{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_72168/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_72168","id":"gutenberg_72168","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/72168","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Essays, Letters & Speeches","Category: Philosophy & Ethics","English essays -- 19th century"],"text":"THE\n COLLECTED WORKS OF WILLIAM HAZLITT\n IN TWELVE VOLUMES\n\n\n VOLUME ELEVEN\n\n\n\n\n _All rights reserved_\n\n\n\n\n THE COLLECTED WORKS OF\n WILLIAM HAZLITT\n\n\n EDITED BY A. R. WALLER\n\n AND ARNOLD GLOVER\n\n WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY\n\n W. E. HENLEY\n\n \u2766\n\n Fugitive Writings\n\n \u2766\n\n 1904\n LONDON: J. M. DENT & CO.\n McCLURE, PHILLIPS & CO.: NEW YORK\n\n\n\n\n Edinburgh: T. and A. CONSTABLE, Printers to His Majesty\n\n\n\n\n BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE\n\n\nThis volume and volume XII. contain those of Hazlitt\u2019s writings which\nremained uncollected during his lifetime and have not been included in\nearlier volumes of the present edition. Some of these writings were\npublished by the author\u2019s son in the three works of which particulars\nare given below; one of them, the essay \u2018On Abstract Ideas,\u2019 was\npublished in the second edition (1836) of _An Essay on the Principles of\nHuman Action_ (cf. Bibliographical Note, vol. VII. p. 384); a few, viz.\n\u2018Common Places\u2019 and \u2018Trifles Light as Air,\u2019 were included in Mr. W. C.\nHazlitt\u2019s edition of _The Round Table_ (Bohn\u2019s Standard Library, 1871);\nbut most of the papers are here reprinted for the first time. See the\nTable of Contents, where the essays which have never been republished\nbefore are marked by an asterisk. The evidence upon which the Editors\nhave relied in respect of this fresh material will be found in the\nNotes. A great many of the Essays now printed have not hitherto been\nidentified as Hazlitt\u2019s, but none have been included concerning which\nthe Editors feel any doubt.\n\nThe works published by the author\u2019s son and referred to above are as\nfollows:\u2014\n\n1. \u2018_Literary Remains of the late William Hazlitt._ With a Notice of his\nLife, By his Son, and Thoughts on his Genius and Writings, By E. L.\nBulwer, Esq., M.P. and Mr. Sergeant Talfourd, M.P. In Two Volumes.\nLondon: Saunders and Otley, Conduit Street. 1836.\u2019 Vol. I. contained (as\na frontispiece) Bewick\u2019s crayon drawing of Hazlitt reproduced in vol.\nVIII. of the present edition; a Sonnet \u2018written on seeing Bewick\u2019s\nChalk-Drawing of the Head of Hazlitt\u2019 by Sheridan Knowles; a\n\u2018Biographical Sketch\u2019 of Hazlitt by his son; \u2018Some Thoughts on the\nGenius of William Hazlitt\u2019 signed \u2018The Author of \u201cEugene Aram\u201d\u2018;\n\u2018Thoughts upon the Intellectual Character of the late William Hazlitt,\u2019\nby Mr. Sergeant Talfourd, M.P.; \u2018Character of Hazlitt,\u2019 by Charles Lamb,\nextracted from the well-known \u2018Letter of Elia to Robert Southey, Esq.\u2019\n(1823); six \u2018Sonnets to the Memory of Hazlitt\u2019 by \u2018A Lady\u2019; and the\nfollowing essays by Hazlitt, viz.: (i) Project for a new Theory of Civil\nand Criminal Legislation, (ii) Definition of Wit, (iii) On Means and\nEnds, (iv) Belief, whether Voluntary? (v) Personal Politics, (vi) On the\nWritings of Hobbes, (vii) On Liberty and Necessity, (viii) On Locke\u2019s\nEssay on the Human Understanding, and (ix) On Tooke\u2019s Diversions of\nPurley.\u2014Vol. II. contained the following essays by Hazlitt, viz.: (i) On\nSelf-Love, (ii) On the Conduct of Life; or, Advice to a School-boy,\n(iii) On the Fine Arts, (iv) The Fight, (v) On the Want of Money, (vi)\nOn the Feeling of Immortality in Youth, (vii) The Main-Chance, (viii)\nThe Opera, (ix) Of Persons One Would Wish to Have Seen, (x) My First\nAcquaintance with Poets, (xi) The Shyness of Scholars, (xii) The\nVatican, and (xiii) On the Spirit of Monarchy. Of these, the essay \u2018On\nthe Fine Arts\u2019 and the essay on \u2018The Vatican\u2019 are included in vol. IX.\nof the present edition; the rest are published in this volume or in vol.\nXII.\n\n2. \u2018_Sketches and Essays._ By William Hazlitt. Now first collected by\nhis Son. London: John Templeman, 248, Regent Street. MDCCCXXXIX.\u2019 An\nAdvertisement states that \u2018The volume which the Editor has here the\ngratification of presenting to the public, consists of Essays\ncontributed by their author to various periodicals. None of them have\nhitherto been published in a collective form, and it is confidently\nanticipated that they will be received as an acceptable Companion to the\n\u201cTable Talk\u201d and \u201cPlain Speaker.\u201d\u2019 The contents are as follows: (i) On\nReading New Books, (ii) On Cant and Hypocrisy, (iii) Merry England, (iv)\nOn a Sun-Dial, (v) On Prejudice, (vi) Self-Love and Benevolence (a\nDialogue), (vii) On Disagreeable People, (viii) On Knowledge of the\nWorld, (ix) On Fashion, (x) On Nicknames, (xi) On Taste, (xii) Why the\nHeroes of Romance are insipid, (xiii) On the Conversation of Lords,\n(xiv) The Letter-Bell, (xv) Envy, (xvi) On the Spirit of Partisanship,\n(xvii) Footmen, and (xviii) A Chapter on Editors. This volume was\nreprinted in 1852 with \u2018Sketches and Essays\u2019 as a half-title and the\nfollowing title-page: \u2018Men and Manners: Sketches and Essays. By William\nHazlitt. London: Published at the office of the Illustrated London\nLibrary, 227 Strand. MDCCCII.\u2019 In this edition the essay entitled\n\u2018Self-Love and Benevolence (A Dialogue)\u2019 is omitted. A third edition\n(which has been reprinted from time to time) was published in 1872 in\nBohn\u2019s Standard Library, edited by Mr. W. C. Hazlitt.\n\n3. \u2018_Winterslow: Essays and Characters written there._ By William\nHazlitt. Collected by his Son. London: David Bogue, Fleet Street.\nMDCCCL.\u2019 This small 8vo volume contained the following essays: (i) My\nFirst Acquaintance with Poets, (ii) Of Persons One Would Wish to Have\nSeen, (iii) Party Spirit, (iv) On the Feeling of Immortality in Youth,\n(v) On Public Opinion, (vi) On Personal Identity, (vii) Mind and Motive,\n(viii) On Means and Ends, (ix) Matter and Manner, (x) On Consistency of\nOpinion, (xi) Project for a new Theory of Civil and Criminal\nLegislation, (xii) On the Character of Burke, (xiii) On the Character of\nFox, (xiv) On the Character of Pitt, (xv) On the Character of Lord\nChatham, (xvi) Belief, whether Voluntary, and (xvii) A Farewell to\nEssay-Writing. This volume was republished in 1872 along with _Sketches\nand Essays_ in the volume of Bohn\u2019s Standard Library referred to above.\nOf the essays published in _Winterslow_ the Characters of Burke, Fox,\nPitt and Lord Chatham are included in vol. III. of the present edition\n(_Political Essays_). The rest of the essays published in _Sketches and\nEssays_ and _Winterslow_ are included in vols. XI. and XII. of the\npresent edition.\n\nIt will be seen that _Literary Remains_ and _Winterslow_ to some extent\noverlap one another, and that _Winterslow_ contained several essays\nwhich had already been published in _Political Essays_. Under these\ncircumstances it has been found necessary in the present edition to\nadopt a fresh scheme of arrangement in place of republishing _Literary\nRemains_, _Sketches and Essays_ and _Winterslow_ as they stand. Each\nessay, whether contained in one of those posthumous collections or now\nrepublished for the first time, is printed in chronological order under\nthe heading of the magazine or newspaper in which it originally\nappeared; and the magazines themselves are arranged in a chronological\norder based upon the respective dates at which Hazlitt began to\ncontribute to them. The only exception to this last scheme of\narrangement is that at the end of the present volume it was found\nconvenient to take the \u2018Common Places\u2019 from _The Literary Examiner_ a\nlittle before their turn. They should strictly have followed the\ncontributions to _The Liberal_ in vol. XII., but it was thought better\nnot to divide between two volumes the important essays from _The New\nMonthly Magazine_ which now begin vol. XII.\n\nThis plan of arrangement seemed on the whole the simplest and best, and\nit is hoped that with the aid of the Tables of Contents and the Index\nthe reader will have no difficulty in finding any particular essay.\n\nIn the present edition all the essays, the magazine source of which is\nknown, have been printed _verbatim_ from the magazines themselves. In\npreparing _Literary Remains_, _Sketches and Essays_ and _Winterslow_ for\nthe press the author\u2019s son took considerable liberties with the text. In\none or two cases the alterations which he made may have been based on a\nMS. or a copy of a magazine with corrections by Hazlitt, but far more\noften the essays were reprinted with omissions and trifling alterations\nmade, as it would seem, by the editor himself on his own responsibility.\nSome passages thus omitted and now restored for the first time are of\ngreat interest. The more important of them are specially indicated in\nthe notes. In the few cases where the author\u2019s son added passages from a\nMS. or other authoritative source, the passages have been given either\nin the text (with a note indicating where they occur), or in the Notes.\n\nIn addition to the essays printed in the text of this volume and to\nthose referred to in the notes it may be convenient to mention here a\nfew essays which may have been written by Hazlitt but have been omitted\nfrom the present edition on the ground that his authorship is not\nsufficiently certain. They are arranged in the following list under the\nheading of the magazine in which they first appeared.\n\nI. _The Examiner._\n\n 1. A review (Sept. 29 and Oct. 13, 1816) of George Ensor\u2019s _On the\n State of Europe in January, 1816_. This work of George Ensor\u2019s\n (1769\u20131843), \u2018full,\u2019 as the reviewer says, \u2018of undeniable facts,\n and undeniable inferences from them,\u2019 was likely to appeal to\n Hazlitt\u2019s political sympathies. The review consists mainly of\n extracts from the work itself, but what there is of comment is\n certainly very much in Hazlitt\u2019s vein.\n\n 2. \u2018A Modern Tory Delineated\u2019 (Oct. 6). This paper, which is dated\n from Gloucester, Oct. 1, 1816, has certainly a very strong\n flavour of Hazlitt.\n\n 3. Some political leaders and articles which appeared at the beginning\n of 1817 and are not signed with Leigh Hunt\u2019s mark. The most\n important of these are: \u2018Mr. Pitt\u2014Finance, Sinking Fund\u2019 (Jan.\n 19); \u2018Defence of National Debt\u2019 (Jan. 26); \u2018Progress of Finance\u2019\n (Feb. 16); and \u2018Friends of Revolution\u2019 (Feb. 23).\n\n 4. Some theatrical notices published in 1828, viz.: June 29 (_The\n Rivals_); Aug. 3 and 10 (_Cosi fan Tutte_); Oct. 19 (Kean\u2019s\n Shylock, _Figaro_, and Mathews in _The May Queen_); Oct. 26\n (Madame Vestris in _The Marriage of Figaro_, and Rovere the\n conjurer); Nov. 2 (Farren\u2019s Dr. Cantwell in _The Hypocrite_, _The\n Youthful Queen_, and Kean\u2019s Overreach, Macbeth and Othello); Nov.\n 16 (_Guy Mannering_ and _The Stranger_).\n\nII. _The Edinburgh Magazine_ (new Series).\n\n Three papers on the criminal law, viz.: \u2018Historical View of the\n Progress of Opinion on the Criminal Law and the Punishment of\n Death\u2019 (March, 1819, vol. IV. p. 195); \u2018Parliamentary Report on\n the Criminal Laws\u2019 (Dec., 1819, vol. V. p. 491); and a short\n paper on the same subject (Jan. 1820, vol. VI. p. 26). Mr. W. C.\n Hazlitt in his _Memoirs, etc._ (vol. I. p. xxvi.) attributes\n these articles to Hazlitt, perhaps on the strength of some MS. or\n proof in his possession at the date of the _Memoirs_ (1867).\n Hazlitt\u2019s authorship, however, though very probable, does not\n seem to be certain, and as the papers consist largely of extracts\n from a Parliamentary Report, they have been omitted from the\n present edition. Hazlitt\u2019s views on capital punishment will be\n found in an extract which was first published in _Fraser\u2019s\n Magazine_ in 1831 and is reprinted in vol. XII.\n\nIII. _The London Magazine._\n\n 1. A review of \u2018The Memoirs of Mr. Hardy Vaux\u2019 (Jan. 1820, vol. I. p.\n 25).\n\n 2. \u2018Letters of Foote, Garrick,\u2019 etc. (Dec. 1820, vol. II. p. 647, and\n Feb. 1821, vol. III. p. 202).\n\n 3. A review of Byron\u2019s _Marino Faliero_ (May, 1821, vol. III. p. 550).\n\n 4. A review of Byron\u2019s _Sardanapalus_ (Jan. 1822, vol. V. p. 66).\n\n\n\n\n CONTENTS[1]\n\n\n PAGE\n On Abstract Ideas 1\n\n _FRAGMENTS OF LECTURES ON PHILOSOPHY_ (1812)\n On the Writings of Hobbes 25\n On Liberty and Necessity 48\n On Locke\u2019s Essay on the Human Understanding 74\n On Tooke\u2019s \u2018Diversions of Purley\u2019 119\n On Self-Love 132\n\n _CONTRIBUTIONS TO_ THE MORNING CHRONICLE\n *Madame de Sta\u00ebl\u2019s Account of German Philosophy and Literature 162\n *The Same Subject continued 167\n *The Same Subject continued 172\n *The Same Subject continued (On Abstraction) 180\n *Fine Arts. British Institution 187\n *The Stage 191\n *Fine Arts (The Louvre) 195\n\n _CONTRIBUTIONS TO_ THE CHAMPION\n *Wilson\u2019s Landscapes at the British Institution 198\n *On Gainsborough\u2019s Pictures 202\n *Mr. Kemble\u2019s Penruddock 205\n *Introduction to an Account of Sir Joshua Reynolds\u2019s Discourses 208\n *On Genius and Originality 210\n *On the Imitation of Nature 216\n *On the Ideal 223\n *L. Buonaparte\u2019s Charlemagne: ou l\u2019\u00c9glise D\u00e9livr\u00e9e 230\n *The Same Subject continued 234\n *L. Buonaparte\u2019s Collection of Pictures 237\n *British Institution 242\n *The Same Subject continued 246\n *The Same Subject continued 248\n *On Mr. Wilkie\u2019s Pictures 249\n\n _CONTRIBUTIONS TO_ THE EXAMINER\n *On Rochefoucault\u2019s Maxims 253\n On the Predominant Principles and Excitements of the Human Mind[2] 258\n The Love of Power or Action as Main a Principle in the Human Mind\n as Sensibility to Pleasure or Pain[2] 263\n Essay on Manners[3] 269\n *Kean\u2019s Bajazet, and \u2018The Country Girl\u2019 274\n *Doctrine of Philosophical Necessity 277\n *Parallel Passages in various Poets 282\n *Mr. Locke a great Plagiarist 284\n [The Same Subject continued] 578\n *Shakespear\u2019s Female Characters 290\n *Miss O\u2019Neill\u2019s Widow Cheerly 297\n *Penelope and The Dansomanie. 299\n *Oroonoko 301\n *The Pannel and The Ravens 303\n *John Gilpin 305\n *Don Giovanni and Kean\u2019s Eustace de St. Pierre 307\n *Character of the Country People 309\n *Mr. Macready\u2019s Macbeth 315\n *Guy Faux 317\n *The Same Subject continued 323\n *The Same Subject concluded 328\n Character of Mr. Canning 334\n *The Dandy School 343\n *Actors and the Public 348\n *French Plays 352\n *French Plays (continued) 356\n *The Theatres and Passion-Week 358\n *Charles Kean 362\n *Some of the Old Actors 366\n *The Company at the Opera 369\n *The Beggar\u2019s Opera 373\n *The Taming of the Shrew and L\u2019Avare 377\n *Mrs. Siddons 381\n *The Three Quarters, etc. 384\n *Mr. Kean 389\n\n _CONTRIBUTIONS TO_ THE TIMES\n *Munden\u2019s Sir Peter Teazle 392\n *Young\u2019s Hamlet 394\n *Dowton in The Hypocrite 395\n *Miss Brunton\u2019s Rosalind 396\n *Maywood\u2019s Zanga 397\n *Kean\u2019s Richard III. 399\n *The Wonder 401\n *Venice Preserved 402\n *She Stoops to Conquer 403\n *Kean\u2019s Macbeth 404\n *Kean\u2019s Othello 405\n *Kean and Miss O\u2019Neill 407\n *The Honey Moon 409\n *Mr. Kean 410\n *King John 410\n\n _CONTRIBUTIONS TO_ THE YELLOW DWARF\n *The Press\u2014Coleridge, Southey, Wordsworth, and Bentham 411\n *Mr. Coleridge\u2019s Lectures 416\n *Childe Harold\u2019s Pilgrimage 420\n The Opera 426\n\n _CONTRIBUTIONS TO_ THE EDINBURGH (NEW SCOTS) MAGAZINE\n *On the Question whether Pope was a Poet 430\n *On Respectable People 433\n On Fashion 437\n On Nicknames 442\n Thoughts on Taste 450\n The Same Subject continued 454\n The Same Subject continued[4] 459\n\n _CONTRIBUTIONS TO_ THE LONDON MAGAZINE\n *On the Present State of Parliamentary Eloquence 464\n *Haydon\u2019s \u2018Christ\u2019s Agony in the Garden\u2019 481\n *Pope, Lord Byron, and Mr. Bowles 486\n On Consistency of Opinion 508\n On the Spirit of Partisanship 521\n *\u2018The Pirate\u2019 531\n *\u2018Peveril of the Peak\u2019 537\n\n _CONTRIBUTIONS TO_ THE LITERARY EXAMINER\n Common Places 540\n NOTES 563\n\n _ESSAYS NOT CERTAINLY HAZLITT\u2019S, AND FRAGMENTS_\n Character of Mr. Wordsworth\u2019s New Poem The Excursion 572\n The Duke D\u2019Enghien 577\n Coleridge\u2019s \u2018Christabel\u2019 580\n Sketches of the History of the Good Old Times 582\n Historical Illustrations of Shakespeare 601\n Mr. Crabbe 603\n\n[Illustration: FACSIMILE (REDUCED) OF HAZLITT\u2019s HANDWRITING, FROM A MS.\nIN THE POSSESSION OF MR. W. C. HAZLITT.]\n\n\n\n\n FUGITIVE WRITINGS\n\n\n ON ABSTRACT IDEAS\n\n\nI shall in this essay state Mr. Locke\u2019s account of generalization,\nabstraction, and reasoning, as contrasted with the modern one, and then\nendeavour to defend the existence of these faculties, or acts of the\nmind from the objections urged against them by Hume, Berkeley,\nCondillac, and others, which are in truth merely repetitions of what\nHobbes has said on the subject. I must premise, however, that I do not\nthink it possible ever to arrive at a demonstration of generals or\nabstractions by beginning in Mr. Locke\u2019s method with particular ones:\nthis faculty of abstraction is by most considered as a sort of\nartificial refinement upon our other ideas, as an excrescence, no ways\ncontained in the common impressions of things, nor scarcely necessary to\nthe common purposes of life, and it is by Mr. Locke altogether denied to\nbe among the faculties of brutes. It is the ornament and top-addition of\nthe mind of man, which proceeding from simple sensations upwards, is\ngradually sublimed into the abstract notions of things; \u2018from the root\nsprings lighter the green stalk, from thence the leaves more airy, last\nthe bright consummate flower.\u2019 On the other hand, I conceive that all\nour notions from first to last, are strictly speaking, general and\nabstract, not absolute and particular; and that to have a perfectly\ndistinct idea of any one individual thing, or concrete existence, either\nas to the parts of which it is composed, or the differences belonging to\nit, or the circumstances connected with it, would imply an unlimited\npower of comprehension in the human mind, which is impossible. All\nparticular things consist of, and lead to an infinite number of other\nthings. Abstraction is a consequence of the limitation of the\ncomprehensive faculty, and mixes itself more or less with every act of\nthe mind of whatever kind, and in every moment of its existence. There\nis no idea of an individual object, which consists of a single\nimpression, but of a number of impressions massed together: there is no\nidea of a particular quality of an object, which is perfectly simple, or\nwhich is not the result of a number of impressions of the same sort\nclassed together by the mind without attending to their particular\ndifferences. Every idea of an object is, therefore, in a strict sense an\nimperfect and general notion of an aggregate: of a house, or tree, as\nwell as of a city, or forest: of a grain of sand as well as of the\nuniverse. Every idea of a sensible quality, as of the whiteness of the\nsheet of paper before me, or the hardness of the table on which I lean,\nimplies the same power of generalization, of connecting several\nimpressions into one sort, as the most refined and abstract idea of\nvirtue and justice, of motion, or extension, or space of time, or being\nitself. This view of the subject is not, I confess, very obvious at\nfirst sight, and it will be more easily understood after I have stated\nthe arguments of others on this difficult question. The concise account\nof the nature of abstract ideas is that which Mr. Locke has given, as\nfollows. \u2018All things that exist being particular, it may be perhaps\nthought reasonable that words which ought to be conformed to things\nshould be so too, I mean in their signification: but yet we find quite\nthe contrary. The far greatest part of words that make all languages are\ngeneral terms, which has not been the effect of neglect or chance, but\nof reason and necessity.\u2019 \u2018First, it is impossible that every particular\nthing should have a distinct peculiar name. For the signification and\nuse of words depending on that connection which the mind makes between\nits ideas and the sounds it uses as signs of them, it is necessary in\nthe applications of names to things, that the mind should have distinct\nideas of the things, and retain also the particular name that belongs to\nevery one, with its peculiar appropriation to that idea. But it is\nbeyond the power of human capacity to frame and retain distinct ideas of\nall the particular things we meet with; every bird and beast we see,\nevery tree and plant that affect the senses, could not find a place in\nthe most capacious understanding. If it be looked on as an instance of a\nprodigious memory, that some generals have been able to call every\nsoldier in their army by his proper name, we may easily find a reason\nwhy men never attempted to give names to each sheep in their flock, or\ncrow that flies over their heads, much less to call every leaf of plants\nor grain of sand that came in their way, by a peculiar name. Secondly,\nif it were possible, it would not serve to the chief end of language.\nMen would not in vain heap up names of particular things that would not\nserve them to communicate their thoughts. Men learn names, and use them\nin talk with others, only that they may be understood, which is then\nonly done, when by use or consent, the sound I make by the organs of\nspeech, excites in another man\u2019s mind who hears it, the idea I apply to\nit in mine when I speak it. This cannot be done by names applied to\nparticular things, whereof I alone have the ideas in my mind, the names\nof them could not be significant, intelligible to another who was not\nacquainted with all those very particular things which had fallen under\nmy notice. Thirdly, granting this feasible, which I think it is not, yet\na distinct name of every particular thing would not be of any great use\nfor the improvement of knowledge; which though founded in particular\nthings, enlarges itself by general views, to which things reduced into\nsorts under general names are properly subservient. These with the names\nbelonging to them come within some compass, and do not multiply every\nmoment beyond what either the mind can contain, or use requires, and\ntherefore in these men have for the most part stopped. But yet not so,\nas to hinder themselves from distinguishing particular things by\nappropriated names, where convenience demands it. And therefore in their\nown species, which they have to do with, and wherein they have often\noccasion to mention particular persons, they make use of proper names;\nand these distinct individuals have distinct denominations. Besides\npersons, countries, cities, rivers, mountains, and other like\ndistinctions of place have usually found particular names, and that for\nthe same reason; and I doubt not but if we had reason to mention\nparticular horses, as often as we have to mention particular men, we\nshould have proper names for the one as familiarly as for the other, and\nBucephalus would be a word as much in use as Alexander. And therefore we\nsee amongst jockies, horses have their proper names to be known and\ndistinguished by, as commonly as their servants, because amongst them\nthere is often occasion to mention this or that particular horse, when\nhe is out of sight. The next thing to be considered is how general words\ncame to be made. For since all things that exist are only particulars,\nhow come we by general terms, or where find we those general natures\nthey are supposed to stand for? Words become general by being made the\nsigns of general ideas, and ideas become general by separating from them\nthe circumstances of time and place, and any other ideas that may\ndetermine them to this or that particular existence. By this way of\nabstraction they are made capable of representing more individuals than\none, each of which having in it a conformity to that abstract idea is\n(as we call it) of that sort.\n\n\u2018But to deduce this a little more distinctly, it will not, perhaps, be\namiss to trace our notions and names from their beginning, and observe\nby what degrees we proceed, and by what steps we enlarge our ideas from\ntheir first infancy. There is nothing more evident than that the ideas\nof the persons children converse with, are like the persons themselves,\nonly particulars. The ideas of the nurse and the mother are well framed\nin the mind and like pictures of them there, represent only those\nindividuals. The names they first give rise to are confined to these\nindividuals, and the names of _nurse_ and _mamma_ which the child uses,\ndetermine themselves to those persons. Afterwards when time and a larger\nacquaintance has made them observe that there are a great many other\nthings in the world, that in some common agreements of shape, and\nseveral other properties resemble their father and mother, and those\npersons they have been used to, they frame an idea which they find those\nmany particulars do partake in, and to that they give with others the\nname _Man_, for example. And thus they come to have a general name, and\na general idea. Wherein they make nothing new, but only leave out of the\ncomplex idea they had of Peter and James, Mary and Jane, that which is\npeculiar to each, and retain what is common to them all. By the same way\nthat they come by the general name and idea of man, they easily advance\nto more general names and notions. For observing that several things\nthat differ from their idea of man, and therefore cannot be comprehended\nunder that name, have yet certain qualities wherein they agree with man,\nby retaining only those qualities and uniting them into one idea, they\nhave again another and more general idea; to which having given a name,\nthey make a term of a more comprehensive extension; which new idea is\nmade, not by any new addition, but only as before, by leaving out the\nshape, and some other properties signified by the name man, and\nretaining only a body with life, sense, and spontaneous motion,\ncomprehended under the name _animal_. That this is the way that men\nfirst formed general ideas and general names to them, I think is so\nevident that there needs no other proof of it, but the considering of a\nman\u2019s self or others, and the ordinary proceedings of their mind in\nknowledge: and he that thinks general natures or notions are anything\nelse but _such abstracts and partial ideas of more complex ones taken at\nfirst from particular existencies_, will I fear be at a loss where to\nfind them. For let any one reflect and then tell me, wherein does his\nidea of _man_ differ from that of Paul and Peter, or his idea of horse\nfrom that of Bucephalus, but in the leaving out something that is\npeculiar to each individual; and retaining so much of those particular\ncomplex ideas of several particular existencies, as they are found to\nagree in? Of the complex ideas signified by the names _man_ and _horse_,\nleaving out those particulars wherein they differ, and retaining only\nthose wherein they agree, and of those making a new distinct complex\nidea and giving the name _animal_ to it, one has a more general term\nthat comprehends with man several other creatures.\n\n\u2018Leave out of the idea of animal sense and spontaneous motion, and the\nremaining complex idea, made up of the remaining simple ones of body,\nlife, and nourishment, becomes a more general one under the more\ncomprehensive word _vivens_. And not to dwell upon these particular, so\nevident in itself, by the same way the mind proceeds to _body_,\n_substance_, and at last to _being_, thing, and such universal terms,\nwhich stand for any of our ideas whatsoever. To conclude: this whole\nmystery of genera and species, which make such a noise in the schools,\nand are with justice so little regarded out of them, is nothing else but\nabstract ideas, more or less comprehensive, with names annexed to them.\nIn all which this is constant and invariable, that every more general\nterm stands for such an idea as is but a part of any of those contained\nunder it.\u2019\n\nThe author adds, \u2018It is plain by what has been said, that general and\nuniversal belong not only to the real existence of things, but are the\ninventions and creatures of the understanding, made by it, for its own\nuse, and concern only signs, whether words or ideas. Words are general,\nwhen used for signs of general ideas, and so are applicable\nindifferently to many particular things; and ideas are general when they\nare set up as the representatives of many particular things, but\nuniversality belongs not to things themselves, which are all of them\nparticular in their existence, even those words and ideas which in their\nsignifications are general. When, therefore, we quit particulars, the\ngenerals that rest are only creatures of our own making, their general\nnature being nothing but the capacity they are put in to of signifying\nmany particulars. For the signification they have is nothing but a\nrelation, that by the mind of man is added to them.\u2019 See p. 15, vol. 2.\n\nMr. Locke at first here evidently supposes that we have ideas answering\nto general terms, i.e. certain ideas of such particulars as a number of\nthings are found to agree in, or that there are some common qualities by\nretaining which and only leaving out what is peculiar and foreign,\nwithout adding anything new, we get at the general notion. He afterwards\nto all appearance reduces these general notions to mere signs or sounds\nwith which several particular ideas are associated, but which do not\ncorrespond to any common properties or general nature really inhering in\nthese particular things. In the same manner he continues to take\ndifferent sides of the question, when he comes to treat of genera, and\nspecies, when his antipathy to the word _essence_ constantly drives him\nback into the notion that all our ideas of essences are mere terms, and\nthe want of solidity in that opinion again as constantly disposes him to\nadmit a real difference in the sorts of things, besides the difference\nof the names we give to them. For immediately after affirming that the\nabstract essences of things are the workmanship of the understanding, he\nadds, \u2018I would not here be thought to forget, much less to deny, that\nnature, in the production of things makes several of them alike: there\nis nothing more obvious, especially in the races of animals, and all\nthings propagated by seed. But yet, I think we may say, the sorting of\nthem by names is the workmanship of the understanding taking occasion\nfrom the similitude it observes amongst them to make abstract general\nideas, and set them up as patterns in forms (for in that sense the word\nform has a very proper signification), to which as particular things\nexisting are found to agree, so they come to be of that species, have\nthat denomination, or are put into that class. For when we say this is a\n_man_, that a _horse_, &c. what do we else but rank things under\ndifferent specific names, as agreeing to those abstract ideas, of which\nwe have made these names the signs? And what are the essences of those\nspecies set out and marked by names, but those abstract ideas in the\nmind, which are as it were the bonds between particular things that\nexist,\u2019 &c. For my own part I must confess that I agree with the Bishop\nof Worcester on this occasion, who asks, \u2018What is it that makes Peter,\nJames, and John real men? Is it the attributing the general name to\nthem? No, certainly, but that the true and real essence of a man is in\nevery one of them. They take their denomination of being men from that\ncommon nature or essence which is in them.\u2019 On the opposite system it is\nnot the nature of the thing which determines the imposition of the name,\nbut the imposition of the name which determines the nature of the thing;\nor giving them the name makes Peter, James, and John men, as in the\nopinion of some divines Baptism makes them Christians. That there is a\nreal difference in things and ideas, answering to their general names,\nappears evident from this single observation, that if it were not so, we\ncould never know how to apply these general names, and we could no more\ndistinguish between a man and a horse than we could tell at first sight,\nthat one man\u2019s proper name was John and another\u2019s Thomas. The puzzle\nabout genera and species, in this view of the question, seems to arise\nfrom a very obvious transposition of ideas. Because the abstracting or\nseparating these general ideas from particular circumstances is the\nworkmanship of the understanding: it has, therefore, been inferred, that\nthe ideas themselves are so too, and that they exist no where but in the\nmind which perceives them.\n\nBut I would fain ask, in the account which Mr. Locke gives of the\nabstract ideas of _animal_ for example, whether body, sense, and motion,\nas they exist in different individuals, have not a general nature, or\nsomething common in all those individuals. If _body_ in one case\nexpresses the same thing, or same idea as _body_ in another, their\ngenerals belong to things and ideas, as well as to names; if body in one\ncase expresses quite a different thing in one to what it does in\nanother, then it is not easy to imagine what determines the mind to\napply the name to these different things, or on what foundation Mr.\nLocke\u2019s definition rests. Extreme opinions were not in general the side\non which Mr. Locke erred; and, on the present occasion, he has qualified\nhis opposition to the prevailing system in such a manner, that it is\ndifficult to say in what point he admitted or rejected it. He evidently,\nin the general scope of this argument, admits the reality of abstract\nideas in the mind, though he denies the existence of real sorts, or\nnature of things of the mind to correspond to them: for the expressions\nwhich intimate any doubt of the former are occasional and parenthetical,\nand his acknowledgment that there is something in nature which guides\nand determines the mind in the sorting of things and giving names to\nthem is equally extorted from him. There is none of this doubt and\nperplexity in the minds of his French commentators; none of this\nsuspicion of error and anxious desire to correct it; no lurking\nobjections arise to stagger their confidence in themselves; it is all\nthe same light airy self-complacency; not a speck is to be seen in the\nclear sky of their metaphysics, not a cloud obscures the sparkling\ncurrent of their thoughts. In the logic of Condillac, the whole question\nof abstract ideas, of genera and species, and of the nature of reasoning\nas founded upon them, is settled and cleared from all difficulties,\npast, present, and to come, with as little expence of thought, time, and\ntrouble, as possible. The Abb\u00e9 demonstrates with ease. \u2018General ideas,\u2019\nhe says, \u2018of which we have explained the formation, are a part of the\naggregate idea of each of the individuals to which they correspond, and\nthey are considered, for this reason, as so many partial or imperfect\nideas. The idea of man, for instance, makes part of the complex ideas of\nPeter and Paul, since it is equally to be found in both. There is no\nsuch thing as man in general. This partial idea has then no reality out\nof the mind, but it has one in the mind, where it exists separately from\nthe aggregate or individual ideas of which it is a part. All our general\nideas are then so many abstract ideas, and you see that we form them\nonly in consequence of taking from each individual idea that which is\ncommon to all.\n\n\u2018But what, in truth, is the reality which a general and abstract idea\nhas in the mind. It is nothing but a name: or, if it is any thing more,\nit necessarily ceases to be abstract, and general. When, for example, I\nthink of a _man_, I consider this word as a common denomination, in\nwhich case, it is very evident, that my idea is in some sort\ncircumscribed within this name, that it does not extend to anything\nbeyond it, and that consequently it is nothing but the name itself. If,\non the contrary, thinking of man in general, I contemplate any thing in\nthis word, besides the mere denomination, it can only be by representing\nmyself to some one man; and a man can no more be man in general, or in\nthe abstract in my mind, than in nature. Abstract ideas are therefore\nonly denominations. If we will absolutely think that they are something\nelse, we shall only resemble a painter who should obstinately persist in\npainting the figure of a man in general, and who would still paint only\nindividuals. This observation concerning abstract and general ideas,\ndemonstrates that their clearness depends entirely on the order in which\nwe have arranged the denominations of classes; and that, consequently,\nto determine this sort of ideas, there is only one means, which is to\nconstruct a language properly.\n\n\u2018This confirms what we have already demonstrated, how necessary words\nare to us: for if we had no general terms, we should have no abstract\nideas, we should have neither _genera_, or _species_, and without\n_genera_ and _species_, we could reason upon nothing. But if we reason\nonly by means of words this is a new proof that we can only reason well\nor ill, according as the language, in which we reason, is well or ill\nmade. The analysis of our thoughts can only enable us to reason in\nproportion as by instructing us how to class our abstract ideas, it\nenables us how to form our language correctly, and the whole art of\nreasoning is thus reduced to the art of well speaking.