— XCVII, The aggravated evils of that adver-^
sity f which is driven to seek com-
fort in delusions 225
— XCVIII, Repetitions of opinions , not alway s
tautologies 227
— XCIX. Gray's Travels 229
— C. Pictures of the penetralia of poetical
minds .^ curious and instructive.. , , 231
— . CI, Just Invention • ^^
xnx CnomicaJ
Ch. CII. Tests of originality 237
— cm. Nobility may be made too numerous and
common 240
— CIV. A day without a line ; ( a Sonnet. ) . . . 242
— CV. Speculation and action 243
— CVI. Tebaldo ; a poetical fragment 246
— CVI I. The line of worldly success. — Use
of books 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 tlwse 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 Gray's Odes , 280
— CXVI. Metaphysical Poetry 283
— CXVII. True nature of Poetry 284
— C XVIII. 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
— CXX. The notice of what is great can seldom
be new 290
— CXXI. Vyiiat 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. iSaS 295
--- CXXIV. Beauties of Shakespeare id.
Contents. x
Page
Ch. CXXV. Notices of Collins , the Poet 299
— . CXXVI. Milton little admired by his cotem-
poraries 302
— CXXVII. On the thirtieth day of November ,
1823 306
— GXXVIII. To Lord Bacon, 2/^, Aug. iSaS. ... 312
— GXXIX. Popularity not indispensible to useful
authorship 313
— CXXX. Bemarks on certain passages in Words-
worth's Prefaces to his Poems, re--
garding Popularity 314
— CXXXT. Objection to a particular position of
Wordsworth regarding the purpose
of poetry
— CXXXII. Besolution and firmness necessary to
render Genius effective 322
— CXXXIII. Fame is empty : hut 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 Bomantic Poetry ,
eocemplified in Horaces Epode ,
« Beatus iile , »> and Milton's « II
Penseroso. » 330
— CXXXV. Conclusion 335
G N O M I C A.
CHAPTER L
23 Blarch 1823.
Ihe desire to leave a memorial ojf oneself is
generally, if not universally, implanted in Human
Nature :
ic For who to dumb Forgetfidness 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: 1 have no events to tell, which
can interest others : my days have past in soH-
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 reserve , must be conscious to himself
that he wants ability : and if he feels this con-
(*) Gray's Elegy.
2 GNOMICA. CII. I.
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 cnltivated , 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
imders landings , 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 tLis opinion in his advice to
Nicfiolls : and Muller expresses it strongly in his early and
eloquent Letters to Donstetten,
GT*03I1CA. CXI. I. 3
Even of the small proportion of authors , who
aspire to orginaUty, 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 Bacon'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 GNOMiC/V cn. r.
the insolence of vulgar clamour ; or the derision
of confident ignorance!
There is nothing more erratic than the freaks
of ttie 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 excels
lence of the productions of the fancy and the
heart ^re always the same , — subject only to
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 ;
?ind uninteresting beyond self. Fancy , unlimited
by time or place ; soaring beyond mere matter j
and having her treasures and objects always
present at he^? command , 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 shape
ghe chooses to contenaplate.
It cannot be pretended that these recorded
authorities of what is wise and true,^ar^ not
wanting. They are to be found in books ; —
but they are not to be found in the coarse
modes of thinking of practical mankind; which
often make the wisdom of Books appear ob-
solete , unless their lights be renewed , and
their flames stirred from the ashes in which they
ftre buried^
GNOMICA. CH. I, D
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 Yirtue 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 y
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 onlj that , which has ubiquity and immate^
riality , 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 deUghts
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 II.
24 March, i8a3.
« Quiconque a une dme energlque , un esprit rempli
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.
GlNOMlCA. CH. II. *J
Whatever represents things in false colours;
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 wrong ; 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 Nature : 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 GNOMICA. CH. II.
factitious enthusiasms, which philosophy and calm
reason reject , are unknown to them : and all the
tenor of their sentiments and reflections conforms
itself to that regulated and temperate experience,
in which the science of morality is nurtured and
ripened*
To soften our affections ; 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 books. 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
moral philosophy, vivified by poetical feehng,
and poetical illustration* All their splendor is the
native splendor of the sun of genius : — it invi-
GNOMICA. CH. ll ' §
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 calni 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 colourings , 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-
liant 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 j
reflection , reasoning , and judgment , as well as
imagination and sensibility j to unite moral truth
with all the charms of poetry , that the rarity of
these united merits cannot be a matter of just
Ivonder;
It is easy to collect a farrago of gaudy imatges j
6utre sentiments , or glittering language : these
l^equire only a ready memory, and a continued
application of particular labour. They do not de-
mand ei^en one of the primary faculties of the mind
©r heart. And when all their purpose is effected^
JO 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 wc
redeem the frailties , to which poor mortality id
subject? — By the good we do to others ! — And
how can we do more good, than by enlightening
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 oup
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. II
and the discipline which is necessary^ — In all
these there is an intrinsic gratification , which iS
its own reward.
CHAPTER III.
Poetry,
25 March i8a3.
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 ill 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 !
12 GNOMICA. CH. III.
t "When I began to pay attention to books, those
of which the manner was most glowing, of course
ynost 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:
r — but the gift is dangerous; for it requires the
most skilful regulation; and constant and consr
cientious controul, It is not till it mingles itself
with the qperations 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 ?nust
come in aid , to discriminate , methodise , and
direct. Hut 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
not call in its aid , till the flame is unmanageable.
The temperament of a Poet , however , even
^^vhen prudently and wisely managed , \s not thg
GNOMIC A. CH. Ill, 13
temperament of happiness in this coarse world 2
though Sarasa (*) seems to think it may be made
so. Our quick feeUngs , 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 suspicioi^
that we might have averted their misery.
This sensitiveness belongs to all great poets : — r
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 veir^
of poetry of our own pathetic , moral , and inimi-
table Gray.
When Poetry is considered as a trifling art , '\X
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 , « siiffir
cient to fill the mind , » even when it seeks to
pxercise the highest flights of fancy. The business
(*) See Sarasa, ^rs semper GaudencU, Jena, 1740^ A*'
Also Wolff, Vhilosophia Moralis , 17^0, 1751, Halle ^^
9 vols 4.°
1 4 GNOmCA.. CH. in.
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'3 idea of poetry : and thus
Gray says,
<c Yet oft before his infant eyes would run
Such forms as glitter in the Muse's rays
With orient hues unborrowed 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-
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
G]5rOMICA* CH. iv* iS
CHAPTER IV.
Practical Wisdom.
26 March , 1 823,
There is a great desire in the world to make a
distinction between speculatwe and practical wis-
dom. There is no foundation for it: — what is
Hommes Celebrex de France au dix-huitieme Siecle , Paris^
1823, 8.° — Lave expressed themselves well on what they
deem the characteristics of French poetry : and which are
certainly the characteristics of genuine poetry.
<t Si la poesie coiisiste comme nous le pensons, non dans
le merveilleuse , mais dans les images , un peuple , qui ,
par le caractere de son esprit , n'a d atlrait que pour les*
realites , pent pretendre encore aux couronnes poetique*.
Qu'on examine les ecrits des grands hommes doflt s'honore
iiotre litterature , on verra que dans leurs ouvrages les
beautes vraiment Jrancaises sotit toujours puisees ou dans
ces touchantes realites du coeur , les sentltnents 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 iious environne y
ou de ce qui nous eprouvons en nous-memes. » p. 261.
« La Muse Francaise , que le vrai seul inspire , n'en
marche pas moins 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 cherehe a exciter
la terreur par des r^cits d'apparitions nocturnes. » etc.
« Jamais ce genre ne prendra parmi les Franeais : en
France on est trap moqueur , et trop raisonneur. » p. 257.
i6 GNOMICA. CH. IVi
not practically true , cannot be speculatively true/
The error may be partly attributed to a confusion
of the truth with the execution of the truths;
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,
Were 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 j which belongs to the mean
hearts of inferior intellects. But is the wisdom of
Bacon's yJfora/ Writings , is the force and justice
of any of his speculative opinions, to be called in
question, because his conduct was sometimes
more imbecile than that of ordinary men ?
gnomica: cii; iv: *f
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, who 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 with which they apply them ; and from
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 , aire 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. IV*
The merit of what the understanding supplies
in practical life does not depend upon its origi-
naUty , or its universality ; but on its adaptation
to the occasion. In the best (*) books nothing is
temporary , or particular : the merit depends on
no extrinsic circumstances, no accidental com-
binations : all 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 arc
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. 19
contrary , the speeches of Burke , whom nature
intended for a Uterary genius , abound every
where in such generaUsations : 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 cumbersome; 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
(*) Vitt entered so early into public life , that he had
no 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
thinkipg , and generalisation , had been among his native
gifts, they would have shewn themselves more in hi$
Speeches^
2Q C'lVQ^IICA. CH. 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
hfe 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 , his
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 endowments,
(*) Sic vos non -vobis mellificatis , apes ! —
GNOMICA. CH. V. 21
as well as in giving a bent to the course they
pursuer 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 accir
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; and interest its heart, and
busy its brain , with the airy visions and senti-
ments of brilliant and tender imagination!
22 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 , h^ 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 z
his observations of life must have been gathered
from multifarious experience , and innumerable
memorials , written and traditional.
GNOMICA* CHi VII* fltS
CHAPTER ill.
Genius^
Whether a man has acted through Hfe pru-
dently and with wordly wisdoift , 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 ,
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 i^
quite impossible, actually y 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 intellectiral capacity ; and
whether the future difference does not arise from
culture , or accidental ' impulse. It would be a
a 4 GNOMIC A. CH. VII.
waste of time to refute seriously an opinion so
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 those
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
GNOMIC A.. CH. Vir. 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 j 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 was 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
a6 * (RNOMICA* CH. VII4
are strongly exerted* But upon this poem Johnsott
justly observes, v one of the greatest y though of
» his earliest works y is the « Essay on Criticism^ »
» which , if he had written nothing else , would
» have placed him among the first critics and the
i> first poets. » etc. — « / know not ^ whether it be
y> pleasing to consider that he produced this piece
» at twenty y and never afterwards excelled it: — «•
» he that delights himself with observing that
» such powers may be soon attained, cannot but
» grieve to think that life was ever at a standi » (*)
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 , ix. 357.
GNOMICA, CH. VII, SiJ
K-nowlege 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 , 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 mxi^X be
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-n
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-?
aS GXOMICA. CH. VII.
manding reason, and an intuitive sagacity, im-
proved enriched and controiiled by a long conr
tinned 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
hounds of nature , » the great poet may well in-
dulge : but they must have that sort of probabi-
hty J of which the belief is consonant to the un-
forced excursions of the human mind. The mighty
genius in delights to sport in the wide regions of
» possibility : reality is a scene too narrow for
» him. )) But still it must be possibility , — or
what 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 in a bye-path, of which the whole novelty
and interest lies in the deviation.
It is a consciousness of weakness, a fear of
inabihty to excell where others contend, that
seduces into these bye-paths. What engages the
GNOMICA. GH. VII. ag/
thoughts and feehngs of others, it requires supe-.
rior strength to represent better than others.
Novelty 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
th<B keys which open every avenue , moves as a
spirit through all the labyrinths, which 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 wide
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
fhe beautiful ; a clear fancy ; and a sensitive
3o GNOMICA. CH, VII,
heart. What grand effort in poetry can be made
without these ? Without this knowlege , how can
characters be invented with due regard to the
probabilities of human passion and human rea-
son ? Johnson properly says , idhe 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
read, that supply most axioms of prudence, most
principles of moral truth , and most materials for
conversation : and these purposes are best served
by poets , orators, and historians. {^) But unless
the poets be of the quality 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 Qf Milton.
GNOMICA. CH. VII. 3l
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 reahties of life
have taught 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 want no exaggerations of false passion , and
false brilliance : out* 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
.32 tNOMICA. CH. VII.
dress , arid 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 bnsiness of the real pOet to foster
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-
inten dance of reason , Imagination is like a ship
at the mercy of the winds and waves , without a
pilot or a rudder. Beattie says oi his Hermit, that
tuHe thought as a sage; but he felt as a man!» .
GNOMIC A. CH. VIII. ^ 33
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 applying what is the production
of others. The merit therefore ceases with the
occasion. Whenever another application becomes
necessary , resort will again be had t6 the ori-
ginal ; and not to the copy. ' f
\ Nineteen twentieths at least of all literary pro-
ductions are of this secondary nature. They soon;
therefore sink into oblivion , as they are super-
5
34 fcNOMICA. CH. VIII.
ceded bjr those which hew occasions call forth.
Temporai-y historians , politicians , moralists ,
jjoels, hbvelists, wits, flutter into life under the
factitious heat of the rays of fashion , and die
again like butterflies.
But even of this large portion who want origi-
nality , a small part 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 want of discrimination and judgment
rather tnislead than benefit. • —
The greater number of our modern compila-
tions of miscellaneous literature afford only an
idle stir of memory j without offering any food
for the understanding , the heart , or the fancy.
Thousaiids of dry, fruitless, minutia; 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 extehsive 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 taplays
round the heady* but does not touch the heart, is
n Jt 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 GN03IICA. CH. IX.
behind it fruits , which retained the esteem of
posterity.
The internal faculty 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 J^ent 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 , cc what is moral
truth?)) Religion, natural as well as revealed,
tells it us : a regard to the happiness of pur 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 reflection, \yhen our evil passions are pas-,
sed away, dp not retain the same character, and
do not receive the consentaneous emotions of the.
bosom , are pot morally true.
It may be safely observed , that no writer^
whose thoughts and sentiments the experience^
of mankind has found to be incorrect , — much
leiss which the experience of mankind has dis-
proved — has retained his seat in the temple of
GNOMICA. GH. X. 37
Fame. All the moral matter, which forms the
basis of the works of Homer, 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,
tinder 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 Uttle
value.
C n A P T E R X.
A great mind , and great heart.
All is yain and worthless, but a great mind,
and a great heart. — But what is a great mind
I and a great heart ? It will be prpper 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 comppund 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 active parts
of the life of a man of genius, if any part of it has
been active , are of comparative insignificance.
Yet the Public likes incident better than specu-
lation ; and has little taste for observation and
reflection, except when 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
out 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
fc Ample room , and verge enough ,
The characters of» 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 Nature. Ua-
fortunately the possessors of this high preemi-
GNOMICA. CH. X. ^9
nence do not commonly know its value , till too
late in life. They do not
« Know their oivn worth ; and reverence the lyre, »
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 GWOMICA. CH. X.
reasoning will not do it ! — It requires not only
quick perception, and deep sensibility; but vivid
fancy , and plastic imaginatic^n.