\u2019\n\nWhat in this supremacy of words is to be the criterion of well speaking\nthe Abb\u00e9 does not say.\n\n\u2018To speak, to reason, to form general or abstract ideas, are then in\nfact the same thing: and this truth, simple as it is, might pass for a\ndiscovery. Certainly, men in general have not had any notion of it; this\nis evident from the manner in which they speak and reason; it is evident\nfrom the abuse which they make of abstract ideas; finally, it is evident\nfrom the difficulties which those persons confessedly find in conceiving\nof abstract ideas who have so little in speaking of them.\n\n\u2018The art of reasoning resolves into the construction of languages, only\nbecause the order of our ideas itself depends entirely on the\nsubordination that subsists between the names given to _genera_ and\n_species_; and as we arrive at new ideas only by forming new classes, it\nfollows that we can only determine or define our ideas by determining\ntheir classes. In this case we should reason well, because we should be\nguided by analogy in our conclusions as well as in the acceptation of\nwords.\n\n\u2018Convinced, therefore, that classes or sorts of things are pure\ndenominations, we shall never think of supposing that there exist in\nnature _genera_ or _species_; and we shall understand by these words\nnothing but a certain mode of classing things according to the relations\nwhich they have to ourselves and to one another. We shall be sensible\nthat we can only discover those relations, and not what the things truly\nare.\u2019\n\nBerkeley handled his subjects with little tenderness, and he has\nperfectly anatomised this subject of abstract ideas. In choosing to\nanswer the objections to this doctrine as stated by him, I shall not be\naccused of wishing to encounter a mean adversary. I can only trust to\nthe goodness of my cause. I hope I shall be excused for going at some\nlength into the argument, because it is one of the most difficult and\ncomplicated in itself, and is of the most extensive application to other\nquestions relating to the human understanding. If we can come to any\nsatisfactory issue to it, it will be worth the pains of enquiry.\n\n\u2018It is agreed on all hands,\u2019 says this author, \u2018that the quantities or\nmodes of things do never really exist in each of them, apart by itself,\nand separated from all others, but are mixed, as it were, and blended\ntogether, several in the same object. But we are told the mind being\nable to consider each quality singly, or abstracted from those other\nqualities with which it is united, does by that means frame to itself\nabstract ideas. For example, there is perceived by sight, an object,\nextended, coloured, and moved. This mixed idea the mind resolving into\nits simple constituent parts, and viewing each by itself exclusive of\nthe rest, does frame the abstract ideas of extension, colour, and\nmotion. Not that it is possible for colour or motion to exist without\nextension, but only that the mind can frame to itself by abstraction the\nidea of colour, exclusive of extension, and of motion exclusive both of\ncolour and extension. Again, the mind having observed that in the\nparticular extensions perceived by sense, there is something common and\nalike in all, and some other things peculiar, as this or that figure, or\nmagnitude, which distinguish them one from another, it considers apart,\nor singles out by itself that which is most common, making thereof a\nmost abstract idea of extension, line, surface, or solid, nor has any\nfigure or magnitude, but is an idea prescinded from all these. So\nlikewise the mind by leaving out of the particular colours perceived by\nsense, that which distinguishes them one from another, and retaining\nthat which only is common to all, makes an idea of colour in abstract,\nwhich is neither red, nor blue, not white, &c. And in like manner by\nconsidering motion abstractedly, not only the body moved, but likewise\nfrom the figure it describes, and all particular directions and\nvelocities, the abstract idea of motion is framed, which equally\ncorresponds to all particular motions whatsoever that may be perceived\nby sense.\n\n\u2018And as the mind frames to itself abstract ideas of qualities, or modes,\nso does it by the precision or mental separation, attain abstract ideas\nof the more compound beings, which include several co-existent\nqualities:\u2014for example, the mind having observed, that Peter, James,\nJohn, &c., resemble each other in certain common agreements of shape,\nand other qualities, leaves out of the complex or compounded idea it has\nof Peter, James, &c., that which is peculiar to each, retaining only\nwhat is common to all; and so makes an abstract idea wherein the\nparticulars equally partake, abstracting entirely, and cutting off all\nthose circumstances and differences which might determine it, to any\nparticular existence. And after this manner it is said, we come by the\nabstract idea of man, or if you please humanity, or human nature; \u2019tis\ntrue, there is included colour, because there is no man but has some\ncolour, but then it can be neither white nor black, nor any particular\ncolour, because there is no one particular colour, wherein all men\npartake; so there is included stature, but then it is neither tall\nstature, nor low stature, nor yet middle stature, but something\nabstracted from all these; and so of the rest. Moreover, there being a\ngreat variety of other creatures that partake in some parts, not all, of\nthe complex idea, man, the mind leaving out those parts which are\npeculiar to men, and retaining those only which are common to all living\ncreatures, frames the idea of animals, which abstracts not only from all\nparticular men, but also, all birds, beasts, fishes, and insects. By\n_Body_ is meant body without any particular shape, or figure, there\nbeing no one shape or figure common to all animals, without covering of\nhair, feathers, or scales, &c. nor yet naked; hair, feathers, scales,\nand nakedness, being the distinguishing properties of particular\nanimals, and for that reason left out of the abstract idea; upon the\nsame account the spontaneous motion must be neither in walking, nor\nflying, nor creeping, it is nevertheless a motion, but what that motion\nis, it is not easy to conceive.\u2019\n\n\u2018Whether others have this wonderful faculty of abstracting their ideas,\nthey best can tell: for myself I dare be confident I have it not. I have\na faculty of imagining or representing to myself the ideas of those\nparticular things I have perceived, and of variously compounding and\ndividing them. I can imagine a man with two heads or the upper part of a\nman joined to the body of a horse; I can consider the hand, the eye, the\nnose, each by itself, abstracted or separated from the rest of the body.\nBut then, whatever hand or eye, I imagine, it must have some particular\nshape, and colour. Likewise, the idea of man that I frame to myself must\nbe either of a white, or a black, or a tawny; a strait, or a crooked; a\ntall, or a low, or a middle-sized man. I cannot by any effort of thought\nconceive the abstract idea above-described: and it is equally impossible\nfor me to form the abstract idea of motion distinct from the body\nmoving, and which is neither swift nor slow, curvilinear nor\nrectilinear, and the like may be said of other abstract general ideas\nwhatsoever: to be plain, I own myself able to abstract in one sense, as\nwhen I consider some particular parts or qualities separated from\nothers, with which, though they are united in some objects, yet it is\npossible they may really exist without them. But I deny that I can\nabstract from one another, or conceive separately those qualities, which\nit is impossible should exist so separated:\u2014or that I can frame a\ngeneral notion by abstracting from particulars in the manner aforesaid,\nwhich two last are the proper acceptation of abstraction; and there is\nground to think most men will acknowledge themselves to be in my case.\n\n\u2018The generality of men, which are simple and illiterate, never pretend\nto abstract notions. It is said they are difficult and not to be\nattained without pains and study; we may therefore reasonably conclude\nthat, if such there be, they are confined only to the learned. I proceed\nto examine what can be alleged in defence of the doctrine of\nabstraction, and try if I can discover what it is that inclines the man\nof speculation to embrace an opinion so remote from common sense as that\nseems to be. There has been a late excellent and deservedly esteemed\nphilosopher, who no doubt has given it very much, by seeming to think\nthe having abstract general ideas is what puts the difference in point\nof understanding betwixt man and beast.\u2019\n\nThe author here quotes a passage from Mr. Locke on the subject, which it\nis not necessary to give, and afterwards his opinion that words become\ngeneral by being made signs of general ideas. He then proceeds:\u2014\u2018To this\nI cannot assent, being of opinion that a word becomes general by being\nmade the sign, not of an abstract general idea, but of several\nparticular ideas, any one of which it indifferently suggests to the\nmind.\u2019\n\n\u2018If we will annex a meaning to our words and speak only of what we can\nonly conceive, I believe we shall acknowledge that an idea, which\nconsidered in itself is particular, becomes general, by being made to\nrepresent or stand for all other particular ideas _of the same sort_. To\nmake this plain by example, suppose a geometrician is demonstrating the\nmethod of cutting a line in two equal parts. He draws for instance a\nblack line of an inch in length: this which is in itself a particular\nline, is nevertheless, with regard to its signification, general, since,\nas it is there used, it represents all particular lines whatsoever, so\nthat what is demonstrated of it is demonstrated of all lines, or in\nother words of a line in general; and, as that particular line becomes\ngeneral, by being made a sign, so the name _line_, which taken\nabsolutely, is particular, by being a sign, is made general. And as the\nformer owes its generality not to its being the sign of an abstract or\ngeneral line, but of all particular right lines that may possibly exist,\nso the latter must be thought to derive its generality from the same\ncause, namely, the various particular lines which it indifferently\ndenotes.\u2019\n\n\u2018To give the reader a clearer view of the nature of abstract ideas, and\nthe uses they are thought necessary to, I shall add one more passage out\nof the Essay on Human Understanding, which is as follows:\u2014\u201cAbstract\nideas are not so obvious or easy to children, or the yet unexercised\nmind as particular ones. If they seem so to grown men, it is only by\nconstant and familiar use they are made so. For when we nicely reflect\nupon them, we shall find that general ideas are fictions and\ncontrivances of the mind, that carry difficulty with them, and do not so\neasily offer themselves as we are apt to imagine. For example, does it\nnot require some skill and pains to form the general idea of a triangle\n(which is yet none of the abstract, comprehensive, and difficult), for\nit must be neither oblique nor rectangle, neither equilateral,\nequicrural, nor scalenon, but all and none of these at once. In effect\nit is something imperfect that cannot exist, an idea wherein some parts\nof different and inconsistent ideas are put together. \u2019Tis true the mind\nin this imperfect state has need of such ideas, and makes all the haste\nit can to them, for the convenience of communication and enlargement of\nknowledge, to both of which it is naturally very much inclined. But yet\none has reason to suspect such ideas are marks of our imperfections, at\nleast this is enough to show that the most abstract and general ideas\nare not those that the mind is first and most easily acquainted with,\nnor such as its earliest knowledge is conversant about.\u201d\u2018\u2014After laughing\nat this description of the general idea of a triangle, which is neither\noblique nor rectangle, equilateral, equicrural, nor scalenon, but all\nand none of these at once, Berkeley adds, \u2018much is here said of the\ndifficulty that abstract ideas carry with them, and the pains and skill\nrequisite to the forming of them. And it is on all hands agreed that\nthere is need of great toil and labour of mind, to emancipate our\nthoughts from particular objects, and raise them to those sublime\nspeculations that are conversant about abstract ideas. From all which\nthe natural consequences should seem to be, that so difficult a thing as\nforming abstract ideas was not necessary for communication, which is so\nfamiliar to all sorts of men. But, we are told, if they seem obvious and\neasy to grown men, it is only because by constant and familiar use they\nare made so. Now I would fain know at what time it is, men are employed\nin surmounting that difficulty and furnishing themselves with those\nnecessary helps for discourse. It cannot be when they are grown up, for\nthen it seems they are not conscious of any such pains-taking; it\ntherefore remains to be the business of their childhood. And surely the\ngreat and multiplied labour of framing abstract notions will be found a\nhard task for that tender age. Is it not a hard thing to imagine that a\ncouple of children cannot prate of their sugar plums, and rattles, and\nthe rest of their little trinkets, till they have first packed together\nnumberless inconsistencies, and so framed in their minds general\nabstract ideas, and annexed them to every common name they make use of.\n\n\u2018It is I know a point much insisted on that all knowledge and\ndemonstration are about universal notions, to which I fully assent. But\nthen it does not appear to me that those notions are formed by\nabstraction, in the manner premised; universality, so far as I can\ncomprehend, not consisting in the absolute, positive nature and\nconception of any thing, but in the relation it bears to the particulars\nsignified, or represented by it. But here it will be demanded, how we\ncan know any proposition to be true of all particular triangles, except\nwe have seen it first demonstrated of the abstract idea of a triangle\nwhich equally agrees to all?\n\n\u2018For because a property may be demonstrated to agree to some particular\ntriangle, it will not thence follow that it equally belongs to every\nother with it. For example, having demonstrated that the three angles of\nan isosceles, rectangular triangle, are equal to two right ones, I\ncannot therefore conclude this affection argues to all other triangles,\nwhich have neither a right angle, nor two equal sides. It seems,\ntherefore, that to be certain this proposition is universally true we\nmust either make a particular demonstration for every particular\ntriangle, which is impossible, or once for all demonstrate it of the\nabstract idea of a triangle, in which all the particulars do\nindifferently partake, and by which they are all equally represented.\u2019\nTo which I answer, that though the idea I have in view, whilst I make\nthe demonstration, be, for instance, that of an isosceles, not a regular\ntriangle, whose sides are of a determinate length, I may nevertheless be\ncertain it extends to all other rectilinear triangles of what sort or\nbigness soever. And that neither because the right angle, nor the\nequality, nor determinate length of the sides are at all concerned in\nthe demonstration. It is true, the diagram I have in view includes all\nthese particulars, but then there is not the least mention made of them\nin the proofs of the proposition. It is not said the three angles are\nequal to two right ones, because one of these is a right angle, or\nbecause the sides comprehending it are of the same length. Which\nsufficiently shews that the right angle might have been oblique and the\nsides unequal, and for all the others the demonstrations have held good.\nAnd for this reason it is that I conclude that to be true of any oblique\nangular, or scalenon, which I had demonstrated of a particular right\nangled, equicrural, triangle, and not because I demonstrated the\nproposition of the abstract idea of a triangle.\u2019 The author then adds\nsome further remarks on the use of abstract terms, and concludes\u2014\u2018May we\nnot, for example, be affected with the promise of a _good thing_, though\nwe have not an idea of what it is? or is not the being threatened with\ndanger sufficient to excite a dread, though we think not of a particular\nevil likely to befal us, and yet frame to ourselves an idea of danger in\nabstract?\u2019 Introduction to Principles of Human Knowledge, p. 31.\n\nHume, who has taken up Berkeley\u2019s arguments on this subject, and affirms\nthat the doctrine of abstract ideas applies the flattest of all\ncontradictions, that it is possible for the same thing to be and not to\nbe, has enlarged a good deal on this last topic of the manner in which\nwords may be supposed to excite general ideas. His words are these:\n\u2018Where we have found a resemblance between any two objects that often\noccur to us, we apply the same name to all of them, whatever differences\nwe may observe in the degrees of their quantity and quality, and\nwhatever differences may appear among them. After we have acquired a\ncustom of this kind, the hearing of that name revives the idea of one of\nthese objects, and makes the imagination conceive it with its particular\ncircumstances and proportions. But as the same word is supposed to have\nbeen frequently applied to other individuals that are different in many\nrespects from the idea which is immediately present to the mind, the\nword not being able to revive the idea of all these individuals, only\n_touches_ the soul, if I may be allowed so to speak, and revives that\ncustom, which we have acquired by surveying them. They are not in\nreality present to the mind, but only in power, nor do we draw them out\ndistinctly in the imagination, but keep ourselves in readiness to survey\nany of them, as we may be prompted by a present design or necessity. The\nword raises up an individual idea, along with a certain custom; and that\ncustom produces any other individual one, for which we may have\noccasion.\u2019 Treatise of Human Nature, p. 43, 4. The author afterwards\nadds, with his usual candour, that this account does not perfectly\nsatisfy him, but he relies principally on the logical demonstration of\nthe impossibilities of abstract ideas just before given.\n\nI confess it does not seem an easy matter to recover the argument in\nthis state of it; however, I will attempt it. What I shall endeavour\nwill not be so much to answer the foregoing reasoning as to prove that\nin a strict sense all ideas whatever are mere abstractions and can be\nnothing else; that some of the most clear, distinct, and positive ideas\nof particular objects are made up of numberless inconsistencies; and\nthat as Hume expresses it, they do touch the soul, and are not drawn\ndistinctly in the imagination, &c. Though I shall not be able to point\nout distinctly the fallacy of the foregoing reasonings, I hope to make\nit appear that there must be something wrong in the premises, and that\nthe nature of thought and ideas is quite different from what is here\nsupposed. I may be allowed to set off one paradox against another, and\nas these writers affirm that all abstract ideas are particular images,\nso I shall try to prove that all particular images are abstract ideas.\nIf it can be made to appear that our ideas of particular things\nthemselves are not particular, it may be easily granted that those which\nare in general allowed to be abstract are all so. The existence of\nabstract and complex ideas in the mind has been disputed for the same\nreason, that is, in falsely attributing individuality, or absolute unity\nto the objects of sense. While each thing or object was said to be\nabsolutely one and simple, there was found to be no reach, compass, or\nexpansion of mind, to comprehend it; and, on the other hand, there was\nno room on the same supposition for the doctrine of abstraction, for\nthere is no abstracting from absolute unity. That which is one positive,\nindivisible thing, must remain entire as this, or cease to exist. There\nis no alternative between individuality and nothing. As long as we are\ndetermined to consider any one thing or idea, as the knot of a chain, or\nthe figure of a man, or any thing else, as one individual, it must, as\nit were, go together: we can take nothing away without destroying it\naltogether. I have already shewn that there is no one object which does\nnot consist of a number of parts and relations, or which does not\nrequire a comprehensive facility in the mind in order to conceive of it.\nNow abstraction is a necessary consequence of the limitation of this\npower of the mind, and if it were a previous condition of our having the\nideas of things that we should comprehend distinctly all the particulars\nof which they are composed, we could have no ideas at all. An\nimperfectly comprehended is a general idea. But the mind perfectly\ncomprehends the whole of no one object. That is, it has not an absolute\nand distinct knowledge of all its parts or differences, and consequently\nall our ideas are abstractions, that is a general and confused result\nfrom a number of undistinguished, and undistinguishable impressions, for\nthere is no possible medium between a perfectly distinct comprehension\nof all the particulars, which is impossible, or that imperfect and\nconfused one, that properly constitutes a general notion in the one case\nor the other. To explain this more particularly. In looking at any\nobject, as a house on the opposite side of the way, it is supposed that\nthe impression I have of it is a perfectly distinct, precise, or\ndefinite idea, in which abstraction has no concern. And the general idea\nof a house, it is said, is rather a mere word, or must reduce itself to\nsome such positive, individual image as that conveyed by the sight of a\nparticular house, it being impossible that it should be made up of the\nconfused, imperfect, and undistinguishable impressions of several\ndifferent objects of the same kind. Now it appears to me the easiest\nthing in the world to shew that this sensible image of a particular\nhouse, into which the general is to be resolved for greater clearness,\nis itself but a confused and vague notion, or numberless inconsistencies\npacked together; not one precise individual thing, or any number of\nthings, distinctly perceived. For I would ask of any one who thinks his\nsenses furnish him with these infallible and perfect conceptions of\nthings, free from all contradiction and perplexity, whether he has a\nprecise knowledge of all the circumstance of the object prescribed to\nhim. For instance, is the knowledge which he has that the house before\nhim is larger than another near it, in consequence of his intentively\nconsidering all the bricks of which it is composed, or can he tell that\nit contains a greater number of windows than another, without distinctly\ncounting them? Let us suppose, however, that he does. But this will not\nbe enough unless he has also a distinct perception of the numbers and\nthe size of the panes of glass in each window, or of any mark, stain, or\ndirt in each separate brick? Otherwise his idea of each of these\nparticulars will still be general, and his most substantial knowledge\nbuilt on shadows; that is composed of a number of parts of the parts of\nwhich he has no knowledge. If objects were what mankind in general\nsuppose them, single things, we could have no notion of them but what\nwas particular, for by leaving out any thing we should leave out the\nwhole object, which is but one thing. We may also be said to have a\nparticular knowledge of things in proportion to the number of parts we\ndistinguish in them. But the real foundation of all our knowledge, is\nand must be general, that is, a mere confused impression or effect of\nfeeling produced by a number of things, for there is no object which\ndoes not consist of an infinite number of parts, and we have not an\ninfinite number of distinct ideas answering to them. Yet it cannot be\ndenied that we have some knowledge of things, that they make some\nimpression on us, and this knowledge, this impression, must therefore be\nan abstract one, the natural result of a limited understanding, which is\nvariously affected by a number of things at the same time, but which is\nnot susceptible of itself to an infinite number of modifications. If it\nshould be said that the sensible image of the house is still one, as\nbeing one impression, or given result, I answer that the most abstract\nideas of a house, and the imperfect recollection of a number of houses\nis in the same sense one, and a real idea, distinct from that of a tree,\nthough far from being a particular image. Again, it is said, that in\nconceiving of the idea of man in general, we must conceive a man a\nparticular sign or figure. I would ask first is this to be understood\nmerely of his height, or of his form in general? If the latter, it would\nimply that we have, wherever we pronounce the word _man_, no ideas at\nall, or a distinct conception of a man with a head and limbs of a\ncertain extent and proportion, of every turn in each feature, of every\nvariety in the formation of each part, as well as of its distance from\nevery other part, a knowledge which no sculptor or painter ever had of\nany one figure of which he was the most perfect master, for it would be\na knowledge of an infinite number of lines drawn in all directions from\nevery part of the body, with their precise length and terminations.\nThose who have consigned this business of abstraction over to the senses\nwith a view to make the whole matter plain and easy, have not been aware\nof what they have been doing. They supposed with the vulgar that it was\nonly necessary to open the eyes in order to see, and that the images\nproduced by outward objects are completely defined, and unalterable\nthings, in which there can be no dimness and confusion. These\nspeculators had no thought but they saw as much of a landscape as\nPoussin, and knew as much about a face that was before them as Titian or\nVandyke would have done. This is a great mistake; the having particular\nand absolute ideas of things is not only difficult, but impossible. The\nablest painters have never been able to give more than one part of\nnature, in abstracted views of things. The most laborious artists never\nfinished to perfection any one part of an object, or had ever any more\nthan a confused, vague, uncertain notion of the shape of the mouth or\nnose, or the colour of an eye. Ask a logician, or any common man, and he\nwill no doubt tell you that a face is a face, a nose is a nose, a tree\nis a tree, and that he can see what it is as well as another. Ask a\npainter and he will tell you otherwise. Secondly, when it is asserted\nthat we must necessarily have the idea of a particular sign, when we\nthink of any in general, all that is intended by it is, I believe, that\nwe must think of a particular height. This idea it is supposed must be\nparticular and determinate, just as we must draw a line with a piece of\nchalk, or make a mark with the slides of a measuring rule, in one place\nand not in the other. I think it may be shewn that this view of the\nquestion is also utterly fallacious, and out of the order of our ideas.\nThe height of the individual is thus resolved with the ideas of the\nlines terminating or defining it, and the intermediate space of which it\nproperly consists is entirely forgotten. For let us take any given\nheight of a man, whether tall, short, or middle-sized, and let that\nheight be as visible as you please, I would ask whether the actual\nheight to which it amounts, does not consist of a number of other\nlengths: as if it be a tall man, the length will be six feet, and each\nof these feet will consist of so many inches, and those inches will be\nagain made up of decimals, and those decimals of other subordinate\nparts, which must be all distinctly placed, and added together before\nthe sum total, which they compose, can be pretended to be a distinct\nparticular, or individual idea; I can only understand by a particular\nthing either one precise individual, or a precise number of individuals.\n\nInstead of its being true that all general ideas of extension are\ndeducible to particular positive extension, the reverse proposition is I\nthink demonstrable: that all particular extensions, the most positive\nand distinct, are never any thing else than a more or less vague notion\nof extension in general. In any given visible object we have always the\ngeneral idea of something extended, and never of the precise length; for\nthe precise length as it is thought to be is necessarily composed of a\nnumber of lengths too many, and too minute to be necessarily attended\nto, or jointly conceived by the mind, and at last loses itself in the\ninfinite divisibility of matter. What sort of distinctness or individual\ncan therefore be found in any visible image, or object of sense, I\ncannot well conceive: it seems to me like seeking for certainty in the\ndancing of insects in the evening sun, or for fixedness or rest in the\nmotions of the sea. All particulars are thought nothing but generals,\nmore or less defined by circumstances, but never perfectly so; in this\nall our knowledge both begins and ends, and if we think to exclude all\ngenerality from our ideas of things, we must be content to remain in\nutter ignorance. The proof that our ideas of particular things are not\nthemselves particular, is the uncertainty and difficulty we have only in\ncomparing them with one another. In looking at a line an inch long, I\nhave a certain general impression of it, so that I can tell it is\nshorter than another, three or four times as long, drawn on the same\nsheet of paper, but I cannot immediately tell that it is shorter than\none only a tenth or twentieth of an inch longer. The idea which I have\nof it is therefore not an exact one. In looking at a window I cannot\nprecisely tell the number of panes of glass it contains, yet I can\neasily say whether they are few or many, whether the window is large or\nsmall. Now if all our ideas were made up of particulars, we never could\npronounce generally whether there were few or many of these panes of\nglass, but we should know the precise number, or at least pitch on some\nprecise number in our minds, and this we could not help knowing. There\nmust be either 5, 10, 20, or 30; for it is in vain to urge that the idea\nin my mind is a floating one, and shifts from one of them to another, so\nthat I cannot tell the moment after which it was; but what is this\nimperfect recollection but a confused contradictory and abstract idea?\nHere is a plain dilemma: it is a fact that we have some idea of a number\nof objects presented to us. It is also a fact that we do not know the\nprecise number, nor can we assign any number confidently whether right\nor wrong. Whether this idea is but an abstract and general one it seems\nhard to say. Those who contend that we cannot have an idea of a man in\ngeneral, without conceiving of some particular man, seem to have little\nreason, since the most particular idea we can form of a man, either in\nimagination or from the actual impression, is but a general idea. Those\nwho say we cannot conceive of an army of men without conceiving of the\nindividuals composing it, ought to go a step further, and affirm that we\nmust represent to ourselves the features, form, complexion, size,\nposture, and dress, with every other circumstance belonging to each\nindividual.\n\nWe must admit the notion of abstraction, first or last, unless any one\nwill contend for this infinite refinement in our ideas of things, or\nassert that we have no idea at all. For the same process takes place in\nit, and is absolutely necessary to our most particular notions of\nthings, as well as our most general, namely, that of abstracting from\nparticulars, or of passing over the minute differences of things, taking\nthem in the gross, and attending to the general effect of a number of\ndistinguished and distinguishable impressions. It is thus we arrive at\nour first notion of things, and thus that all our after knowledge is\nacquired. The knowledge upon which our ideas rest is general, and the\nonly difference between abstract and particular, is that of being more\nor less general, of leaving out more or fewer circumstances, and more or\nfewer objects, perceived either at once or in succession, and forming\neither a particular whole, aggregate, or a class of things. It may be\nasked farther whether our ideas of things, however abstract in general,\nwith respect to the objects they represent, are not in their own nature,\nand absolute existence particular. To this hard question I shall return\nthe best answer I can.\n\n1. It is sufficient to the present purpose that ideas are general in\ntheir representation, however particular in themselves. Each idea is\nsomething in itself, and not another idea. This is equally true of the\nmost abstract or particular ideas of things. The abstract idea of a man\nis the abstract idea of a man, not the abstract idea of a horse, nor the\nparticular one of any given individual man. It is characterized by\ngeneral properties, and distinguished by general circumstances, and is\nneither a mere word without any idea, nor a particular image of one\nthing; so the idea of a particular man, though still only a general\nresult from a number of particulars is sufficiently positive for the\nactual purposes of thought, and distinguishable from that other general\nresult or impression which institutes the idea of a particular horse,\nfor instance.\n\n2. That our general notions are any otherwise particular than as they\nare the same with themselves, and different from one another, is more\nthan I know. I must demur on this question, whatever others may do.\nWhatever contradictions are involved in the one side of it, those on the\nother seem as great. For it is not easy to imagine any thing more absurd\nthan the supposition that the idea of a line for instance is precisely,\nand to a hair\u2019s breadth or to the utmost possible exactness, of a\ncertain length, when neither the precise number nor the precise\nproportion of the parts composing this line are at all known. It is like\nsaying that we cast up an account to the utmost degree of nicety, when\nnot one of the items is known, but as of an average conjecture or in\nround numbers. We generally estimate our notion of a particular\nextension by the point or matter at all terminating it, and it seems as\nif this did not admit of an ambiguity, or variation. But in fact all\nideas are a calculation of particulars, and when the parts are only\nknown in gross, the sum total, or resulting idea can only be so too. The\nsmallest division of which our notions are susceptible is a general\nidea. In the progress of the understanding, we never begin from absolute\nunity but always from something that is more. How then is it possible\nthat these general conceptions should form a whole always commensurate\nto a precise number of absolute unity I cannot conceive, any more than\nhow it is possible to express a fraction in whole numbers. The two\nthings are incompatible. As to any thing like conscious individuality,\ni.e. that which assigneth limits to our ideas, we know they have it not.\n\n3. I would observe that ideas, as far as they are distinct and\nparticular, seem to involve a greater contradiction than when they are\nconfused and general. For, in proportion to their distinctness, must be\nthe number of different acts of the mind excited at the same time; i.e.\nin proportion to the individuality of the image or idea, if I may so\nexpress myself, the thought ceases to be individual, inasmuch as the\nsimplicity of the attention is thus necessarily broken and divided into\na number of different actions, which yet are all united in the same\nconscious feeling, or there could be no connection between them. How\nthen we should ever be able to conceive of things distinctly, clearly,\nand particularly, seems the wonder: not how different impressions acting\nat once on the mind should be confused, and as it were massed together,\nin a general feeling, for want of sufficient activity in the\nintellectual faculties to give form and a distinct place to all that\nthrong of objects which at all times solicit the attention. Let any one\nmake the experiment of counting a flock of sheep driven fast by him, and\nhe will soon find his imagination unable to keep pace with the rapid\nsuccession of objects, and his idea of particular number slide into the\ngeneral idea of multitude; not that because there are more objects than\nhe possibly can count, he will think there are many, or that the word\nflock will present to his mind a mere name, without any particulars\ncorresponding to it. Every act of the attention, every object we see or\nthink of, presents a proof of the same kind.\n\n4. I conceive that the mind has not been fairly dealt with in this and\nother similar questions of the same sort. Matter alone seems to have the\nprivilege of presenting difficulties, and contradictions at every turn;\nbut the moment any thing of this kind is observed in the understanding,\nall the petulance of logicians is up in arms, and the mind is made the\nmark on which they vent all the modes and figures of their impertinence.