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
departure. . '
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. ^
CHAPTER XL
Time will destroy false pretensionit
2.6 Dec. i8ai.
Concealment and disguise would be vain, were
they desired. All false pretensions must cease by
the calm and unprejudiced scrutiny of Time.
Ability and inclination will be found to discrimi-
nate, and weigh with truth and justice , all the
separate or combined qualities which a literary
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
lights : 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 styles 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* —
'<'%^*%'V% •* ■».-%.-».'%.'%/%^'».^^<
if
4a GNOMICA* GH« XII«
CHAPTER XIL
Multiplication of Books.
26 Dec. i8ai.
If there be no end of multiplying books which
are 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 which 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 wisely 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. —
'^
GNOMICA. CH. XIII. 4^
CHAPTER XIIL
Birth f etc,
a5 Feb. i8a3.
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 grown
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 GNOMIC A. CH. XIV.
bring with it the constant recollection that the
possessor's posterity may thus inherit the dispo-
sition to pursue glory rather than 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.
23 Dec. 1822.
Wherever there is an attempt to supply the
want of native fancy or native sentiment by
.Art, the effect is sure to shew itself in a straining
Siher /(zlse 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
GNOmCA. 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, Barnes, Gabriel Han^ey, Watson, etc. —
Nor were the pastoral songs of that aera, 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 GNOMICA. 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 m life worth having, but quiet
and ease of mind ?
Nature has implanted in us the desire to be
spoken and thought well 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 XVIL
M^rit above Birth.
What can a man say of himself, but that he has
led a life , which he would not lead again , could
hfe be renewed ? — Experience teaches him his
errors too late.
GNOMICA. CH. XVIII. 4?
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 impressions
to others , is a praiseworthy distinction.
Why should a man rely on birth ? Milton and
Gray were sons of Scriveners ; Collins , — of a
Hatter; Akenside and Rirke White — of Butchers ;
— -Chattertonj — of a Parish Clerk ; — Shenstone,
— of a farmer; — Beattie , ^nd Burns, — of pea-
sants; — Pope, — of a linen-drapet- — Prior j-*
of a tavern-keeper ! — •
CHAPTER XVIII.
Exaggeration, Popular favour.
28 Jan. i8a3.
The habit of exaggeration adopted by those
who write for the mob , and for temporary pur-
poses , is very disgusting , and very mischievous.
Tht (.i still small voice y) oi re2iS>ou ^ 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.
48 GNOMICA. CH. XVIIIi
All is calculated to exite transient attenfion 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 , or nothing just , in \hefonde
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 :
i<ifVhat oft was thought; hut ne'er so well express* d^-n
( as Pope says. )
All is catching , but hollow : — plausible at
GNOMICA.. CH. XVni. 49
first, but not capable of enduring the assay. It
is (s^fineer work » : and when it is pierced ^ you
soon get beyond what is sohd 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 can continue always 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 new impulses to the mind : nor
be resorted to, as the fountains of new opinions;
5o GNOMICA. CH. XVIII*
of which the justice causes the future admission
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 from 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
« To snatch a grace beyond 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, - Si
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.
35 Dsc. 1822.
Memory is not an original power of the mind :
it is the duration of anj 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 ot
it must have endured in full force at the moment
employed in creating the reflection of it.
5a GNOMICA. CII. 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 iii
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.
Thci Beaten Path.
lo Jan. i82i<
In worldng 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!
GNOMICA. CH. XX. 53
I have puzzled myself with conjectures , till
every nerve hecame 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 ia
leading him astray.
Him who keeps in the beaten path, no one
^attempts to disturb. He goes on safely without
talent, or skill , or knowlege, or vigilance. He v
might be misled by conjectures, and probabili-
ties, and arguments, and assertions : The 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 GNOMICA. 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 r^eally pos-
sess great and sound abilities , unless he has pro-
ved himself practically prudent and skilful.
But I have endeavoured to shew , that the best
chance of going what the world calls right y is
« to follow the leadiT, » — 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
hixnself 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
palled imaginary. This is strange ! — as we ap-
proach nearer to the world of 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 cca bubble))
GNOMICA. CH. XXl. XXII. 55
when attained : for fame, rank, and distinction ! —
while they who thus find them «a bubble, » think
themselves ill-repaid for the sacrifices they have
made to acquire them* —
CHAPTER XXI.
Succession of Authors.
1824.
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 . GNOMIC A. CH. XXII^,
. The writings of such men open to us, as it
were, the oracles of a superior state of intelli-
gence ! It is as if we 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 legiblef
forms; 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 j
— 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. XXIir. 67
the winds ! How Avas 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 ir\. 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 : « Ta
works , of which the excellence is not absolute
and definite; but gradual and comparative ; to
works not raised upon principles demonstrative
and scientific , but appealing wholly to observation
and experience , no 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. 5^
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 barbarous ages. This cannot
be justly said even of the three centuries which
preceded what is thus called the Beulual 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 by Death*
X82S.
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.
Go GN03IICA. CII. 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 comr
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 ,
which 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 qr 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.
6a GNOMiCA. CH. xxvr.
It happens that the greater part of the Hves 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*
roent , nor sense of respectability.
GWOMICA. CH. XXVl* 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;
without 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 shovits 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. «iJ/i^ business U
64 GJVOMICA. CH. XXVII*
?) with my own affairs , » they cry : « that is sujfi-
V cientjbr me, without meddling (vith others ! Let
» others do the same : and then all will be 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 XXYII.
The desire of esteem and approbation.
1822.
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. XXVII. ^5
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 full 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 GNOMICA. CH. XXVIII.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
Gibbon.
822.
Gibbon, as he perceived his gigantic work
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.
GNOMICA. CH. XXVIII. 6j
When the poet arranges and combines , 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 , 7iecv not only in form but in matter.
But if the difficulty ended with creation ; it
might still be comparatively easy. Mere noveltj
of matter will not do , unless the matter be of
a certain excellence of quality. Mere whim may
mix up new ingredients, of which it may con-
stitute a fantastic building. To use Johnson's test,
not only must the ideas of a poetical edifice « he
new J » but they must be so conformable to the
general sympathy of the human bosom , that
c( he thai reads them must persuade himself that
he always Jelt 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 unaffected , frank , and
sincere. If his object be truth ; if his first im-
68 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.
Of 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-
3ors call melancholy and querulous. They see
ynankind 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
and 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,
^O 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 sensibility ,
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
with 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 willing 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. 7I
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 propeTty.
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.
m
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
72 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 : —
GNOMIC A. CH. XXXI. ^S
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 tTie 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 delight 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 ^olian 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, which fifty years
have mellowed , are broke , and sound no more !
— Shall we not then be filled with regret, when
the machinery of a Brain , that an whole 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
has 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. 7 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. XXXir.
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 who reserves all his efforts for great
occasions , will find his powers stiff and cons-
trained from want 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
GNOMIC A. 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 : — when 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
which 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 worldhngs call the
greatest of all indiscretions. It was a notorious
trait in the character of Burke. (^)
• CHAPTER XXXIV.
Vulgar Taste.
J 822.
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.
• ■*
(^) Sec an anecdote exhibiting a similar trait of Lord
Chatham in Lord Orford's Memoirs of Geo. 11.
GNOMICA. CH. XXXIV. 79
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 ot 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, however rude it be,
is better than stagnation.
8o GNOMICA. CH. XXXV.
CHAPTER XXXV.
Paucity of the worAs of English Poets.
1822.
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. 8l
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 XXXVL
Common-place Characters.
■ o.-; 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
#
82 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|genjoyments,
cannot be questioned.
«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 can thus content
themselves with their blindness. Were three
fourths of mankind to know their own deficien-
cies , discontent with themselves would 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
GNOMIC A. 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 he 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 many 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
conflicting 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. §5
They talk as others talk ; and act as others act;
and are kept in the right direction only by 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 themsehes ; and forget , or omit ,
all beyond. What is their interest according to
this narrow 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 GNOMICA. 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, which
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 preeminence 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 the 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 oi 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 the 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 , who 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 "
<.(.y4 great man struggling with the storms of Fate: n
but will this reflection console him for his suffe-
rings ? It is true that
« The hues of Bliss more brightly glow ,
Chastised hj s abler tints of JVoe : »
but then they must be in some degree propor-
tioned to each otlier !
The wand of Imagination may pierce through
clouds with effect, where sunshine is behind them:
— but wliere it is all darkness , the deeper the
wand goes , the more the despondence.
There are delusions , which are beneficial and
virtuous: there are delusions which are dange-
rous and wrong. To drink tlie oblivious cup of
Imagination may sometimes enable us to subdue
GNOMICA. CH. XL. 89
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,
1822.
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!
xa
gp GNOMIGA. CH. XLI.
CHAPTER XLI.
Knowlege comes too late.
|812.
It is among the ills which our destiny has
incurred , that Rnowlege, and the due appretia-
tion of Knowlege, 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 , w^hich 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.
GNOMICA. 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.
1822.
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. 03
often wears and exhausts him. But he conse-
quently enjoys a force of mental gratification ,
and a consciousness of power , to Avhich others
are strangers.
CHAPTER XLIII.
Regret for 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 wish 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 Wotton , 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 your 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 when
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,
1822.
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 brealcs 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 will make an author's
GNOMICA. CH. XLIV. ' ^y
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, who 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 , Othello , Lear , Hamlet , etc. ,
i3
98 GNOMIC A. 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 82a.
I remember that D.^ ^ikin 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-
GNOMIC A. CH. XLV. 99
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 which 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 , regard them
not , others who are more timid and diffident ,
100 GNOMIC A. 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 !
Nature 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 kindling 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
Honoria,
It is true that Gray was a Botanist ; and
Rousseau was a Botanist: but other great poets
may be named , who perhaps knew not the leaf
of an oak from the leaf of an ash-tree. —
GNOMICA. CH. XL VI. 101
CHAPTER XLVL
Inequality of mental gifts.
i8aa.
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. XL VI.
vapours. What is the result of extensive and
compHcated 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. XLVn. XLVIII. l03
CHAPTER XLVII.
Extrication from Localities.
»822.
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 hent 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 whicli 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 , Dry den , Johnson.
1822.
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 to Shakes-
peare demonstrably proves : but on common
occasions he was perverse, hard , and sometimes
coarse and vulgar, in his opinions.
GNOMICA. CH. L. fOS
CHAPTER L.
On the charge that men of Genius , and high Talents,
want judgment , and practical sense, (1)
10 iVot^ 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 GNOMIC A. CH. L.
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 /bunded 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 y 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 Xhe foundation must be
good. —
GNOMICA. CH. L. 107
The genius , or talent , therefore , is not solid ,
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 sohd genius or solid talents.
It is necessary to notice the words « abstrac-
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. CII. L.
must be benificial. So far as the encouragement of
INTELLECT is iiseful OF Ornamental to Society,
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 dissimulation , 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-
GNOMIC A. CH. L. 109
merit. 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 plausibilities will justify it! —
At this late period , and where there is no
opening for a retreat, it is not in human nature
to bear, vithout 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 ia
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 fidl 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
GNOMICA. CH. L. 1 1 1
numbers , who are alive to all the mental disquie-
tudes which I have mentioned. And these are
they , to whom 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! It 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 abuse — in one
sweeping condemnation I
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 GiyoiMicA. cir. L.
tion, and controtil 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 , 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 themselves 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.
Tije conscience with regard to others, the scru-
pulous and anxious desire to do as one would be
done by^ is indeed immeasurably different in diffe-
rent persons. Tuere are a few noble Beings, in
whom not only the benevolent feeling is ready
to take place wherever the occasion is presented;
GNOMICA.. CIl. 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 tlic human
heart! —
There is a sort of coarse practical benevolence,
little touched by painful sensibility , wliich Pro-
vidence seems to have ordained as more consistent
with the fallen state of the ordinary class of man-
kind. That tliose 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 cljeered by 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.
n iVW. 1822.
I am fully aware of the surprise with which
many persons view these sorts of discussions,
which they 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 others ,
who have both the leisure and capacity ; and in
i5
114 GNOMICA. CHr^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 bUnd 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 rej9/aci>2^ 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. —
Thete 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 deceptipn 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 ,
GNOMICA. CH. L. {{$
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,
li But this is not accurate; the objections made
are to the ^e/z^r^^/ truth of them: for though al-
most all 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 Salomons insist
upon the presumption being against the Sage of
abstract Principle; and arrogate to themselves
the right of throwing the onus probandi on him !
Hence they cannot without inconsistence deny,
f 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 njay be admitted , that Truth is not to be
116 GlYOMICA. 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 v^ish to
substitute for them nothing else than heartless,
selfish , and dishonorable cunning!
« Come then » 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 ! What is the sort of sense ,
that succeeds in the world? Is it not the very
sense which the men of abstract and speculatii^e
wisdom decry? »
Admit it: — what 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 ! Tf therefore the frailty of human nature
may be forgiven for wanting this virtue , it is yet
too much that \\\^ possession oi it should be made
a charge liable to censure, and which may justify
ill 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 way 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 bard-headedness
for skill : and therefore encourage in themselves
a self-confidence , which leads them in the end to
meet obstacles , or snares , or quagmires , which
'118 J^' GiTOMici.rTCir, L.
they cannot overcome. It i&qiiite impossible that
these men , who boast of their judgment or com-
mon sense , should penetrate into the real hghts
of steerage , when they com« inio the wid« sea ;
and when broad day Hght 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 weather ; 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
ithat degree of intelligent capacity, which is equal
r 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 whom is
» ascribed this cool judgment and common sense ,
have any such insight?
If the opinions, here combated , were merely
opinions thrown out in a paxticular case foe a
GNOMICA. CH. L. 119
particiilai3 purpose , they might not be worth all
this toil of ideas and words to combat them.
The obvious partiality of the \iew 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. I. ^-
Let them , who feel no; irritation at such
prevalence of error, lull themselves in their ease as
long as they will I I do* not blame- them. But if
others cannot take it quite so quietly j let them
have their own way ; and incur no censure for
endeavouring to bring forward, what they deem
to be truth 1 •
120 GNOMIC A. 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 they^ 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 , tlian the fault into which an overpowering
fear drives tfiem.
The former are actively vicious : the latter only
passively so. The former are tlje demons, who are
allowed by the mysterious destinies of Providence
to trouble , wound , rob , and desolate society :
tfie 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 \\\\% prepense wickedness !
Undoubtedly the end they have in view is sure
to disappoint them ; and they load tliemselves
GNOMICA. CH. LII. 121
with the guilt 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 GNOMICA. CH. Lit.
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 ,
And 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-
sed 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-
Use ; or extend their thoughts beyond the pres-
sing expedience of the moment.
But by the side of all human pleasures , even
the most innocent , there lurks some danger.
This refined and dehcious 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 Umited by some coun^
124 GNOMICA. Cn. LIII.
teracting controul from the circumstances tQ
which our existence here is exposed.
Positive happiness is quite impossible in this
state of mortahty. Goodness itself could not be
entirely happy, while it would see so many
others miserable.
« Each has his sufferings : all are men ,
Condemn d alike to groan ; —
The tender for another's pain ;
TK unfeeling for his own,y>
CHAPTER LIII.
Some fancies delight most in the images of artificial
institutions.
1823.
There are some ingenious men , whose fancies
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
GWOMICA. CU. 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 reverted eyes, »
The fancy may be struck with a mighty Gothic
mansion with its towers, embattlements , turrets,
126 GNOMICA. 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 is technical , 3ind Jactitious,
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 the first; but not attaining the
last. It is the business of literary genius to help
this twihght 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.
GNOMICA. CH. LiV. 427
Sometimes we are in a disposition of calm iii-
dolence, which is content with this half-sensual
existence* But there is a spirit within us, 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 GIVOMICA. CH. LV.
who dissipates these clouds , and puts the depen-
dent reader in good humour witli himself.
The charm does not work alone upon the rea-
der : perhaps it has had the same effect upon the
author. In tlie 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.
f^Woes cluster, v
i8z3.
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 tlie 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
which is likely to be frustrated. Sir Robert PFal-
pole was a successful Minister , because he always
GNOMIC A. CK. 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.
CHAPTERLVI.
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;
37
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 <^the gemn (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 checkstind 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 impelledi
Buried genius is always painful to him , irt
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
(^) See Gray's famous Stanza, ^Full many a gemv etc.
GNOMICA. CH. LVl. 431
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 broods
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; ^P^^
Curce le^>es loquuntur : ingentes stupent, (^)
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 li^^e laborious days, »
(1) See the opeuing of Ticrell'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 : which
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.
c( /Vz/zc}^ ( says the critic,) can hardly forbear
to conjecture with what temper Milton surveyed
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, y>
GNOMICA. CH. LVIII.
133
CHAPTER LVIII.
Does nohllity 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.
Leeds;
Marlborough ;
Dorset ;
Wellington ;
Salisbury ;
Exeter ;
Camden ;
Bridgewater;
Shaftesbury ;
10, Nottingham;
Coventry ;
Oxford ;
Aylesford ;
Cowper ;
Macclesfield ;
Warwick ;
Tho. Osborne.
John Churchill,
Thomas Sackville,
Arthur Welleslej,
Robert CeciL
William CeciL
Charles Pratt,
Thomas Egerton,
Anthony Ashley Cooper.
Heneage Finch,
Thomas Coventry.
Robert Harlej,
Heneage Finch,
William Coivper,
Thomas Parker,
Fulke Grenle,
134
GNOMICA. CH. LVin.
Harcourt ;
Hardwicke ;
Chatham ;
20. Bathurst ;
Talbot ;
Mansfield ;
Liverpool ;
Malmesbury ;
Clive;
Nelson; *
Orford ;
Whitworth ;
Eldon ;
3o. Bolingbroke ;
Torrington ;
Trevor ;
Hood ; t
Duncan ; f
St. Vincent; f
Melville ;
Lake ; f
Sidmouth ;
Clifford;
4o. Ring;
Grantham ;
Holland ;
Hawke ;
Walsingham ;
Grantley ;
Simon Harcourt,
Philip Yorke,
IFilliam Pitt,
Allen Bathurst
Charles Talbot.
William Murray,
Charles Jenkinson,
James Harris.
Robert Clive.
Horatio JSelson,
Robert Walpole.
Charles JVhitworth^
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,
TFilliam DeGrey,
Fletcher Norton,
GWOMICA.
Rodney ; *
Dorchester ; *
Renyon; f
Amherst ; *
5o. Thurlow ; f
St. Helens;
Hutchinson; *
Sheffield ;
Abercromby ; *
Erskine ; f
Line do ch; *
Hill ; *
Beresford (Vise); *
Colchester; f
6oi Stowel ; f
Harris ; *
Oriel; f
CH. LVIII.*
135
George Rodney,
Guy Carleton.
Lloyd Kenyon,
J^ffi^X Amherst
Edivard Thurlow,
Alleyne Fitzherbert
John Hely Hutchinson.
John Baker Holroyd.
Ralph Abercromby,
Thomas Erskine,
Thomas Graham,
Roivland Hill,
William C. Beresford,
Charles AbboU
William ScotL
George Harris.
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, King, 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 GNOMICA. CH. LVIII.
We come now to the eminent men , which
famihes already enobled have produced.
Surrey ;
Worcester ;
Bedford ;
Devonshire ;
Dorset ; J
CornwaUis ;
Bute;
Shrewsbury; \
Derby ;
Pembroke ;
Denbigh ;
Stamford ;
Winchelsea ;
Chesterfield;
Essex ;
Carlisle ;
I
Henry Howard. ( E,)
Somerset ( M, of fF.)
JVilliam ( Ld.) RusselL
William Cavendish ( D. )
Charles Cavendish.
Charles Cavendish.
Henry Cavendish (F. R. S.J
Charles Sackville (E. ofD.)
Charles Sackville ( E. o/M.)
Charles CornwaUis. (M.)
John Stuart. ( E.)
John Talbot (E.)
Charles Talbot (D.)
Tho. Stanley. (E.)
Ferdinando Stanley. ( E.)
J as Stanley. ( E.)
William Herbert. (E.)
Henry Fielding. (Author*)
Lady Jane Grey.
Sir Hen. Finch.
Philip Stanhope. (E*)
Arth. Capel. ( E.)
Charles Howard* (E. living.)
(*) Author of the Century of Inventions*
GNOMICA.. CHi LVIII.
137
G,)
J A Cooper. ('iA E,)
Geo, Berkeley, (i.^' E.)
Geo. Villiers. (i.^ D.)
( Ld.) Henley.
William Coivper , poet.
Waldegrave. (?>.^ E.)
Francis North. ( n«' L.^
Fred. (^."^ Earl.)
Phil. Yorke. ( i.^ E.)
Cha. Yorke. (L.C.)
Rt. Hon. William Pitti
ilf." Catherine Talbot.
Rob. B. Jenkinson. (E. v.)
Horace fValpole. ('b.^ E.)
Richard Howe, f i." E.)
Rob. Des^ereux. (i.^ E.)
Rob. Trevor. (\.^^ V.)
Geo. Clifford. (?>A E.)
A dm. Byron.
Geo. G. Bjron. ( L.^ B. v.)
Rt. Hon. Cha. J. Fox,
Hen. Fox. ( L.^ H. v.)
Geo, Lyttelton. f i." L.)
Thomas Lyttelton. (iA L.)
John Perciml. ( i^ L^J
Rt, Hon. Spencer Percii^aL
Welles ley. ( M. v.)
It tiitlst be Recollected that this regards tlief
existing Peerage; M^tiy celebrated men may bet
i8
Shaftesbury;
Berkeley ;
Jersey ;
Bristol ;
Cowper ;
Waldegrave ;
Guilford ;
Hardwicke ;
Chatham ;
Talbot ;
Liverpool \
Orford ;
Howe ;
Hereford ;
Hampden \
De Clifford;
Byron ;
Holland ;
Lyttelton ;
LoVelandHol
land ;
46,Wellesley;
138 GNOMICA. CII. LVIIl.
found among the families , which are extinct i
^ 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
Gnomica. ch. lviii. 139
and sagacious pracstical sense. The luminous com-
prehension and noble decision of Pitt qualified
him , in right of native endowment, 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 workmanship.
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 GNOMICA. CII, LIX.
if both cannot be had , the first is surely of vastly
more importance than the last. It requires more
strength and self-conhdence 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. What they write, however,
is almost always drawn , mediately if not imme-
diately , from authors vy^ho have preceded them ,
even though it should have been more directly
caught from oral information.
But the highest genius will not bring forth fruit
without long and toilsome culture.
CHAPTER LX,
A clear view of our condition. Proper estimq,te of Riches.
lo June 1823.
Nothing is more comfortless than to travel the
paths of life in a state of blindness of all around
us ; ignorant of our relative positions ; and of tiie
GNOMICA, CII. LX. l4l
various duties required of ourselves and others.
It is a disquietude , which keeps us in equal
anxiety, when we ought to be content, and when
we ought to be watcliful , and to exert ourselves
for a change.
Wfiat to desire, and what to avoid, is the prime
knowlege in our journey through tliis 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.
We ought to learn that rank, dignities, and
riches cannot make us happy, imless the mind be
duly enlightened and regulated. All the most
acute and most permanent pleasures of our exi-
stence are equally open to all 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
and hollowness of intellectual gift, or acquirement
wliich that deceitful wealth covers. In the latter
case the disappointment is accompanied by some^
thing like the disgust one feels at the fraud of
false appearances!
142 GNOMICA. 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 tijemselves without the applica-
tion of both labour and skill. Some strong im-
pulse is necessary. Of tiiose who already enjoy
distinction witriout pains , how mucii is the
impulse weakened ! —
Tiie value of riches would be inestimable , if we
knew liow to use them. Pope ascribes to the first
Lord Bathurst
« 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, » (i)
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 ! • —
(1) Moral Essays. Ep. iii. v. 219 — 111.
(2) Allen Earl Bathurst was created a Peer in 1,711 ; and
died at a great age, 1775. I know not if be was himself
possessed of great abilities : he was a wit : — and it is
something to be even the companion of men of genius. -—
GNOMIC A. CH. LXI. 143
CHAPTER LXL
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 qualities 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 delight and agitate
them 5 which , when removed , they cannot by
their own act recall with any vivacity. Tliey 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 what is
coarse , or trifling , or sensual, or extravagant, or
144 GNOMICA* CH. LXII.
superficial, or erroneous. It loves art for art's
sake; and cleligiits in the glaring marks of that,
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 theii*
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,
tliat what is not practically true cannot be theore-
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 onr conviction, and our desires
may impeli us to run hazards in defiance of our
reason*
GNOMICA* CH. LXIl* l45
In the history of Genius and Taletits 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 imbecillity, 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 BacoiS^.
Still, he who thinks with elevation, purity j
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^
and aspiring!
If a strong imagination operates violently on ati
heart of sensibility ; such an heart also re-acts
forcibly on a powerful imagination. It is not easy
thereforCj when these are united in large portionPj
to avoid those occasional excesses of intellectual
delusion , which mean cunning and cautions
prudence delight at once to condemn, to ridicule,
and to profit by*
19
1-46 GNOMIC A. CH.'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.
GNOMICil. CII. LXIII. 147
CHAPTER LXIII.
Knowlege of what men are , better fitted for success in the
world, than hnowlege of what they ought to be.
a8 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 intercourse.
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! 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 GNOMICA. CH. LXIII.
Therefore he was left iu poverty, neglect, and
privation; in an humble and mean state; scorned
and trampled on by vulgar Greatness ; and uq-
cheered by the voice of Wordly F^me !
The higher pursuits of Genius were never yet
pursuits , which led to wordly exaltation : and ,
1 am firmly persuaded , never will be ! —
Indignation is the common and perpetually-
excited feeling of a noble mind , when it meets
with 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 who have taken advantage of their know-
Icge of the weaknesses of human nature. Thus
Sismondi draws with great force the character of
Matiheu Visconti y (Le Grand) Prince of Milan y
who died 1 3^ i . « C^est par ses talens politiques ,
var $a connoissance profonde du cceur humain ,
des iuterets et des passions de tons ceux quit
vouloit conduire; cest par son calme au milieu
de V agitation , par sa promptitude a se determiner
et sa Constance d poursuivre son but; c' est par son
habilete d feindre , souvent a tromper ; par son
talent pour assujettir des caracteres rebelles , pour
dominer des esprils indomptables , qu^il s'eleua
par-dessus tous les princes de son temps, » (^)
(1) Ital. Rep. V. 53. See also llie Author's LeUers from
the Continent, 1821, p. i33.
GNOMIC A. GH. LXIV. l49
CHAPTER LXIV,
The same observations applied to literature,
1,% 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 which 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
3urely be a subject of doubt to any sound mind.
150 GNOMICA. CH. 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 thai they
ought to be called forth ; and where it improves
our knowlege and enlightens our reason to exer-
cise them ! —
But the multitude of mankind have not by
cukure 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 whatever is grave, or reminds
them of their dc^fects, would be penance; — not
amusement !
CHAPTER LXV.
The guide of leading minds is necessary.
5 Feb. \^z6.
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 well as backward. But
they want 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 gratifying. Thousands are ca-
pable of being taught , who are not capable of
discovering the truth.
Sometimes there is a slumbering spark in the
mind, which 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 LXVI.
The beaten path the most happy.
3 June i8a3.
I am inclined to beheve that a man Avould do
well for his own happiness , never to quit the
beaten path: — but if I admit this, I must admit
162 GNOMICA. CH. LXVI.
that happiness consists in the absence of genius of
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
GNOMIC A. CH. LXVli. 1^3
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 LXVIL
Opposition between the speculative and practical skill (^
GeniuSi.
28 Jutj- 1823.
Either nature implanted in me , or habit and
indulgence of fanciful wishes has nourished in me,
a strong and wild ambition , united 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 o^
that ambition at once unavailing and in the high-
est degree painful 1 —
' There are certain subjects , on which nothing
less than the observations of severe experience
\vill correct the generous errors of Imaginationi
They who are prudent and suspicious in youth ^
are cold and hard-hearted in old age*
ao
154 GNOMICA. CH. Lin.
In the closet , the judgment of a man endued
with warm sensibility 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 tlie 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 cau
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 ! —
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
anj age<
i56 GNOMICA. CH. LXVU.
That knowlegc , however , which is derived
from practice , will , if it has no foundation in
ability , go but a little way.
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, improve, 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
GNOMIC A. CII. 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.
Very 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 1 — in schemes
for the improvement of human nature; and the
exaltation of human morals! —
But ability is shewn in innumerable ways, even
158 GNOMICA. CJl. LXVIII.
where it fails to give worldly wisdom: while
plodding mechanical sense often serves us much
more effectively in the intercourse with actual
life.
CHAPTER LXVIII.
Honours of Birth independent of Riches.
1 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 5 then who is to draw the line ? who is to
determine, where it is to begin and where it is
to end ? —
That which most rationally is requisite to confer
the stamp of value on descent , is, personal meriL,
It is froau the personal merit of the Ancestor,
that the lustre is sjpposed 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. CH* 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 be a GsNERAt
capacity accidentally applied.
29 July 1823.
What Johnson has said in his Life of Cowley
regarding Genius carries such weight with it in
right of the just fame of the author, 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 gnomiCa. ch. lxix.