\nLet us take an example from some of these self-evident matters of fact,\nwhich contain at least as many, and as great contradictions, as any in\nthe most abstruse metaphysical doctrine, such as in extension, motion,\nand the curve of lines. Now as to the first of these, extension: if we\nsuppose it to be made up of points, which are in themselves without\nextension, but by their combination produce it, we must suppose two\nunextended things, when joined together, to become extended, which is\nlike supposing, that by adding together several nothings, we can arrive\nat something. On the other hand, if we suppose the ultimate parts of\nwhich extension is composed, to be themselves extended, we then\nattribute extension to that which is indivisible, or affirm a thing to\nconsist of parts, and to have none, at the same time. The old argument\nagainst the possibility of motion is well known: it was said that the\nbody moving must either be in the place where it was, or in that into\nwhich it was passing. Now, if it was in either of these, or in any one\nplace, it must be at rest; and as it could not be in both at once, it\nfollowed that a body moving could exist no where, or that there was no\nsuch thing as motion in nature. Again, a curve line is described\nmathematically by a point moving, but always out of a strait line. Now,\na strait line is the nearest between any two points. But that a body\nshould move forward, and not move strait forward to the next point to\nwhich it is going, seems to imply no less an absurdity than the\naffirming that a thing never moves in the direction in which it is\ngoing, but always out of it; for, if it moves in the same direction, the\nsmallest moment of time, this is not a curve, but a strait line; and if\nit does not continue to move in the same direction at all, it seems\nutterly inconceivable that it should make any progress, or move either\nin a curve or a strait line. Yet any one who, on the strength of the\ncontradiction involved in the ideas of extension, motion, or curve\nlines, should severally deny or disbelieve any one of them, would be\nthought to want common sense. I think there are certain facts of the\nmind which are equally evident and unaccountable. Those who contend that\nthe one are to be admitted, and the other not, because the one are the\nobjects of sense, and the other not, do not deserve any serious answer.\nIt is as much a fact, that I remember having seen the sun yesterday, as\nthat I see it to-day, and both of them are much more certain facts than\nthat there is any such body as the sun really existing out of the mind.\n\nI will now return to Berkeley, and endeavour to answer his chief\nobjections to the doctrine of abstract ideas. First, then, I conceive\nthat he has himself virtually given up the question, when he allows that\nthe mind may be affected with the promise of a good thing, or terrified\nby the apprehension of danger, without thinking of any particular good\nor evil that is likely to befal us. What this idea of good or evil,\nwhich is not particular, can be, other than abstract, I cannot conceive;\nand to say that it is not an idea, but a mere feeling excited by custom,\nis an answer very little to the purpose. For this feeling, this custom,\nis itself a general impression, and could not, without a power of\nabstraction in the mind, think, without a power of being acted upon by a\nnumber of different impulses of pleasure and pain, concurring to produce\na general effect, abstracted from the particular feelings themselves, or\nthe objects first exciting them. All abstract ideas are several\nimpressions of the same kind, and are merely customary affections of the\nmind, not distinct images of things. But if it be said that the word\nidea properly signifies an image, and must be something distinct, then I\nanswer, first, that this would only restrict the use of the word _idea_\nto particular things, and not affect the real question in dispute, and\nsecondly, that there is no such thing as a distinct and particular image\nin the mind. The manner in which Berkeley explains the nature of\nmathematical demonstrations, according to his system, shews its utter\ninadequateness to any purposes of general reasoning, and is a plain\nconfession of the necessity of abstract ideas. For all the answer he\ngives to the question, how can we know any proposition to be true in\ngeneral, from having found it so in a particular instance, comes to\nthis, that though the diagram we have in view includes a number of\nparticulars, yet we know the principle to be true generally, because\n_there is not the least mention made of these particulars in the proof\nof the proposition_. But I would ask also, whether there is not the\nleast thought of them in the mind? The truth is, that the mind upon\nBerkeley\u2019s principle must think of the particular right angled,\nisosceles, triangle in question, or it can have no idea at all, for it\nhas no general idea of a triangle to which it can apply the name\ngenerally. If we suppose that there is any such general form, or notion\nto which the other particular circumstances are merely superadded, and\nwhich may be left standing, though they are taken away, we then run\nimmediately to all the absurdities of abstraction, which he so much\nwishes to avoid. If we then demonstrate the proposition of the\nparticular diagram before us, as of a determinate size, shape, &c., this\ndemonstration cannot hold good generally. If we are supposed to omit all\nthese particular circumstances in our minds, then we either demonstrate\nthe proposition of the general and abstract idea of a triangle, or of no\nidea at all; for after the particulars are omitted, or not attended to\nby the mind, the only idea remaining must be a general one. Farther,\nthat on which I am willing to rest the whole controversy, is the\nfollowing remark, _viz._, that without the general idea of a line or\ntriangle, there could be no particular one; that is, no idea of any one\nline or triangle, as of the same form, or as any way related to any\nother, so that there could be no common measure or line to connect any\nof our thoughts or reasoning together into a general conclusion. For to\ntake the former instance as the most simple. When we speak of any\nparticular extension, it is evident that we understand something which\nis not particular. Besides what is peculiar to it, it must have\nsomething which is not peculiar to it, but general, to merit the common\nappellation. Berkeley says, \u2018An idea which in itself is particular,\nbecomes general, by being made to represent or stand for all other\nparticular ideas _of the same sort_.\u2019 I do request that the import of\nthese last words may be attended to. Do they suggest any idea or none;\nif they mean any thing, it must be something more than the particular\nideas which are said to be of the same sort, _i.e._ some general notion\nof them. But this will involve all the absurdities of abstraction. If\nthere is any thing in the mind besides these particular ideas\nthemselves\u2014any thing that compares or contrasts them, that refers to\nthis or that belief, this comparison or classifying can be nothing but a\nperception of a general nature in which these things agree, or the\ngeneral resemblance which the mind perceives between the several\nimpressions. If there is no such comparison or perception of\nresemblance, or idea of abstract qualities, then there can be no idea\nanswering to the words \u2018of the same sort;\u2019 but these particular ideas\nwill be left standing by themselves, absolutely unconnected. As far as\nour ideas are merely particular, _i.e._ are negations of other ideas, so\nfar they must be perfectly distinct from each other: there can be\nnothing between them to blend or associate them together. Each separate\nidea would be surrounded with a _chevaux de frise_ of its own, in a\nstate of irreconcilable antipathy to every other idea, and the fair form\nof nature would present nothing but a number of discordant atoms. A\nparticular line would no more represent another line, than it would\nrepresent a point: one colour could no more resemble another colour, or\nsuggest its idea, than it could that of a sound, or a smell; there could\nbe no clue to make us class different shades of the same colour under\none general name, any more than the most opposite: one triangle would be\nas distinct from another, as from a square or a cube, and so through the\nwhole system of art and nature. There must be a mutual leaning, a\ngreater proximity between some ideas than others: a common point to\nwhich they tend, that is a common quality: a general nature, in which\nthey are identified: or there could not be in the mind more ideas of\nsame or like, or different, or judgment, or reasoning, or truth, or\nfalsehood, than in the stones in the fields, or the sands of the\nsea-shore. The idea of classing things implies only the same sort of\ngeneral comparison, or abstract idea of likeness, that is necessary to\nthe idea of any simple sensible quality of an object. In both cases, we\nonly contemplate a number of things as alike or under the same general\nnotion, without attending to their actual differences. Take the idea,\nfor instance, of a slab of white marble. As long as only one such piece\nof marble is considered, it is supposed to be a particular object, and\nits whiteness is supposed to be perceived by the mind as a simple\nsensible quality. If, on the contrary, several such slabs of marble are\npresented to the mind, this is commonly considered as producing a\ngeneral idea of marble and of whiteness. But this idea of whiteness, not\nas a quality of a particular thing, but as a common quality of different\nthings, is rejected by the moderns as implying the supposition, that\nseveral different ideas can coalesce in the same general notion, which\namounts, they say, to the contradiction that a thing may be the same,\nand different at the same time. Now I would affirm whatever there is\nabsurd or inconceivable in this latter case applies equally to the\nformer. For what possible idea can any man form of a slab of white\nmarble, in any other way than that of abstraction? Is the idea of its\nwhiteness as a sensible quality the idea of a point. Is it one single\nimpression? This Berkeley and others deny, for they say there can be no\nidea of colour without extension, or of quality without quantity. If\nthere are in this object several impressions of colour, I would ask are\nthey all distinctly perceived? Are they all the same? Or if not, are all\ntheir differences perceived by the mind, before it possibly can be\nimpressed with the general idea of a certain sensible quality, or that\nthe object before it is white? Is the mind aware of even the slightest\nstain in this object, of every thing that may happen to vary it? Yet, if\nthe idea falls anything short of this minute and perfect knowledge, it\ncan only be an imperfect and general notion. That is, a number of\ndifferences must be massed together in a common feeling of likeness, and\na number of separate parts make up the idea of a given object. Yet this\nis all that is implied in forming the ideas of whiteness in general, as\nbelonging to several objects, or of colour, or extension, or any other\nidea whatever, drawn from numberless objects, impressed at numberless\ntimes. If particular objects or qualities were single things, there\nwould then be some precise limit between them and abstract or general\nideas, but as the most particular object, or qualities, as well as the\nmost general combinations and classes of things are necessarily confused\nand mixed results, and nothing more than a number of impressions, never\ndistinctly analyzed by the mind, there can be no general reasoning to\ndisprove abstracted ideas in the common sense of the word.\n\n\n\n\n ON THE WRITINGS OF HOBBES\n\n\nIn the following Essays I shall attempt to give some account of the rise\nand progress of modern metaphysics, to state the opinions of the\nprincipal writers who have treated on the subject, from the time of Lord\nBacon to the present day, and to examine the arguments by which they are\nsupported. In the first place, it will be my object to shew what the\nreal conclusions of the most celebrated authors were, and the steps by\nwhich they arrived at them: to trace the connexion or point out the\ndifference between their several systems, as well as to inquire into the\npeculiar bias and turn of their minds, and in what their true strength\nor weakness lay. This will undoubtedly be best done by an immediate\nreference to their works whenever the nature of the subject admits of\nit, or whenever their mode of reasoning is not so loose and desultory as\nto render the quotation of particular passages a useless as well as\nendless labour. In the History of English Philosophy, of which I\npublished a prospectus some time ago, I intended to have gone regularly\nthrough with all the writers of any considerable note who fell within\nthe limits of my plan, and to have given a detailed analysis of their\nseveral subjects and arguments. But this would lead to much greater\nlength and minuteness of inquiry than seems consistent with my present\nobject, and would besides, I am afraid, prove (what Hobbes, speaking of\nthese subjects in general, calls) \u2018but dry discourse.\u2019 To avoid this as\nmuch as possible, I shall pass over all those writers who have not been\ndistinguished either by the boldness of their opinions, or the logical\nprecision of their arguments. Indeed I shall confine my attention more\nparticularly to those who have made themselves conspicuous by deviating\nfrom the beaten track, and who have struck out some original discovery\nor brilliant paradox; whose metaphysical systems trench the closest on\nmorality, or whose speculations, by the interest as well as novelty\nattached to them, have become topics of general conversation.\n\nSecondly, besides stating the opinions of others, one principal object\nwhich I shall have in view will be to act as judge or umpire between\nthem, to distinguish, as far as I am able, the boundaries of true and\nfalse philosophy, and to try if I cannot lay the foundation of a system\nmore conformable to reason and experience, and, in its practical results\nat least, approaching nearer to the common sense of mankind, than the\none which has been generally received by the most knowing persons who\nhave attended to such subjects within the last century; I mean the\nmaterial or _modern_ philosophy, as it has been called. According to\nthis philosophy, as I understand it, all thought is to be resolved into\nsensation, all morality into the love of pleasure, and all action into\nmechanical impulse. These three propositions, taken together, embrace\nalmost every question relating to the human mind, and in their different\nramifications and intersections form a net, not unlike that used by the\nenchanters of old, which, whosoever has once thrown over him, will find\nall his efforts to escape vain, and his attempts to reason freely on any\nsubject in which his own nature is concerned, baffled and confounded in\nevery direction.\n\nThis system, which first rose at the suggestion of Lord Bacon, on the\nruins of the school-philosophy, has been gradually growing up to its\npresent height ever since, from a wrong interpretation of the word\n_experience_, confining it to a knowledge of things without us; whereas\nit in fact includes all knowledge relating to objects either within or\nout of the mind, of which we have any direct and positive evidence. We\nonly know that we ourselves exist, the most certain of all truths, from\nthe experience of what passes within ourselves. Strictly speaking, all\nother facts of which we are not immediately conscious, are so in a\nsecondary and subordinate sense only. Physical experience is indeed the\nfoundation and the test of that part of philosophy which relates to\nphysical objects: further, physical analogy is the only rule by which we\ncan extend and apply our immediate knowledge, or infer the effects to be\nproduced by the different objects around us. But to say that physical\nexperiment is either the test or source or guide of that other part of\nphilosophy which relates to our internal perceptions, that we are to\nlook to external nature for the form, the substance, the colour, the\nvery life and being of whatever exists in our minds, or that we can only\ninfer the laws which regulate the phenomena of the mind from those which\nregulate the phenomena of matter, is to confound two things entirely\ndistinct. Our knowledge of mental phenomena from consciousness,\nreflection, or observation of their correspondent signs in others is the\ntrue basis of metaphysical inquiry, as the knowledge of _facts_,\ncommonly so called, is the only solid basis of natural philosophy.\n\nTo say that the operations of the mind and the operations of matter are\nin reality the same, so that we may always make the one exponents of the\nother, is to assume the very point in dispute, not only without any\nevidence, but in defiance of every appearance to the contrary. Lord\nBacon was undoubtedly a great man, indeed one of the greatest that have\nadorned this or any other country. He was a man of a clear and active\nspirit, of a most fertile genius, of vast designs, of general knowledge,\nand of profound wisdom. He united the powers of imagination and\nunderstanding in a greater degree than almost any other writer. He was\none of the strongest instances of those men, who by the rare privilege\nof their nature are at once poets and philosophers, and see equally into\nboth worlds. The schoolmen and their followers attended to nothing but\nessences and species, to laboured analyses and artificial deductions.\nThey seem to have alike disregarded both kinds of experience, that\nrelating to external objects, and that relating to the observation of\nour own internal feelings. From the imperfect state of knowledge, they\nhad not a sufficient number of facts to guide them in their experimental\nresearches; and intoxicated with the novelty of their vain distinctions,\ntaught by rote, they would be tempted to despise the clearest and most\nobvious suggestions of their own minds. Subtile, restless, and\nself-sufficient, they thought that truth was only made to be disputed\nabout, and existed no where but in their demonstrations and syllogisms.\nHence arose their \u2018logomachy\u2019\u2014their everlasting word-fights, their sharp\ndebates, their captious, bootless controversies.\n\nAs Lord Bacon expresses it, \u2018they were made fierce with dark keeping,\u2019\nsignifying that their angry and unintelligible contests with one another\nwere owing to their not having any distinct objects to engage their\nattention. They built altogether on their own whims and fancies, and\nbuoyed up by their specific levity, they mounted in their airy\ndisputations in endless flights and circles, clamouring like birds of\nprey, till they equally lost sight of truth and nature. This great man\ntherefore intended an essential service to philosophy, in wishing to\nrecall the attention to facts and \u2018experience\u2019 which had been almost\nentirely neglected; and thus, by incorporating the abstract with the\nconcrete, and general reasoning with individual observation, to give to\nour conclusions that solidity and firmness which they must otherwise\nalways want. He did nothing but insist on the necessity of \u2018experience,\u2019\nmore particularly in natural science; and from the wider field that is\nopen to it there, as well as the prodigious success it has met with,\nthis latter application of the word, in which it is tantamount to\nphysical experiment, has so far engrossed the whole of our attention,\nthat mind has for a good while past been in some danger of being\noverlaid by matter. We run from one error into another; and as we were\nwrong at first, so in altering our course, we have turned about to the\nopposite extreme. We despised \u2018experience\u2019 altogether before; now we\nwould have nothing but \u2018experience,\u2019 and that of the grossest kind.\n\nWe have, it is true, gained much by not consulting the suggestions of\nour own minds in questions where they inform us of nothing; namely, in\nthe particular laws and phenomena of the natural world; and we have\nhastily concluded, reversing the rule, that the best way to arrive at\nthe knowledge of ourselves also, was to lay aside the dictates of our\nown consciousness, thoughts, and feelings, as deceitful and insufficient\nguides, though they are the only means by which we can obtain the least\nlight upon the subject. We seem to have resigned the natural use of our\nunderstandings, and to have given up our own existence as a nonentity.\nWe look for our thoughts and the distinguishing properties of our minds\nin some image of them in matter, as we look to see our faces in a glass.\nWe no longer decide physical problems by logical dilemmas, but we decide\nquestions of logic by the evidences of the senses. Instead of putting\nour reason and invention to the rack indifferently on all questions,\nwhether we have any previous knowledge of them or not, we have adopted\nthe easier method of suspending the use of our faculties altogether, and\nsettling tedious controversies by means of \u2018four champions fierce\u2014hot,\ncold, moist and dry,\u2019 who with a few more of the retainers and\nhangers-on of matter determine all questions relating to the nature of\nman and the limits of the human understanding very learnedly. That which\nwe seek however, namely, the nature of the mind and the laws by which we\nthink, feel, and act, we must discover in the mind itself or not at all.\nThe mind has laws, powers, and principles of its own, and is not the\nmere puppet of matter. This general bias in favour of mechanical\nreasoning and physical experiment, which was the consequence of the\nprevious total neglect of them in matters where they were strictly\nnecessary, was strengthened by the powerful aid of Hobbes, who was\nindeed the father of the modern philosophy. His strong mind and body\nappear to have resisted all impressions but those which were derived\nfrom the downright blows of matter: all his ideas seemed to lie like\nsubstances in his brain: what was not a solid, tangible, distinct,\npalpable object was to him nothing. The external image pressed so close\nupon his mind that it destroyed the power of consciousness, and left no\nroom for attention to any thing but itself. He was by nature a\nmaterialist. Locke assisted greatly in giving popularity to the same\nscheme, as well by espousing many of Hobbes\u2019s metaphysical principles as\nby the doubtful resistance which he made to the rest. And it has been\nperfected and has received its last polish and roundness in the hands of\nsome French philosophers, as Condillac and others. It has been generally\nsupposed that Mr. Locke was the first person who, in his \u2018Essay on the\nHuman Understanding\u2019 established the modern metaphysical system on a\nsolid and immoveable basis. This is a great mistake. The system, such as\nit is, existed entire in all its general principles in Hobbes before\nhim; this was never unequivocally or explicitly avowed by the author of\nthe \u2018Essay on the Human Understanding.\u2019 Locke merely endeavoured to\naccommodate Hobbes\u2019s leading principle to the more popular opinions of\nthe time; and all that succeeding writers have done to improve upon his\nsystem, and clear it of inconsistent and extraneous matter, has only\ntended to reduce it back to the purity and simplicity in which it is to\nbe found in Hobbes. The immediate and professed object of both these\nwriters is indeed the same, namely, to account for our ideas and the\nformation of the human understanding from sensible impressions. But in\nthe execution of this design, Mr. Locke has deviated widely and at\nalmost every step from his predecessor. This difference would almost\nunavoidably arise from the natural character of their minds, which were\nthe most opposite conceivable. Hobbes had the utmost reliance on\nhimself, and was impatient of the least doubt or contradiction. He saw\nfrom the beginning to the end of his system. He is always therefore on\nfirm ground, and never once swerves from his object. He is at no pains\nto remove objections, or soften consequences. Granting his first\nprinciple, all the rest follows of course. There is an air of grandeur\nin the stern confidence with which he stands alone in the world of his\nown opinions, regardless of his contemporaries, and conscious that he is\nthe founder of a new race of thinkers. Locke, on the other hand, was a\nman, who without the same comprehensive grasp of thought had a greater\ndeference for the opinions of others, and was of a much more cautious\nand circumspect turn of mind. He could not but meet with many things in\nthe peremptory assertions of Hobbes that must make him pause, that he\nwould be at a loss to reconcile to an attentive observation of what\npassed in his own mind, and that would equally shock the prevailing\nnotions both of the learned and the ignorant. He was therefore led to\nconsider the different objections to the system which had been left\nunanswered and unnoticed, to make a compromise between the received\ndoctrines, and the violent paradoxes contained in the \u2018Leviathan\u2019 and\nthe \u2018Treatise of Human Nature,\u2019 or to admit these last with so many\nqualifications, with so much circumlocution and preparation, and after\nsuch an appearance of the most mature and candid examination, and of\nwillingness to be convinced on the other side of the question, as to\nobviate the offensive and harsh effect which accompanies the abrupt\ndogmatism of the original author. It was perhaps necessary that the\nopinions of Hobbes should undergo this sort of metamorphosis before they\ncould gain a hearing: as the direct rays of the sun must be blunted and\nrefracted by passing through some denser medium in order to be borne by\ncommon eyes. So sheathed and softened, their sharp, unpleasant points\ntaken off, his doctrines almost immediately met with a favourable\nreception, and became popular. The general principle being once\nestablished without its particular consequences, and the public mind\nassured, it was soon found an easy task to point out the inconsistency\nof Mr. Locke\u2019s reasoning in many respects, and to give a more decided\ntone to his philosophical system. Berkeley was one of the first who\ntried the experiment of pushing his principles into the verge of paradox\non the question of abstract ideas, which he has done with admirable\ndexterity and clearness, but without going beyond the explicitness of\nHobbes on the same question. Subsequent writers added different chapters\nto supply the deficiencies of the Essay, which, with scarcely a single\nexception, may be found essentially comprized in that institute and\ndigest of modern philosophy, our author\u2019s \u2018Leviathan.\u2019\n\nIn thus giving the praise of originality and force of mind to Hobbes,\nand regarding Locke merely as his follower, I may be thought to venture\non dangerous ground, or to lay unhallowed hands on a reputation which is\ndear to every lover of truth. But if something is due to fame, something\nis also due to justice. I confess however, that having brought this\ncharge against the \u2018Essay on the Human Understanding,\u2019 I am bound to\nmake it good in the fullest manner; otherwise, I shall be inexcusable.\n\nWhat I therefore propose in the remainder of the present Essay is to\nshow that Mr. Locke was not really the founder of the modern system of\nphilosophy as it respects the human mind; and I shall think that I have\nsufficiently established this point, if I can make it appear, both that\nthe principle itself on which that system rests, and all the striking\nconsequences which have been deduced from it, are to be found in the\nwritings of Hobbes, more clearly, decidedly, and forcibly expressed than\nthey are in the \u2018Essay on the Human Understanding.\u2019 When I speak of the\nprinciple of the modern metaphysical system, I mean the assumption that\nthe operations of the intellect are only a continuation of the impulses\nexisting in matter, or that all the thoughts and conceptions of the mind\nare nothing more nor less than various modifications of the original\nimpressions of things on a being endued with sensation or simple\nperception. This system considers ideas merely as they are caused by\nexternal objects, acting on the organs of sense, and tries to account\nfor them on that hypothesis solely. It is upon this principle of\nexcluding the understanding as a distinct faculty or power from all\nshare in its own operations, that the whole of Hobbes\u2019s reasoning\nproceeds. Let us see what he makes of it.\n\nThe first part of the \u2018Leviathan,\u2019 entitled \u2018Of Man,\u2019 begins in this\nmanner:\n\nCHAPTER I.\u2014OF SENSE.\u2014\u2018Concerning the thoughts of man, I will consider\nthem, first singly, and afterwards in train, or dependence upon one\nanother. Singly, they are every one a representation or appearance of\nsome quality or other accident of a body without us; which is commonly\ncalled an _object_: Which object worketh on the eyes, ears, and other\nparts of man\u2019s body; and by diversity of working, produceth diversity of\nappearances.\n\n\u2018The Original of them all is that which we call SENSE: For there is no\nconception in a man\u2019s mind which hath not at first, totally or by parts,\nbeen begotten upon the organs of sense. The rest are derived from that\noriginal.\n\n\u2018The cause of sense is the external body or object which presseth the\norgan proper to each sense, either immediately as in the taste and\ntouch, or mediately as in seeing, hearing, and smelling: which pressure\nby the mediation of nerves, and other strings and membranes of the body,\ncontinued inwards to the Brain and Heart, causeth there a resistance or\ncounter-pressure, or endeavour of the heart to deliver itself: which\nendeavour, because _outward_, seemeth to be some matter without. And\nthis seeming or fancy is that which men call sense: and consisteth to\nthe eye, in a light or colour figured; to the ear, in a sound; to the\nnostril, in an odour; to the tongue and palate, in a savour, and to the\nrest of the body in heat, cold, hardness, softness, and such other\nqualities, as we discern by feeling. All which qualities called\n_sensible_ are in the object that causeth them but so many several\nmotions of the matter by which it presseth our organs diversely. Neither\nin us that are pressed are they any thing else but divers motions; for\nmotion produceth nothing but motion. But their appearance to us is\nfancy, the same waking as dreaming. And as pressing, rubbing, or\nstriking the eye maketh us fancy a light, and pressing the ear produceth\na din, so do the bodies also we see or hear produce the same by their\nstrong, though unobserved action. For if those colours and sounds were\nin the bodies or objects that cause them, they could not be severed from\nthem, as by glasses and in echoes by reflection we see they are: where\nwe know the thing we see is in one place, the appearance in another, and\nthough at some certain distance, the real and very object seems invested\nwith the fancy it begets in us; yet still the object is one thing, the\nimage or fancy is another. So that sense in all cases is nothing else\nbut original fancy; caused, as I have said, by the pressure, that is, by\nthe motion of external things upon our eyes, ears, and other organs\nthereunto ordained.\n\n\u2018But the Philosophy-schools, through all the universities of\nChristendom, grounded upon certain texts of Aristotle, teach another\ndoctrine; and say, For the cause of vision, that the thing seen sendeth\nforth on every side a _visible species_, (in English) _a visible show_,\n_apparition_, _aspect_, or _being seen_; the receiving whereof into the\neye, is _seeing_. And for the cause of _hearing_, that the thing heard\nsendeth forth an _audible species_, that is, an _audible aspect_, or\n_audible being seen_; which entering at the ear, maketh _hearing_. Nay,\nfor the cause of _understanding_ also, they say the thing understood\nsendeth forth an _intelligible species_, that is an _intelligible being\nseen_; which coming into the understanding, makes us understand. I say\nnot this as disapproving the use of universities: but because I am to\nspeak hereafter of their office in a commonwealth, I must let you see on\nall occasions by the way, what things would be amended in them; amongst\nwhich the frequency of insignificant speech is one.\u2019\u2014_Leviathan_, p. 4.\n\nThus far our author. It is evident that in this account he has laid the\nfoundation of Berkeley\u2019s ideal system, though he does not seem any where\nto have gone the whole length of that doctrine. He has entered more at\nlarge into this point in the \u2018Discourse of Human Nature,\u2019 published in\n1640, ten years before the \u2018Leviathan\u2019; and as the subject is curious,\nand treated in a very decisive way, I will quote the concluding passage,\nwhich is a recapitulation of the rest.\n\n\u2018As colour is not inherent in the object, but an effect thereof upon us,\ncaused by such motion in the object as hath been described; so neither\nis sound in the thing we hear, but in ourselves. One manifest sign\nthereof is, that as a man may see, so also he may hear double or treble,\nby multiplication of echoes, which echoes are sounds as well as the\noriginal, and not being in one and the same place, cannot be inherent in\nthe body that maketh them. And to proceed to the rest of the senses, it\nis apparent enough that the smell and taste of the same thing are not\nthe same to every man, and therefore are not in the thing smelt or\ntasted, but in the men. So likewise the heat we feel from the fire is\nmanifestly in us, and is quite different from the heat which is in the\nfire: for our heat is pleasure or pain, according as it is great or\nmoderate; but in the coal there is no such thing. By this the fourth and\nlast proposition is proved; viz. That as in vision, so also in\nconceptions that arise from other senses, the subject of their inherence\nis not in the object, but in the sentient. And from hence also it\nfolloweth that whatsoever accidents or qualities our senses make us\nthink there be in the world, they be not there, but are seeming and\napparitions only: the things that really are in the world without us,\nare those motions by which these seemings are caused. And this is the\ngreat deception of sense, which also is to be by sense corrected: for as\nsense telleth me, when I see directly, that the colour seemeth to be in\nthe object; so also sense telleth me when I see by reflection, that\ncolour is not in the object.\u2019\u2014_Human Nature_, chap. ii. p. 9.\n\nThe second chapter of the \u2018Leviathan\u2019 contains an account of the manner\nin which our ideas are generated, and is as follows:\n\n\u2018That when a thing lies still, unless somewhat else stir it, it will lie\nstill for ever, is a truth that no man doubts of. But that when a thing\nis in motion, it will eternally be in motion, unless somewhat else stay\nit, though the reason be the same (namely, that nothing can change\nitself) is not so easily assented to. For men measure not only other\nmen, but all other things by themselves; and because they find\nthemselves subject after motion to pain and lassitude, think every thing\nelse grows weary of motion, and seeks repose of its own accord; little\nconsidering whether it be not some other motion wherein that desire of\nrest they find in themselves consisteth. From hence it is, that the\nSchools say, heavy bodies fall downward out of an appetite to rest, and\nto conserve their nature in that place which is most proper for them:\nascribing appetite and knowledge of what is good for their conservation\n(which is more than man has) to things inanimate, absurdly.\n\n\u2018When a body is once in motion, it moveth (unless something else hinder\nit) eternally: and whatsoever hindereth it, cannot in an instant, but in\ntime and by degrees quite extinguish it. And as we see in the water,\nthough the wind cease, the waves give not over rolling for a long time\nafter; so also it happeneth in that motion which is made in the internal\nparts of a man then, when he sees, hears, &c. For after the object is\nremoved or the eye shut, we still retain an image of the thing seen,\nthough more obscure than when we see it. And this is it the Latins call\n_imagination_, from the image made in seeing; and apply the same, though\nimproperly, to all the other senses. But the Greeks call it _fancy_;\nwhich signifies appearance, and is as proper to one sense, as to\nanother. Imagination is therefore nothing but _decaying sense_; and is\nfound in man and many other living creatures, as well sleeping as\nwaking.