In the course of a literary life somewhat exten-
ded , I have always taken every opportunity to
protest against tliis 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 commencement of the last cen*
turj y there began to he 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 , 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 itn-
pressed upon it. IVe might as well deny , at once ,
that there are organs or faculties to receive im^
pressions , 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) y there may y nay we should say there
must y be a difference in it , in different persons ,
and with respect to different things. To alledge that
GNOMICA. CII. 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 seal has been applied
to it : but there ivas 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 certain impressions or
pursuits , should be necessarily the same in diffe-
rent instances y with the diversity that we see in
mens organs , faculties , and acquirements of
various kinds, is a supposition not only gratuitous,
but absurd. There is the capacity of animals , of
idiots, 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* CH. LXi.
be the same a^^erage degree of genius or imhisici^
lity — which is just an identical proposition, » etc^
« There are , beyond all dispute > persons who
have a talent Jor particular things , which accor-
ding to /)/ Johnson s definition of genius ^ proceeds
from a greater general capacity acciaentally deter-
mined to a particular direction ! 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 man of large general
capacity is all sorts of genius at once, » etc. Edin-
burgh Review , Art, Life of Sir /. Reynolds , voL
XXXIV. p. 83 — 85.
CHAPTER LXX.
The value of Independence.
5 Aug. i8a3.
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. 1823, I wrote the fragment
of a Poem , from which the following Stanzas are
selected.
GNOMICA. CH. LXXI. (53
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. CII. LXXI.
In true substantial value far exceeds
The chance of empires 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 « ivise 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 ! —
But 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 knowlege of A^hat is of mere necessity, is
mean and groveUng. 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 human bosom:
The love of distinction is a spring to honourable
actions.
But how few can gain real distinction ?
CHAPTER LXXII.
Busy- Novels.
27 June 1823.
Readers love biography and history , because
they seem to teach by experience , rather than ^
i66 GNOMICA. CH. LXYIir.
by speculation , and theory. They like 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 Wertev has ceased to be
fashionable. For the same reason common readers
prehr /arces, and ballets, and what is called
stage- scenery , 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 worn
out thoughts : something which is chearful , and
does not agitate too much those bosoms, which
only want ease.
CHAPTER LXXIII.
In what manner a Poet should write his own Life^
2 JidX 1828.
Were a Poet to write his own Life , the reader
ouglit to require that he should state frankly his
taste , amusements , and inclinations ; his habits ,
his hopes, and disappointments; the characters,
with whom he has been conversant; his own calm
GWOMIGA. 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 ! —
It is the hearty operated on by the Fancy ^
which makes a Poet.
The heart thus throws back its impulses on
the Fancy , and urges it to a nevo 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.
iN^o accidental studies lior 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 visions
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 GNOMJCA. CII. LXXIV*
He can ascertain whether he heartily sympathises
with those whom the consent of Ages has 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 witii less certainty,)
his own feeble efforts at execution with tiieirs.
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 all
future times. It is not reserved for a late period
of society to develop faculties of a nature or a
degree different from those which ever appeared
before. Such novelty is always suspicious : and ,
if it attracts for a little while, soon loses its charm.
CHAPTER LXXIV.
T roper requisites of Tales of Fiction.
\ 17 Jui:e 1823.
. All Tales should have a strong reference to
unforced human sympathy: — They should relate
to life : to what is possible , — and not impro^
bable, 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*
GNOMICA. CH. LXXIV. 169
plicated machinery and conflicting operations of
social ties* — Not violent unreflecting , brutal
ferocious passion: — not the mere joy , which
arises from the alternation of bodily activity and
bodily rest: not the daring heroism of tliouglit-
less ferocity : not the love , which is a sensual
impulse ; and the generosity which is an unreflec-
ting instinct ! —
That , 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 the matter of that
highest order of composition > to which human
genius can aspire. —
Why should we go to savage nations , and
savage times , for those virtues, and that wisdom,
which Providence has ordered should alone grow
up under culture, mental labour, and refine-
ment ?
We are to look in the permanent poets of the
first class for the highest lessons of human intel-
ligence : — ve are to learn from them the dic-
tates of morality ; and the tones of true and vir-
tuous emotion ; — we are to hear from them ,
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 beheves 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
hfe ; 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 brilliance 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. —
GNOMICA. CH. LXXIV. 171
He , who has looked on human nature with a
sorrowhig, 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 imsparing ; — who Avould lash the
^^orld into the shape which suits the encourage-
ment of his own propensities ; who forces his
own views by the power of his eloquence upon
the reluctant eyes of others ; who by the phan-
tasms of his pencil terrifies the beholder into
worship ! —
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 will 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 he 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 ! — This pregnant
and plastic faculty is tlie great 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 the direction
of a cultivated , sound, and enlarged judgment. —
If half our existence were not intellectual ; if
we 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 mu$t
think in some way : — and therefore if mc do not
think right, we 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 furiiished, 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 w orth tiie
trial ! —
If change of scenery and air be often necessary
GNOMIC A. CH. LXXV. 173
to the body , change of thoughts and images is
equally necessary to the mind. And 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!
C H A P T E R L X X V.
Duties of a Biographer,
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 GN03IICA. CH. LXXVI.
warm; his fancy lively; and his command 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.
26 Max 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 all vice !
<i:proMicA. ch. lxxvi. 175
But when the pubhc 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 1 —
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. Parnel 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 Gx\OMlCA. 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 be
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 , nor 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. LXXVlt. 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 excellence.
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 inferior's 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 etithu-
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 : and
the nil admirari is the prime rule of what is called
good company;
They who behold inen 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 guards 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
0.3
178 GNOMICA. CH. LXXVIk
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 , kindl.e ,
and direct these , is the poet's business !
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
nvoided. There is enough Grandeur and Beauty
in Nature, without resorting to extravagant in*
vention.
CHAPTER LXXVII.
Traits and consequences of the enthusiasm of Genius,
i5 July i8a3.
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. No-
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,
180 GNOMIC A. 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 distinc-
tion ; by some image , or struggle at an image ,
romantic and grand; by never dealing in com-
mon-place , but giving constant signs of an un-
borrowed course of tLinking.
Yet to vulgar apprehensions men of Genius
often appear in their youth very inferior to men
of ordinary acquirerbents.
Wliat is Genius , can surely admit pf no ratio-
nal doubt.
Strong, just J and noble Imagination, displaying
itself in visionary indention , must be Genius ! —
If we could suppose a man to exhibit this , who.
seemed dull in learning , barren in acquirement ,
and 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 pf the biography of Genius lies. We want ta
hfive the picture drawn with truth and franknessu
GNOMICA. CH. LXXVII. 181
The mere relation of tlie 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 tipon 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 tlie world : — because their feelings,
and impressions , are not inherent, but borrowed.
There are invisible charms attached to the
whole scenery of nature , wliich it is the business
of the poet to decypher, like an unknown lan-
guage ! It requires a rare native penetration and
brightness of perception to effect this. The ini-
182 GNOMIC A, CH. LXXVIK
pression on common minds is faint, confused »
and too dim to be trcced : — and that which is
taken ac second hand from other painters , is of
no real value.
In proportion as a mind is pleased with the
lively 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
mors of th^ ingenuity of the understanding than
of the heart. They are always great admirers of
their own temporary manners ; and assimilate
the costume of 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.
They 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^
GlsrOMICA. GH. Lxxvir. 183
^nd suit their conception's to whaS is familiar^
selfish , and coarse.
Ttiis minor sort of Genius is mo^e the result
of study and art, than the Visionary ?.n J. Sublime* .
But how many more readers does it ple?se ! —
Nothing delights them lite pictures , which they
call drawn to the life. — But surely , Ae pictures
ought in themselves to be beautiful , ot* 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 i, 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 wortliy of admiration and praise, than
a wild and speculative imagination*
Thus the admirers of Fielding , in preference to
JRichardson 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 GNOMrcA. CHi tx-kvui.
are familiar and coarse. I doubt if any of the
characters in 7'om Jones are particularly true to
nature : the prevalent introduction of the fanu-
liar 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 LXXIIL
Different sources of the different characters iK poetry
traced.
14 My T823.
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
Gnomica. 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 this
very account resort to borrow warmth 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
^4
186 GNOMICA. CH. LXXVIII.
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 some similitude to what themselves are
accustomed to conceive of the same subjects.
When a young lady of more memory than
genius , more liveliness than depth , more quick-
ness than examination, writes a Novel, she be-
trays in every page the trifles with which her
GNOMICA. CH. LXXIX. 187
mind is full ; and the tests of value , which she
applies to the events of life.
CHAPTER LXXIX.
What are just claims to public notice.
\o 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 hfe : 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.
188 GNOMICA. 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 2i pretence , 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 w orld : and he cannot in
such advanced days begin a course of ambition
GJNOMICA. CH. LXXX. 189
which his superior abilities might, if commenced
earlier , have rendered easy to him. —
CHAPTER LXXX.
Dangers of Imagination.
* i6 June 1823.
Imagination, though the most brilliant, is the
most dangerous of all the mental faculties. It
often leads as to pursue WilUo' -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
what 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 GKOWICA. CII. LXXXI.
which nature seems to have implanted in us a
strong passion. The history of mankind proves
how many soUd advantages have at all times been
sacrificed for the attainment of it. If it exists e^en
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^ jj
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
GNOMICA.. CH. LXXXl. iQl
THE VISION OF POETRY.
1.
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 fose;
And one above the rest iii 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 wer#
raised !
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 :
a Strike bold , while at my nod new mimic worlds
arise. »
192 GNOMICA. CH. LXXXII.
3.
Then spread before my sight
Elysian realms as fair,
As Paradise to Adam first appeared :
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 LXXXII.
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. IQS
To do Otherwise, is to make Poetry the mistress
or hand maid of Error!
All which raises Pity in false places ; all which
makes Yice 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 ivisdom.
Nature, lovely Nature! but to thee,
1 lift th' adoring eye , and bow the knee !
I scorn th' unholy , coarse , factitious fire ,
Which wakes with clamourous notes th' unwilling
lyre !
Only where thou with voluntary glow
Bidst the heart's melted current freely flow,
1 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 dying wreath!
Fresh as the waters of perennial life,
Flow thy clear streams of song mid human strife!
Untouch'd by time , unclouded by the change
25
194 GNOMICA. CH. LXXXIII.
Of transient taste , thy strains of rausic range
Upon the wings of the eternal Year ;
And fresh , as when the world began , appear !
CHAPTER LXXXIII.
ff^hat are called the prejudices of a native sagacity , are
generally verified by time.
17 July 1823.
I am one of those who feel no particle of
doubt in the conviction , that whenever we give
lip 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 possible to cer-
tainty ! But, unquestionably, it is still more satis-
factory to have the test oijacts , to resort to , as
a guidance.
CHAPTER LXXXIV.
Successive ductility md 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
gpTomica. 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 investigate its own opinions , this tem-
porary w eakness is put aside ; and the more it is
pressed , the firmer it becomes 1
CHAPTER LXXXV.
,. Opinions of unprincipled worldlings.
19 Jidj' 1823.
There are a numerous class of mankind , who
entertain the belief, that 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! They may succeed ,
and do succeed , too often , when they have
weak people to deal with! But when 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 , where 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-
ventrous 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 April 1823.
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 Muse it is difficult to
give much interest to Didactic poetry. That , of
which the primary object is preceptive , has in it
198 CNOMICA. 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 derivative ; 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 feelings. 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 LXXXVII.
The proper criterions of original thinliing.
9 April 1823.
1 call ORIGINAL those opinions , which result
from the operations of an Authors mind upon
GNOMICA. CH. LXXXVII. IQQ
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 borrowed , 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 , what he sin-
cerely thinks , he will be generally right ^ 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 write 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 whole , 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.
<clt is not my own portrait)) says Montaigne,
« 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 delight 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, which gives
to it its greatest satisfaction. Tfie moral , biogra-
phical , and historical literature of England alone
is somewhat 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 m ith otlier countries.
Authors must be tried by the fertility , the
force, the sagacity , the accuracy, the brilliance,
the eloquence, the moral feeling of their minds ;
— not by a little technical skill; by laborious
correctness, and mechanical method.
It is by degrees that the 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 the mind. The first is more bloom-
ing , and shewy : the second , riper and mellower.
a6
202 GKOMICA. CH. Lxxxvn.
We do not continue for any length of years to
load our memories , witliout bringing wliat 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 but
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 Tzet^ 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
GNOMIC A. CH. LXXXVIII. 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 4)f the multitude not the test of merit.
<> 9 Jpril 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,
Paulum sepultce distal 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 contemnaSy eos aliquid
putare esse universos? (i)
(i) Cicero , Tusc. Quest. I. 5. c. 36. .
204 GNOMICA. CH. LXXXIX.
If the multitude are guided by their own indi-
vidual judgments, which is the |3rivilege 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 ; \vhile 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 u4pril 1823.
The value of a fancy is little, till it becomes
aggregated wdth the operations of the mind.
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 arise 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 GNOMICA. 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 to please, — Why? —
Merely because it is neiv : whereas it pleases the
author, because it is habitual!
There are two degrees of Invention: one is
discovery only; — the other creation. We may
discover what exists ; but whicli has hitljerto
lain hidden. We may create : but we are bound
to create with a regard to probability, —
In t!ie first class we may associate sentiments ,
moral principles , and reflections , to a simple
fancy : in the last class , tliere is the complex
operation of tlie imaginative combination, and
of the creation of the intellectualities appropriate
to such new existences. This is not a mere dis-
covery ; nor even a simple creation ; but a double
creation ! —
There are among liuman Beings , those who are
born with noble capacities , and generous hearts :
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 j4pril 1 823.
Without purity and elevation of mind, 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 jnind 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. A thousand invisible as well as visible
objects are abovit us and around us , and solicit
our internal meditations , as well 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.
GNOMICA. 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 mankind destroys peace ,
and brings despondence.
1 6 AxiQ. 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 tlieir
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 the
spur to undergo bodily labour , and the waste
of mental spirits, and perils, and even death, —
if it were so? — Where would be the stimulus to
fame , or to any unmercenary pursuit ? —
There must he such an active principle as that
of benevolence in the world ! Men will do good
for the sake of good ! for the internal satisfaction,
which it gives to the conscience , and the heart !
^ ' / 27
210 GNOMICA. CH. XCI.
Is it possible, that all fair words can be intended
merely to draw him, to whom they are addressed,
into a snare or a pit ?
He, who lives upon the vitals of the necessi-
tous , who cc laps the blood of sorrow » ; —
« 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 , that they may dart on their
prey unawares !
Yet it is not by public services , and benefit to
others, tfiat men become rich, and advance them-
selves in the world : nor is it generally by genius
or talents that they arrive at greatness! The mean-
est faculties , always watchful to promote their
own individual interests , are much more calcu-
lated to effect these ends ; and much more gene-
rally succeed. It is strange, but it is true, that
Providence permits duplicity and hypocrisy , and
false faith and cunning, to carry away the spoils
and the laurels in this life!
(^) Fitzalbini.
%«'%%%% 1
GNOMICA. CH. XCII. 211
CHAPTER XGII.
Familiarity lessens the ugliness of evil : of which still the
traits are certain ; and cannot he mistaken.
21 July 1823.
When we dwell a long while on an evil subject,
we lose something of the force of the revolting
and glaring impressions, which strike us whenever
we 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 which 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 tumn 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 particle of doubt in the mind of an in-
telligent and wise man. (i) No man feels a diffi-
(1) It ia not of these strong lines of separation that the
Quarterly Review , ( N.^ lvi. vol. xxviii. 2823, p. 536 J
speaks ^ when it says , in refere*ice to the Opposition in
Parliament on the Affairs of Spain ; « the evidence of what
212 GNOMICA. CH. XCII.
culty in distinguishing between murder and man-
slaughter: — between the premeditated scheme
and the accidental ebuHition 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 !
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 y is not .always striking and
conclusive ; there is often room fpr debate; and it is one of
the most antient and usual employments of oratory ,
— : to mahe 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 question ;
— of being
averse
From all the truth it sees or hears ;
But swallows nonsense and a lie
*' With greediness and gluttony.
Jnd y though' it have the pique and long y[
Js still for something in the wrong. *
GNOMICA. CH. XCIl. 213
having the courage and dexterity to support an
argument that black is white ; then, in the society
where such things prevail , every 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 XGIII.
Anxiety for the future.
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 uhnecessary. 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 flies ?
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 lives upon fear.
Nothing then is so desirable , as the indepen-
dence , which 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 affliction which 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 ,
« That husKd in grim repose expects his evening
prey , »
increases danger, and multiplies the chances of
ruin by giving efficacy to many modes of destruc-
tion which migiit otherwise be escaped.
The future is for the most part hid from us by
the wisdom and beneficence of a merciful Provi-
dence. If the 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,
ar July 185 3.
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 th«
216 GNOMICA. CH. LXXIX.
moral courage to endure them in the interval
till protection or retribution can come, is at tlie
mercy of whatever the cupidity or malice of
scoundrels may choose to inflict 1
The alternative may be grievous : but the lesser
evil MUST be boldly incurred !
We may be inclined, 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
tliose limits, w ithin which the appearance of some
degree of coarse and homely honesty is included.
— But experience proves tliat it is not so ! —
TIjere 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, tliey 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 « thSey only rob the rich , to gwe to the poor! »
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 GXV.
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 the bier !
If man is born to trouble , thou thy share,
Not discontent , art also born to bear !
i8
218 ^ GNOMICA. CH. XCV.
Why should St thou free from envy seek to find
The paths , where half that tread them , wander
bUnd ?
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 oj Life Man cannot blot.
Gnomica. 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 ;
Tliou , who in secret hold'st th' inspiring reign
Oe'r all that ever breathed the genuine strain ;
Where dost thou dwell ? Where Earth her glories
spreads
In mountains , vales , seas , lakes , and woods ,
and meads ?
Or rather thro' th' empyreal air dost fly ,
Filling all space by tiiy ubiquity ?
Thence passing tfjro the lieart of Man , thy wing
Touches the mountains whence the waters spring
Of Castaly ; — when out the torrent flows ;
And bears th' entrancing strain of joys or woes !
Unlock'd by thee , there , mystic Goddess , lies
The 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 1
Not to thine ear may such blaspheming tongue
Outrage by childish boast the sons of song !
O Thou, of mien severe, to Truth aUied,
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 ,
New forms the soul , and gives to nature laws ;
(^) Collins. Ode on the Pociical Character.
GNOMICA. CH. XCV. 221
Sports with its work, by blind conceit betray'd ;
Then worships the vain idol it has made!
Art ! pitiless , unpitiable 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 vain 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 wont to dwell,
Comes forth to incense-breathing 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 Nature her enraptured fingers flings;
» And draws out notes, ^^hich Heaven ordains
should fire
» With rapture due immortal man's desire!
» Within my cave full many a -vo^eary year
» My tortured chords have striven to wake the
tear
» Deep-buried in the human breast : — in vain
» 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 my call I
» They were the fictions of a frantic mind ,
» Forced into wildering 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
5) This pensile Orb within its aziu^e 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 1
» Not thine the toil , to strive with fruitless art
GTfOMlCA. 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 GNOMICA. CH. XCVI.
Heard plain on earth, while with mysterious fear
It listens to th' unwonted din of Song ,
Mazed at the strife celestial choirs among!
CHAPTER XCVI.
A poet must be exalted in his own private feelings and
habits.
21 Jlpril i8a3.
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.
yivid 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 XCVIT.
The aggravated evils of that adversity , which is driven to
seek comfort in delusions.
29 Julj- 1823.
He , who places himself, or is placed by Mis-
fortune , in a situation , to which the application
ot the light of Truth gives an exposure painful
^9
226 GNOMICA. CH. XCVII.
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 both 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 , built on a supposed con-
duct of mankind different from that which a
GNOMICA. CH. XCVIII. 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 weakens 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.
Repetitions of opinions not always tautologies.
23 May 1823.
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 rene\\als 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 , \rhich 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.
i.^^ We cannot surrender up our minds to any
one , whom we do not think in earnest.
2.^ No affecter of feelings ever really hits the
true chords.
GNOMIC A. CH. XCIX. 229
CHAPTER XCIX.
Gray's Travels.
27 Jan. 1823.
Gray 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 Naples. — On his return, he
passed northward thro' Lombard y 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
c( words » not glaring and pompous , but such as
« burn » 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 brilliant 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*
ONOMICA. CH. C, 231
C H A P T E R C.
Pictures of the penetralia of poetical minds j curious and .
instructive.
12 July 1823.
The impression on the mind , which 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 througli a mist.
To be successful in the world , it is necessary
to see things exactly as they are. But there 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 tfian they really are , leads
the believer into perpetual snares. Tlie seeing
things in their precise and exact colours, is that
useful faculty whicli is called shrewdness or sa-
gacity. But he may be slirewd in the closet , who
is confused and deranged in the conflict of
action.
It is the perpetual contest between imagination
and judgment, which 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 tliemselves
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 la)
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
ritecl 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 thoughts, 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. ii.
introduced this taste into , England ; — and it
3o
*
234 CNOMICA. 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. What 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
GNOMIC A. CH. cr. 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 from being the same thing ! —
CHAPTER CI.
Just Invention,
x5 June 1823.
The word - dealers in poetry are men of ready
memory , and a certain degree of technical skill.
— They have a feeble fancy , no imagination, and
little feeling.
It is not necessary that a Tale of Invention
should adhere to the daily minutiae of actual life.
These minutiae continually change with the fashion
of the day ; and what is interesting while that pre-
vails , becomes absurd , after its usage has passed.
Coarse minds can only be operated upon by
the associations of the actual events with which
they are conversant. What is abstract, or general,
or visionary, does not touch them. But great in-
tellects delight in the sublime and indefinite
outlines of what 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 virtuons emo-
tions of the heart : it must he supphed by moral
knovvlege, 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, — r ' that is the
Multitude , — 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 woidd 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-
pla) itself, augments the merit. — Copies of rea-
lity 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 June 1823.
The test of Poetry is , whether the author
shews the marks oi inspiration : whether he seems
vmder the unsought dominion of the Muse !
wiiether he is under the force of a fulness, which
struggles at language no further, than as it is the
vehicle of thought 1
238 GNOMICA. CII. CII.
They wlio labour much at the workmanships
cannot be under the influence of much enthu-
siasm.
Whatever image is taken thro' the medium of
tlie types of language is necessarily unori^inaL
Language should follow , not precede, the origin
of an image. It may be doubted, if they who
derive the image from the language, have any
thing more than a technical perception of the
image: with them the language is the substance;
not tlie vehicle.
And this distinction seems to me to pervade
the compositions of all secondary poets. Tlie
image itself is not present to them; but the words
of some predecessor. Dugald Stewart speaks of a
memory of words; 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 : they
catch all cliaracters , but are possessed by none.
They never draw from nature : they have no
self-motion ; but always derive their impulse
from otiicrs.
What comes to us thro' the medium of language,
we may reject, when we will: — but what
comes direct upon the mind , it is not in our
power to set aside. A Genius therefore is never a
GNOMICA. 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 all , 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 would 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 thoplea-
240 GNOMiCA. CH. cm.
sures of Memory ot pleasures of Hope , is funda-
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 what
were deemed realities. '— - Hence it fell into alter-
nations of coarseness and extravagance.
CHAPTER GUI.
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. 24 1
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 privileged 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 numerous , 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 mc ,
and say that Nobility 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 dealings 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.
A 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 w ith a world , where grace
Falls on the worthless only ; where, abhorr'd
By base Corruption , Virtue walks in woe ! —
# .
GNOMICA. CH. CV. 243
Shilt 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 hght; and then a chill comes on:
Thus sable o'er this chequer'd scene prevails,
And griefs check pleasures almost ere they
:J - -. : .-r. ■'•=■« -' . dawn. (1)
CHAPTER CV.
Speculation and Jction.
lo 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-
{}) This is an attempt to substitute a new arrangement
of rhymes for the Sonnet.
244 GNOMICA. 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-
titled 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 , who for the most part carry on the
affairs of the world , always deal in this pro-
fligate excuse. The lessons of theory are with
them no longer operative , than while they make
for their purpose. The instant that they come
GNOMICA. CH. CV. 245
in their way , they get rid of thein by the
opprobrious epithet o{ 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 avait
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 mean am
bitions , the world 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
skilful 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 A L D O.
(A Fragment. J
' ' " ' ' . i8 June iSaS^
pEifT 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: lo
But onward to the heart its rays are borne ;
GJVOMICA. 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
Teba-Ldo : he was sprung of generous blood
In fortune's evil hour : a Troubadour 20
His father long had wandered, from his realms
Exiled hy 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 . GIVOMICA. CH. CVI.
of beechcn foliage, the lone pensive child 4o
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 cuird 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
GNOMIOA. CH. CVI. 249
His truant feet to climb its tapering rise ,
And sit upon its giddy top ; and thence
Catch the dim gUmpse of waters , which the
chain yo
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 ,
3jt
250 GNOMICA. CH. CVI.
Caught the rich tmt from his imagination ;
And seem'd an angel , till the approach betray 'd
The wild delusion. J5ut he fed his hopes
Still with the waking dreams , which thro' the
day
His mind's creations foster'd. The high notes
Of many a bard inspired, from hour to hour, roo
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 symphoniously
To his young fablings. In the yellow groves
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 Tehaldo to the calling high ,
And only fate , to which a Bard is doom'd.
The youthful Bard had thro' a toilsome
day I ; 4
Roved till his limbs were weary ; stretch'd at
night
On the hard pallet of his native home ,
He slumber'd deep , tUl a strange vision came ;
It had an angel's shape and wings : the blaze
Of an angelic beauty ; and a voice
gnoWga. ch. cr. 251
Melodious , as if ol celestial Bil'th. 120
It stood below his feet ; and gazing long
Witli smiles of good ineffable , it- spake
Thus to his ravish'd ears, «0 come with me;
»Rise 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
Return'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 1 4o
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
»Beyond my wonted rambles ! if my feet
»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
j)Where 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,
Reft of conjecture, sunk to vacancy:
And when the night returned , the same dull state
Bender'd her senseless of the 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
Then shriek'd to th' Adriatic: by th' alarm
The sad deserted Dame aroused, exclaim'd,
«0 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 path.
Then in an humble cot he entrance found;
And liospitable cheer , though homely : much
His iiost he questional ; 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 the 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 shades of night
Surprised him at the mountain's foot : a book
Lay on the shelf where pilgrims wont to sign
Some brief memorial of their resting place.
Here many a name , and many a mystic note ,
And many a wish , and many a sentiment ,
Tebaldo read with curious eye, while thoughts 1 90
Busy , confused , and multitudinous , ,
Loaded his acliing 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
254 GNOMICA. CH. CI.
«Is this an omen ? is it destiny ,»
Tebaldo cried, «that at tlie outset thus
»I meet a blight to all my sanguine hopes ? »
Aurora pierced the sliades of night: the song
Of earliest bird greeted the rising ray ,
When sad Tebaldo , by deep slumbers a^otlicd,
A\Aaked refresh'd ; lie bade his host adieu
With many a grateful wish ; and on his road
Trudged lightly thro' the dews ; the 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 bede\Vd , .
But saw no Tower , that many a league was wont
From topmost Appenine summits to reflect
The glancing sunbeam : his presumptuous zeal
Had rashly ventured , till wliate'er liad grown
Twined with liis heart-strings, was removed,
perc!]ance
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
Wiiii an elastic spring he rusli'd away
Still downward to the plain : then in tlie gleam
Of kindling Dawn a cluster of light spires
And towers and battlements announced a ville ,
Such as the illumined page of rich Romarice
divoMiCA. CH. CI. 255
Had often pictured to his wondering eye.
Ere yet an hour had pass'd, his ready step
Approach'd the frowning fortress , where the
guard
Of massy draw bridge , and the spiked power 280
Of iron-tooth'd portcullis , tyrant-like ,
All entrance but at will forbade. Profound
Thro' his young bosom tremors ran , and shook
His light and Ijealthful limbs , but open stood
The studded folding-gates, and down the 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 displayed, 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 GIVOMICA. CH. evil.
CHAPTER CVIT.
Extract of a Letter,
The line of worldly success.
Use oj' Boohs.
la Sept. i8i3.
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 facts, 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 that which conduces to
what they call 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 than to ^now
that it is so —
GNOMICA.. CH. cvir. ' 257
All other knowlege is nothing compared with
an insight into the human character, -t— with
an acquaintance with the movements of the
heart; and the springs of action. — ^o valuable
intelligence 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 all 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 views
of what surrounds them , than ^ose 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 impunity assume
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 our nature , that we should
always be thinking of ourselves, and our own
affairs and interests, — when we consider, that
no mind if 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.