\n\n\u2018The decay of sense in men waking is an obscuring of it in such manner\nas the light of the sun obscureth the light of the stars, which stars do\nno less exercise their virtue by which they are visible in the day than\nin the night. But because amongst many strokes, which our eyes, ears,\nand other organs receive from external bodies, the predominant only is\nsensible, therefore the light of the sun being predominant, we are not\naffected with the action of the stars. And any object being removed from\nour eyes, though the impression it made in us remain; yet other objects\nmore present succeeding, and working on us, the imagination of the past\nis obscured, and made weak; as the voice of a man is in the noise of the\nday. From whence it follows, that the longer the time is, after the\nsight or sense of any objects the weaker is the imagination. For the\ncontinual change of man\u2019s body destroys in time the parts which in sense\nwere moved: so that distance of time and of place hath one and the same\neffect in us. For as at a great distance of place, that which we look at\nappears dim, and without distinction of the smaller parts, and as voices\ngrow weak and inarticulate, so also after great distance of time, our\nimagination of the past is weak; and we lose (for example) of cities we\nhave seen many particular streets, and of actions, many particular\ncircumstances. This decaying sense, when we would express the thing\nitself (I mean fancy itself) we call Imagination, as I said before: but\nwhen we would express the decay, and signify that the sense is fading,\nold and past, it is called _Memory_. So that imagination and memory are\nbut one thing which for divers considerations hath divers names. Much\nmemory or memory of many things is called Experience.\n\n\u2018Again, imagination being only of those things which have been formerly\nperceived by sense, either all at once, or by parts at several times,\nthe former (which is the imagining the whole object as it was presented\nto the sense) is _simple imagination_; as when one imagineth a man or\nhorse which he hath seen before. The other is _compounded_, as when from\nthe sight of a man at one time, and of a horse at another, we conceive\nin our mind a centaur. So when a man compoundeth the image of his own\nperson with the image of the actions of another man; as when a man\nconceives himself a Hercules or an Alexander (which happeneth often to\nthem which are much taken with the reading of Romaunts) it is a compound\nimagination, and properly but a fiction of the mind.\n\n\u2018There be also other imaginations that rise in man, (though waking) from\nthe great impression made in sense: as from gazing upon the sun, the\nimpression leaves an image of the sun before our eyes a long time after;\nand from being long and vehemently attent upon geometrical figures, a\nman shall in the dark (though awake) have the image of lines and angles\nbefore his eyes: which kind of fancy hath no particular name; as being a\nthing that doth not commonly fall into men\u2019s discourse.\n\n\u2018The imaginations of them that sleep are those we call dreams: and these\nalso (as all other imaginations) have been before, either totally or by\nparcels in the sense, and because the brain and nerves, which are the\nnecessary organs of sense, are so benumbed in sleep, as not easily to be\nmoved by the action of external objects, there can happen in sleep no\nimagination; and therefore no dream but what proceeds from the agitation\nof the inward parts of man\u2019s body; which inward parts, for the connexion\nthey have with the brain and other organs, when they be distempered, do\nkeep the same in motion; whereby the imaginations there formerly made,\nappear as if a man were waking; saving that the organs of sense being\nnow benumbed, so as there is no new object, which can master and obscure\nthem with a more vigorous impression, a dream must needs be more clear\nin this silence of sense, than are our waking thoughts. And hence it\ncometh to pass, that it is a hard matter, and by many thought\nimpossible, to distinguish exactly between sense and dreaming. For my\npart, when I consider that in dreams I do not often, nor constantly\nthink of the same persons, places, subjects, and actions that I do\nwaking; nor remember so long a train of coherent thoughts dreaming, as\nat other times; and because waking I often observe the absurdity of\ndreams, but never dream of the absurdities of my waking thoughts,\u2014I am\nwell satisfied, that being awake, I know I dream not; though when I\ndream, I think myself awake.\u2019\u2014_Leviathan_, pp. 4, 5, 6.\n\nThe concluding paragraph of this Chapter is remarkable.\n\n\u2018The imagination that is raised in man (or any other creature endued\nwith the faculty of imagining) by words or other voluntary signs, is\nthat we generally call _Understanding_: and is common to man and beast.\nFor a dog by custom will understand the call or rating of his master,\nand so will many other beasts. That understanding which is peculiar to\nman, is the understanding not only his will, but his conceptions and\nthoughts, by the sequel and contexture of the names of things into\naffirmations, negations, and other forms of speech; and of this kind of\nunderstanding I shall speak hereafter.\u2019\u2014Page 8.\n\nAs in the first two chapters Mr. Hobbes endeavours to show that all our\nthoughts, considered singly or in themselves, have their origin in\nsensation, so in the next chapter, he resolves all their combinations or\nconnexions one with another into the principle of association, or the\ncoexistence of their sensible impressions.\n\n\u2018By consequence or train of thoughts,\u2019 he says, \u2018I understand that\nsuccession of one thought to another, which is called (to distinguish it\nfrom discourse in words) _mental discourse_.\u2019\n\n\u2018When a man thinketh on any thing whatsoever, his next thought after it\nis not altogether so casual as it seems to be. Not every thought to\nevery thought succeeds indifferently. But as we have no imagination,\nwhereof we have not formerly had sense in whole or in parts; so we have\nno transition from one imagination to another, whereof we never had the\nlike before in our senses. The reason whereof is this. All fancies are\nmotions within us, reliques of those made in sense: and those motions\nthat succeeded one another in the sense, continue also together after\nsense: insomuch as the former coming again to take place, and be\npredominant, the latter followeth, by coherence of the matter moved, in\nsuch manner, as water upon a plane table is drawn which way any one part\nof it is guided by the finger. But because in sense to one and the same\nthing perceived, sometimes one thing, sometimes another succeedeth, it\ncomes to pass in time, that in the imagining of any thing, there is no\ncertainty what we shall imagine next. Only this is certain, it shall be\nsomething that succeeded the same before, at one time or another.\u2019\u2014Page\n9.\n\nThe comprehension and precision with which the law of association is\nhere unfolded as the key to every movement of the mind, and as\nregulating every wandering thought, cannot be too much admired; it is\nenough to say that Hartley, who certainly understood more of the power\nof association than any other man, has added nothing to this short\npassage, as far as relates to the succession of ideas. He has indeed\nextended its application in unravelling the fine web of our affections\nand feelings, by showing how one idea transfers the feeling of pleasure\nor pain to others associated with it, which is not here noticed. Whether\nthis principle really has all the extent and efficacy ascribed to it by\neither of these writers will be made the subject of a future inquiry.\nHow well our author understood the question, and how much it had assumed\na consistent and systematic form in his mind will appear from the\ninstances he brings in illustration of this intricate and at the time\nalmost unthought-of subject.\n\n\u2018The train of thoughts or mental discourse is of two sorts. The first is\nunguided, without design and inconstant; wherein there is no passionate\nthought to govern and direct those that follow to itself as the end and\nscope of some desire or other passion; in which case the thoughts are\nsaid to wander and seem impertinent one to another as in a dream. Such\nare commonly the thoughts of men, that are not only without company, but\nalso without care of any thing: though even then their thoughts are as\nbusy as at other times, but without harmony, as the sound which a lute\nout of tune would yield to any man, or in tune to one that could not\nplay. And yet in this wild ranging of the mind, a man may ofttimes\nperceive the way of it, and the dependence of one thought upon another.\nFor in a discourse of our present civil war, what could seem more\nimpertinent than to ask (as one did) what was the value of a Roman\npenny? Yet the coherence to me was manifest enough. For the thoughts of\nthe war introduced the thought of the delivering up the king to his\nenemies; the thought of that brought in the thought of the delivering up\nof Christ; and that again the thought of the thirty pence, which was the\nprice of that treason: and thence easily followed that malicious\nquestion; and all this in a moment of time; for thought is quick.\n\n\u2018The second\u2019 [that is the second sort of association] \u2018is more constant,\nas being regulated by some desire, and design. For the impression made\nby such things as we desire or fear, is strong and permanent, or, if it\ncease for a time, of quick return; so strong it is sometimes as to\nhinder and break our sleep. From desire ariseth the thought of some\nmeans we have seen produce the like of what we aim at: and from the\nthought of that, the thought of means to that mean, and so continually\ntill we come to some beginning within our own power.\u2019\n\nHe adds,\u2014\u2018This train of regulated thoughts is of two kinds: one, when of\nan effect imagined, we seek the causes or means that produce it; and\nthis is common to man and beast. The other is when imagining anything\nwhatsoever, we seek all the possible effects that can by it be produced:\nthat is to say, we imagine what we can do with it when we have it. Of\nwhich I have not at any time seen any sign but in man only; for this is\na curiosity hardly incident to the nature of any living creature that\nhas no other passion but sensual, such as are hunger, thirst, lust, and\nanger. In sum, the discourse of the mind when it is governed by design,\nis nothing but seeking or the faculty of invention, which the Latins\ncall _sagacitas_ and _solertia_, a finding out of the causes of some\neffect, present or past; or of the effects of some present or past\ncause. Sometimes a man desires to know the event of an action; and then\nhe thinketh of some like action past, and the events thereof one after\nanother; supposing like events will follow like actions. As he that\nforesees what will become of a criminal, re-cons what he has seen follow\non the like crime before; having this order of thoughts, the crime, the\nofficer, the prison, the judge, and the gallows, which kind of thoughts\nis called foresight, and prudence or providence; and sometimes wisdom;\nthough such conjecture, through the difficulty of observing all\ncircumstances, be very fallacious. But this is certain; by how much one\nman has more experience of things past than another; by so much also he\nis more prudent; and his expectations the seldomer fail him. The present\nonly has a being in nature; things past have a being in the memory only,\nbut things to come have no being at all; the future being but a fiction\nof the mind, applying the sequels of actions past to the actions that\nare present; which with most certainty is done by him that has most\nexperience; but not with certainty enough, and though it be called\nprudence when the event answereth our expectation, yet in its own nature\nit is but presumption; for the foresight of things to come, which is\nprovidence, belongs only to him by whose will they are to come: from him\nonly, and supernaturally, proceeds prophecy. The best prophet naturally\nis the best guesser; and the best guesser, he that is most versed and\nstudied in the matters he guesses at; for he hath most signs to guess\nby.\u2019\u2014Page 10.\n\nAfter this account he immediately adds,\u2014\n\n\u2018There is no other act of man\u2019s mind that I can remember, naturally\nplanted in him, so as to need no other thing to the exercise of it but\nto be born a man, and live with the use of his five senses. Those other\nfaculties, of which I shall speak by and by, and which seem proper to\nman only, are acquired, and increased by study and industry; and of most\nmen learned by instruction and discipline; and proceed all from the\ninvention of words and speech: for besides sense and thoughts, and the\ntrain of thoughts, the mind of man has no other motion, though by the\nhelp of speech and method, the same faculties may be improved to such a\nheight, as to distinguish men from all other living creatures.\u2019\u2014Page 11.\n\nThe conclusion of this chapter in which the author treats of the limits\nof the imagination is too important, and has laid the foundation of too\nmany speculations, to be passed over. \u2018Whatsoever we imagine is finite.\nTherefore there is no idea, or conception of any thing we call infinite.\nNo man can have in his mind an image of infinite magnitude; nor conceive\ninfinite swiftness, infinite time, or infinite force, or infinite power.\nWhen we say any thing is infinite, we signify only that we are not able\nto conceive the ends and bounds of the thing named; having no conception\nof the thing, but of our own inability: and therefore the name of God is\nused, not to make us conceive him (for he is incomprehensible and his\ngreatness and power are inconceivable) but that we may honour him. And\nbecause whatsoever we conceive has been perceived first by sense, either\nall at once, or by parts, a man can have no thought, representing any\nthing, not subject to sense. No man, therefore, can conceive any thing,\nbut he must conceive it in some place, and indued with some determinate\nmagnitude, and which may be divided into parts; not that any thing is\nall in this place, and all in another place at the same time; nor that\ntwo or more things can be in one and the same place at once: for none of\nthese things ever have, nor can be incident to sense; but are absurd\nspeeches, taken upon credit (without any signification at all), from\ndeceived philosophers, and deceived, or deceiving schoolmen.\u2019\u2014Page 11.\n\nBy the extracts which I shall next borrow from his account of language\nand reasoning, it will appear that our author not only threw out the\nfirst hints of the modern system, which reduces all reasoning and\nunderstanding to the mechanism of language, but that by a very high kind\nof abstraction, he carried it to perfection at once. The whole race of\nplodding commentators, or dashing paradox-mongers since his time have\nnot advanced a step beyond him. I shall give this part somewhat at\nlarge, both because the question is intricate in itself, and as it will\nserve as a specimen of his general mode of writing, in which dry\nsarcasm, keen observation, extensive thought, and the most rigid logic\nconveyed in a concise and masterly style, are all brought to bear upon\nthe same object.\n\n\u2018The invention of printing,\u2019 he says, \u2018though ingenious, compared with\nthe invention of letters is no great matter. But who was the first that\nfound the use of letters, is not known. He that first brought them into\nGreece, men say, was Cadmus, the son of Agenor, King of Ph\u0153nicia. A\nprofitable invention for continuing the memory of time past, and the\nconjunction of mankind, dispersed into so many and distant regions of\nthe earth; and withal difficult, as proceeding from a watchful\nobservation of the divers motions of the tongue, palate, lips, and other\norgans of speech, whereby to make as many differences of characters to\nremember them; but the most noble and profitable invention of all other,\nwas that of speech, consisting of names or appellations, and their\nconnections; whereby men register their thoughts, recall them when they\nare past, and also declare them one to another for mutual utility and\nconversation; without which there had been amongst men, neither\ncommonwealth, nor society, nor contract, nor peace, no more than amongst\nlions, bears, and wolves. The first author of speech was God himself,\nthat instructed Adam how to name such creatures as he presented to his\nsight; for the scripture goeth no farther in this matter. But this was\nsufficient to direct him to add more names, as the experience and use of\nthe creatures should give him occasion; and to join them in such manner\nby degrees, as to make himself understood, and so by succession of time,\nso much language might be gotten, as he had found use for; though not so\ncopious as an orator or philosopher has need of: for I do not find any\nthing in the scripture, out of which, directly or by consequence can be\ngathered, that Adam was taught the names of all figures, numbers,\nmeasures, colours, sounds, fancies, relations; much less the names of\nwords and speech, as, general, special, affirmative, negative,\ninterrogative, optative, infinitive, all which are useful; and least of\nall, of entity, intentionality, quiddity, and other insignificant words\nof the school.\n\n\u2018The manner how speech serveth to the remembrance of the consequence of\ncauses and effects, consisteth in the imposing of names, and the\nconnexion of them. Of names, some are proper, and singular to one only\nthing; as _Peter_, _John_, _this man_, _this tree_: and some are common\nto many things; _man_, _horse_, _tree_; every of which though but one\nname, is nevertheless the name of divers particular things; in respect\nof all which together, it is called an universal; there being nothing in\nthe world universal but names; for the things named are every one of\nthem individual and singular. One universal name is imposed on many\nthings for their similitude in some quality, or other accident: and\nwhereas a proper name bringeth to mind one thing only, universals recall\nany one of those many. By this imposition of names, some of larger, some\nof stricter signification, we turn the reckoning of the consequences of\nthings imagined in the mind, into a reckoning of the consequences of\nappellations. For example: a man that hath no use of speech at all, that\nis born and remains perfectly deaf and dumb, if he set before his eyes a\ntriangle, and by it two right angles (such as are the corners of a\nsquare figure,) he may by meditation compare and find, that the three\nangles of that triangle are equal to those two right angles that stand\nby it: but if another triangle be shown him different in shape from the\nformer, he cannot know without a new labour, whether the three angles of\nthat also be equal to the same. But he that hath the use of words, when\nhe observes that such equality was consequent, not to the length of the\nsides, nor to any other particular thing in his triangle but only to\nthis, that the sides were straight, and the angles three and that that\nwas all for which he named it a triangle, will boldly conclude\nuniversally that such equality of angles is in all triangles whatsoever,\nand register his invention in these general terms: every triangle hath\nits three angles equal to two right angles. And thus the consequence\nfound in one particular, comes to be registered and remembered as an\nuniversal rule; discharges our mental reckoning of time and place;\ndelivers us from all labour of the mind, saving the first, and makes\nthat which was found true here, and now, to be true in all times and\nplaces. But the use of words in registering our thoughts, is in nothing\nso evident as in numbering. A natural fool that could never learn by\nheart the order of numeral words, as _one_, _two_, and _three_, may\nobserve every stroke of the clock, and nod to it, or say _one_, _one_;\nbut can never know what hour it strikes. And it seems, there was a time\nwhen those names of number were not in use, and men were fain to apply\ntheir fingers of one or both hands to those things they desired to keep\naccount of; and that thence it proceeds, that now our numeral words are\nbut ten, in any nation, and in some but five, and then they begin again.\nAnd he that can tell ten, if he recite them out of order, will lose\nhimself, and not know when he hath done: much less will he be able to\nadd, and subtract, and perform all other operations of arithmetic. So\nthat without words there is no possibility of reckoning of numbers; much\nless of magnitudes, of swiftness, of force, and other things, the\nreckoning whereof is necessary to the being, or well-being of\nmankind.\u2019\u2014_Leviathan_, chap. iv., pp. 12, 14.\n\nThe same train of reasoning occurs in the \u2018Discourse of Human Nature,\u2019\nwith some variation in the expression.\n\n\u2018By the advantage of names it is that we are capable of science, which\nbeasts for want of them are not; nor man, without the use of them; for\nas a beast misseth not one or two out of her many young ones, for want\nof those names of order, _one_, _two_, and _three_, and which we call\n_number_; so neither would a man without repeating orally or mentally\nthose words of number, know how many pieces of money or other things lie\nbefore him. Seeing there be many conceptions of one and the same thing,\nand that for every conception we give it a several name, it followeth\nthat for one and the same thing, we have many names or attributes; as to\nthe same man we give the appellations of _just_, _valiant_, _strong_,\n_comely_, &c. And again, because from divers things we receive like\nconceptions, many things must needs have the same appellations: as to\nall things we _see_ we give the name of _visible_. Those names we give\nto many, are called universal to them all: as the name of _man_ to every\nparticular of mankind. Such appellations as we give to one only thing,\nwe call individual, or singular; as _Socrates_ and other proper names,\nor by circumlocution, _He that writ the Iliads_, for _Homer_.\n\n\u2018The universality of one name to many things hath been the cause that\nmen think the _things_ are themselves universal: and so seriously\ncontend that besides Peter and John, and all the rest of the men that\nare, have been, or shall be in the world, there is yet something else\nthat we call man, viz. _Man in general_, deceiving themselves by taking\nthe universal or general appellation for the thing it signifieth. For if\none should desire the painter to make him the picture of a man, which is\nas much as to say of a man in general, he meaneth no more but that the\npainter should choose what man he pleaseth to draw, which must needs be\nsome of them that are or have been or may be, none of which are\nuniversal. But when he would have him to draw the king or any particular\nperson, he limiteth the painter to that one person he chooseth. It is\nplain therefore there is nothing universal but names, which are\ntherefore called indefinite, because we limit them not ourselves, but\nleave them to be applied by the hearer: whereas a singular name is\nlimited and restrained to one of the many things it signifieth, as when\nwe say, _This man_, pointing to him, or giving him his proper name, or\nin some such way.\u2019\u2014_Human Nature_, chap. v. pp. 25, 26.\n\nWe shall have occasion to see, in the course of this inquiry, how\nexactly Berkeley\u2019s account of the process of abstraction, in\ncontradiction to Locke\u2019s opinion, corresponds in every particular with\nthis passage of our author. To return to his account of truth, reason,\n&c.\n\n\u2018When two names are joined together into a consequence or affirmation,\nby the help of this little verb, _is_, as thus: _a man is a living\ncreature_; if the latter name, _living creature_, signify all that the\nformer name, _man_, signifieth, then the affirmation or consequence is\ntrue; otherwise false. For True and False are attributes of speech, not\nof things. And where speech is not, there is neither truth nor\nfalsehood. Error there may be, as when we expect that which shall not\nbe, or suspect what has not been: but in neither case can a man be\ncharged with untruth.\n\n\u2018Seeing, then, that truth consisteth in the right ordering of names in\nour affirmations, a man that seeketh precise truth had need to remember\nwhat every name he uses stands for, and to place it accordingly: or else\nhe will find himself entangled in words, as a bird in lime-twigs. And\ntherefore in Geometry (which is the only science that it has pleased God\nhitherto to bestow on mankind) men begin at settling the significations\nof their words, which settling of significations they call definitions,\nand place them in the beginning of their reckoning. By this it appears\nhow necessary it is for any man that aspires to true knowledge to\nexamine the definitions of former authors, and either to correct them\nwhen they are negligently set down, or to make them himself. For the\nerrors of definition multiply themselves according as the reckoning\nproceeds; and lead men into absurdities which they at last see, but\ncannot avoid without reckoning anew from the beginning. From whence it\nhappens that they which trust to books do as they that cast up many\nlittle sums into a greater, without considering whether those little\nsums were rightly cast up or not, and at last finding the error visible,\nand not mistrusting their first grounds, know not which way to clear\nthemselves, but spend time in fluttering over their books, as birds that\nentering by the chimney, and finding themselves enclosed in a chamber,\nflutter at the false light of a glass window, for want of wit to\nconsider which way they came in. So that in the right definition of\nnames, lies the first use of speech, which is the acquisition of\nscience, and in wrong or no definitions lies the first abuse, from which\nproceed all false and senseless tenets; which make them that take their\ninstruction from the authority of books and not from their own\nmeditations, to be as much below the condition of ignorant men, as men\nendued with true science are above it. For between true science and\nerroneous doctrines, ignorance is in the middle. Natural sense and\nimagination are not subject to absurdity. Nature itself cannot err; and\nas men abound in copiousness of language, so they become more wise or\nmore mad than ordinary. Nor is it possible without letters for any man\nto become either excellently wise or (unless his memory be hurt by\ndisease or ill constitution of organs) excellently foolish. For words\nare wise men\u2019s counters, they do but reckon by them: but they are the\nmoney of fools, that value them by the authority of an Aristotle, a\nCicero, a Thomas Aquinas, or any other doctor whatsoever.\n\n\u2018Subject to names is whatsoever can enter into, or be considered in an\naccount, and be added one thing to another to make a sum, or subtracted\none from another and leave a remainder. The Latins called accounts of\nmoney _rationes_, and accounting, _ratiocinatio_, and that which we in\nbills or books of accounts call _items_, they call _nomina_, or names;\nand thence it seems to proceed that they extended the word _ratio_ to\nthe faculty of reckoning in all other things. The Greeks have but one\nword, \u03bb\u03bf\u03b3\u03bf\u03c2 for both speech and reason, not that they thought there was\nno speech without reason, but no reason without speech: and the act of\nreasoning they call syllogism, which signifieth summing up (or putting\ntogether) the consequences of one saying to another. For reason is\nnothing but reckoning (that is, adding and subtracting) of the\nconsequences of general names agreed upon for the marking and signifying\nof our thoughts; I say marking them, when we reckon by ourselves, and\nsignifying them, when we demonstrate or approve our reckonings to other\nmen.\n\n\u2018And as in arithmetic, unpractised men must, and professors themselves\nmay, often err, and cast up false, so also in any other subject of\nreasoning, the ablest, most attentive, and most practised men may\ndeceive themselves, and infer false conclusions: not but that reason\nitself is always right reason, as well as arithmetic is a certain and\ninfallible art. But no one man\u2019s reason, nor the reason of any number of\nmen makes the certainty: no more than an account is therefore well cast\nup, because a great many men have unanimously approved it. And,\ntherefore, as when there is a controversy in an account, the parties\nmust by their own accord set up for right reason the reason of some\narbitrator or judge, so it is in all debates of what kind soever: and\nwhen men that think themselves wiser than all others, clamour and demand\nright reason for judge, yet seek no more but that things should be\ndetermined by no other men\u2019s reason but their own, it is as intolerable\nin the society of men as it is in play, after trump is turned, to use\nfor trump on every occasion that suit whereof they have most in their\nhand. For they do nothing else that will have every of their passions,\nas it comes to bear sway in them, to be taken for right reason, and that\nin their own controversies, betraying their want of right reason by the\nclaim they lay to it.\n\n\u2018When a man reckons without the use of words, which may be done in\nparticular things (as when upon the sight of any one thing, we\nconjecture what was likely to have preceded, or is likely to follow upon\nit), if that which he thought likely to have preceded it, hath not\npreceded it, this is called error, to which even the most prudent men\nare subject. But when we reason in words of general signification, and\nfall upon a general inference which is false, though it be commonly\ncalled error, it is indeed an absurdity or senseless speech. For error\nis but a deception in presuming that somewhat is past, or to come, of\nwhich, though it were not past, or not to come, yet there was no\nimpossibility discoverable. But when we make a general assertion, unless\nit be a true one, the possibility of it is inconceivable. And words\nwhereby we conceive nothing but the sound, are those we call absurd,\ninsignificant, and nonsense. And, therefore, if a man should talk to me\nof _a round quadrangle_, or _accidents of bread in cheese_, or\n_immaterial substances_, or _of a free subject_, a _free-will_, or any\n_free_ but free from being hindered by opposition; I should not say he\nwere in an error, but that his words were without meaning, that is to\nsay, absurd.\u2019\u2014Chap. iv. v., pp. 15, 18, &c.\n\nThe account of the passions and affections which follows next in order,\nis the same in almost every particular as that which is given in modern\ntreatises on this subject, except that Mr. Hobbes seems to make\ncuriosity or the desire of knowledge, an original passion of the mind,\npeculiar to man. From this part I shall only quote two passages, and\nthen proceed to his treatise on the \u2018Doctrine of Necessity,\u2019 which will\nconclude my account of this author.\n\nThe first passage is the one from which Locke has copied his famous\ndefinition of the difference between wit and judgment. After observing\n(Chap. viii.) that the difference of men\u2019s talents does not depend on\nnatural capacity, which, he says, is nothing else but sense, wherein men\ndiffer so little from one another, or from brutes, that it is not worth\nthe reckoning, he goes on:\n\n\u2018This difference of quickness in imagining is caused by the difference\nof men\u2019s passions, that love and dislike, some one thing, some another,\nand therefore some men\u2019s thoughts run one way, some another, and are\nheld to and observe differently the things that pass through their\nimagination. And whereas in this succession of thoughts there is nothing\nto observe in the things they think on, but either in what they be like\none another or in what they be unlike\u2014those that observe their\nsimilitudes, in case they be such as are but rarely observed by others,\nare said to have a good wit, by which is meant on this occasion a good\nfancy. But they that observe their differences and dissimilitudes, which\nis called distinguishing and discerning and judging between thing and\nthing, in case such discerning be not easy, are said to have a good\njudgment; and particularly, in matter of conversation and business,\nwherein times, places, and persons are to be discerned, this virtue is\ncalled discretion. The former, that is, fancy, without the help of\njudgment, is not commended for a virtue, but the latter which is\njudgment or discretion, is commended for itself, without the help of\nfancy.\u2019 p. 32. This definition, which Locke took entire from our author\nwithout acknowledgment, and which has been so often referred to, is\nevidently false, for as Harris, the author of \u2018Hermes,\u2019 has very well\nobserved, the finding out the equality of the three angles of a triangle\nto two right ones would upon the principle here stated, be a piece of\nwit instead of an act of the understanding or judgment, and \u2018Euclid\u2019s\nElements\u2019 a collection of epigrams.[5] The other passage which I\nproposed to quote chiefly as an instance of our author\u2019s power of\nimagination, is as follows. In speaking of the degree of madness, as in\nfanatics and others, he says:\n\n\u2018Though the effect of folly in them that are possessed of an opinion of\nbeing inspired be not always visible in one man, by any very extravagant\naction that proceedeth from such passion, yet when many of them conspire\ntogether, the rage of the whole multitude is visible enough. For what\ngreater argument of madness can there be than to clamour, strike, and\nthrow stones at our best friends? Yet this is somewhat less than such a\nmultitude will do. For they will clamour, fight against, and destroy\nthose, by whom, all their lifetime before, they have been protected and\nsecured from injury. And if this be madness in the multitude, it is the\nsame in every particular man. For as in the midst of the sea, though a\nman perceive no sound of that part of the water next him, yet he is well\nassured that part contributes as much to the roaring of the sea as any\nother part of the same quantity, so also though we perceive no great\nunquietness in one or two men, yet we may be well assured that their\nsingular passions are parts of the seditious roaring of a troubled\nnation.\u2019 Even Mr. Burke did not disdain to borrow one of Hobbes\u2019s\nimages. The author of the \u2018Leviathan\u2019 compares those who attempt to\nreform a decayed commonwealth to \u2018the foolish daughters of Pelias who\ndesiring to renew the youth of their decrepit father did by the counsel\nof Medea cut him in pieces and boil him, together with strange herbs,\nbut made not of him a new man.\u2019\n\nI think this is better expressed than the same allusion in Burke, which\nis I dare say well known to my readers.\n\nI shall not here enter into the doctrine of Liberty and Necessity, which\nHobbes has stated with great force and precision as a general question\nof cause and effect, and without any particular reference to his\nmechanical theory of the mind, as I shall fully investigate this subject\nin my next Essay.\n\nI have thus taken a review of the metaphysical writings of Hobbes, as\nfar as was necessary to establish what I at first proposed, namely, the\ngeneral conformity, and almost entire coincidence between his opinions,\nand the principles of the modern system of philosophy. The praise of\noriginality at least, of boldness and vigour of mind, belongs to him.\nThe strength of reason which his application of a general principle to\nexplain almost all the phenomena of human nature implies, can hardly be\nsurpassed. The truth of the system is another question, which I shall\nhereafter proceed to consider.\n\nI will first, however, distinctly enumerate the leading principles of\nhis philosophy, as they are to be found in Hobbes, and in the latest\nwriters of the same School. They are, I conceive, as follows:\n\n1. That all our ideas are derived from external objects, by means of the\nsenses alone.\n\n2. That as nothing exists out of the mind but matter and motion, so it\nis itself with all its operations nothing but matter and motion.\n\n3. That thoughts are single, or that we can think of only one object at\na time. In other words, that there is no comprehensive power or faculty\nof understanding in the mind.\n\n4. That we have no general or abstract ideas.\n\n5. That the only principle of connexion between one thought and another\nis association, or their previous connexion in sense.\n\n6. That reason and understanding depend entirely on the mechanism of\nlanguage.\n\n7 and 8. That the sense of pleasure and pain is the sole spring of\naction, and self-interest the source of all our affections.\n\n9. That the mind acts from a mechanical or physical necessity, over\nwhich it has no controul, and consequently is not a moral or accountable\nagent.\u2014The manner of stating and reasoning upon this point is the only\ncircumstance of importance in which modern writers differ from Hobbes.\n\n10. That there is no difference in the natural capacities of men, the\nmind being originally passive to all impressions alike, and becoming\nwhatever it is from circumstances.\n\nAll of these positions it is my intention to oppose to the utmost of my\nability. Except the first, they are most or all of them either denied or\ndoubtfully admitted by Locke. And as it is his admission of the first\nprinciple which has opened a door, directly or indirectly, to all the\nrest, I shall devote the Essay next but one to an examination of the\naccount which he gives of the origin of our ideas from sensation.\n\nIt may perhaps be thought, that the neglect into which Hobbes\u2019s\nmetaphysical opinions have fallen was originally owing to the obloquy\nexcited by the misanthropy and despotical tendency of his political\nwritings. But it seems to me that he has been almost as hardly dealt\nwith in the one case as in the other.