GNOMICA. CH. CVII. 259
But a good Book inust 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^ as for a
right conduct ! It is not sufficient that good
should be done! — it must be done from right
motives ! 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-
teresta 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 CNOMiCA. en. cviii.
the use of that , of wliic'i the consequences are
not direct. They cannot perceive therefore how
the wisdom operates , which throws its light
circuHously , or from a distance, —
CHAPTER CVIII. ^
Sincerity in composition. ^
II Jul/- 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 ipodels
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
aud Byron,) says the Ed. Rev.' N.° 60. p. 88,—
GNOMTCA. CH. CVIII. 261
a 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 ha^^e gone down
)) into those depths which every man may sound
-ii for himself^ though not for another; and they
J) have made disclosures to the world of what they
» beheld and knew there ; — disclosures that have
» commanded and enforced a profound and uni-
» versal sympatJiy , by proving that all mankind,
» the troubled , and the untroubled , the lofty
» and the low , the strongest and the frailest,
» are linked together by the bonds of a com-
» mon but inscrutable nature. » — It is said
that « 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! —
We 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 genius often forbids it to
do so face to face : — but fortitude returns in
the closet ; and it can 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 in his writings
affects to describe vivid impressions and strong
emotions, does not in reality 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 way ; 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
what he wishes to seem to be , he furnishes
no materials to the philosophy of the human
mind: when he speaks of what w, he supplies
facts ; his opinion may easily be mistaken as
GNOMICA. CH. 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 ! —
« 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 who 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.
Progress of Poetry.
5 ISov. 1823.
Gbay in his celebrated Ode , The Progress
of Poesy , traces this progress nfrom 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 JVyatt 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 Ftestoration ; and a new one arose ,
on the Erench model y 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 pf true poetry
GNOMICA. CH. ex. 265
with metaphysical conceits; and thus alterna-
tely produced passages of light and darkness.
Such conceits were occasional in Petrarch : they
were the essence of the ingredients most sought
and valued by his successors. And thus it was
that many supposed rivals of Petrarch were
subsequently raised among his countrymen ,
whom weak critics endeavoured to persuade
the Public for a little while to have even ex-
cell'ed him. This has , indeed , been the case
in all ages of literature. When a great Genius
appears , and attracts the attention of his coun-
try , imitators copy faults ; and not merits.
CHAPTER ex.
Poetry , not an art of words.
21 Oct. 1823.
Fashion has changed the Art of Poetry into
an Art 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
life ; invests them with interesting circumstan-
ces ; or assuming the facts as known , describes
the feelings or imaginings suited to them in
metrical language adapted to the lyre,
34
266 G:proMicA. ch. ex.
Such has been the natural origin of the Epic ;
and such , of the Ode , or Song. As in ad-
vancing Uterature these compositions became
more technical , the primary ingredients and
objects became more and more ecUpsed 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 tlic dress.
One word too much , one word of cum-
bersome cloathing , is a detraction from genius ,
or from the object of true poetry. All illustration
which outshines that which is intended to be
illustrated , withdraws tf]e attention from that
, on which it is the object to fix it.
There is a transparent eloquence arising from
force and beauty of thought , of which the least
artifice , the least mark of study or labour ,
destroys tlie spell. Whatever is recondite there-
fore, is repugnant to the charm of this 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. Wliere the imaginative pre-
sence of objects by raising strong emotion gives
an accompanying depth of colour to the dictipn
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 jyoetical genius.
3o Oct. 1823.
1. If the organs oi Sense are clear , the human
perception of outward objects is proportionally
lively.
268 GNOMIC A. c.n. lxi.
2. If the emotion of pleasure or pain from
the perceptiou 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 e\ e 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,
G. 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 }'et 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 , tliey 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 any one deny that he is entitled to the
credit of possessing a poetical genius? Perhaps
it will be urged , that they may be all pos-
sessed , } et all in too faint a degree to pro-
duce more than mediocrity ; — and that then
they are of no value , .-^- because we know
from Horace's authority what it is
Mediocribus esse poetis.
It can scarcely, however, be admitted that an
assemblage of such qualities will not go bey 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 deny, what has been already required to be
conceded as a datum.
But it is worthy of remark , that while the
credit of such poetical genius has been spa-
ringly and hesitatingly allowed to persons pos-
sessed of all these qualities , it has been pro-
fusely lavished on many who possessed only
one or tivo of the most prominent of these quali-
ties : — such as fancy , or imagination ; — without
sensibility of heart, force of understanding,
270 GJVOMiCA. cn. cxir.
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 i\W. 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-
GNOMICA.. 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 \\hich
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
Beattie's poetry.
(c It is the solitary growth of the genius of
Edwin » , (the Minstrel , ) cf and his isolated
und 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 the possessions and
pursuits of the world , is at once a source of
present complacence , and a guide to the future.
Error , doubt , confusion of thought , are all
painful at the moment , and mischievous in their
effects. There are thousands of unnecessary
272 GNOMICA. CH. CXIl.
perplexities, anxieties, and regrets, wliicli recti-
tude of intellect and clearness of reflection are
capable of throwing aside. That , which does
not confine happiness to external circumstances,
but places it in the Mind , is most consolatory
to the varied outward conditions of Humanity,
of which it often happens tljat no personal
exertions or virtues can alter the 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 w ould make the dispensations of Providence
unequal and unjust; inasmucli as they would
be partial and confined to a few persons.
He , who cultivates and enjo) s 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.
IVice 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
GNOMICA. CH. GXIII. 273
therefore would be weaknesses , if the proof of
the real existence of these qualities were to
depend on worldly skill and success.
CHAPTER GXIII.
VTritings of borrowers useless , • cumbersome , and due to
the fire.
8 I^ov. 1823.
As in our late stage of literature , the occu-
pation of mercenary authorship has greatly in-
creased , the number of mechanical writers
has unproportionally augmented beyond those
possessed of original powers. Many reasons may
be assigned for this : when men work for Lire,
their business is to fill the greatest space in the
shortest time : and memory can perform this
service much more rapidly than original thinking;
while what is thus produced , is probably more
palatable to the mass of readers. What is trite,
is easy of conception : the reader's understan-
ding and prejudices are prepared for it : its
very dilution in the act of transfer perhaps
makes it more pleasant to the weak intellects,
which would feel a distaste to it in its native
vigour.
But the tendency whicfi it has to discourage
genius and leading talent, by 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 blundering 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 :
Gnomica. 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 borrovued 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 .
10 iVW. 1823.
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 not been said before ; —
something positively new. 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 originality 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 others , the chances are that the major part
of them Avould not have been just.
Pope says ,
« True wit is nature to advantage dress' d ;
If hat oft was thought, but ne'er so well expressed;
Something , whose truth convinced at sight we/ind.
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 little 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,
« The Churchyard, (says Johnson) abounds
with images which find a mirror in every mind,,
and with sentiments to which every bosom re-
turns an echo. The four stanzas beguining . « Yet
e'en these bones , » 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. y>
It is true that Johnson is here speaking of
an originality , in v^hich there is novelty. Yet
when the thought is just , the reader at least
persuades himself xhdit 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 GNOMICA. CU. 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 weight; 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 word, 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 Bacons 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
GNOMICA. 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 Gray's
« Ode on Spring » that though « natural , it is
too stale, » If this be true., it is objectionable:
what is stale, 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 sentiment 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 o^'i^iVza/iVT*, 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. vi. p. 190.
280 GNOMICA. CH. CXV.
disguise the theft of thought by putting it iu
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 part, his oii^n;
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 borrows from poverty , never unites :
he disjoins , and combines with equal 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 Noi^. 1823.
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
GNOMicA. cn. cxv. 28 i
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 light of Fancy , kindled and augmented
by emotion. Fancy alone would not have pre-
sented such extensive aftd contrasted views :
for reality exhibits no such images in coaibi-
nation. Gray therefore brought before him this
rich and affecting picture by the force of the
creatii^e 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 , — separated by 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 a Progress of Poesy, y*
— The « Lyre » ought to have been a person,
— a Muse ; — an active, not a passive, object. —
The « Progress i) depends, not on the Lyre itself,
but on the characters of the persons thro' whose
hands it passes ; and this destroys all unity ;
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 who 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 effects of the Passions on
the Lyre: and Gray, 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 derivatively. 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 1,^ and 3.^ stanza of the i,^ Ternary, he
himself changed the « L^re » into a « Muse, y*
GNOMicA. CH. cxvr. 283
CHAPTER CXVI.
Metaphysical Poetry.
1 3 iVW. 1823.
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, — The 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 , which
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. exvii.
CHAPTER CXVIL
True nature of Poetry.
14 Aor. 1823.
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 which
it is denominated. —
Uoirjo-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 within
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
creation.
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
ONOMICA. 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 distinct in their quality, is the 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 new « 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 GTOMICA. 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.
A good Fahle of primary necessity to constitute primary
poetry.
i5 iVoj/. 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 , because it is possible , ( tjjough barely
possible , ) to compress a Fable within the limits
of an Ode.
But a good Fable, well designed, will not
do alone , unless t!iere 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.
Tliere is , perliaps , but one Fable in the
world , wliicli is equally grand and symmetrous
in the design, and perfect in the execution:
GNOMIC A. CH. CXTX. 287
and that is Milton's Paradise Lost. It results
from this , that 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 tljing so
exalted , so profound , so etherial , in which
Nature and Art have combined to do their ut-
most, should be witliin the taste, or the reach,
of vulgar conceptions?
CHAPTER CXIX.
Edward Phillips's Opinion of the Fable proper for an
Heroic Poem.
i5 i\W. 1823.
Edward Philips , the nephew of Milton , in
the admirable Preface to his Theatrum Poetarurriy
1675, 12.° (^) 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
(^) A Selection from this scarce book, containing Phil-
lips's Characters of the English Poets , till the death of
Q. Elizabeth J ( with many additions , ) was reprinted by
the present Author in 1800. 8.°
288 GNOMIC A. CH. CXIX.
time so brief, yet so comprehensive, a maimer,
that it would be v/ell , if our modern poets
and modern critics could always keep it in
mind.
nit is not,y> says he, «« mere historical re-
lation y spiced over witJi a little slight fiction ,
noi\^ and a Personated Firtue or Vice rising out
of the ground , and uttering a speech , which
makes a Heroic Poem : hut it must he rather a
hrief ^ ohscure , or remote tradition ; — hut of
some remarhahle piece of story , — in which the
Poet hath an ample field to enlarge hy feigning
of prohahle circumstances , in which , and in
proper Allegory , Invention, (the well-manage-
ment whereof is indeed no other than decorum , )
principally consisteth ; and wherein there is a
kind of truth ^ even in the midst of Fiction, For
whatever is pertinently said hy way of Allegory^
is morally though not historically true ; and
circumstances , the inore they have of rierisi-
mility , the more they keep up the reputation
of the Poet , whose husiness it is to deliver
feigned things as like to truth as may he ; that
is to say , not too much exceeding apprehension,
or the helief of what is possihle , or likely ; or
positively contradictory to the truth of history I »
By Phillips's standard therefore, (and this must
be taken to have been Milton's standard , ) the
monstrous and extravagant must be excluded
GNOMIC A. CH CXIX. 289
from all poetic fiction which aspires to excel-
lence. Verisiinility is an essential quality.
We do not wonder that tfie Mob , when they
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. INiO rude , unedu-
cated , and inexperienced eye admires the 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. viHe that forsakes the probable, y> says
Johnson , « may always find the marvellous. »
But understanding marvellous , as Johnson
here understands it , in an invidious and re-
prehensible sense, what appears marvellous in
one age is not, (at least in the same degree,)
marvellous in another. Many things which ap-
pear objectionably marvellous in the Fairy-
Queen y might not appear so in Queen Eliza-
beth's reign. But a poet, who builds on opi-
nions of temporary prevalence , must take the
consequence , and not complain if « he plucks a
deciduous laurel. » The poet , who aspires to
37
290 GNOMICA. 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 Isov. i8a3.
Johnson in his criticism on Metaphysical poe^
try , in his Life of Cocvley , says that « 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 , Cin 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.
V%'V%'%«%%%^ ■»■%*%•%■%
GNOMICA. CH. CXXl. , 291
CHAPTER CXXL
TVhat IS unborrowed , need not he positively new ; hut
must be neither stale , nor trifling.
20 i\W. 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 ia 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 C2ia judge, for one who
can originate. But he vfho judges with the best,
is too apt to think himself superior to an ori-
ginator of a subordinate class.
^^'%«'«.-% *■*** %•■%■%■* ^
292 GiyORflCA. CH. CXXII.
CHAPTER GXXII.
BiigUsh Poets 3 who have written prose,
20 iS'Oi/. 1823.
The number of Poets , who have written
PROSE , is \ery hmited. 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 di florid style. A florid style
consists either of excessive ornament; or, or^
nament in wrong places. (^) A true poetical mind
( 1) The charge of foridness has therefore been most
inappositely , falsely , and ignorantly , applied to Burke.
GNOMICA, CH. CXXII. 293
never does this : the energy of its thoughts is
the security against this fault : it is vacancy ,
or weakness , which seeks the disguise of over-
ornament : real vigour, carried forward by the
rapidity of its own motion, has not leisure to
stop to seek it. Of men aspiring to be authors,
he who thinks powerfully , will almost always
write powerfully ; and it can scarcely happen
that one can write powerfully without a good
style. An useful book may be written illustra-
tive of a particular subject , witliout 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 abiUties; and these can scarcely
exist without attaching to them a good style.
What is general and essential , can be se-
parated from its concomitants ; and yet lose
nothing of its force or use : but of how few
authors can the matter be thus dealt with ! —
The herd of writers produce only what derives
its worth 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
When his style became rich and figurative, it arose out of
the subject; and flowed naturally, and almost necessarily,
from the warmth of the thought.
294 GNOMICA. CH. CXXII.
chiefly arisen from the workmanship appUed
to tlie 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 so
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. ch. cxxiii. 295
CHAPTER CXXIIT.
Sonnet.
i8 Noi^. 1823.
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 , uphfted 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 senseless , all aghast with fear :
And now, the rapture of existence o'er,
No voice but that of murmurs can he hear !
CHAPTER CXXIV.
Beauties of Shahespeare,
20 JVop*. 1823.
The Editor of the Beauties of Shakespeare ,
( an Editor ^ whose unfortunate fate is well-
296 GNOMICA. CH. CXXIV.
known, (1) but who shewed great taste in that
Collection,) says justly in his Preface a there is
scarcely a topic common with other writers on
which he has not excelled them all : there are
many nobly peculiar to himself y where he shines
unrivalled y and like the eagle , properest emblem
of his daring genius , soars beyond the com*
mon reach y 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.
v< If ill Fortune never come with both hands full y
But write herjair words still in foulest letters ?
She either gives a stomach ^ and no food ; —
Such are the poor , in health; — or else a feast ,
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.
GTVOMICA. CH. CXXIV, 297
I know not whence this mysterions 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.