\n\nAs to his principles of government, this may at least be said for them,\nthat they are in form and appearance very much the same with those\ndetailed long after in Rousseau\u2019s \u2018Social Contract,\u2019 and evidently\nsuggested the plan of that work, which has never been considered as a\ndefence of tyranny. The author indeed requires an absolute submission in\nthe subject to the laws, but then it is to be in consequence of his own\nconsent to obey them. Every man is at least _supposed_ to be his own\nlawgiver.\n\nSecondly, as to the misanthropy with which he is charged, for having\nmade fear the actual foundation and cement of civil society, he has I\nthink made his own apology very satisfactorily in these words:\n\n\u2018It may seem strange to some man that hath not well weighed these\nthings, that nature should thus dissociate and render men apt to invade\nand destroy one another; and he may therefore, not trusting to the\ninference made from the passions, desire perhaps to have the same\nconfirmed by experience. Let him therefore consider with himself\u2014when\ntaking a journey he arms himself, and seeks to go well accompanied; when\ngoing to sleep he locks his doors; when even in his house, he locks his\nchests, and this when he knows there be laws and public officers, armed\nto revenge all injuries that shall be done him;\u2014what opinion I say, he\nhas of his fellow subjects when he rides armed, of his fellow citizens\nwhen he locks his doors, and of his children and servants, when he locks\nhis chests. Does he not then accuse mankind as much by his actions as I\ndo by my words? Yet neither of us accuse man\u2019s nature in\nit.\u2019\u2014_Leviathan_, p. 62.\n\nIt is true the bond of civil government according to his account, is\nvery different from Burke\u2019s \u2018_soft collar of social esteem_,\u2019 and takes\naway the sentimental part of politics. But I confess I see nothing\nliberal in this \u2018order of thoughts,\u2019 as Hobbes elsewhere expresses it,\n\u2018the crime, the officer, the prison, the judge and the gallows,\u2019 which\nis nevertheless a good description of the nature and end of political\ninstitutions.\n\nThe true reason of the fate which this author\u2019s writings met with was\nthat his views of things were too original and comprehensive to be\nimmediately understood, without passing through the hands of several\nsuccessive generations of commentators and interpreters. Ignorance of\nanother\u2019s meaning is a sufficient cause of fear, and fear produces\nhatred: hence arose the rancour and suspicion of his adversaries, who,\nto quote some fine lines of Spenser,\n\n \u2014\u2014\u2018Stood all astonied like a sort of steers\n \u2019Mongst whom some beast of strange and foreign race\n Unwares is chanced, far straying from his peers:\n So did their ghastly gaze betray their hidden fears.\u2019\n\n\n\n\n ON LIBERTY AND NECESSITY\n\n\nIn this Essay I shall give the best account I can of the question\nconcerning liberty and necessity from the writings of others, and\nafterwards add a few remarks of my own on the explanation of the terms\nemployed in this controversy. Of Mr. Hobbes\u2019s discourse on this subject,\nI should be nearly disposed to say with Gassendi, when another work of\nhis, \u2018De Cive,\u2019 was presented to him, \u2018This treatise, though small in\nbulk, is in my judgment the very marrow of philosophy.\u2019 In order to give\na clear and satisfactory view of the question, I shall be obliged to\nrepeat some things I have before stated, for which the importance of the\nsubject as well as other circumstances will, I hope, be a sufficient\nexcuse.\n\nThe doctrine of necessity is stated by this author with great force and\nprecision as a general question of cause and effect, and with scarcely\nany particular reference to his mechanical theory of the mind. From this\nnaked simple view of the matter, I cannot consistently with truth\nwithhold my full and entire assent. The ground-work, the pure basis of\nthe doctrine is in my opinion incontestable; it cannot be denied without\noverturning all the rules of science, as well as the plainest dictates\nof the understanding: whoever attacks it there in its stronghold, will\nonly injure the cause he espouses. It is that rock upon which whoever\nfalls will be dashed to pieces. But though I cannot pretend to undermine\nthe foundation, yet I may attempt to shake some parts of the\nsuperstructure, and to clear away the crust of materialism which has\ngrown over it. In my opinion, the representations which have commonly\nbeen given of the subject by the writers on both sides of the argument\nare almost equally erroneous, and their opposite conclusions built on an\nequal misconception of the true principle of necessity. By the principle\nof moral or philosophical necessity is meant then that the mind is\ninvariably governed by certain laws which determine all its operations;\nor in other words, that the regular succession of cause and effect is\nnot confined to mere matter, while the impulses of the will are left\nquite unaccounted for, self-caused, perfectly contingent and\nfantastical. We in general attribute those things to chance the causes\nof which we do not understand, both in mind and matter. But as there is\na greater latitude and inconstancy in the one than in the other,\ninsomuch that we can hardly ever predict with certainty the effect of\nparticular motives on the mind, the opinion of chance, arbitrary\ninclination, or self-determination had gained much deeper root with\nrespect to the operations of mind than to those of matter. The fallacy\nof this opinion Hobbes has exposed in a masterly, and I think\nunanswerable manner, and without running into those paradoxical\nconclusions from the first position which later necessarians have\ndeduced from it. He affirms that necessity is perfectly consistent with\nhuman liberty; that is, that the most strict and inviolable connexion of\ncause and effect does not prevent the full, free, and unrestrained\ndevelopment of certain powers in the agent, or take away the distinction\nbetween the nature of virtue and vice, praise and blame, reward and\npunishment, but is the foundation of all moral reasoning. Except Dr.\nJonathan Edwards, he is the only professed necessarian that I know of\nwho has not been led, by the customary use of language, to quit the\noriginal definition of the term, and to slide from a philosophical into\na vulgar and practical necessity. But I will state his reasoning in his\nown words, which are the best. They are as follows:\n\n\u2018My opinion about Liberty and Necessity.\n\n\u2018_First_, I conceive that when it cometh into a man\u2019s mind to do or not\nto do some certain action, if he have no time to deliberate, the doing\nit or abstaining necessarily follows the present thought he hath of the\ngood or evil consequences thereof to himself; as, for example, in sudden\nanger the action shall follow the thought of revenge; in sudden fear,\nthe thought of escape; also when a man hath time to deliberate, but\ndeliberateth not, because never any thing appeared that could him make\ndoubt of the consequence, the action follows his opinion of the goodness\nor harm of it. These actions I call voluntary, because these actions\nthat _follow immediately_ the last appetite are voluntary, are here:\nwhere is only one appetite that one is the last.\n\n\u2018_Secondly_, I conceive when a man deliberates whether he shall do a\nthing or not do it, that he does nothing else but consider whether it be\nbetter for himself to do it or not to do it; and to consider an action,\nis to imagine the consequences of it both good and evil; from whence is\nto be inferred, that deliberation is nothing else but alternate\nimagination of the good and evil sequels of an action, or (which is the\nsame thing) alternate hope and fear, or alternate appetite to do or quit\nthe action of which he deliberateth.\n\n\u2018_Thirdly_, I conceive that in all deliberations, that is to say, in all\nalternate succession of contrary appetites, the last is that which we\ncall the will, and is immediately next before the doing of the action,\nor next before the doing of it become impossible. All other appetites to\ndo, and to quit, that come upon a man during his deliberations, are\ncalled intentions, and inclinations, but not wills, there being but one\nwill, which also in this case may be called the last will, though the\nintentions change often.\n\n\u2018_Fourthly_, I conceive that those actions which a man is said to do\nupon deliberation, are said to be voluntary, and done upon choice and\nelection, so that voluntary action, and action proceeding from election\nis the same thing; and that of a voluntary agent, it is all one to say,\nhe is free, and to say, he hath not made an end of deliberating.\n\n\u2018_Fifthly_, I conceive liberty to be rightly defined in this manner:\nliberty is the absence of all the impediments to action that are not\ncontained in the nature and intrinsical quality of the agent, as for\nexample, the water is said to descend freely, or to have liberty to\ndescend by the channel of the river, because there is no impediment that\nway, but not across, because the banks are impediments, and though the\nwater cannot ascend, yet men never say it wants the liberty to ascend,\nbut the faculty or power, because the impediment is in the nature of the\nwater, and intrinsical. So also we say, he that is tied wants the\nliberty to go, because the impediment is not in him, but in his bands;\nwhereas we say not so of him that is sick or lame, because the\nimpediment is in himself.\n\n\u2018_Sixthly_, I conceive that nothing taketh beginning from itself, but\nfrom the action of some other immediate agent without itself. And that,\ntherefore, when first a man hath an appetite or will to something, to\nwhich immediately before he had no appetite nor will, the cause of his\nwill, is not the will itself, but something else not in his own\ndisposing; so that whereas it is out of controversy, that of voluntary\nactions the will is the necessary cause, and by this which is said, the\nwill is also caused by other things whereof it disposeth not, it\nfolloweth, that voluntary actions have all of them necessary causes, and\ntherefore are necessitated.\n\n\u2018_Seventhly_, I hold that to be a sufficient cause, to which nothing is\nwanting that is needful to the producing of the effect. The same also is\na necessary cause. For if it be possible that a sufficient cause shall\nnot bring forth the effect, then there wanteth somewhat which was\nneedful to the producing of it, and so the cause was not sufficient; but\nif it be impossible that a sufficient cause should not produce the\neffect, then is a sufficient cause a necessary cause (for that is said\nto produce an effect necessarily that cannot but produce it;) hence it\nis manifest, that whatsoever is produced, is produced necessarily: for\nwhatsoever is produced hath had a sufficient cause to produce it, or\nelse it had not been; and therefore also voluntary actions are\nnecessitated.\n\n\u2018_Lastly_, I hold that the ordinary definition of a free agent, namely,\nthat a free agent, is that, which, when all things are present which are\nneedful to produce the effect, can nevertheless not produce it, implies\na contradiction, and is nonsense; being as much as to say, the cause may\nbe sufficient, that is to say necessary, and yet the effect shall not\nfollow.\n\n\u2018MY REASONS.\u2014For the first five points, wherein it is explicated\u20141. what\nspontaneity is; 2. what deliberation is; 3. what will, propension and\nappetite are; 4. what a free agent is; 5. what liberty is; there can no\nother proof be offered but every man\u2019s own experience, by reflection on\nhimself, and remembering what he himself meaneth when he saith an action\nis spontaneous: a man deliberates: such is his will: that agent or that\naction is free. Now he that reflecteth so on himself, cannot but be\nsatisfied, that deliberation is the consideration of the good or evil\nsequels of an action to come; that by spontaneity is meant inconsiderate\naction (or else nothing is meant by it); that will is the last act of\nour deliberation; that a free agent is he that can do if he will, and\nforbear if he will; and that liberty is the absence of external\nimpediments. But, to those that out of custom speak not what they\nconceive, but what they hear, and are not able, or will not take the\npains to consider what they think when they hear such words, no argument\ncan be sufficient; because experience and matter of fact is not verified\nby other men\u2019s arguments, but by every man\u2019s own sense and memory. For\nexample, how can it be proved that to love a thing and to think it good\nis all one, to a man that hath not marked his own meaning by those\nwords? or how can it be proved that eternity is not _nunc stans_ to a\nman that says those words by custom, and never considers how he can\nconceive the thing in his mind? Also the sixth point, that a man cannot\nimagine any thing to begin without a cause, can no other way be made\nknown, but by trying how he can imagine it; but if he try, he shall find\nas much reason (if there be no cause of the thing) to conceive it should\nbegin at one time as another, that he hath equal reason to think it\nshould begin at all times, which is impossible, and therefore he must\nthink there was some special cause why it began then, rather than sooner\nor later, or else that it began never, but was eternal.\n\n\u2018For the seventh point, which is, that all events have necessary causes,\nit is there proved in that they have sufficient causes. Further, let us\nin this place also suppose any event never so casual, as the throwing\n(for example) \u201cames ace\u201d upon a pair of dice, and see if it must not\nhave been necessary before it was thrown. For seeing it was thrown, it\nhad a beginning, and consequently a sufficient cause to produce it,\nconsisting partly in the dice, partly in outward things, as the posture\nof the parts of the hand, the measure of force applied by the caster,\nthe posture of the parts of the table, and the like. In sum, there was\nnothing wanting which was necessarily requisite to the producing of that\nparticular cast, and consequently the cast was necessarily thrown; for\nif it had not been thrown, there had wanted somewhat requisite to the\nthrowing of it, and so the cause had not been sufficient. In the like\nmanner it may be proved that every other accident, how contingent soever\nit seem, or how voluntary soever it be, is produced necessarily. The\nsame may be proved also in this manner. Let the case be put, for\nexample, of the weather: \u2019tis necessary that to-morrow it shall rain or\nnot rain. If, therefore, it be not necessary it shall rain, it is\nnecessary it shall not rain, otherwise there is no necessity that the\nproposition, it shall rain or not rain, should be true. I know there be\nsome that say, it may necessarily be true that one of the two shall come\nto pass, but not, singly that it shall rain, or that it shall not rain,\nwhich is as much as to say, one of them is necessary, yet neither of\nthem is necessary; and therefore to seem to avoid that absurdity, they\nmake a distinction, that neither of them is true _determinate_, but\n_indeterminate_, which distinction either signifies no more but this,\none of them is true, but we know not which, and so the necessity\nremains, though we know it not; or if the meaning of the distinction be\nnot that, it hath no meaning, and they might as well have said, one of\nthem is true _titirice_, but neither of them, _tu patulice_.\n\n\u2018The last thing in which also consisteth the whole controversy, namely,\nthat there is no such thing as an agent, which when all things requisite\nto action are present, can nevertheless forbear to produce it; or (which\nis all one) that there is no such thing as freedom from necessity, is\neasily inferred from that which hath been before alleged. For if it be\nan agent it can work, and if it work there is nothing wanting of what is\nrequisite to produce the action, and consequently the cause of the\naction is sufficient, and if sufficient, then also necessary, as hath\nbeen proved before. And thus you see how the inconveniences, which it is\nobjected must follow upon the holding of necessity, are avoided, and the\nnecessity itself demonstratively proved. To which I could add, if I\nthought it good logic, the inconvenience of denying necessity, as that\nit destroyeth both the decrees and the prescience of God Almighty; for\nwhatsoever God hath purposed to bring to pass by man, as an instrument,\nor foreseeth shall come to pass; a man, if he have liberty as hath been\naffirmed from necessitation, might frustrate, and make not to come to\npass, and God should either not foreknow it, and not decree it, or he\nshould foreknow such things shall be, as shall never be, and decree that\nwhich shall never come to pass. This is all that hath come into my mind\ntouching this question since I last considered it.\u2019\n\nThe letter from which the foregoing extract is taken is addressed to the\nMarquis of Newcastle, and dated at Rouen in 1651, twenty years before\nthe publication of Spinoza\u2019s most exact and beautiful demonstration of\nthe same principle. Some of Hobbes\u2019s antagonists had charged him with\nhaving borrowed his arguments from Marsennus, a French author; to which\nin one of his controversial tracts Hobbes replies with some contempt,\nthat this Marsennus had heard him talk on the subject when he was in\nParis, and had borrowed them from him. Dr. Priestley has done justice to\nHobbes on this question of necessity, and I suspect more than justice in\ndenying that the Stoics were acquainted with the same principle. At any\nrate, the modern commentators on the subject (and Dr. Priestley among\nthem) have added nothing to it but absurdities, from which our author\u2019s\nlogic protected him; for he seldom reasoned wrong but when he reasoned\nfrom wrong premises. As this question is one of the most interesting in\nthe history of philosophy, I shall perhaps be excused for adding one\nmore extract (of considerable length) to prove that Hobbes is not, in\nthis instance, chargeable with the practical inferences which have been\nmade from his doctrine. In answer to the objections of Bishop Bramhall,\nwith whom he had a controversy on the subject, he says:\n\n\u2018Of the arguments from reason, the first is that which his Lordship\nsaith is drawn from Zeno\u2019s beating of his man, which is therefore called\n_Argumentum Baculinum_, that is to say, a wooden argument. The story is\nthis: Zeno held that all actions were necessary: his man therefore being\nfor some fault beaten, excused himself upon the necessity of it: to\navoid this excuse, his master pleaded likewise the necessity of beating\nhim. So that not he that maintained, but he that derided the necessity\nwas beaten, contrary to that his Lordship would infer.\n\n\u2018The second argument is taken from certain inconveniences which his\nLordship thinks would follow such an opinion.\n\n\u2018The first inconvenience, he says, is this, that the laws which prohibit\nany action will be unjust.\n\n\u20182. That all consultations are vain.\n\n\u20183. That admonitions to men of understanding are of no more use than to\nchildren, fools, and madmen.\n\n\u20184. That praise, dispraise, reward and punishment are in vain.\n\n\u20185 and 6. That counsels, arts, arms, books, instruments, study, tutors,\nmedicines are in vain.\u2019\n\nHobbes\u2019s answer to these conclusions is I think quite satisfactory. He\nsays\u2014\n\n\u2018To which arguments his Lordship, expecting I should answer by saying,\n\u201cthe ignorance of the event were enough to make us use the means,\u201d adds\n(as it were a reply to my answer foreseen) these words, \u201c_Alas! how\nshould our not knowing the event be a sufficient motive to make us use\nthe means?_\u201d Wherein his Lordship says right: but my answer is not that\nwhich he expecteth. I answer:\n\n\u2018First, that the necessity of an action doth not make the laws that\nprohibit it unjust. To let pass that not the necessity, but the will to\nbreak the law maketh the action unjust, because the law regardeth the\nwill and no other antecedent cause of action, and to let pass that no\nlaw can possibly be unjust, inasmuch as every man maketh (by his\nconsent) the law he is bound to keep, and which consequently must be\njust, unless a man can be unjust to himself;\u2014I say, what necessary cause\nsoever precede an action, yet if the action be forbidden, he that doth\nit willingly may be justly punished. For instance, suppose the law on\npain of death prohibit stealing, and that there be a man who by the\nstrength of temptation is necessitated to steal, and is thereupon put to\ndeath, does not this punishment deter others from stealing? Is it not a\ncause that others steal not? Doth it not frame and make their wills to\njustice? To make the law is therefore to make a cause of justice, and to\nnecessitate justice, and consequently \u2019tis no injustice to make such a\nlaw. The intention of the law is not to grieve the delinquent for what\nis past and not to be undone; but to make him and others just that else\nwould not be so; and respecteth not the evil act past, but the good to\ncome. Insomuch as without the good intention for the future, no past act\nof a delinquent would justify his killing in the sight of God.\n\n\u2018Secondly, I deny that it maketh consultations to be vain. \u2019Tis the\nconsultation that causeth a man and necessitateth him to choose to do\none thing rather than another: so that unless a man say that that cause\nis in vain which necessitateth the effect, he cannot infer the\nsuperfluousness of consultation out of the necessity of the election\nproceeding from it. But it seemeth his Lordship reasons thus: \u201cIf I must\ndo this rather than that, I shall do it though I consult not at all;\u201d\nwhich is a false proposition and a false consequence, and no better than\nthis: \u201cIf I shall live till to-morrow, I shall live till to-morrow,\nthough I run myself through with a sword to-day.\u201d If there be a\nnecessity that an action shall be done, or that any effect shall be\nbrought to pass, it does not therefore follow that there is nothing\nnecessarily requisite as a means to bring it to pass; and therefore when\nit is determined that one thing shall be chosen before another, \u2019tis\ndetermined also for what cause it shall be chosen, which cause for the\nmost part is deliberation or consultation; and therefore consultation is\nnot in vain, and indeed the less in vain by how much the election is\nmore necessitated, if _more_ and _less_ had any place in necessity.\n\n\u2018The same answer is to be given to the third supposed inconvenience,\nnamely, that admonitions are in vain: for admonitions are parts of\nconsultation, the admonitor being a counsellor for the time to him that\nis admonished.\n\n\u2018The fourth pretended inconvenience is, that praise, dispraise, reward\nand punishment will be in vain. To which I answer, that for praise and\ndispraise, they depend not at all on the necessity of the action praised\nor dispraised. For what is it else to praise, but to say a thing is\ngood; good, I say, for me or for some body else, or for the state and\ncommonwealth? And what is it to say an action is good, but to say it is\nas I would wish, or as another would have it, or according to the will\nof the state, that is to say, according to the law. Does my Lord think\nthat no action can please me or him or the commonwealth, that should\nproceed from necessity? Things may therefore be necessary, and yet\npraiseworthy, as also necessary, and yet dispraised, and neither of them\nboth in vain, because praise and dispraise, and likewise reward and\npunishment, do by example make and conform the will to good and evil. It\nwas a very great praise in my opinion that Velleius Paterculus gives\nCato, when he says that he was good by nature, _et quia aliter esse non\npotuit_.\n\n\u2018To the last objection, that counsels, arts, arms, instruments, books,\nstudy, medicines, and the like would be superfluous, the same answer\nserves as to the former, that is to say, that this consequence, _if the\neffect shall come to pass, then it shall come to pass without its\ncauses_, is a false one, and those things named counsels, arts, arms,\n&c. are the causes of those effects.\u2019\u2014Page 291.\n\n\u2018His Lordship\u2019s third argument consisteth in other inconveniences, which\nhe saith will follow, namely, impiety, and negligence of religious\nduties, as repentance and zeal to God\u2019s service, &c. To which I answer\nas to the rest, that they follow not. I must confess, if we consider the\ngreatest part of mankind, not as they should be, but as they are, that\nis, as men whom either the study of acquiring wealth or preferment, or\nwhom the appetite of sensual delights or the impatience of meditation,\nor the rash embracing of wrong principles have made unapt to discuss the\ntruth of things; I must, I say, confess that the dispute of this\nquestion will rather hurt than help their piety, and therefore if his\nLordship had not desired this answer, I should not have written it, nor\ndo I write it but in hopes your Lordship and his will keep it private.\nNevertheless in very truth, the necessity of events does not of itself\ndraw with it any impiety at all. For piety consisteth only in two\nthings: one that we honour God in our hearts, which is, that we think as\nhighly of his power as we can, (for to honour any thing is nothing else\nbut to think it to be of great power). The other is that we signify that\nhonour and esteem by our words and actions, which is called _cultus_, or\nworship of God. He therefore that thinketh that all things proceed from\nGod\u2019s eternal will, and consequently are necessary, does he not think\nGod omnipotent? Does he not esteem of his power as highly as is\npossible, which is to honour God as much as may be in his heart? Again,\nhe that thinketh so, is he not more apt by external acts and words to\nacknowledge it, than he that thinketh otherwise? Yet is this external\nacknowledgment the same thing which we call worship; so that this\nopinion fortifies piety in both kinds, external and internal, and\ntherefore is far from destroying it. And for repentance, which is\nnothing else but a glad returning into the right way, after the grief of\nbeing out of the way, though the cause that made him go astray were\nnecessary, yet there is no reason why he should not grieve; and, again,\nthough the cause why he returned into the way were necessary, there\nremaineth still the cause of joy. So that the necessity of the acting\ntaketh away neither of those parts of repentance\u2014grief for the error,\nand joy for returning.\u2019\u2014_Tripos_, p. 292.\n\nThe author afterwards properly defines a moral agent to be one that acts\nfrom deliberation, choice, or will, not from indifference; and, speaking\nof the supposed inconsistency between choice and necessity, adds:\n\n\u2018Commonly when we see and know the strength that moves us, we\nacknowledge necessity; but when we see not or mark not the force that\nmoves us, we then think there is none, and that it is not causes but\nliberty that produceth the action. Hence it is that they think he doth\nnot choose this that of necessity chooses it, but they might as well\nsay, fire doth not burn, because it burns of necessity.\u2019\n\nThe general question is thus stated by Mr. Hobbes in the beginning of\nhis treatise: the point is not, he says, \u2018whether a man can be a free\nagent; that is to say, whether he can write or forbear, speak or be\nsilent, according to his will, but whether the will to write, and the\nwill to forbear, come upon him according to his will, or according to\nany thing else in his own power. I acknowledge this liberty, that I can\ndo if I will; but to say\u2014I can will if I will, I take to be an absurd\nspeech. In fine, that freedom which men commonly find in books, that\nwhich the poets chaunt in the theatres, and the shepherds on the\nmountains, that which the pastors teach in the pulpits, and the doctors\nin the universities, and that which the common people in the markets,\nand all mankind in the whole world do assent unto, is the same that I\nassent unto, namely, that a man hath freedom to do if he will, but\nwhether he hath freedom to will is a question neither the bishop nor\nthey ever thought on.\u2019\n\nAll in which I differ from Hobbes is, that I think there is a real\nfreedom of choice and will, as well as of action, in the sense of the\nauthor, that is, not a freedom from necessity or causes in either case,\nbut a liberty in any given agent to exert certain powers without being\ncontrolled or impeded in their exercise by another agent.\n\nHelvetius says, \u2018It is true we can form a tolerably distinct idea of the\nword _liberty_, understood in a common sense. A man is free who is\nneither loaded with irons, nor confined in prison, nor intimidated like\nthe slave by the dread of chastisement: in this sense, the liberty of a\nman consists in the free exercise of his power: I say of his power,\nbecause it would be ridiculous to mistake for a want of liberty the\nincapacity we are under to pierce the clouds like the eagle, to live\nunder the water like the whale, or to become king, emperor, or pope. We\nhave so far a sufficiently clear idea of the word. But this is no longer\nthe case when we come to apply liberty to the will. What must this\nliberty then mean? We can only understand by it a free power of willing\nor not willing a thing: but this power would imply that there may be a\nwill without motives, and consequently an effect without a cause. A\nphilosophical treatise on the liberty of the will would be a treatise of\neffects without a cause.\u2019\u2014_Helvetius on the Mind_, p. 44.\n\nNow I cannot perceive why there is any more difficulty in annexing a\nmeaning to the word liberty, as it relates to the faculties of the mind\nthan as it relates to those of the body, or why a treatise of the one\nshould be a treatise of effects without a cause any more than of the\nother. If the distinction between liberty and necessity is lost in this\ncase, it is not because liberty but because necessity can have no place\nin the will, or because we cannot easily put a padlock on the mind. If\nthe prisoner who has his chains struck off, walks or runs, dances or\nleaps, is this an instance of an effect without a cause, because it is\nan effect of liberty, or of what Helvetius calls the free exercise of\nhis power? Not that he can exert this power without means or motives,\nthat is, without ground to move on, or limbs to move with, or breath to\ndraw, or will to impel him, but \u2018with all these means and appliances to\nboot\u2019 he has a power to do certain things which his chains deprived him\nof the liberty of doing, but which the striking them off restores to him\nagain. Why then, if liberty does not in its common sense signify an\neffect without a cause, but the free exercise of a power, did it not\nsignify the same thing or something similar as applied to the mind? Has\nthe mind no powers, or are they necessarily impeded and hindered from\noperating? My notion of a free agent, I confess, is not that represented\nby Mr. Hobbes, namely, one that when all things necessary to produce the\neffect are present can nevertheless not produce it; but I believe a free\nagent of whatever kind, is one which where all things necessary to\nproduce the effect are present, can produce it; its own operation not\nbeing hindered by any thing else. The body is said to be free when it\nhas the power to obey the direction of the will: so the will may be said\nto be free when it has the power to obey the dictates of the\nunderstanding. The absurdity of the libertarians is in supposing that\nliberty of action, and liberty of will have the same identical source,\nviz. the will; or that as it is the will that moves the body, so it is\nthe will that moves itself in order to be free.\n\nMr. Locke\u2019s chapter \u2018On Power,\u2019 in the first volume of the Essay,\ncontains his account of liberty and necessity, and has been more found\nfault with than any other part of his work; I think without reason. He\nseems evidently to have admitted the definition of necessity, though he\nhas avoided the name, which is not much to be wondered at, considering\nthe misconception to which it is liable, and which can scarcely be\nseparated from it in the closest reasoning, much less as a term of\ngeneral signification. In other words, he denies the power of the mind\nto act without a cause or motive, or, in any manner in any\ncircumstances, from mere indifferency and absolute self motion; but he\nat the same time rejects the inference which has been drawn from this\nprinciple, that the mind is not an agent at all, but entirely subject to\nexternal force or blind impulse. What he has said is little more than an\nexpansion of Hobbes\u2019s general description of practical liberty, \u2018that it\nis a power to do, if we will.\u2019 Thus, according to Mr. Locke, it would\nnot be so absurd to give a restive horse the spur or the whip to make\nhim go straight forward on a plain road, as it would be in order to make\nhim leap up a precipice a hundred feet high. The one the horse has a\npower or liberty to do if he will, the other he has no power to do at\nany rate. That is, here are two sorts of impediments, one that may be\novercome, and which it is right to take means to overcome, and another\nwhich cannot be overcome, and which it is therefore absurd to meddle\nwith. To say that these two necessities are in effect the same, is an\nabuse of language; yet for not lumping them together in the dashing\nstyle of our modern wholesale dealers in paradox, Mr. Locke has been\nmade the subject of endless abuse and contumely. The difference between\nthem, as stated by this author with great force and earnestness of\nfeeling, in truth constitutes all that men in general mean when they\ntalk of freedom of will, and make it, as in this sense it is, the\nground-work of morality. There are certain powers which the mind has of\ngoverning not only the actions of the body, but of regulating its own\nthoughts and desires, and it is to make us exert these powers that all\nthe distinctions, rules and sanctions of morality have been established.\nIt must be ridiculous to attempt to make us do, what upon the face of\nthe thing it was known we could not do; yet it is on this literal and\nunqualified interpretation of the term, as implying a flat impossibility\nof the contrary, an utter incapacity and helplessness in the mind, a\nconcurrence of causes foreign to the will itself, and irresistible in\ntheir effect, and with which it must therefore be in vain to contend,\nthat most of the consequences from the doctrine of necessity have been\nbuilt; such as that reward and punishment are absurd and improper, that\nvirtue and vice are words without a meaning, that the assassin is no\nmore a moral or accountable agent than the dagger which he uses, and\nmany others of the same stamp. The sword and the assassin would be\nequally moral and accountable agents, if they were both equally\naccessible to moral motives, that is, to reward and punishment, praise\nand blame, &c.; but they are not. This seems to be a distinction of\ngreat pith and moment. It is said to be a mere difference of words; at\nleast it makes all the difference whether such motives as reward and\npunishment, praise and blame, should be applied or not, and this one\nshould think was a difference of practice. It is objected, indeed, that\nstill both are equally necessary agents. But this appears to me to be a\nconfusion of words. It is in vain to exhort flame not to burn, or to be\nangry with poison for working: and it would be equally in vain to exhort\nmen to certain actions or to resent others, if exhortation and\nresentment had no more effect upon them, that is, if they were really\ngoverned by the same sort of blind, physical, unreasoning, unresisting\nnecessity. In fact, the latest necessarians have abandoned the true,\noriginal, philosophical meaning of the term, in which it implies no more\nthan the connection between cause and effect, and have substituted for\nit the prejudiced notion of their adversaries, who confound it with\nmechanical necessity, \u2018fixed fate, foreknowledge absolute,\u2019 or the\nunconditional _fiat_ of omnipotence.\n\nThe following extracts which I shall condense as much as I can\nconsistently with the nature of the argument, will shew the view which\nMr. Locke has taken of this subject. I would only observe, by the by,\nthat I so far agree with Hobbes and differ from Mr. Locke, in thinking\nthat liberty in the most extended and abstract sense is applicable to\nmaterial as well as voluntary agents; moral liberty, _i.e._ freedom of\nwill evidently is not, because such agents have no such faculty.\n\n\u2018All the actions that we have any idea of,\u2019 says my author, \u2018reducing\nthemselves to these two, _viz._ thinking and moving, so far as a man has\na power to think or not to think, to move or not to move, according to\nthe preference or direction of his own mind, so far is a man free.\nWherever any performance or forbearance are not equally in a man\u2019s\npower, wherever doing or not doing will not equally follow upon the\npreference of his mind, directing it, there he is not free, though\nperhaps the action may be voluntary. Where any particular action is not\nin the power of the agent, to be produced by him according to his\nvolition, there he is not at liberty; that agent is under necessity. So\nthat liberty cannot be where there is no thought, no volition, no will;\nbut there may be thought, there may be volition, there may be will,\nwhere there is no liberty. A little consideration of an obvious instance\nor two may make this clear.\n\n\u2018A tennis-ball, whether in motion by the stroke of a racket, or lying\nstill at rest, is not by any one taken to be a free agent. If we inquire\ninto the reason, we shall find it is because we conceive not a\ntennis-ball to think; and consequently not to have any volition, or\npreference of motion to rest or _vice vers\u00e2_; and therefore has not\nliberty, is not a free agent, but both its motion and rest come under\nour idea of necessity, and are so called. Likewise a man falling into\nthe water (a bridge breaking under him) has not herein liberty, is not a\nfree agent. For though he has volition, though he prefers his not\nfalling to falling, yet the forbearance of that motion not being in his\npower, the stop or cessation of that motion follows not upon his\nvolition; and therefore therein he is not free. So a man striking\nhimself or his friend by a convulsive motion of his arm, no body thinks\nhe has in this liberty, every one pities him as acting by necessity and\nconstraint.\u2019\n\nHere I will just stop to observe that the stanch sticklers for\nnecessity, who make up by an excess of zeal for their want of knowledge,\nwould read this passage with a smile of self-complacent contempt, and\nremark profoundly that whether the man struck his friend on purpose, or\nfrom a convulsive motion, he was equally under necessity, and the object\nof pity. Now whether he is an object of pity, I shall not dispute; but I\nconceive he is also an object of anger in the one case which he is not\nin the other, because anger will prevent a man\u2019s striking you again, but\nwill not cure him of St. Vitus\u2019s dance. It is to this sort of\nindiscriminate, blind, senseless necessity which neutralizes all things\nand actions, and under the pretence of establishing the operation of\ncauses, destroys the distinction between the different degrees and kinds\nof necessity, to which I do not profess myself a convert.\n\nTo return.\u2014\u2018As it is in the motions of the body,\u2019 proceeds Mr. Locke,\n\u2018so it is in the thoughts of our minds: where any one is such, that we\nhave power to take it up or lay it by, according to the preference of\nthe mind, there we are at liberty. Yet some ideas to the mind, like some\nmotions to the body, are such as in certain circumstances it cannot\navoid, nor obtain their absence by the utmost effort it can use. A man\non the rack is not at liberty to lay by the idea of pain, and divert\nhimself with other contemplations. And sometimes a boisterous passion\nhurries our thoughts, as a hurricane does our bodies, without leaving us\nthe liberty of thinking on other things which we would rather choose.\nBut as soon as the mind regains the power to stop or continue, begin or\nforbear any of these motions of the body without, or of the mind within,\naccording as it thinks fit to prefer either to the other, we then\nconsider the man as free again.\u2019\n\n\u2018But freedom,\u2019 says my author, \u2018unless it reaches farther than this,\nwill not serve the turn; and it passes for a good plea that a man is not\nfree at all, if he is not as free to will, as he is to act what he\nwills. Concerning a man\u2019s liberty, there yet therefore is raised this\nfarther question, whether a man be free to will? And as to that I\nimagine that a man in respect of willing, when any action in his power\nis once proposed to his thoughts as presently [that is, immediately] to\nbe done, cannot be free. The reason whereof is very manifest; for it\nbeing unavoidable that the action depending on his will should exist or\nnot exist, and its existence or non-existence following perfectly the\ndetermination of his will, he cannot avoid willing the existence or\nnon-existence of that action; it is absolutely necessary that he will\nthe one, or the other, _i.e._ prefer the one to the other, since one of\nthem must necessarily follow.\u2019\u2014Page 246.\n\nThis seems to be the weak part of Mr. Locke\u2019s reasoning, and is the only\nplace, as I remember, where he has considered the certainty of the event\nas inconsistent with the practical liberty for which he contends. At\nthis rate, it must be given up altogether: there can be no such thing as\nliberty. For in all cases whatever, one determination must happen rather\nthan another. In all cases whatever, we must choose either one way or\nanother, or suspend our choice. Suspense and deliberation, as Helvetius\nand others have justly remarked, are in this sense equally necessary\nwith precipitation of judgment. The actual or final event is in both\ncases the necessary consequence of preceding causes, but that does not\ndestroy freedom of choice in either case, if the event depends upon the\nexercise of choice, whether the time allowed for the mind to choose in,\nbe longer or shorter. If by liberty be meant the uncertainty of the\nevent, then liberty is a nonentity: but if it be supposed to relate to\nthe concurrence of certain powers of an agent in the production of that\nevent, then it is as true and as real a thing as the necessity to which\nit is thus opposed, and which consists in the exclusion of certain\npowers possessed by an agent from operating in the producing of any\nevent. At the same time it must be granted, that the power of\ndeliberation is the most valuable privilege of our rational nature, and\nthe great enlargement of the discursive faculty of the will. Mr. Locke\nseems only to have erred in mistaking a difference of degree or extent\nfor one of kind. The practical truth of the distinction is undeniable.\nHis words are:\u2014\n\n\u2018The mind having in most cases, as is evident from experience, a power\nto suspend the execution and satisfaction of any of its desires, and so\nall, one after another, is at liberty to consider the objects of them,\nexamine them on all sides, and weigh them with others. In this lies the\nliberty man has; and from the not using of it right comes all that\nvariety of mistakes, errors, and faults, which we run into in the\nconduct of our lives, and our endeavours after happiness: whilst we\nprecipitate the determination of our wills, and engage too soon before\ndue examination. For during the suspension of any desire, before the\nwill be determined to action, we have an opportunity to examine, view,\nand judge of the good or evil of what we are going to do; and when upon\ndue examination we have judged, we have done our duty, all that we can\nor ought to do, in pursuit of our happiness; and it is not a fault, but\na perfection of our nature, to desire, will, and act, according to the\nlast result of a fair examination. This seems to me the source of all\nliberty; in this seems to consist that which is (I think improperly)\ncalled _free-will_.\u2019\u2014_Essay_, vol. i. p. 264.\n\nMoral liberty, it should seem then, all the liberty which a man has or\nwhich he wants, does not after all consist in a power of indifferency,\nor in a power of choosing, without regard to motives, but in a power of\nexciting his reason and of obeying it. There are two general positions\nadvanced by the author in the course of this inquiry, to neither of\nwhich I can agree; namely, that action always proceeds from uneasiness,\nand that we are perfect judges of present good and evil. With respect to\nthe first, it is true indeed that nothing can be an object of desire\ntill we suffer uneasiness from the want of it, but it is just as true,\nthat the want of any thing does not cause uneasiness in the mind, unless\nit is first an object of desire, or unless the prospect of it gives us\npleasure. As to the second position, that we cannot be deceived in\njudging of our actual sensations, it would be true, if the sensation and\nthe judgment formed upon it were the same, but they neither are nor can\nbe. Let any person smell to a rose, and look at a beautiful prospect or\nhear a fine piece of music at the same instant, and try to determine\nwhich of them gives him most pleasure. If he has the least doubt or\nhesitation, the principle laid down by Mr. Locke cannot pass for an\naxiom. From not accurately distinguishing between sensation and\njudgment, some writers have been led to confound good and evil with\npleasure and pain. Good or evil is properly that which gives the mind\npleasure or pain on reflection, that is, which excites rational\napprobation or disapprobation. To consider these two things as either\nthe same or in any regular proportion to each other, is I think to\nbetray a very superficial acquaintance with human nature. Yet in\ndefiance of the necessary distinction between the faculties by which we\nfeel and by which we judge, these moralists have laid it down as a\nfundamental rule that all pleasures which are so in themselves are\nequally good and commendable; yet as these ideas relate solely to the\nreflex impression made by certain things on the understanding, to insist\nthat we shall judge of them by an appeal to the senses, is unwisely to\noverturn the principle of the division of labour among our faculties,\nand to force one to do the office of another. For this there seems no\nmore reason than for attempting to hear with our fingers, to see a\nsound, or feel a colour.\n\n \u2018Oh! who can paint a sun-beam to the blind;\n Or make him feel a shadow with his mind.\u2019\n\nYet the absurdity of the attempt arises only from the inaptitude of the\norgan to the object.\n\nAmong simple ideas Mr. Locke reckons that of power. It were to be wished\nthat he had given it as simple a source as possible, viz. the feeling we\nhave of it in our own minds, which he sometimes seems half inclined to\ndo, instead of referring it to our observation of the successive changes\nwhich take place in matter. It is by this means alone, that is, by\nmaking it an original idea derived from within, like the sense of\npleasure or pain, and quite distinct from the visible composition and\ndecomposition of other objects, that we can avoid being driven into an\nabsolute scepticism with regard to cause and effect. For Hume has, I\nthink, demonstrated that in the mere mechanical series of sensible\nappearances, there is nothing to suggest this idea, or point out the\nindissoluble connection of one event with another, any more than in the\nflies of a summer. We get this idea solely from the exertion of muscular\nor voluntary power in ourselves: whoever has stretched forth his hand to\nan object, must have the idea of power. Under the idea of power I\ninclude all that relates to what we call force, energy, weakness,\neffort, ease, difficulty, impossibility, &c. Accordingly, I should\nconceive that no man of strong passions, or great muscular activity\nwould ever give up the idea of power. Hume, who seems to have discarded\nit with the least compunction, was an easy, indolent, good-tempered man,\nwho did not care to stir out of his arm-chair; a languid, Epicurean\nphilosopher, of a reasonable corpulency, who was hurried away by no\nviolent passions, or intense desires, but looked on most things with the\nsame eye of listlessness and indifference. He was one of the subtlest\nand most metaphysical of all metaphysicians. And perhaps he was so for\nthe reason here stated. The Scotch in general are not metaphysicians:\nthey have in fact always a purpose, they aim at a particular point, they\nare determined upon something beforehand. This gives a hardness and\nrigidity to their understandings, and takes away that tremulous\nsensibility to every slight and wandering impression which is necessary\nto complete the fine balance of the mind, and enable us to follow all\nthe infinite fluctuations of thought through their nicest distinctions.\n\nTo return to the doctrine of necessity. I shall refer to the authority\nof but one more writer, who has indeed exhausted the subject, and\nanticipated what few remarks I had to offer upon it: I mean Jonathan\nEdwards, in his treatise on the Will. This work, setting aside its\nCalvinistic tendency with which I have nothing to do, is one of the most\nclosely reasoned, elaborate, acute, serious, and sensible among modern\nproductions. No metaphysician can read it without feeling a wish to have\nbeen the author of it. The gravity of the matter and the earnestness of\nthe manner are alike admirable. His reasoning is not of that kind, which\nconsists in having a smart answer for every trite objection, but in\nattaining true and satisfactory solutions of things perceived in all\ntheir difficulty and in all their force, and in every variety of\nconnexion. He evidently writes to satisfy his own mind and the minds of\nthose, who like himself are intent upon the pursuit of truth for its own\nsake. There is not an evasion or ambiguity in his whole book, nor a wish\nto produce any but thorough conviction. He does not therefore lead his\nreaders into a labyrinth of words, or entangle them among the forms of\nlogic, or mount the airy heights of abstraction, but descends into the\nplain, and mingles with the business and feelings of mankind, and\ngrapples with common sense, and subdues it to the force of true reason.\nAll philosophy depends no less on deep and real feeling than on power of\nthought. I happen to have Edwards\u2019s \u2018Inquiry concerning Freewill,\u2019 and\nDr. Priestley\u2019s \u2018Illustrations of Philosophical Necessity,\u2019 bound up in\nthe same volume: and I confess that the difference in the manner of\nthese two writers is rather striking. The plodding, persevering,\nscrupulous accuracy of the one, and the easy, cavalier, verbal fluency\nof the other, form a complete contrast. Dr. Priestley\u2019s whole aim seems\nto be to evade the difficulties of his subject, Edwards\u2019s to answer\nthem. The one is employed according to Berkeley\u2019s allegory, in flinging\ndust in the eyes of his adversaries, while the other is taking true\npains in digging into the mine of knowledge. All Dr. Priestley\u2019s\narguments on this subject are mere hackneyed common-places. He had in\nreality no opinion of his own, and truth, I conceive, never takes very\ndeep root in those minds on which it is merely engrafted. He uniformly\nadopted the vantage ground of every question, and borrowed those\narguments which he found most easy to be wielded, and of most service in\nthat kind of busy intellectual warfare to which he was habituated. He\nwas an able controversialist, not a philosophical reasoner.\n\nDr. Priestley states in his \u2018Illustrations\u2019 and in his letter to Dr.\nHorsley, that the difference between physical and moral necessity is\nmerely verbal. He says, speaking of the connexion between cause and\neffect in the mind, \u2018Give me the thing and I will readily give up the\nname.\u2019 It appears to me that Dr. Priestley was quite as much attached to\nthe name as to the thing, and that the philosophical principle of\nnecessity, without its unpopular title, would have afforded him but\nlittle satisfaction. Now the obnoxiousness of the name, and in my\nopinion, almost all the difficulty and repugnance which the generality\nof men find in admitting the doctrine arises from the ambiguity lurking\nunder the term necessity, which includes both kinds of necessity, moral\nand physical, and with which Dr. Priestley delights to probe the\nprejudices of his adversaries, thinking the differences of moral and\nphysical necessity a mere question of words, and that provided there are\nany laws or any causes operating upon the mind, it is of no sort of\nconsequence what those laws or causes are. It is the same inability to\ndistinguish between one cause and another which creates the vulgar\nprejudice against necessity, and which is exposed in a very satisfactory\nmanner by the author of the \u2018Inquiry into the Will.\u2019 He says, in a\nletter written expressly to vindicate himself from having confounded\nmoral with physical necessity, \u2018On the contrary, I have largely declared\nthat the connexion between antecedent things and consequent ones which\ntakes place with regard to the acts of men\u2019s wills, which is called\nmoral necessity, is called by the name of _necessity_ improperly; and\nthat all such terms as _must_, _cannot_, _impossible_, _unable_,\n_irresistible_, _unavoidable_, _invincible_, &c. when applied here, are\nnot applied in their proper signification, and are either used\nnonsensically, and with perfect insignificance, or in a sense quite\ndiverse from their original and proper meaning, and their use in common\nspeech; and that such a necessity as attends the acts of men\u2019s wills, is\nmore properly called _certainty_ than _necessity_. I think it is\nevidently owing to a strong prejudice in persons\u2019 minds, arising from an\ninsensible habitual perversion and misapplication of such-like terms,\nthat they are ready to think that to suppose a certain connexion of\nmen\u2019s volitions without any foregoing motives or inclinations, is truly\nand properly to suppose such a strong irrefragable chain of causes and\neffects as stands in the way of, and makes utterly vain, opposite\ndesires and endeavours, like immovable and impenetrable mountains of\nbrass; and impedes our liberty like walls of adamant, gates of brass,\nand bars of iron: whereas all such representations suggest ideas as far\nfrom the truth, as the East is from the West. I know it is in vain to\nendeavour to make some persons believe this, or at least fully and\nsteadily to believe it: for if it be demonstrated to them, still the old\nprejudice remains, which has been long fixed by the use of the terms\n_necessary_, _must_, &c. the association with these terms of certain\nideas, inconsistent with liberty, is not broken, and the judgment is\npowerfully warped by it; as a thing that has been long bent and grown\nstiff, if it be straightened, will return to its former curvity again\nand again.\u2019\n\nThe reasoning in the \u2018Inquiry\u2019 to which the author here refers, in\njustification of himself, is as follows:\n\n\u2018Men in their first use of such phrases as these, _must_, _cannot_,\n_unavoidable_, _irresistible_, &c. use them to signify a necessity of\nconstraint or restraining a natural necessity or impossibility, or some\nnecessity that the will has nothing to do in. A thing is said to be\n_necessary_, when we cannot help it, let us do what we will. So any\nthing is said to be _impossible_ to us, when we would do it, or would\nhave it brought to pass and endeavour it, but all our desires and\nendeavours are in vain. And that is said to be _irresistible_, which\novercomes all our opposition, resistance and endeavour to the contrary.\nAnd we are said to be _unable_ to do a thing, when our utmost supposable\ndesires and endeavours to do it are insufficient. All men find, and\nbegin to find in early childhood, that there are innumerable things\nwhich cannot be done which they desire to do; and innumerable things,\nwhich they are averse to, that must be; they cannot avoid them, whether\nthey choose them or no. It is to express this necessity which men so\nsoon and so often find, and which so greatly affects them in innumerable\ncases, that such terms and phrases are first formed; and it is to\nsignify such a necessity that they are first used, and that they are\nmost constantly used in the common affairs of life; and not to signify\nany such metaphysical, speculative and abstract notion as that connexion\n[between cause and effect] in the nature and course of things, to\nsignify which they who employ themselves in philosophical inquiries into\nthe first origin and metaphysical relations and dependencies of things,\nhave borrowed those terms, for want of others. But we grow up from our\ncradles in a use of such phrases entirely different from this, or from\nthe one in which they are used in the controversy about liberty and\nnecessity. And it being a dictate of the universal sense of mankind,\nevident to us as soon as we begin to think, that the necessity signified\nby these terms in the sense in which we first learn them, does excuse\npersons, and free them from all fault or blame, hence our idea of\nexcusableness or faultlessness is tied to these phrases by a strong\nhabit, which grows up with us;\u2014or if we use the words as terms of art in\nanother sense, yet unless we are exceeding circumspect and wary, we\nshall insensibly slide into the vulgar use of them, and so apply the\nwords in a very inconsistent manner: this habitual connexion of ideas\nwill deceive and confound us in our reasonings and discourses whenever\nwe pretend to use the terms in that manner.\u2019\u2014Pages 20, 21, 290, &c.\n\n\u2018It follows that when the aforesaid terms are used in cases wherein no\nopposition, or insufficient will or endeavour is or can be supposed, but\nthe very nature of the supposed case (as that of willing or choosing)\nexcludes any such opposition, will, or endeavour, these terms are then\nnot used in their proper signification, but quite beside their use in\ncommon speech.\u2019\u2014Pages 21, 22.\n\nThe author has, I think, in these passages, laid open the source of most\nof the confusion on the subject in question. For this double meaning\nlurking under the word necessity has been the chief reason why persons,\nwho were guided more by their own feelings and the customary\nassociations of language than by formal definitions, have altogether\nrejected the doctrine; while persons of a more logical turn, who could\nnot deny the truth of the abstract principle, have yet in their\nexplanations of it, and inferences from it, fallen into the same vulgar\nerror as their opponents. The partisans for necessity have given up\ntheir common sense, as they supposed, to their reason, while the\nadvocates for liberty rejected a demonstrable truth from a dread of its\nconsequences; and both have been the dupes of a word. I have been the\nmore ready to appeal to this writer\u2019s authority, because he is allowed\non all hands to be one of the most strict, severe, and logical of all\nnecessarians. What he has said on the subject of free-will, as\nconsisting in perfect contingence, independent of all motive, or as\nimplying an absolute beginning of action without any precedent\ndetermining cause might, one would imagine, have been sufficient, even\nif Hobbes\u2019s reasonings had not, to banish that opinion out of the world.\nHe has followed it through all its windings, and detected it in all its\nvarying shades, with equal patience and sagacity. He sums up the\nabsurdities of this notion of liberty, or of mere absolute self-will, in\nthese words:\n\n\u2018The following things are all essential to it, viz. that an action\nshould be necessary, and not necessary; that it should be from a cause\nand no cause; that it should be the fruit of choice and design, and not\nthe fruit of choice and design; that it should be the beginning of\nmotion and exertion, and yet be consequent on previous exertion; that it\nshould be before it is; that it should spring immediately out of\nindifference and equilibrium, and yet be the effect of preponderation;\nthat it should be self-originated, also have its original from something\nelse; that it is what the mind causes itself, of its own will, and can\nproduce or prevent, according to its choice, or pleasure, and yet what\nthe mind has no power to prevent, precluding all previous choice in the\naffair. So that an act of the will [determining itself by its own\nfree-will], according to their metaphysical account of it, is something\nof which there is no idea, it is nothing but a confusion of the mind,\nexcited by words without any distinct meaning. If some learned\nphilosopher, who had been abroad, in giving an account of the curious\nobservations he had made in his travels, should say, \u201cHe had been in\nTierra del Fuego, and there had seen an animal, which he calls by a\ncertain name, that begat and brought forth itself, and yet had a sire\nand a dam distinct from itself; that it had an appetite and was hungry\nbefore it had a being; that his master, who led him, and governed him at\nhis pleasure, was always governed by him, and driven by him where he\npleased: that when he moved, he always took a step before the first\nstep; that he went with his head first, and yet always went tail\nforemost; and this though he had neither head nor tail;\u201d it would be no\nimpudence at all to tell such a traveller, though a learned man, that he\nhimself had no notion or idea of such an animal as he gave an account\nof, and never had, nor ever would have.\u2019\u2014Page 281, of the _Inquiry_.\n\nThe author seems to have hit upon the source of this erroneous account\nof free-will, with his usual truth of feeling. He says, almost\nimmediately after:\u2014\u2018The thing which has led men into this inconsistent\nnotion of action, when applied to volition, as though it were essential\nto this internal action that the agent should be self-determined in it,\nand that the will should be the cause of it, was probably this: that\naccording to the sense of mankind, and the common use of language, it is\nso with respect to men\u2019s external actions; which are what originally,\nand according to the vulgar use and most proper sense of the word, are\ncalled _actions_. Men in these are self-directed, self-determined, and\ntheir wills are the cause of the motions of their bodies, and the\nexternal things that are done; so that unless men do them voluntarily,\nand of choice, and the action be determined by their antecedent\nvolition, it is no action or doing of theirs. Hence some metaphysicians\nhave been led unwarily, but exceeding absurdly, to suppose the same\nconcerning volition itself, _that_ that also must be determined by the\nwill; which is to be determined by antecedent volition, as the motion of\nthe body is; not considering the contradiction it implies.\u2019\u2014_Ibid._,\npage 286.\n\nI shall proceed to state as briefly as I can my own notions of liberty\nand necessity, as far as they any way differ from the foregoing account.\n\nFirst, then, I conceive that if by necessity be understood and only\nunderstood the connexion of cause and effect, or the constant dependence\nof one thing on another, in the human mind as well as in matter, that\naccording to this interpretation all things are equally certain and\nnecessary. On the other hand, if by liberty be meant any thing opposite\nto this connexion of cause and effect: that is, a positive beginning of\nany action or motion out of nothing, or out of a state of indifference,\nor from itself, I believe that there is no such thing as liberty in the\nmind any more than in matter. All things have their preceding\ndetermining causes, and nothing is, but what must be in the precise\ngiven circumstances. This has been demonstrated over and over again, and\nthe contrary supposition reduced to a manifest absurdity in every\npossible way by Hobbes, Hume, Hartley, Edwards, Priestley, and others.\n\nBut, secondly, I conceive that the question does not stop here, because\ncertain ideas have been annexed to these terms of liberty and necessity,\nboth by the learned and by common men, which have nothing at all to do\nwith the affirmation or denial of the simple connexion between cause and\neffect. What I shall therefore attempt will be to point out a few\ninstances of the misapplication of the term to prove a necessity not\nincluded in the certainty of the event, and to disprove liberty in a\nsense in which it does not interfere with that certainty, or with\nphilosophical necessity: that is, I shall attempt to show in what sense,\nin conformity with the general law to which all things are by their\nnature subject, man is an agent, a free agent, a moral and accountable\nagent; that is, deserving of reward and punishment, praise and blame,\n&c. Now by an agent I mean any thing that acts or has a power to\noperate, that is, to produce effects; by a free agent I mean one that is\nnot hindered from acting; by a moral and accountable agent I mean one\nthat acts from will, and is influenced by motives; by reward and\npunishment I mean what every one does; by praise and blame I mean our\napprobation or disapprobation of any agent that is conscious of our\nsentiments towards him, or that is capable of reflecting on his own\nconduct, and of being affected by what others think of it. If by an\nagent be meant the beginner of action, or one that produces an effect of\nitself, there can be no such thing; but if by an agent be meant one that\ncontributes to an effect, there is such a thing as an agent; and the\nmore any thing contributes to an effect and determines it to be this or\nthat, the more it is an agent. If by freedom be meant a freedom from\ncauses, or necessity in the abstract, there can be no freedom in this\nsense, but there may be and is a freedom from certain causes and from\ncertain kinds and degrees of necessity; that is, from physical causes,\nor compulsion, and from absolute, unconditional necessity. If all things\nare equally necessary, that do not spring out of nothing, then indeed\nthe distinction between liberty and necessity must be in all cases\nabsurd. Again, by free-will I do not mean the power or liberty to act\nwithout motives, but with motives. The mind cannot act without an\noccasion or ground for acting, but this does not shew that it is no\nagent at all, or that it is not a free agent; that is, that its action\nis restrained or hindered by the action of anything else. The\nintellectual and voluntary powers are free, just as the corporeal are,\nnamely, when they are free to produce certain effects, which, if\nexcited, they can produce, as the body is free when it can move in\nconsequence of the mind\u2019s direction; it is no longer free when though\nthe same reason exists for its moving, it is hindered by something else\nfrom obeying the impulse. In short, liberty is this: the power in any\nagent in given circumstances to operate in a certain manner, if left to\nitself; or perhaps more unequivocally, opportunity given to any agent to\nexert certain powers to produce an effect, when nothing but those powers\nand the absence of impediments is wanting to produce it. To be free is\nto possess all the requisites for acting in one\u2019s-self, and in the\ncircumstances, and not to be counteracted. Again if moral good and evil\nare supposed to be something self-created, then they are merely fictions\nof the mind; but if we suppose an agent to be entitled to praise or\nblame, reward or punishment, not because he is a self-willed, but a\nvoluntary agent, that is to say, a being possessing certain powers and\nhabitually and with determination exerting them to certain purposes,\nthen there will be a foundation for this distinction in nature. To the\nidea of moral responsibility, it is not necessary that the agent should\nbe the sole or absolutely first cause of the evil, for example, but that\nhe should be one real, determining cause of it, and while he remains\nwhat he is, the same effects will follow. An agent is the author of any\nevil, when without him, that is, without something peculiar and\nessential to his disposition and character, it would not exist.\n\n1. Every thing is an agent that is any way necessary or conducing to an\neffect. The doctrine of second causes does not destroy agency. It no\nmore proves that those causes do not act because something has acted\nbefore them, than that they do not exist, because something has existed\nbefore them. The theological writers on this side of the question\naffirm, I think improperly, that God or the first cause is the sole\nagent in the universe, to which all second causes are to be referred as\ninstruments, having no real efficacy of their own. If so, all events are\nproduced immediately by the divine agency, that is, all second causes\nare parts of the divine essence, and in all that we see or hear or feel,\nwe must conceive of something far more deeply interfused, a spirit and a\nmotion that impels all thinking things, all objects of all thought, and\nbreathes through all things. This doctrine is that of Spinoza: but upon\nthis supposition second causes, as the immediate operation of the Deity\nare and must be real and efficient. On the other hand, if to exclude\nthis system of pantheism, we consider the things and appearances about\nus as merely natural, still what are called second causes must be real\nand efficient causes, or they could not produce their effects. If\nnothing can operate but the first cause, then whatever produces effects\nis the Deity: but if this conclusion be thought objectionable, then we\nmust allow other causes of events to be really and truly such in\nthemselves: for from that which is no cause, which has no power, any\nmore than nothing, nothing can follow. All second causes, that is, all\nthings that exist are, therefore, either parts of the Deity or parts of\nnature, and in neither case can they be absolutely insignificant,\nworthless, null, and of no account. Dr. Priestley is for having men\nrefer all the good in the universe to God as the author of it, and all\nthe evil that takes place to man or to second causes. I cannot think\nthat this is sound philosophy nor practical wisdom. The necessarians\nhave evidently borrowed their notions of agency and second causes from\nthe advocates for liberty: for taking up the same unfounded assumption\nof the libertarians, that action is the absolute beginning of motion,\nand that any thing short of this is no action at all, and finding that\nthe will was not a cause in the absurd sense supposed by their\nadversaries, they have concluded that it was no cause at all; not\nconsidering whether a cause might not be more properly defined that\nwhich produces an effect in consistency with other things than that\nwhich produces it independently of them. Action then in any sense of the\nword is the same as co-operation. It may be asked, whether this account\ndoes not destroy the distinction between active and passive. I answer\nthat it does, if by active be meant unconnected action, and by passive\nconnected action; but not else. That is, if by action be understood the\npositive determinate tendency or the additional impulse to the\nproduction of any effect, and by passiveness an indifference in any\nagent to this or that motion, except as it is acted upon by, and\ntransmits the efficacy of other causes, this distinction will remain as\nbroad and palpable as ever. Any thing is so far active as it modifies\nand re-acts upon the original impulse; it is passive in as far as it\nneither adds to, nor takes from that original impulse, but merely has a\npower of receiving and continuing it. This I take to be the practical\nand philosophical meaning of the terms. This distinction therefore,\napplies equally to matter and mind. The explosion of gunpowder cannot be\nattributed entirely or principally to the spark which ignites it,\nbecause the effect is increased a thousand-fold by the inherent\nqualities of the gunpowder. The motion communicated by one body to\nanother in void space is considered as the mere passive result of the\nformer, because the effect in the second agent is simply the\ncontinuation of what it was in the first. So it is in the mind. Motives\ndo not act upon it simply or absolutely; but according to the dictates\nof the understanding or the bias of the will. At one time we yield to\nany idle inclination that happens to prevail, and at others resist to\nthe utmost the strongest motives. That is, the mind is itself an agent,\none chief determining cause of our volitions. It is on the view taken by\nthe mind of motives, on our disposition to attend to or neglect them, to\ncompare and weigh them, that their effect depends. But the necessarians\nhave always delighted to illustrate the operations of the mind in\nvolition by referring to the impulse communicated by one billiard-ball\nto another, or to different weights in a pair of scales. Both which\nillustrations are as little applicable as possible, because in neither\nof them is there supposed to be the least activity of action; that is,\nthe least capacity to resist or increase or alter the impressed force in\nthe thing acted upon. That is, the mind in these similes is requisite as\na merely passive agent, by which I mean a thing perfectly indifferent\nand nugatory, a mere cypher without any character of its own, that is\nneither good nor bad, neither deserving of praise nor blame; a cameleon,\ncolourless kind of thing, the sport of external impulses and accidental\ncircumstances, or of a necessity in which it has itself no share. Thus\nthe responsibility of the mind has been taken from it, and transferred\nto outward circumstances, and all characters in themselves rendered\nalike indifferent. This is the necessary consequence of abstracting the\ninfluence of motives from the mind on which and by which they act. I\nprefer exceedingly to the modern instances of a couple of\nbilliard-balls, or a pair of scales, the illustration of Chrysophus, the\nstoic in Cicero, who says, \u2018Ille igitur qui protrusit cylindrum dedit ei\nprincipium motionis, volubilitatem autem non dedit: sic visum objectum\nimprimet quidem et quasi signabit in animo suam speciem, sed assensio\nerit in potestate nostr\u00e2.