« So it Jails out\
That ivhat eve have , we prize not to the worth ,
Whiles we enjoy it; but being lack' d and lost y
Why, then we rack the value , then we find
The virtue, that possession would not show us ,
Whiles it was ours, » (^)
Cowper in his Task says ,
'■ cc JSot to know a treasurers worth,
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 , that on the sands with printless foot
(*) Much Ado about Nothing.
38
298 GNOMICA. CII. CXXIV.
Do dhase the ebbing Neptune , 2ind do fly him
When he comes back; you 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-mushrooms ; that rejoice
To hear the solemn curfew; by whose aid
(Weak masters though you be,) lha{>e bedimm'd
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
Haue I gi^en fire , and rifted Joke'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
feUcitous appUcation 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.
GNOMIC A^. CH. CXXV. ^9
CHAPTER CXXV.
Notices of Collins , the Poet.
■ . ^ .- 21 Nov, i8a3.
In Gent. Mag. Oct iSaS, in a « Re{>iew of
Observations on the architecture of Magdalen
College , Oxford , » are a few words which con-
tain a new notice of Collins, the poet.
« JVe have passed many a delightful ei^ening »
says the Reviewer, <.^ among its Members y^ etc.
cc ha^^e eaten venison with cotemporaries ©/"Collins
the poet ; and learned from them that he was
a pock-fretted juan, with small keen black eyes;
associated very little ; and was introduced into
Magdalen by D.^ Payne, an uncle, whom he
of/ended 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, I believe^
300 GNOMIC A.. CIT. CXXV.
the sum of all that has been recorded of him.
Many remembrances of him must long have
existed at Chichester , his birth-place; and per-
haps may still exist in tradition. Why are the
inhabitants of that City so supine and insensible
as to be silent on the subject ? D."^ Payne is
an uncle , of whom I have not heard before.
Another uncle, whom Johnson calls Col. Martin^
is called Col, Martin Bladen by D.'^ Joseph Warton,
if I recollect right. (^)
An enthusiastic admiration of Collins, which
began in me in very bo v hood, has in no de-
gree decayed under the freezing effects of age.
1 never will 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;
(^) Colllns's father was a hatter. Let not the obscurity
of ihclr station deprive those , whose blood he inherited ,
of the notice to which the reflection of his geuius entities
them I
GK^OMICA. cir. 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 quahties which the Critic
bestows on him , we shall find that he ascribes
to him « vigorous faculties » , « extenswe litera-
ture ;yi (f^ pure morals ;y) <i pious opinions ;r) « wis-
dom and virtue ;y> — and « occasional sublimity
and splendour , » in his productions. This is
almost all , which the warmest encomiasts of
CoUins ascribe to him.
Johnson says, that « Ae did not sufficiently
cultwate sentiment :y> — he did not cultivate the
expression of sentiment ; but his vivid and
impassioned imagery was calculated to awaken
sentiment in the reader s bosom ; though he
left it to raise itself by its own force. His poe-
try would have been still richer, if he himself
had cloathed it in lansruasje.
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 tUe suggestion of
his imagery from others, must derive it through
the medium of language: and he cannot after-
302 GNOMICA.. CH. CXXVL
wards separate the image from its dress: they are
indissoUibly 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 force, 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 CXXVL
Milton little admired hy his cotemporajrie^,
a6 JSqv. 1823.
There are a body of authors possessing strong
influence over public opinion , who are for
obvious reasons extremely anxious to establish
the position , that popularity is the test of
merit. They are therefore always on the alert
GNOMICA. CH. CXXVI. 303
to deny the commonly - received opinion ,
that Milton 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 , v/hen 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 (-ihe had taken a flight above all men in
poetry » while the noble historian does not even
name Milton. 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 GWOMICA. CH. CXXVI.
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 , when Milton was allowed to live
little noticed , and consoled only by the calm
consciousness of his own desert ? — I do not
mean to depreciate Cowley: 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
GNOMicA. CH. cxxvr. > ^ 305
a reference to the model of those works which
have continued the favourites of successive ages.
Novelty may perhaps be pronounced to be an
indispensihle ingredient in the sources of tem-
porary popularity : 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 i 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 GNOMrcA. 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
oi poetical delight been since discovered ,
which Dante did not knov^ ?
CHAPTER CXXYIL
On the t?tirtieth day of November , 1823.
3o iNW. 1823.
Tbirty-nine years ago I expt-essed in a Sonnet
the sentiments which the return of this day of
the year suggested to me. (^) 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 Avhicli
I must restrain. The first reflection is, what hopes
have been fulfilled ? What disappointments have
(*) Beginning « This thy last day , darh Month , » etc*
"Written 3o Nov, 1784 * — printed in Sonnets and other
Poems, published in March 1785. See it reprinted in
Jnti- Critic, p. i85.
GNOMICA. CH. CXXVIII. 20f
b€en incurred? What ought Time to have effec-
ted ? How much , wliich was then cause of
regret , is aggravated by the passage of almost
double the number of years which I had then
lived ?
What is done by labour, requires length of
years to bring it to perfection : except in the
meclianical and artificial parts of what it has
to perform. What depends on strength 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 GTTOMICA. CU, CXXVII.
tellectiial powers of man , of which inferior
minds so much over-estimate the effects. It
often happens that an adscititious pecuhai ity and
mannerism is thus contracted , which distorts
the judgment, and attributes to the force of
truth what is the result 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 an er-
roneous trust in the benevolence and integrity
of human nature. It is only when 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 the world witfiout dangers or
obstacles : but then it is little capable of pro-
ducing those intellectual fruits , whicli strike the
imagination by their lire, and move the heart
by their pathos.
GNOMICA. CH. CXXVII. 309
There is a degree of serenity and exemption
from care , which often produces even ennui
and torpor ; and benumbs the faculties.
It too frequently happens , that 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 the world abates his expectations,
and freezes liis heart. While his general intelli-
gence improves , while his judgment ripens ,
and his observation becomes more precise ,
that compression of particular powers whicli
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 the common eye,) seemed to border
on the absurd , are polished into a conformity
with general manners: — but these 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 :
3J0 GNOMICA.. 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 politiciaa
or a worldling, 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
cither by Nature , 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. CH. 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 live laborious
dajsr) 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 are our lot on earth ? (^)
The prosperous are not happy : we could name
men loaded with worldly power , honours y_
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 glowings
(^) See the la^t stanza of Gray's Ode on Eton College.
312 CNOMICA. 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 delight , a sense of great-
ness , far above the calculations of reason !
CHAPTER CXXVIIL
To Bacon.
=4 -^"i?. 1823.
Ill was thy fate , illustrious Bacon ! frail
E'en thouglj tliou wert ; ( and who of human-kind
Dares boast that he is free from frailty ?) — thou,
Glory pursuing, wert perchance a prey
To confidence betray'd ! — Imps, who with pale
Dissimulation , while thy mighty 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 with pity and with scorn;
Bedimm'd thy ^vondrous course with clouds of
night , • .
GNOMICA. CH. CXXIX. 313
Who for a race oi <.(^ sapphire blazer) \vast born;
Bade Genius yield to groveling Folly's spite ;
And o'er th' immortal mind given Dulness to
prevail ! (i)
CHAPTER CXXIX.
Popularity not indispensible to useful authorship.
3 Dec. 1823.
We know that self-love often deceives ns iri
the estimate of our own qualities : yet is tlicre
no test of merit but that of popular favour?
If so ^ tfiere 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.
Appl} ing this to aut[]ors , there are many who
contend tliat , 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 tlie false assumption that tfie sole
legitimate purposes of m riting are fame , or
lucre. He, who writes to improve himself, or
(^) See the character of Bacon defended in the American
Review (about Jpril) 1823. . "^
4o
314 GNOMICA. 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 will 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.
Remarks on certain passages in Wordsworth's Prefaces to
his Poems , regarding Popularity,
8 Dec. iSa3.
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.
GNOMICA. CH. CXXX, 315
I have dwelt 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 (i) having
offered themselves to my perusal , I find this
subject treated in them witli great profundity,
great originality , and irresistible truth. The
conclusions , to which the author comes , and
which [le enforces , are identical with those ,
of which , after forty years of attention to lite-
rature and an anxious consideration of this
subject during that long space, I have the 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 woi^k, which must
circulate where mine cannot.
Wordsworth well observes (2) , oi popular fd"
VQurites y that they who are the favourites of
one age are never the favourites of another :
but of the fauQurites 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
(}) 4 vols. 12.0 1820. • .
2) Vol. III. p. 3^7.
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
patiire 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 n^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. » —
<c The Churchyard » he goes on , « abounds with
images which find a mirror in every mind ,
and with sentiments to which every bosom re*
turns an echo. »
But a little reflection will shew that it is per-
fectly reconcileable , if we understand this com*
mon sense , ( as in correctness it must be un-
derstood , ) to mean « tlie common sympathies
of our nature , » in opposition to the sense of
a man of science , which « is a personal and
GNOMIGA. CH. CXXX. 317
individual acquisition , sloiv to come to us , and
by no habitual and direct sympathy connecting
us with our fellow-beings.^^ (i) This is the mirror
and the echo which Johnson must mean; whe-
ther they exist upon the surface, and are readily
found; or he 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 <ifrom 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. Boy. See that noble page, and the
next down to tlie end of tlie paragraph at p. 309.
(•^) Gray's Descent of Odin.
3i^ 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 qualified 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 ; arul partake the galein
their object is to flattter the public taste, that
GNOMICA. CH. CXXX. 319
they may participate of its favour; and them-
selves be carried forward by those labours of
others , w^hich they find to be agreeable to
the public palate : — not to oppose the cur-
rent ; and endeavour to create a taste of their
own , which , even if just , would 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 PubUc is
sure to prevail : for it will 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-
320 GNOMIC A. CH. CXXXI.
willing to buy , do their utmost to help for-
ward that sort of inclination which alreadj
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 Wordsworth regarding
the purpose of poetry,
9 Dec. 1823.
I have repeatedly delivered my opinion of
the nature of Poetry , . both in the present
volume and in \he ^nti-Critic , to this effect, — -
that its business is , not to give a portrait of
reality ; — but to represent the impressions made
upon the fancy , and the creations formed by
new combinations of those impressions , together
with the sentiments and passions produced bjr
such impressions and creations.
It does not seem to me that I differ from
what is contained in fF or ds worth's 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. CH CXXXI. 321
cept this. T infer from the construction I put
on page 3o3 of his fourth vohime , that the
nearer poetry in its representations resembles
the passions produced by real events , the more
perfect he considers it. I say that I mfer , be-
cause the but of this position is to justify the
« language uttered by man in real life: a — 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-
seli^es 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 woukl 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
l8a3 , after the greater part of this volume was printed.
4i
322 GNOMICA. CH. CXXXII.
CHAPTER CXXXII.
Resolution and firmness necessary to render Genius effective.
9 Dec. t823.
There is a quality , which Genius often wants ;
hut 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, xhditu there
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
itpros^okes ; — a viuacious quality , ei^er doomed
to meet with opposition ; and still triumphing
o^er it, » (^)
Wordsworth himself has exhibited this viVfl-
cious quality ; — this resolution and firmness ; —
and he will be rewarded for it. (2)
(1) Vol. III. p. 3o8.
(2) See the passage in his Preface affixed to vol. i. p.
XXXIII. beginning , « if hearing in mind , » etc. — <fyet
justified by a recollection of the insults which the ignorant^
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.
GNOMICA. 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, (i)
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 which 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 talenty
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
1) Vo!, m. p, 33o.
324 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 supplies food to
the passions of envy and malice , is sure to
find hearers and applauders.
If the real principles of poetry have a fixed
and definite basis in the constitution of human
nature, (^) [as it seems to me undeniable that
they have , ] then false criticism may be ans-
wered , and fidse ri;Ucule 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; while the defence so made, the
mob who 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 , which is most calcu-
(^) See Wordsworth, m , 3i5.
GNOMICA. 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 inexplitable 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 by which it is gained , is solid and
durable.
<( A gentle ^ genial courtesy of mind ,
To those ivho were, or passed for meritorious ,
Just to console sad glory Jor being glorious ;
Which is in all respects sa^e novi> and then ,
326 GNOMICA. CH. CXXXIII.
A dull and desolate appendix. Gaze
Upon the shades of those distinguishd men
Who were or are the puppet-shows of praise j
The praise of persecution. Gaze again
On the most favour^ d ; and amidst the blaze
Of sun-set halos o'er the laurel-brow ,
What can ye recognize ? a gilded cloud! -.
Lord Byron.
Genci^a , 29 Dec. 1823.
I do not exactly comprehend how it is , that
if educated persons haue thoughts and reflec-
tions, these thoughts and reflections do not come
out upon paper. The quiet oi 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 jadgment on things
presented to them , when they are unable by
themselves to present the materials on which
the judgment may ope? ate.
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 intelHgence 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 <i 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
CTfOMICA. CB. CXXXIII. 329
has bestowed the faculty of original thinking,
and original composition , will not , I presume ,
be happy without exercising the faculty so
bestowed.
Envy, Malice, and Love of Detraction, however,
take great advantage of this , — that men of
literature and authors are sometimes found to
be very foolish persons. Undoubtedly it is easy
to read much , and by 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
3iscordant materials.
But to be a powerful and sound author, re-
quires all the highest faculties of the mind.
Men cannot discriminate with novelty and
profundity , arrive at grand conclusions , and
express them with adequate clearness and
strength , unless they are endowed with supe-
riority of intellect.
Fancy, Sentiment, Reasoning, Memory, and.
4^
330 GNOMICA. CH. CXXXIV.
even Imagination, are necessary for all the higher
orders of composition ; including 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 , and Romantic
Poetry, exemplified in Horace's Epode, « Beatus ille,»
and Milton's « II Penseroso. «
23 Oct, 1818.
Madame de Stael, in her beautiful work De
VAllemagne, 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. 33 i
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 y ( quae ) in partem juvat
Domum , atque dulces liberos,
et ,.
Sacrum vetustis extruit Ugnis focum
Lassi sub adventum viru
And again,
ut juvat pastos oves
Videre properantes domum I
Videre Jessos vomerem inversum boves
Collo trahentes languido I
And again in Gray's Ode to Spring the stanza
which corresponds witb .
332 GNOMIC A. CII. CXXXIV.
Xihet jacere modo sub nnliqud ilice:
Modo in teriaci ^r amine :
Lal/untur aids interim ripis aquce :..
Queruntur in sylvis aveSy
Fontesque lymphis ohstrepunt manantibus ,
Somnos quod invitet leves !