\u2019 That is, suppose I push against a heavy body;\nif it be square it will not move: if it be cylindrical it will. What the\ndifference of form is to the stone, the difference of disposition is to\nthe mind. In fact, the necessarians, to maintain this doctrine of the\nnullity of second causes, have been forced to consider every thing as a\nsuccession of simple impulses passing from hand to hand: so that there\nbeing no fixed point, no resting-place for the imagination, we are\nperpetually obliged to shift the cause from one object to another: every\nthing has to be accounted for, and referred back to something else, and\nin this ceaseless whirl of fleeting causes all ideas of power or agency\nseem to slide from under us. Lest the mind should prove refractory, to\nthe laws ascribed to it, they thought it most prudent to deprive it of\nall activity and power of resistance. They were very absurdly afraid\nthat without this their whole scheme might be overturned, as if though\nthe mind were freed from being the servile drudge of external impulses,\nit would not still follow the bent of its own nature. The above\ndistinction will, I conceive, set the mind free from one of the shackles\nimposed on it by the necessarians, namely, that imbecility,\nhelplessness, and indifference, which they have superadded to the\nregular connexion of cause and effect, though it makes no essential part\nof it. The mind, according to the advocates for free-will, is a\nperfectly detached, unconnected, independent cause: according to the\nnecessarians, it is no cause at all: neither branch of the antithesis is\ntrue.\n\n2. According to the definition of liberty above given, freedom, that is\nfree agency, is applicable to mind as well as to matter. Free-will does\nnot, because will does not, belong to it. By a free agent, I understand,\nwith Hobbes, one that is not hindered from acting according to his\nnatural or determinate bias. The body is free when it can obey the\nimpulse of the mind; so also a billiard-ball might be said to be free\nwhile it is not fixed to the table, or hindered from being impelled by\nthe stroke of the mace. In the same sense, the water, as Mr. Hobbes\nobserves, is said to descend freely along the channel of the river,\nwhile no obstacle intercepts its progress. But though necessarians allow\nliberty to the body, and to inanimate things, they deny that it is in\nany sense applicable to the mind or will.\n\n\n\n\n ON LOCKE\u2019S ESSAY ON THE HUMAN UNDERSTANDING\n\n\nThis work owes its present rank among philosophical productions, to its\nembodiment of the great principle first brought forward by Hobbes. All\nits author\u2019s attempts to modify this principle or reconcile it to common\nnotions have been gradually exploded, and have given place to the more\nsevere and logical deductions of Hobbes from the same general principle.\nMr. Locke took the faculties of the mind as he found them in himself and\nothers, and endeavoured to account for them on _a new principle_. By\nthis compromise with candour and common sense, he prepared the way for\nthe introduction of the principle, which being once established, very\nsoon overturned all the trite opinions and vulgar prejudices which were\nimproperly associated with it. There was in fact no place for them in\nthe new system.\n\nThe great defect with which the \u2018Essay on the Human Understanding\u2019 is\nchargeable is, that there is not really a word about the nature of the\nunderstanding in it, nor any attempt to show what it is or whether it is\nor is not any thing, distinct from the faculty of simple perception. The\noperations of thinking, comparing, discerning, reasoning, willing, and\nthe like, which Mr. Locke ascribes to it, are the operations of nothing,\nor of I know not what. All the force of his mind seems to have been so\nbent on exploding innate ideas, and tracing our thoughts to their\nexternal source, that he either forgot or had not leisure to examine\nwhat the internal principle of all thought is. He took for his basis a\nbad simile\u2014that the mind is like a blank sheet of paper, originally void\nof all characters whatever; for this, though true as far as relates to\ninnate ideas, that is, to any impressions actually existing in it, is\nnot true of the mind itself, which is not like a sheet of paper, the\npassive receiver and retainer of the impressions made upon it. The\ninference from this simile has however been that the understanding is\nnothing in itself, nor the cause of any thing; never acting, but always\nacted upon; that it is but a convenient repository for the straggling\nimages of things, a sort of empty room into which ideas are conveyed\nfrom without through the doors of the senses, as you would carry goods\ninto an unfurnished lodging; and hence it has been found necessary by\nsucceeding writers to get rid of those different faculties and\noperations which Mr. Locke elsewhere allows to belong to the mind, but\nwhich are in truth only compatible with the active powers and\nindependent nature of the understanding. I will first state Mr. Locke\u2019s\naccount of the origin of our ideas in his own words, and will then\nendeavour to show in what that account is defective; that is, what other\nact or faculty of the mind I conceive to be necessary to the formation\nof our ideas, besides sensation or simple perception. After employing\neighty pages in a very laborious, and for the most part sensible\nrefutation of the doctrine of innate ideas, which was popular at the\ntime, but which Hobbes has not deigned to notice, their impossibility\nbeing implied in the general principle that all our ideas are derived\nfrom the senses, Mr. Locke proceeds in the second book to treat of\nIdeas, and their origin. He then says:\n\n\u2018Every man being conscious to himself that he thinks, and that which his\nmind is applied about whilst thinking being the ideas that are there, it\nis past doubt that men have in their minds several ideas, such are those\nexpressed by the words, _whiteness_, _hardness_, _sweetness_,\n_thinking_, _motion_, _man_, _elephant_, _army_, _drunkenness_, and\nothers: it is in the first place then to be inquired how he comes by\nthem. I know it is a received doctrine that men have native ideas and\noriginal characters stamped upon their minds in their very first being.\nThis opinion I have at large examined already: but I suppose what I have\nsaid will be much more easily admitted when I have shewn whence the\nunderstanding may get all the ideas it has, and by what ways and degrees\nthey may come into the mind, for which I shall appeal to every one\u2019s own\nobservation and experience. Let us then suppose the mind to be, as we\nsay, white paper, void of all characters, without any ideas: how comes\nit to be furnished? Whence comes it by that vast store, which the busy\nand boundless fancy of man has painted on it, in an almost endless\nvariety? Whence has it all the materials of reason and knowledge? To\nthis I answer, in one word, from EXPERIENCE: in that all our knowledge\nis founded, and from that it ultimately derives itself....\n\n\u2018First, our senses, conversant about particular sensible objects, do\nconvey into the mind several distinct perceptions of things, according\nto those various ways, wherein those objects do affect them; and thus we\ncome by those ideas we have of _yellow_, _white_, _heat_, _cold_,\n_soft_, _hard_, _bitter_, _sweet_, and all those which we call sensible\nqualities, which when I say the senses convey into the mind, I mean,\nthey from external objects convey into the mind what produces there\nthose perceptions. This great source of most of the ideas we have,\ndepending wholly upon our senses, and derived by them to the\nunderstanding, I call SENSATION.\n\n\u2018Secondly, the other fountain from whence experience furnisheth the\nunderstanding with ideas, is the perception of the operations of our own\nmind within us, as it is employed about the ideas it has got: which\noperations when the soul comes to reflect on and consider, do furnish\nthe understanding with another set of ideas, which could not be had from\nthings without: and such are _perception_, _thinking_, _doubting_,\n_believing_, _reasoning_, _knowing_, _willing_, and all the different\nactings of our own minds; which we being conscious of, and observing in\nourselves, do from these receive into our understandings as distinct\nideas as we do from bodies affecting our senses. This source of ideas\nevery man has wholly in himself; and though it be not sense, as having\nnothing to do with external objects, yet it is very like it, and might\nproperly enough be called internal sense. But as I call the other\nsensation, so I call this REFLECTION; the ideas it affords being such\nonly as the mind gets by reflecting on its own operations within\nitself.... These two I say, _viz._ external, material things, as the\nobjects of sensation, and the operations of our own minds within as the\nobjects of REFLECTION, are to me the only originals from whence all our\nideas take their beginnings. The term _operations_ here I use in a large\nsense, as comprehending not barely the actions of the mind about its\nideas, but some sort of passions arising sometimes from them, such as is\nthe satisfaction or uneasiness arising from any thought.\u2019\n\n\u2018The understanding,\u2019 proceeds Mr. Locke, \u2018seems to me not to have the\nleast glimmering of any ideas, which it doth not receive from one of\nthese two. External objects furnish the mind with the ideas of sensible\nqualities, which are all those different perceptions they produce in us;\nand the mind furnishes the understanding with ideas of its own\noperations. These, when we have taken a full survey of them, and their\nseveral modes, combinations, and relations, we shall find to contain all\nour whole stock of ideas: and that we have nothing in our minds, which\ndid not come in one of these two ways.\u2019\u2014_Essay_, vol. I. p. 84.\n\nAgain, page 150, he says:\n\n\u2018I pretend not to teach but to inquire, and therefore cannot but confess\nhere again, that external and internal sensation are the only passages\nthat I can find of knowledge to the understanding. These alone, as far\nas I can discover, are the windows by which light is let into this dark\nroom. For methinks the understanding is not much unlike a closet, wholly\nshut from light, with only some little opening left, to let in external\nvisible resemblances, or ideas of things without: would the pictures\ncoming into such a dark room but stay there, and lie so orderly as to be\nfound upon occasion, it would very much resemble the understanding of a\nman in reference to all objects of sight, and the ideas of them.\u2019\n\nThis account of the origin of every thing that exists in the mind\ndiffers from the simplicity of Hobbes\u2019s system, and of the modern\nphilosophy, in supposing that there is another distinct source of ideas,\nbesides sensation, namely, reflection on the operations of our own\nminds. I confess this addition appears to me to be very awkwardly and\ninartificially made. For, in the first place, it is obvious to remark\nthat in most at least, if not all the instances enumerated by the\nauthor, the operations themselves are the proper and immediate sources\nof our ideas, not this kind of reflection on them, which seems to be\nnothing but the repetition or recollection of the first conscious\nimpression, the perception of a perception. For example, Mr. Locke\nincludes among operations of our own minds \u2018some sort of passions\narising from our ideas,\u2019 _i.e._ as he explains it, the sense of pleasure\nand pain. Now it is surely a little preposterous to make, not the\noriginal feeling itself, but the after consideration or reflection on\nthat feeling, the source of our idea of pleasure or pain. In this sense,\nreflection must be the source of all our ideas, whether of external\nobjects, or the operations of our own minds, for in the same sense it\nmay be argued, that the first impression of a sensible object is not the\nsource of the idea we have of it, till the soul comes to reflect on and\nconsider that original impression. But it might be said with equal\npropriety, that we have one source of ideas, viz., sensation, and\nanother source of ideas, viz. ideas. From the view which Mr. Locke has\nhere taken of the subject, though the passions, or the satisfaction and\nuneasiness attending certain things are ranked among the operations of\nthe mind, yet it is not quite clear whether we are supposed to have any\nconsciousness of them or not; whether they are not as remote from any\nthing like perception, as the lifeless objects without us, till coming\nto be afterwards reflected on and taken notice of by the mind, they\nfurnish the understanding with a new set of ideas. The same reasoning\nmay be applied to the other operations of perception, thinking, &c. for\nit seems to me that the original act of perceiving or thinking is the\nsource of my idea of those mental operations, just as the first\nimpression of any sensible object is the source of my idea of that\nobject. Not sensation and reflection, therefore, but sensation and the\noperations of our own minds are more properly the sources of our ideas,\nthat is, these two furnish materials for our reflection. I should not\nhave dwelt so long upon this distinction, which may be thought of little\nimportance in itself, but that I believe it has led to most of the\nerrors of the \u2018Essay.\u2019 For in consequence of separating the operations\nof the mind in a manner from the mind itself, and making them exist only\nas objects for its contemplation, Mr. Locke has been satisfied with\nconsidering those operations as acting upon the mind like external\nthings, not as emanating from it. Thus, by a general formula, all our\nideas of every kind are represented as communicated to the mind by\nsomething foreign to it, instead of growing out of, and being a part of\nits own nature and essence.\n\nSecondly, another objection to this division of our ideas into those of\nsensation and reflection is, that it does not differ in any decisive\nmanner from the more simple statement of Hobbes and others, who derive\nall our ideas from sensation. For by sensation these writers do not\nunderstand merely the external image, but the perception or feeling\nwhich accompanies it, and they contend that all our other ideas are\ncontinuations, modifications, or different arrangements of the original\nimpressions, produced by objects on the senses. Now there is nothing in\nthe extract above given to disprove this statement: and if so, the\noriginal hypothesis will remain in its full force. Indeed Mr. Locke\nhimself does not seem to have made up his mind, whether it were so or\nnot. For though he speaks of the mind as furnishing the understanding\nwith ideas, and with the materials of reason and knowledge, and\nenumerates and explains the several operations of the mind in comparing,\ndistinguishing, &c. yet he elsewhere speaks of ideas as existing in the\nunderstanding like pictures in a gallery, or as if the whole process of\nthe intellect were resolvable into the power of receiving, retaining,\ncarrying, and transposing the gross materials furnished by the senses.\nIn this case, I think the simplest way at once is to make sensation the\nfoundation of all our other ideas and faculties. For my own part, the\nreason why I cannot assent to this doctrine is, that I believe there is\nanother act or faculty of the mind implied in all our ideas, for which\nneither sensation nor any of its modes can ever account, and which I\nshall here proceed to explain.\n\nThe principle which I shall attempt to prove is, that ideas are the\noffspring of the understanding, not of the senses. By a sensation is\nmeant the perception produced by the impression of the several parts of\nan outward object, each by itself, on the correspondent parts of an\norganised sentient being: by an idea I mean the conception produced by a\nnumber of these together on the same conscious principle. Besides the\nsuccession or juxtaposition of different sensible impressions, I suppose\nthat there is a common principle of thought, a superintending faculty,\nwhich alone perceives the relations of things, and enables us to\ncomprehend their connexions, forms, and masses. This faculty is properly\nthe understanding, and it is by means of this faculty that man indeed\nbecomes a reasonable soul. What has led more than any thing else to the\nexclusion of the understanding as a distinct faculty of the mind, and to\nthe principle of resolving the acts of judging, reasoning, &c., into\nmere association, or succession of ideas, has been the considering ideas\nthemselves, or those particular objects which are marked by one name, or\nstrike at once upon the senses, as _simple things_. Mr. Locke, it is\ntrue, has avoided this error as far as relates to our ideas of\nsubstances, but he reckons among simple ideas of the qualities of things\nseveral ideas, which are evidently complex, such as extension, figure,\nmotion, and number. Hence, having laid in a certain stock of ideas\nwithout the necessity of the understanding, it was thought an easy\nmatter to build up the whole structure of the human mind without it, as\nwe build a house with stones. The method, therefore, which I shall take\nto establish the point I have in view, will be by showing that there is\nno one of these simple ideas, or ideas of particular things, which are\nmade the foundation of all the rest, that is not itself an aggregate of\nmany things, or that can subsist a moment but in the understanding. I\ncan conceive of a being endued with the power of sensation, or simple\nperception, so as to receive the direct impressions of things, and also\nwith memory, so as to retain them for any length of time, as they were\nseverally and unconnectedly presented, yet without the smallest degree\nof understanding, or without ever having so much as a single thought.\nThe state of such a being would be that of animal life, and something\nmore with the addition of memory, but it would not amount to intellect;\nwhich implies, besides actual, living impressions, the power of\nperceiving their relations to one another, of comparing and contrasting\nthem, and of regarding the different parts of any object as making one\nwhole. Without this \u2018discourse of reason,\u2019 this surrounding and forming\npower, we could never have the idea of a single object, as of a table or\na chair, a blade of grass, or a grain of sand. Every one of these\nincludes a certain configuration, hardness, colour, &c., _i.e._ ideas of\ndifferent things, received by different senses, which must be put\ntogether by the understanding before they can be referred to any\nparticular thing, or considered as one idea. Without this faculty, all\nour ideas would be necessarily decomposed, and crumbled down into their\noriginal elements and fluxional parts. We could assuredly never carry on\na chain of reasoning on any subject, for the very links of which this\nchain must consist would be ground to powder. There would be an infinite\ndivisibility in the impressions of the mind, as well as in the objects\nof matter. There would be a total want of union, fellowship, and mutual\nintelligence between them, for each impression must remain absolutely\nsimple and distinct, unknown to, and unconscious of the rest, shut up in\nthe narrow cell of its own individuality. No two of these atomic\nimpressions could ever club together to form even a sensible point, much\nless should we be able to arrive at any of the larger masses, or nominal\ndescriptions of things. The most that sensation could possibly do for\nus, would be to furnish us with the ideas of what Mr. Locke calls the\nsimple qualities of objects, as of colour or pressure, though not as a\ngeneral notion or diffused feeling; for it is certain that no one idea\ncould ever contain more than the tinge of a single ray of light, or the\npuncture of a single particle of matter. Let us, however, for a moment\nsuppose that the several parts of objects are to be considered as\nindividual things, or ideal units; and then see whether, without the\ncementing power of the understanding, we shall be able to conceive of\nthem as forming a complete whole, or any one entire object. Thus we may\nhave a notion of the legs and arms of a chair as so many distinct,\npositive things; but without the power of perceiving them together in\ntheir several proportions and situations, we could not have the idea of\na chair as one thing, or as a piece of furniture, intended for a\nparticular use. It is the mind (if I may be allowed such an expression)\nthat makes up the idea of the chair, and fits it together: that is in\nthis case the cabinet-maker, who unites the loose, disjointed parts, and\nmakes them one firm and well-compacted object. I might instance to the\nsame purpose a statue. Will any one say, that if the head and limbs and\ndifferent parts of a fine statue were to be taken asunder, broken in\npieces, and strewed about the floor, and first shown to him in that\nstate, he would have the same idea of the beauty, proportions, posture,\nand effect of the whole, as if he had seen it in its original state? But\nthe idea which such a person might have of the statue in this way would\nbe completeness and harmony itself, compared with any idea which could\nresult from the sensible impression of the several parts. For he might\nstill in fancy piece together the broken, mutilated fragments, prop up\nthe limbs, set the head upon the shoulders, and make out a crazy image\nof the whole; but without the understanding reacting on the senses, and\ninforming the eye with judgment and knowledge, there would be no\npossibility whatever of comparing the different impressions received: no\none part could have the slightest reference to any other part or to the\nwhole; there would be no principle of cohesion left: we might have an\ninfinite number of microscopic impressions and fractions of ideas, but\nthere being nothing to unite them together, the most perfect grace and\nsymmetry would be only one mass of unmeaning, unconscious confusion. All\nnature, all objects, all parts of all objects would be equally \u2018without\nform and void.\u2019 _The mind alone is formative_, to use the expression of\na great German writer; or it is that alone which by its pervading and\nelastic energy unfolds and expands our ideas, that gives order and\nconsistency to them, that assigns to every part its proper place, and\nfixes it there, and that frames the idea of the whole. Or, in other\nwords, it is the understanding alone that perceives relation, but every\nobject is made up of relation. In short, there is no object or idea\nwhich does not consist of a number of parts arranged in a certain\nmanner, but of this arrangement the parts themselves cannot be sensible.\nTo make each part conscious of its relation to the rest is to suppose an\ninfinite number of intellects instead of one; and to say that a\nknowledge or perception of each part separately, without a reference to\nthe rest, can produce a conception of the whole; that is, that a\nknowledge where no two impressions are or ever can be compared, can\ninclude a comparison between them and many others, is a contradiction\nand an absurdity.\n\nIt may be said perhaps, that not the sensation excited by any of the\nparts of an object separately, but the sum of our sensations, excited by\nall the parts, produces our idea of the whole. But it is not possible\nthat in a given number of impressions, where the mind never has\nperception of more than a single part, there should be contained\nnotwithstanding a view of the whole at once. For as a single part cannot\nof itself represent the whole object, so neither can this part by being\nactually joined to others, which by the supposition are never perceived\nto be joined with it, produce that idea, any more than if those other\nparts had no existence. If the impression of the parts of an object,\nabsolutely and individually considered, were the same thing as the idea\nof the object, any number of actual impressions, arranged in any manner\nwhatever, would necessarily be the same object. But this is contrary to\nall fact. For then a curve line, consisting of the same number of\npoints, would not be distinguishable from a straight one, nor a square\nfrom a triangle of the same dimensions, and so on. In a being endued\nonly with a power of sensation, and supposed to be simple and undivided,\nthere could be no room for more than an individual impression at once.\nOur sensations must always succeed each other. One thought must have\ncompletely passed away, before another could supply its place. Our ideas\nwould leave no traces of themselves, like the bubbles that rise and\ndisappear on the water, or the snow that melts as it falls. There would\nbe nothing in their fugitive, momentary existence to bind them together.\nEre we could stop to compare any one impression with any other, it would\nbe lost for ever in the dark abyss of time. Nothing could be connected\nwith any thing else, either coexisting with it, or going before or after\nit. If on the other hand, we suppose any merely sentient being to be\nextended and compounded, or to be capable of receiving more than one\nimpression at once, we shall yet gain little by it. Such a sentient\nbeing will be nothing but a number of distinct sentient beings. For as\nin the former instance, no two impressions could co-exist together, so\nin the latter, though they existed together, there could be no sort of\ncommunication between them. They would be absolutely cut off from and\nexclusive of each other. The mind in attending to any one must be wholly\nabsorbed by it, and insensible of the rest. Our sensations would to\nevery rational purpose be placed as completely out of the sphere of each\nother\u2019s consciousness, as if they were parcel of another intellect, or\nfloated in the region of the moon. That any number of detached,\nunconnected, actual sensations, impressed on different sentient beings,\nwould not of themselves imply a conception of any one entire object is\nwhat every one is ready to grant:\u2014it would be equally clear, that this\nidea could not arise from the impression of the different parts of an\nobject on the different parts of the same organized, extended, sentient\nsubstance, but that in this case we involuntarily transfer our own\nconsciousness to a being incapable of it, and identify these distinct\nsensible impressions in the same common intellect.\n\nIt is strange that Mr. Locke should rank among simple ideas that of\nnumber, which he defines to be the idea of unity repeated. But how this\nidea of successive or distinct units can ever give the idea of\nrepetition unless the former instances are borne in mind, I cannot\nconceive. There might be a transition from one unit to another, but no\naddition or aggregate formed. As well might we suppose that a body of an\ninch diameter by shifting from place to place might enlarge its\ndimensions to a foot or a mile, as that a succession of units, perceived\nseparately, should produce the complex idea of number. The natural fool\nthat Mr. Hobbes speaks of, may be supposed to observe every stroke of\nthe clock, and nod to it, or say one, one, one: but he could never know\nwhat hour it strikes, according to Mr. Hobbes, without the use of those\nnames of order, one, two, three, &c. nor according to my notion, without\nthe help of that orderly understanding which first invented those names,\nand comprehends their meaning. On the material hypothesis, the mind can\nhave but one idea at a time, and the idea of number could never enter\ninto it.\n\nThough Mr. Locke constantly supposes the mind to perceive relations, and\nexplains its operations in reasoning, comparing, &c. on this principle,\nthere is but one place in his work, in which he seems to have been upon\nthe point of discovering that this principle is at the bottom of all our\nideas whatever. He says, in the beginning of his chapter on Power, which\nhe classes among simple ideas, and which in my opinion has a much more\nsimple source than that which he assigns to it,\u2014\u2018I confess power\nincludes in it _some kind of relation_ (a relation to action or change),\nas indeed which of our ideas, of what kind soever, when attentively\nconsidered, does not? For our ideas of extension, duration, and number,\ndo they not all contain in them a secret relation of the parts? Figure\nand motion have something relative in them much more visibly: and\nsensible qualities, as colours and smells, what are they but the powers\nof different bodies in relation to our perception? and if considered in\nthe things themselves, do they not depend on the bulk, figure, texture,\nand motion of the parts? All which include some kind of relation in\nthem. Our idea therefore of power I think may well have a place amongst\nother simple ideas, and be considered as one of them, being one of those\nthat make a principal ingredient in our complex ideas of\nsubstances.\u2019\u2014_Essay_, vol. i. p. 234. That is to say, in other words,\nthe idea of power, which is confessedly complex according to Mr. Locke,\nas depending on the changes we observe produced in one thing by another,\nis to pass for a simple idea, because it has as good a right to this\ndenomination as other complex ideas, which are usually classed as simple\nones. It is thus that the inquiring mind seems to be always hovering on\nthe brink of truth, but that timidity or indolence, or prejudice, which\nis both combined, makes us shrink back, unwilling to trust ourselves to\nthe fathomless abyss.\n\nI have thus endeavoured to give some account of what I mean by the\nunderstanding, as the principle which is the foundation not only of\njudgment, reason, choice, and deliberate action, but is included in\nevery idea of the mind, or conception even of sensible objects. I am\naware that what I have said may be looked upon as rhapsody and\nextravagance by the strictest sect of those who are called philosophers.\nThe understanding has been set aside as an awkward incumbrance, since it\nwas conceived practicable to carry on the whole business of thought and\nreason by a succession of external images and sensible points. The fine\nnetwork of the mind itself, the cords that bind and hold our scattered\nperceptions together, and form the means of communication between them,\nare dissolved and vanish before the clear light of modern metaphysics,\nas the gossamer is dissipated by the sun. The adepts in this system\nsmile at the contradictions involved in the supposition of perceiving\nthe relations between different things, and say that this implies the\nabsurdity that the mind may have two ideas at once, which is with them\nimpossible. Now I shall only contend that if the mind cannot have two\nideas at the same time, it can never have any, since all the ideas we\nknow of consist of more than one: and though the consciousness we have\nof attending to different objects at once, when we compare, judge,\nreason, will, &c., has been resolved into a deception of the mind in\nmistaking a rapid succession of objects for one general impression, yet\nit will hardly be pretended that we deceive ourselves in thinking we\nhave any ideas at all. Mr. Horne Tooke, who is certainly one of the\nablest commentators on the doctrines of that school, says that it is as\nabsurd to talk of a complex idea as of a complex star, meaning that our\nideas are as perfectly distinct from, and have as little to do with one\nanother, as the stars that compose a constellation. Other writers, to\navoid the seeming contradiction of supposing the mind to divide its\nattention between different objects, have suggested the instant of its\npassing from one to the other as the true point of comparison between\nthem; or that the time when it had an idea of both together, was the\ntime when it had an idea of neither. As it was evident that while the\nmind was entirely taken up with one idea, it could not have any\nknowledge of another which did not yet exist, or had passed away, and as\nboth impressions cannot be supposed to co-exist in the same conscious\nunderstanding (for on this system there is no such faculty), this short,\nprecious interval, this moment of leisure from both, this lucky vacancy\nof thought, is pitched upon as that in which the mind performs all its\nfunctions, and contemplates its various ideas in their absence, as from\nsome vantage ground the traveller stops to survey the country on both\nsides of him. To such absurdities are ingenious men driven by setting up\nargument against fact, and denying the most obvious truths for which\nthey cannot account, like the sophist who denied the existence of\nmotion, because he could not understand its nature. It might be deemed a\nsufficient answer to those who build systems and lay down formal\npropositions on the principle that the mind can comprehend but one idea\nat a time, to say that they consequently can have no meaning in what\nthey write, since when they begin a sentence they cannot have the least\nidea of what will be the end of it, and by the time they get to the end\nof it must totally forget the beginning. \u2018Peace to all such!\u2019\n\nTo show, however, that I am not quite singular in my notions on this\nsubject of consciousness, and to remove, as I think, every shadow of\ndoubt upon it, I beg leave to refer my readers to two passages, the one\nin Rousseau, and the other in Abraham Tucker, in support of the almost\nobsolete prejudice which I have here endeavoured to defend. The one is\nan argument to prove that judgment and sensation are not the same, in\nthe Vicar\u2019s profession of faith in \u2018Emilius,\u2019 and the other is the\nchapter on the independent existence of mind in the \u2018Light of Nature\nPursued.\u2019\n\nThe passage in Rousseau seems evidently to have been intended as an\nanswer to the maxim of Helvetius that _to feel is to judge_, and to his\nreasoning on this maxim, which is as follows:\u2014\n\n\u2018The question being reduced within these limits, I shall examine at\npresent whether the act of the mind in judging is any thing more than a\nsensation. When I judge of the size or colour of the objects around me,\nit is evident that the judgment formed of the different impressions,\nwhich these objects make upon my senses, is properly only a sensation:\nthat I may say indiscriminately, either I _judge_, or I _feel_, that of\ntwo objects, the one which I call _a yard_ makes upon me a different\nimpression from another which I call _a foot_: that the colour called\n_red_, produces a different effect upon the sight from that which I call\n_yellow_; and I conclude that in this case to judge is only to feel or\nperceive by the senses. But it may be said, let us suppose that any one\ndesires to know whether strength of body is preferable to mere bulk; are\nwe certain that we can decide this point by means of the senses alone?\nMost undoubtedly, I reply: for in order to my coming to a decision on\nthe subject, my memory must first retrace to me successively the\ndifferent situations in which I may happen most frequently to find\nmyself in the course of my life. In this case, then, to judge is to see\nthat in these different situations strength will be oftener an advantage\nto me than size. But it may be retorted, when the question is to decide\nwhether in a king justice is preferable to mercy, is it conceivable that\nthe conclusion here formed depends entirely on sensation? The\naffirmative has undoubtedly at first sight the air of a paradox:\nnevertheless, in order to establish its truth, we will presuppose in any\none a knowledge of what is meant by good and evil, and also of the\nprinciple that one action is worse than another, according as it is more\ninjurious to the well-being of society. On this supposition, what method\nought the orator or poet to take, in order to show most clearly that\njustice, preferable in a king to mercy, preserves the greatest number of\ncitizens to the state?\n\n\u2018The orator will present three several pictures to the imagination of\nhis supposed hearer: in the first he will represent a just king, who\ncondemns and gives orders for the execution of a criminal; in the\nsecond, will be seen the good king, who opens the doors of his dungeon,\nand strikes off the chains of the same criminal; in the third picture,\nthe criminal himself will be the principal figure, who, armed with a\nponiard, on his escape from his cell hastens to assassinate fifty of his\nfellow-citizens. But who is there that at the sight of these three\npictures will not instantly perceive that justice which, by the death of\na single individual, saves the lives of fifty persons, is preferable to\nmercy? Nevertheless, this judgment is really nothing but a sensation. In\nfact, if from the habit of connecting certain ideas with certain words,\nthe sound of these words may, as experience demonstrates, excite in us\nalmost the same sensations which we should feel from the actual presence\nof the objects, it is evident that from the contemplation of these three\npictures, to judge that in a king justice is preferable to mercy, is to\nfeel and see that in the first picture a single citizen is sacrificed,\nwhile in the third fifty are massacred; whence I conclude that every act\nof the judgment is only a sensation.\u2019\u2014_Helvetius on the Mind_, p. 12.\n\nOn this statement I may be permitted to remark that as the author\naffirms that sensation is the same thing as judgment, so he seems to\nconceive that the assertion of any proposition is the same thing as the\nproof of it. He supposes three several pictures to be presented to a man\nof understanding, and that from an attentive contemplation and\ncomparison of the different objects and events contained in them, he\ncomes to a judgment or conclusion, _viz._ _That justice is preferable to\nmercy_. \u2018Nevertheless,\u2019 he says, \u2018this judgment is really nothing but a\nsensation.\u2019 This is all the proof he brings; and perhaps, considering\nthe language and country in which this celebrated author wrote, it is\nreasoning good enough. Do I say this with any view to throw contempt on\nthat lively, ingenious, gay, social, and polished people? No; but\nphilosophy is not their _forte_: they are not in earnest in these remote\nspeculations. In order duly to appreciate their writings, we must\nconsider them not as the dictates of the understanding, but as the\neffects of constitution. Otherwise we shall do them great injustice.