But what are the circumstances that attend
Milton's soHtude : and how is his mind em-
ployed ? lie reads
Tales of /mights and Barons bold:
he sees solemn Tourneys: beholds Beauty pre-
senting the reward of Valour ; and hears aerial
music 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 , re'igion ,
and superstitions. Whatever nourishes grandeur
of forms , or sublimity of thought ; whatever
lieeps 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.
Milton's mind was enriched with all the
splendid extravagances of the Gothic ages. What-
GNOMiCA. cri. CXXXIV. 333
ever was lofty; whatever was wild; whatever
was full of terror or darkness , accorded with
the sombre hues of his imagination , and the
energy of his mighty faculties. He preferred there-
fore the blackness of night; the war 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 subhmity
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 Avith all the most evanescent movements
of the Soul ; to embody them in language ;
to ^ive to airy notJiing
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.
poeCs 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--
serosa 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
tendenc)'.
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-
bourliood of a luxurious and crowded Court,
rendered odious to him not merely by its vices,
but by the neglect with which his indignant
genius was treated. — Horace , on tlie other
hand , was a favoured Courtier ; was a man of
the world ; and would have learned in society
to suppress the wild flightSu of an erratic iraar
gination , if Nature had implanted them in him.
GNOMICA. CH. CXXXV. 335
CHAPTER CXXXV.
CONCLUSION.
,;-: • r' 19 Feb. 1824.
The Reader has here an unstudied Collection
of my Detached Thoughts. What they are worth,
it would be idle in me to attempt to prejudge.
I am aware of frequent repetitions ; hut I trpst
that the apology made by \]Abhe Trublet 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 maneuvre , and
work crookedly and underhand, 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
— 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 ojvoMicA. en. cxxxv.
Political and Professional ambition! I know the
means by wfjich 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 t!iat which the 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 riglits : tljis volume is
not the place for sucli discussions : I speak not
of the fooVs hope of tlie 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 wliich
may so happen to spring up: — all these are
reserved for their due cliannel 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. CIT. 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 that
wish him well : — but what will that avail , if
they have not sufficient strength of mind to
form their own opinions ; or sufficient taste or
judgment, even where they have the courage,
to think rightly ?
The few , who think for themselves , and think
rightly , are not those who make the most noise,
and dictate to others with the most activity
and importunity. The still small voice of reason
and taste is perhaps heard at last : but it is long
before it is Ijeard !
Yet we cannot keep our full thoughts pent
up in our bosoms : — if tliey 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 thoughs
to paper and to print. For wlio will 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 eyes
in the writer's Common- Place-Book , he has no
excitement to give a moment of painful labour^,
43
838 GNOMICA. CH. CXXXV.
or spare a moment which can be more plea-
santly spent. There exists not the person who
even in despair would not wisli to leave a
pleasing memorial of himself in some kind and
partial bosom. And thus it is tliat 1 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 morrow to fresh woods ^ and pastures new, »
While my faculties remain , the subjects of
moral discussion which interest my curiosity
will never be exhausted.
END.
A CATALOGUE (^)
OF ALL THE WORKS
PRINTED AT THE PRIVATE PRESS AT LEE PRIORY
IN KENT :
FROM ITS COMMENCEMENT IN JULY 1 8 1 3 , TILL ITS
TERMINATION IN JAN. iSaS*
iV* B. Unless where otherwise noticed , the Works
printed at the Lee Priory Press , jiynd which are
now Jinally discontinued , were strictly and uniformly
limited to loo Copies.
IN ROYAL QUARTO.
v^ I. Speeches delii>ered to Qiietin Elizabeth^ at Sudeley
Castle , the seat of Giles Brydges , Lord Chandos.
v^ 2., Sir Walter Baleigh's Poems.
w^3. Greene* s Groats-worth of Wit; bought with a Mil^
lion of Repentance, Of this Work only 65 Copies
were printed.
— 4« William Browne* s Occasional Focms , never before
printed, fn 4 Parts.
^ 5. Select Poems ^ by Sir Egerton Brjdges,
^ — 6. Occasional Poems : by Ihe Same Author.
^ 7. "Nicholas Bretons Longing of a Blessed Heart*
(*) Copied from llie Advertisement of John Warwick, ilie late
Printer of the Lee Priory Press, with a few verbal additions.
2 LEE PRIORY PRESS.
v_ 8. IV. Breton's Mdancholike Humours.
^ 9. Sonnets from Petrarch : by the Rev A Fr. Wrangham,
^ 10. Dunluce Castle , a Poem : by Edward Qidllinan ,
Esq.
^ i\. Stanzas : by the Same Author.
IN ROYAL OCTAVO.
s^ 12. Francis Davison's Poetical Rhapsody: {a new Edi-
tion,) In 4 Parts.
^, 1 3. The Sylvan Wanderer : by Sir Egerton Brydges. In
4 Parts,
w. 1 4' Excerpta Tudoriana : ( a Selection of Elizabethan
Poetry.) In 7 Parts,
w. i5. Michael Drayton s Nymphidia ^ the Court of Fairy :
( a new Edition. )
^ 16. Life of Sir Philip Sydney: by Fulke Greidle ^ Lord
Brook, In 2 Vols.
^ij. Life of Margaret Cavendish., Duchess of Newcastle:
written by Herself.
18. Poems of Margaret , Duchess of Newcastle : aS Copies
printed as a specimen of the Lee Priory Press,
and the first Work printed there : ( not sold. )
u^ 1 9. The Characters of Robert Devereux Earl of Essex ,
and George Villiers , Duke of Buckingham : by Sir
Henry Wotton.
u- 20, Bertram > a Poetical Tale , in Four Cantos : by Sir
Egerton Brydges.
v^2i. List of the Pictures at Lee Priory. — 60 Copies
printed.
v_ 2.2. The Ravished Soul^ and Blessed Weeper; by Nicholas
Breton,
LEE PRIORY PRESS.
IN DEMY OCTAVO.
aS. Fames Memorial : an Elegy upon the Earl of De-
^oushire: by John Ford. Edited by Mr. Haslewood.
2.1^, Letters from the Continent : by Sir Egerton Brydges.
In 2. Vols.
zS. What are Riches? ( 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. y For the Roxburgh* Club.
2.']. Jack Jugler and Thersytes
edited by MJ Haslewood ....
28. Select Funeral Memorials. In 2. Parts.
29. Ccelia : consisting of Twenty Sonnets : by IVilliam
Percy.
30. Elegiac Verses , addressed to Lady Brydges , by
Edward Qidllinan , Esq.
3 1 . 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,
w-v 32. Life and Death of Sir Francis Brake : by Charles
Fitz-geffrey.
i^ 33. The Trumpet of Fame.
^ 34. Life and Death of William Powlett y First Marquis
of Winchester : by R. Broughton.
4 LEE PRIORY PRESS.
^ 35. The Brother~in~Law ; a Comedy: by the Rev. Henry
Card.
u— 36. Nicholas Bretons Praise of Virtuous Ladies,
^ 37. Richard Brailhwayte's Select Odes.
w-,38. Desultoria : by Sir Egerton Brydges.
^ 39. George Wither's Select Lyrical Poems.
N.B. N.<^ 24. Letters from the Continent ^ anil N.° 2S
What are Riches , (the two last Works printed , ) may
he had of R.' Trlphook, Old Bond Street. A few copies
of some of the other Works , and Parts that remain ,
may be liad of the Printer , John Warwick , who has
now established a Press at N.° ^o^ Brooke Street, HoU
born , London : — or of Mr. Trip hook , 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 ;
oud will never be permitted to be used again.
London , Printed by John WARWICK , 4^ , Brooke
Street, Holborn. March ^ 1S26.
Geneva, Reprinted by William FIGK,
10.*^ March ^ i8:i4'
LEE PRIORY PRESS.
ADDITIONS
TO THE ABOVE ADVERTISEMENT.
X o the above Advertisement of John Warwick , the
Lee -Priory -Printer, it may be desirable to add a few
notices. Of the foregoing publications which wei'e the
property of the Priister , 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 Printer, 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-will, and prejudice will not find objections:
and it may perhaps be pretended , that these Tracts
were not worth reprinting ; that they were only inte-
resting 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 giatuitouj) pecuniary assistauce was gweii.
b LEE PRIORY PRESS.
Philipp Sydjney au uiiinstiuctlve 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
Occasional 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 , extracted from one of her scarcest works, is a
piece of biography of exquisite curiosity. All the pieces
of Nicholas Rreton 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 Reprints
already noticed are sufficient to indicate the tone of lite-
rature , which characterizes the Works of the Lee Priory
Press.
CATALOGUE.
A CATALOGUE OF OTHER WORKS
WRITTEN, OR EDITED, BY SIR EGERTON BRYDGES,
Bar.t , B. C. de S. etc. etc.
4o. Sonnets and other Poems, 8.° March , lySS. 4*^* Edit.
1807. 12.°
4i. Mary De-Cliffbrd. 1792. 12.^ 1802. 8.0
42. Arthur Fitzalbini ^ 2. vols. 1798, 2A Ed. 1799, 12.®
*^43* ^^ Forester^ 3 vols. 1802. 12.°
v_ 44* ^^^^ Ruminator : Essays Moral and Critical, 2 vols,
12.0 1814.
W-, 45* Topographical Miscellanies, ^79^? 4*** ? 2^^.^ '
46. Te5/5 0/ //ze National Wealth , 1 799. 8.°
, 47. "Reflections on the Augmentations oj the Peerage,
1 798. 8.** With a Riographical hist of Qii, Elizabeth's
Peers.
48. Letters on the Poor haws , i8i4i 8.**
49. Arguments for the Employment of the Poor, 18 17, 8.®
50. Reasons for the farther Amendment of the Act 54
Geo. III. c. 1 56, regarding Copyright. 1817, 8.^
Si. A Summary statement of the Grievances imposed on
hileralure by the said Act. 8.**
52. A Vindication of the Pending Bill for the Amend-^
ment of the said Act. 1818. 8.0
53. Censura hiteraria , lo vols, S.° 1806. 1809. a.d Ed.
i8i5.
54» British Bibliographer , ( aided by J, Haslewood ) ,
4 vols. 8.<* 1 810. etc.
8 CATALOGUE.
^ 55. Restituta: 4 w/*. S° 1814. 1816.
, 56. The Peerage of England , originally compiled by
Arthur Collins — a new Edition continued and
greatly augmented by Sir E, Brydges , 9 vols , large 8.*
1812.
/ 57. Theatrum Poetarum Anglicanorum by E, Phillips,
1675. — a new edit, greatly augmented by Sir E,
Brydges , 1800. 8.°
^ 58. Archaica : Reprints of Scarce old English Prose
Tracts, 2. vols. 4.° 181 5.
^. 59. England's Helicon , reprinted from the Edit, of
1600. 4-°
t-H 60. Paradise of Dainty Devises , reprinted from the
Edition of 1576. 4.° 18 10.
/ 61. Geo. Wither' s Shepherd's Hunting , new Edition
i8i5. 12.0
/ 62. — — Fidelia , ib. ib.
y 63. Fair Virtue, i8i5, ib.
/ 64. Hymns of the Church, 181 5, 8."
^ 65. William Earl of Pembroke's Poems , new Edit,
1817. 12.°
^ 66. C. Barksdales Nympha Libethris, new Ed. 181 5, 12.®
/ 67. T. Stanley's Poems , new Ed. 181 4. 8.°
y 6^. Anacreon , new Ed. i8i5 , 8.^
/ 69. Poems by John Hall of Durham , new Ed, i8i5 , 8.®
^ 70. Poems by William Hammond i655 , new Edit,
1816, 4.''
71. Sir Walter Raleigh's Poems, new Ed. i8i4» 12.**
v-~ 72. The Hall of Hellingsley , a Tale, 3 vols, 1822, 12.'*
^ 73. Memoirs of K. James's Peers, 1799. 8.**
CATALOGUE. y
WORKS PRINTED AT FOREIGN PRESSES ,
SINCE 1818.
w-^ 74. Coningsby^ a Tragic Tale, Geneva^ i8r4i 12.0
^ 7$. hord Brokenhurst^ a Tragic Tale^ Geneva^ i^i^^ i2.<*
. >^- 76. The Population and Riches of Nations considered.
Geneva, 1819, 8.°
^^- 77. TVhat arc Riches ? Geneva , 1821 , 8.°
c,.^78. Sir Ralph TVilloughbj- , a Tale. Florence, 1820, 12.^
.^ 79. Atavice Regice. Royal Descents. Florence , 1820 , 4«**
.^80. Be* Liiterarice. vol. i, Naples, 1820, 8.**
_'8i. — — wZ. 2. Rome, 1821 , 8.*^
/ 82. — — vol. 3. Geneva, 1822, 8.°
^ 83. Polyanlhea Libroriim Vctustiorum. Genevce, 1822. 8.^
^'- 84. Cimelia, Genevce, 1823, 8.°
/ 85. Epistola Petrarchce Posteritati. Napoli, 1 820 ; •— 26 co-
pies separate.
j 86. Julietta : translated from the Italian of Luigi da
Porto, by F. JD. S. Geneva, 1822-25, copies sepa-
rate. 8.^
87. Phillips's Theatrum Poetarum Anglicanorwn : a third
Edition, 8.** (N.B. The second Edition was in 1800.)
C-, 88. The Green - Book : Criticisms on Modern Authors,
A Fragment, f^/ o
— 89. J. Pierius Valerianus , De Infelicitate Literatorum,
Edit, nova, Genevce, 1821 , 8.°
90. Inquiry into the haws of Descent of the English
Peerage, 1823, Fol.
9 1 . Letter to the Earl of Liverpool on a Peerage Right.
Fol. 1822.
92. Several Private Tracts on a question of Peerage ,
1822 , 1823. Fol.
10 CATALOGUE.
. 93. Carmina Brugesiana : a Collection of Poems re-
garding Family Events. (Private.)
I — 94- Libellus Gebcnsis : poemata qucedam hatina, 16.®
35 copies, Genevce ^ 1822.
/ 95. hamento di Strozzi : reprint of a rare Italian Tract,
Geneva , 1822 ,8.** (12 copies only,)
t-- 96. Anti-Critic, Geneva ,^ 1822, 8.*
79. Letter on the Corn Question , 1822. FoL
98. Letter on the proposed plan for reducing the Na-
tional Debt. Florence , 1 820 , 4-°
<— - 99. L. Pelligrini O ratio in obi turn TorrjuatiTassi^ ^^O?*
(A Reprint for the Rojcburghe Club, 1822. 4-®)
«— 100. Odo ^ Count cfLingen, a Poem in Six Cantos.
Geneva^ 1824 , 16.°
^ loi. Gnomica, Detached Thoughts, Geneva^ 1824, 8.®
Geneva , io.*'» March 1824.
'♦-•■♦-
<>;;.
^^.
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