\nThey pursue truth, like all other things, as far as it is agreeable;\nthey reason for their amusement; they engage in abstruse questions to\nvary the topics of conversation. Whatever does not answer this purpose\nis banished out of books and society as a morose and cynical philosophy.\nTo obtrude the dark and difficult parts of a question, or to enter into\nan elaborate investigation of them, is considered as a piece of\nill-manners. Those writers, therefore, have been the most popular among\nthe French who have supplied their readers with the greatest number of\ndazzling conclusions founded on the most slight and superficial\nevidence, whose reasonings could be applied to every thing, because they\nexplained nothing, and who most effectually kept out of sight every\nthing true or profound or interesting in a question. Who would ever\nthink of plunging into abstruse, metaphysical inquiries concerning the\nnature of the understanding, when he may with entire ease to himself and\nsatisfaction to others solve all the phenomena of the mind by repeating\nin three words, _Juger est sentir_. As it was the object of the\nschool-philosophy, by a jargon of technical distinctions, to sharpen the\neagerness of debate and give birth to endless verbal controversies, so\nthe modern system, transferring philosophy from the cloistered hall to\nthe toilette and the drawing-room, is calculated, by a set of portable\nphrases, as familiar and as current as the forms of salutation, to\nsilence every difference of opinion, and to produce an euthanasia of all\nthought. I have made these remarks not to prejudice the question, but to\nprevent the prejudice arising on the other side, from seeing the writers\nof a whole nation, not deficient in natural talents or in acquired\nadvantages, agree in delivering the most puerile absurdities as profound\nand oracular truths.\n\nThe train of thought into which the author has fallen in the passage\nabove cited is pretty obvious. Having undertaken to prove that the ideas\nof justice and mercy are mere sensations, and that the conclusion that\njustice is preferable to mercy is also a mere sensation, in order to\nshew the possibility of this he conjures up the ideas of a good and a\nbad king, of a criminal, a prison, chains, a dagger, and fifty citizens\nmassacred before the eyes of the spectator, which form the subject of\nthree imaginary pictures, and which are in general considered as so many\nsensible objects. All these sensible objects he supposes to be implied\nin, and to be the materials out of which we frame the judgment or\nconclusion, that justice is better than mercy; and therefore he infers\nthat there is nothing else implied in or necessary to that judgment, and\nthat consequently it is nothing but a sensation. Having succeeded in\nresolving the compound and general ideas of justice and mercy, good and\nevil, into a number of sensible appearances, his imagination is entirely\noccupied with the novelty of the objects before him, and he drops\naltogether the consideration, whether the combination and comparison of\nthese several objects or sensations which is absolutely necessary to\ntheir forming the moral ideas or inference spoken of, is not the act of\nsome other faculty. In short, the principle that a judgment is nothing\nbut a sensation, is not only a perfectly gratuitous assertion, but an\nassertion either without meaning, or a palpable contradiction. For the\nsingle objects presented in the foregoing metaphysical pictures, and\nwhich are supposed to constitute the judgment, are not one sensation,\nbut many. Now if it be meant that these single objects, as they are\nperceived separately, or successively, one by one, without the\nintervention of any reflex act of the mind combining and comparing them\ntogether, constitute of themselves the judgment, \u2018that justice is\npreferable to mercy,\u2019 this is to say, in so many words, that the mind\nforms a comparison between things without comparing them, and judges of\ntheir relations without perceiving them. On the other hand, if it be\nmeant to include the acts of the mind in comparing, judging, inferring,\n&c. in the term _sensation_, then the proposition that judgment or\nsensation are the same, will be nothing but an idle and insignificant\nabuse of words, and will only prove that if to the sensation, or\nperception of particular objects we add the faculty of comparing and\njudging, nothing farther will be necessary for it to compare and judge.\nI shall therefore dismiss this well known maxim as no better than a\nmisnomer, as an attempt to shorten the labour of thought by the\ninterposition of an unmeaning phrase, and to confound all the\ndistinctions of the understanding by an equivoque.\n\nIt will not be amiss in this place to transcribe a passage from the\nLogic of the Abb\u00e9 Condillac (a work which may be regarded as the\nquintessence of slender thought, and of the art of substituting words\nfor things) to show how far the doctrine of the origin of all our ideas\nfrom sensation may be carried, and what an imbecility it produces in the\nmind, and deadness to any but external objects. The design of the\npassage is to prove that morality is a visible thing. This however is a\nwork of supererogation, even on the principle supposed: for it is not\nnecessary to refer morality to any thing visible or audible, or to any\nother of the senses, but the sense of pleasure and pain; our feelings of\nthis kind being allowed to come from, and make a part of our original\nsensations. But this system is not an improvement on reason, but a\nprogression in superficiality and absurdity, a vast vacuity, where\n\u2018fluttering its pennons vain, the mind drops down ten thousand fathoms\ndeep.\u2019\n\n\u2018Moral ideas,\u2019 says my author, \u2018seem to elude the senses: they at least\nelude the senses of those philosophers who deny that our knowledge\nproceeds from sensation. They would gladly know of what colour virtue\nis, or of what colour vice is. I answer that virtue consists in the\nhabitual performance of good actions, as vice consists in the habitual\nperformance of bad ones. Now these habits and these actions are visible.\n\n\u2018What, then, is the morality of actions a thing which falls under the\ncognizance of the senses! Wherefore should it not? Morality depends\nsolely on the conformity between our actions and the laws; but these\nactions are visible, and the laws are so equally, since they are certain\nconventions made by men.\n\n\u2018But it will be said, if the laws are only things of convention, they\nmust be altogether arbitrary. They may indeed be sometimes arbitrary;\nthere are but too many such laws; but those which determine whether our\nactions are good or bad, are not so, nor can they be so. They are the\nwork of man, it is true, because they are conventions which we have\nmade; nevertheless, we alone have not made them: nature made them as\nwell as we, she dictated them to us, and it was not in our power to make\nothers. The wants and the faculties of man being given, the laws which\nare to regulate his conduct must necessarily follow: and though we\nenacted them, God who has created us with such wants and such faculties,\nis in truth our sole legislator. In obeying the laws which are\nconformable to our nature, we render obedience to him who is the author\nof our nature; and this is that which perfects the morality of\nactions.\u2019\u2014Page 56.\n\nFor a work entitled Logic, there are a pleasant number of contradictions\nin this passage. To pass over many of them, if the laws here spoken of\nare such merely in consequence of their being visible, then all visible\nobjects are laws, and all laws are equally moral. But no! there are some\narbitrary laws. Now if the goodness of the law depends on their\nconformity to our wants and faculties, neither of these are visible, any\nmore than God who is said to be our only lawgiver. So that \u2018the latter\nend of this system of law and divinity forgets the beginning.\u2019 That\nthose actions are moral which are conformable to a moral law, and that\nthose laws are moral, which are agreeable to our nature and wants, may\nbe readily admitted: but I cannot myself think that this conformity is\nan object of the senses, or that the true features of morality can ever\nbe discerned but by the eye of the understanding. The friends of\nmorality, it seems, according to our author, are not to despair, or to\nsuppose that the distinctions of right and wrong are banished entirely\nout of the material system. They only become more clear and legible than\never; we are still right in asserting virtue to have a real existence,\nnamely, on paper, and in supposing that we have some idea of it, as\nconsisting of the letters of the alphabet. Almost in the same manner,\nMr. Horne Tooke very gravely defines the essence of _law_ and _just_,\nfrom the etymology of these words, to consist in their being something\n_laid down_, and something _ordered_ (_jussum_); and when pressed by the\ndifficulty that there are many things laid down and ordered which are\nneither laws nor just, he makes answer that their obligation depends on\na higher species of law and justice, to wit, a law which is no where\nlaid down, and a justice which is no where ordered, except indeed by the\nnature of things, on which the etymology of these two words does not\nseem to throw any light.\n\nOn all the other points of the modern metaphysical system, such as the\nnature of abstraction, judgment and reasoning, the materiality of the\nsoul, free-will, the association of ideas, &c. Mr. Locke either halts\nbetween two opinions, or else takes the common-place side of the\nquestion. The motion of the system, which bears his name and which by\nthis very delay gained all that it wanted to become popular, was\nretrograde in him, not progressive. The extracts I am about to give from\nhis work will I think establish this point. They will at the same time\nshow him to be a man of strong practical sense, of much serious thought\nand inquiry, and considerable freedom of opinion, and a real lover of\ntruth, though not so bold and systematic a reasoner, or so great a\ndealer in paradoxes as some others. Moderation, caution, a wish to\nexamine every side of a question, and an unwillingness to decide till\nafter the most mature and circumspect investigation, and then only\naccording to the clearness of the evidence, seem to have been the\ncharacteristics of his mind, none of which denote the daring innovator,\nor maker of a system. What there is of system in his work is Hobbes\u2019s,\nas I have already shown: the deviations from its common sense and\ngeneral observation are his own. There is throughout his reasoning the\nsame contempt for the schoolmen, and the same preference of native,\nrustic reason to learned authority: the same notion of the necessity for\nreforming the system of philosophy, and of the possibility of doing this\nby a more exact use of words: there is the same dissatisfaction with the\nprevailing system, but he at the same time entertained doubts of his\nown. What he wanted was confidence and decision. The prolixity and\nambiguity of his style seem to have arisen from this source: for he is\nnever weary of examining and re-examining the same objection, and he\nstates his arguments with so many limitations and with such a variety of\nexpression to prevent misapprehension, that it is often difficult to\nguess at his real meaning. There is it must be confessed a sort of\nheaviness about him, a want of clearness and connection, which in spite\nof all his pains, and the real plodding strength of his mind he was\nnever able to overcome. To return to his account of complex ideas: the\nbeginning of his observations on this subject is as follows:\n\n\u2018We have hitherto considered those ideas, in the reception whereof the\nmind is only passive, which are those simple ones received from\nsensation and reflection before mentioned, whereof the mind cannot make\none to itself, nor have any idea which does not consist wholly of them.\nBut as the mind is wholly passive in the reception of all its simple\nideas, so it exerts several acts of its own, whereby out of its simple\nideas, as the materials and foundations of the rest, the other are\nframed. The acts of the mind wherein it exerts its power over its simple\nideas, are chiefly these three.\n\n\u20181. Combining several simple ideas into one compound one, and thus all\ncomplex ideas are made. 2. The second is bringing two ideas, whether\nsimple or complex, together, and setting them by one another, so as to\ntake a view of them at once, without uniting them into one; in which way\nit gets all its ideas of _relations_. 3. The third is separating them\nfrom all other ideas that accompany them in their real existence; this\nis called _abstraction_: and thus all its general ideas are made. This\nshows man\u2019s power to be much about the same in the material and\nintellectual world: for the materials in both being such as he has no\npower over, either to make or destroy, all that man can do is either to\nunite them together, or to set them by one another, or wholly to\nseparate them.\u2019\u2014Vol. i. p. 151.\n\nThe first great point which Mr. Locke labours to prove in his Essay, is\nthat there are no innate ideas, which he seems to have established very\nfully and clearly, if indeed so obvious a truth required any formal\ndemonstration. His chief proofs are from the case of a man born blind,\nwho has no idea of colours, and from the ignorance which children and\nidiots have of those first principles and universal maxims, which some\nphilosophers and theologians, confounding the faculties of the mind with\nactual impressions, had supposed to be legibly engraven on the mind by\nthe hand of its author. For the supposing the understanding to be a\ndistinct faculty of the mind no more proves our ideas to be innate, than\nthe allowing perception to be a distinct original faculty of the mind,\nwhich everybody does, proves that there must be innate sensations. These\ntwo positions have, however, been sometimes considered as convertible by\nthe partisans on both sides of the question; the one arguing from the\nexistence of the soul and the power of thought to the positive\nperception of certain truths, and the others concluding that by denying\nany original inherent impressions, they had overturned the supposition\nof the different faculties and powers which must be in the mind, to\naccount for the first production or subsequent modification of sensation\nor of thought. For instance, it has been made a consequence of the\ndoctrine that there were no innate ideas, that there could be no such\nthing as genius, or an original difference of capacity; as if the\ncapacity were not perfectly distinct from the actual impressions by the\nvery theory itself, and as if there might not be a difference in the\ncapacity of acquiring ideas as all experience shows, though none in the\nknowledge acquired, because this capacity had never yet been exerted. As\nwell might we argue that of two houses that are just built one is as\ncommodious and capacious as the other, as well fitted for the reception\nof guests and the disposal of furniture, because at present neither of\nthem is furnished or inhabited.\n\nThe following passages will show the manner in which our author treats\nthis part of his subject:\n\n\u2018The child certainly knows that the nurse that feeds it is neither the\ncat it plays with, nor the blackamoor it is afraid of: that the wormseed\nor mustard it refuses is not the apple or sugar it cries for; this it is\ncertainly and undoubtedly assured of: but will any one say it is by\nvirtue of this principle, _That it is impossible for the same thing to\nbe and not to be_, that it so firmly assents to these and other parts of\nits knowledge? Or that the child has any notion or apprehension of that\nproposition at an age, wherein yet, it is plain, it knows a great many\nother truths? He that will say, children join these several abstract\nspeculations with their sucking bottles and their rattles, may perhaps\nwith justice be thought to have more passion and zeal for his opinion,\nbut less sincerity and truth than one of that age. Though therefore\nthere be several general propositions that meet with constant and ready\nassent as soon as proposed to men grown up, who have attained the use of\nmore general and abstract ideas, and names standing for them, yet they\nnot being to be found in those of tender years, who nevertheless know\nother things, they cannot pretend to universal assent of intelligent\npersons, and so by no means can be supposed innate: it being impossible,\nthat any truth which is innate (if there were any such) should be\nunknown, at least to any one who knows any thing else. Since if they are\ninnate truths, they must be innate thoughts; there being nothing a truth\nin the mind which it has never thought on.\n\n\u2018That the general maxims we are discoursing of, are not known to\nchildren, idiots, and a great part of mankind, we have already\nsufficiently proved. But there is this farther argument against their\nbeing innate, that these characters, if they were native and original\nimpressions, should appear fairest and clearest in those persons in whom\nyet we find no footsteps of them. And it is in my opinion a strong\npresumption that they are not innate, since they are least known to\nthose in whom if they were innate, they must need exert themselves with\nmost force and vigour. For children, idiots, savages, and illiterate\npeople being of all others the least corrupted by custom or borrowed\nopinion, learning or education having not cast their native thoughts\ninto new moulds, nor by superinducing foreign and studied doctrines,\nconfounded those fair characters nature had written there; one might\nreasonably imagine that in their minds these innate notions should lie\nopen fairly to every one\u2019s view, as it is certain the thoughts of\nchildren do. One would think according to these men\u2019s principles that\nall these native beams of light (were there any such) should in those\nwho have no reserves, no acts of concealment, shine out in their full\nlustre, and leave us in no more doubt of their being there than we are\nof their love of pleasure and abhorrence of pain. But alas, amongst\nchildren, idiots, savages, and the grossly illiterate, what general\nmaxims are to be found? What universal principle of knowledge? Their\nnotions are few and narrow, borrowed only from those objects they have\nhad most to do with, and which have made upon their senses the\nfrequentest and strongest impressions. A child knows his nurse and his\ncradle, and by degrees the playthings of a little more advanced age; and\na young savage has perhaps his head filled with love and hunting,\naccording to the fashion of his tribe. But he that from a child\nuntaught, or a wild inhabitant of the woods will expect these abstract\nmaxims and reputed principles of science, will I fear find himself\nmistaken. Such kind of general propositions [as that which is, is; and\nthat it is impossible for the same thing to be and not to be] are seldom\nmentioned in the huts of Indians, much less are they to be found in the\nthoughts of children, or any impressions of them on the minds of\nnaturals. They are the language and business of the schools and\nacademies of learned nations, accustomed to that sort of conversation or\nlearning, where disputes are frequent: these maxims being suited to\nartificial argumentation, and useful for conviction, but not much\nconducing to the discovery of truth, or advancement of knowledge.\u2019\n\nI do not know that Mr. Locke has sufficiently distinguished between two\nthings which I cannot very well express otherwise than by a turn of\nwords, namely, an innate knowledge of principles, and innate principles\nof knowledge. His arguments seem to me conclusive against the one, but\nnot against the other, for I think that there are certain general\nprinciples or forms of thinking, something like the moulds in which any\nthing is cast, according to which our ideas follow one another in a\ncertain order, though the knowledge, _i.e._, perception of what these\nprinciples are, and the forming them into distinct propositions is the\nresult of experience. It is true, the child distinguishes between its\nnurse and the blackamoor, between bitter and sweet: what hinders it from\nconfounding them? The ideas of _same_ and _different_ are not included\nin these ideas themselves, nor are they peculiar to any of them, but\ngeneral terms. What then determines the child to annex them uniformly to\ncertain things and not to others? It is plain then, that our ideas are\nnot at liberty to run into clusters as they please or as it happens, but\nare regulated by certain laws, to which they must conform; or that the\nmanner in which we conceive of things does not depend simply on the\nparticular nature of the things, but on the general nature of the\nunderstanding. Mr. Locke is clear for certain innate practical\nprinciples or general tendencies regulating all our actions, namely, the\nlove of pleasure, and aversion to pain. He does not however admit, as I\ncan find, of any thing similar to the operations of the understanding.\nThe analogy, notwithstanding, holds exactly the same in both cases. For\nthe child is no more conscious of any such general practical principle\nregulating all his desires, than of any speculative principle regulating\nhis notion of things: he gets the idea of both from experience of their\neffects; but I think that if there were no such principles in the mind\nitself, previous to the actual impression of objects, and merely\ndeveloped or called into action by them, we must be perfectly\nindifferent both to the reception of pleasure and pain, as we should\nfeel no more repugnance to admit one conclusion than another, however\nabsurd or contradictory. The necessity we are under of perceiving\ncertain agreements or disagreements between our ideas is as much, and in\nthe same sense, the foundation of judgment and reasoning, as the general\ndesire of happiness and aversion to misery is the foundation of\nmorality.\n\nThis property of the understanding, by which certain judgments,\nnaturally follow certain perceptions, and are followed by other\njudgments, is the faculty of reason, of order and proportion in the\nmind, and is indeed nothing but the understanding acting by rule or\nnecessity. The long controversy between Locke and Leibnitz with respect\nto innate ideas turned upon the distinction here stated, innate ideas\nbeing thus referred not to the actual impressions of objects, but to the\nforms or moulds existing in the mind, and in which those impressions are\ncast. Leibnitz contended that there was a germ or principle of truth, a\npre-established harmony between its innate faculties and its acquired\nideas, implied in the essence of the mind itself. According to the one\nit was like a piece of free stone, which the mason hews with equal ease\nin all directions, and into any shape, as circumstances require:\naccording to the other, it resembles a piece of marble strongly\ningrained, with the figure of a man, or other animal, inclosed in it,\nand which the sculptor has only to separate from the surrounding mass.\n\nI will add one more passage to draw the attention of my readers to this\nintricate subject, and to show that the difficulties surrounding it were\nnot completely cleared up or even apprehended by the author of the\n\u2018Essay.\u2019\n\n\u2018Hath a child,\u2019 he says, \u2018an idea of impossibility and identity, before\nit has of white or black, sweet or sour? Or is it from the knowledge of\nthis principle that it concludes that wormwood rubbed on the nipple hath\nnot the same taste that it used to receive from thence? Is it the actual\nknowledge of _Impossibile est idem esse et non esse_ that makes a child\ndistinguish between its mother and a stranger, or that makes it fond of\nthe one, and fly the other? Or does the mind regulate itself and its\nassent by ideas that it never had? Or the understanding draw conclusions\nfrom principles which it never yet knew or understood? The names\n_impossibility_ and _identity_ stand for two ideas, so far from being\ninnate, or born with us, that I think it requires great care and\nattention to form them right in our understandings. They are so far from\nbeing brought into the world with us, so remote from the thoughts of\ninfancy and childhood, that I believe upon examination it will be found\nthat many grown men want them.\n\n\u2018If identity (to instance in that alone) be a native impression, and\nconsequently so clear and obvious to us that we must needs know it even\nfrom our cradles; I would gladly be resolved by one of seven or seventy\nyears old, Whether a man, being a creature consisting of soul and body,\nbe the same man when his body is changed? Whether Euphorbus and\nPythagoras, having had the same soul, were the same man, though they\nlived several ages asunder? Nay, whether the cock too, which had the\nsame soul, were not the same with both of them? Whereby perhaps it will\nappear that our idea of sameness is not so settled and clear as to\ndeserve to be thought innate in us. For if those innate ideas are not so\nclear and distinct as to be universally known and naturally agreed on,\nthey cannot be subjects of universal and undoubted truths, but will be\nthe unavoidable occasion of perpetual uncertainty. For I suppose every\none\u2019s idea of identity will not be the same that Pythagoras and thousand\nothers of his followers have: and which then shall be true, which\ninnate? Or are these two different ideas of identity both innate?\u2019\u2014Page\n60.\n\nTwo things are obvious to remark on this passage. First, it seems clear\nthat the child, before it can pronounce that one thing is or is not the\nsame as another, must have the idea of what _same_ is, _i.e._ of\nidentity: or it would be impossible for it to know what is or is not the\nsame. This idea, then, is necessarily included in or the result of the\nfirst comparison it is able to make between any two of its impressions\nas alike or unlike. Secondly, the difficulty of determining the question\nproposed by Mr. Locke does not arise from the meaning of the word\n_identity_, but of the word _man_. For if this is once clear and\nsettled, there will be no great effort of the understanding required to\ndetermine whether a man is the same or not. They define him to be a\ncreature consisting of body and soul, and it is plain that if one of\nthese, the body, is altered, the man is not the same. The whole\nquestion, therefore, here seems to turn on deciding what qualities are\nessential to the idea of man, so that by keeping or leaving out some, he\nwill or will not retain his identity, in the practical and moral sense\nof the term. It is the complex and general idea of man that the child\nwants, not that of identity or sameness which is reflected to it from\nevery object it meets, and which it perceives to agree or disagree with\nsome other.\n\nIn a note to one of the chapters on Innate Ideas, there is some account\nof the controversy between our author and the Bishop of Worcester\n(Stillingfleet) on the question whether the idea of a God be innate and\nuniversal. The Bishop is anxious to have the universal belief in a Deity\nunderstood in a strict sense, while Mr. Locke thinks it must be reduced\nto a very great and decided majority, there being instances of whole\nnations without this idea. \u2018This,\u2019 he says \u2018is all the universal consent\nwhich truth of matter-of-fact will allow; and therefore all that can be\nmade use of to prove a God. I would crave leave to ask your lordship,\nwere there ever in the world any atheists or no? For if any one deny a\nGod, such a perfect universality of consent is destroyed, and if nobody\ndoes deny a God, what need of arguments to convince atheists?\u2019\u2014Page 63.\nThis is the acutest turn he has any where given to an argument.\n\nThe concluding passage of his account of innate ideas is worth quoting.\nIt is a good description of the true spirit of philosophy, inclining a\nlittle too much to self-opinion, from which, perhaps, it is not easily\nseparable:\n\n\u2018What censure doubting thus of innate principles may deserve from men\nwho will be apt to call it pulling up the old foundations of knowledge\nand certainty, I cannot tell; I persuade myself at least that the way I\nhave pursued, being conformable to truth, lays those foundations surer.\nThis I am certain, I have not made it my business to quit or follow any\nauthority in the ensuing discourse; truth has been my only aim; and\nwherever that has appeared to lead, my thoughts have impartially\nfollowed without minding whether the footsteps of any other lay that way\nor no. Not that I want a due respect to other men\u2019s opinions; but after\nall the greatest reverence is due to truth; and I hope it will not be\nthought arrogance to say, that perhaps we should make greater progress\nin the discovery of rational and contemplative knowledge, if we sought\nit in the fountain, _in the consideration of things themselves_, and\nmade use rather of our own thoughts than other men\u2019s to find it. For I\nthink we may as rationally hope to see with other men\u2019s eyes, as to know\nby other men\u2019s understandings. So much as we ourselves consider and\ncomprehend of truth and reason, so much we possess of real and true\nknowledge. The floating of other men\u2019s opinions in our brains makes us\nnot one jot the more knowing, though they happen to be true. What in\nthem was science, is in us but opiniatrety, whilst we give up our assent\nonly to reverend names, and do not, as they did, employ our own reason\nto understand those truths which gave them reputation. Aristotle was\ncertainly a knowing man; but nobody ever thought him so, because he\nblindly embraced and confidently vented the opinions of another. And if\nthe taking up of another\u2019s principles, without examining them, made not\nhim a philosopher, I suppose it will hardly make any body else so. In\nthe sciences, every one has so much as he really knows and comprehends:\nwhat he believes only and takes upon trust, are but shreds, which\nhowever well in the whole piece, make no considerable addition to his\nstock who gathers them. Such borrowed wealth, like fairy money, though\nit were gold in the hand from which he received it, will be but leaves\nand dust when it comes to use.\u2019\u2014Page 80.\n\nIn treating of the origin of our ideas, Mr. Locke labours to prove that\nmen think not always:\u2014thinking, according to him, being to the soul what\nmotion is to the body; not its essence, but one of its operations. In\nthis opinion he may, as far as I know, be right: but I think his proof\nof it drawn from the effects of sleep fails. The reason why I think so\nis that I was never awakened suddenly but I found myself dreaming,\nthough in the interval required to awake gradually from sleep we\nfrequently forget our dreams before we are quite awake, the impressions\nwhich objects have time to make upon our bodies taking place of and\nobliterating the faint traces of our sleeping thoughts. The common\nnotion that the mind is then most awake when the body is asleep,\ndeserves the contempt with which Mr. Locke treats it. It is one of the\nabsurdities of _common sense_, which is not entirely free from them any\nmore than philosophy. Those who can find any argument in favour of the\nimmaterial nature and independent powers of the soul in the sublime\nflights which it takes when emancipated from the intrusion of sensible\nobjects must have finer dreams than I have. It would be well for this\nopinion if we could regularly forget the next morning the smart\nrepartees, magnificent sentiments and profound remarks we so often dream\nwe make. The singular significance which in sleep we attach to absolute\nnonsense seems to arise from the very impotence of our efforts, as we\nfancy that we can fly because we cannot move at all. In sleep, indeed,\nthe forms of imagination assume the appearance of reality, but this\nadvantage they seem to owe chiefly to what Hobbes calls the silence of\nsense. That sleep, however, consists wholly in this silence of sense\n(not affecting the mind itself) is so far from being true, that it is\nnot even necessary to it. Persons who walk in their sleep, as I know\nfrom experience, get out of bed with their eyes open, see and feel the\nobjects about them, open the window, and leisurely survey the opposite\ntrees and houses, long before they recollect where they are, or before\nthe fresh air and the regular succession of known objects dispel the\ndrowsy phantoms of the night. The only essential difference between our\nsleeping and waking thoughts I believe is, that in sleep the\ncomprehensive faculty flags and droops; so that being unable to consider\nmany things at once or to retain a succession of ideas in mind, we\nconfound things together, and pass from one object to another without\norder or connexion, any single circumstance in which they agree being\nsufficient to make us associate them together or substitute one for the\nother. Our thoughts are, as it were, disentangled from the circumstances\nand consequences which at other times clog their motions: they are let\nloose, and left at liberty to wander in any direction that chance\npresents. The greatest singularity observable in dreams is the faculty\nof holding a dialogue with ourselves, as if we were really and\neffectually two persons. We make a remark, and then expect the answer,\nwhich we are to give ourselves, with the same gravity of attention, and\nhear it with the same surprise as if it were really spoken by another\nperson. We are played upon by puppets of our own moving. We are\nstaggered in an argument by an unforeseen objection, or alarmed at a\nsudden piece of information of which we have no apprehension till it\nseems to proceed from the mouth of some one with whom we fancy ourselves\nconversing. We have in fact no idea of what the question will be that we\nput to ourselves, till the moment of its birth.\n\nMr. Locke in treating of our sensations as effects of the impressions of\nthe qualities of things, distinguishes these qualities according to the\nusual opinion into primary and secondary. The former he considers as\nreally and in themselves the same as they appear to our senses: the\nother as merely the effects produced by certain objects on the mind and\nnot existing out of it. As this question forms one of the common-places\nof metaphysical inquiry, I shall give some account of it in his own\nwords.\n\n\u2018The qualities that are in bodies, rightly considered, are of three\nsorts.\n\n\u2018First, The bulk, figure, number, situation, and motion or rest of their\nsolid parts; these are in them whether we perceive them or no; and we\nhave by these an idea of the thing as it is in itself: these I call\nprimary qualities.\n\n\u2018Secondly, The power that is in any body by reason of its insensible\nprimary qualities to operate after a peculiar manner on any of our\nsenses, and thereby produce in us the different ideas of several\ncolours, sounds, smells, tastes, &c. These are usually called sensible\nqualities.\n\n\u2018Thirdly, The power that is in any body, by reason of the particular\nconstitution of its primary qualities, to make such a change in the\nbulk, figure, texture, and motion of another body, as to make it operate\non our senses differently from what it did before. Thus the sun has a\npower to make wax white, and fire to make lead fluid. These are usually\ncalled powers.\n\n\u2018The first of these, as has been said, I think, may be properly called,\nreal, original, or primary qualities, because they are in the things\nthemselves, whether they are perceived or no: and upon their different\nmodifications it is that the secondary qualities depend. The other two\nare only powers to act differently upon other things, which powers\nresult from the different modifications of those primary qualities.\n\n\u2018But though these two latter sorts of qualities are powers barely, and\nnothing but powers, relating to several other bodies, and resulting from\nthe different modifications of the original qualities, yet they are\ngenerally thought otherwise of. For the second sort, viz., the powers to\nproduce several ideas in us by our senses, are looked upon as real\nqualities in the things thus affecting us: but the third sort are called\nand esteemed barely powers. For example, the ideas of heat or light,\nwhich we receive by our eye or touch from the sun are commonly thought\nreal qualities, existing in the sun, and something more than mere powers\nin it. But when we consider the sun in reference to wax which it melts\nor blanches, we look on the whiteness and softness produced in the wax,\nnot as qualities in the sun, but effects produced by _powers_ in it:\nwhereas, if rightly considered, these qualities of light and warmth,\nwhich are perceptions in me when I am warmed or enlightened by the sun,\nare no otherwise in the sun than the changes made in the wax, when it is\nblanched or melted, are in the sun. They are all of them equally powers\nin the sun, depending on its primary qualities: whereby it is enabled in\nthe one case so to alter the bulk, figure, texture, or motion of some of\nthe insensible parts of my eyes or hands, as thereby to produce in me\nthe idea of light or heat; and in the other, it is able so to alter the\nbulk, figure, texture, or motion of the insensible parts of the wax, as\nto make them fit to produce in me the distinct ideas of white and fluid.\nThe reason why the one are ordinarily taken for real qualities, and the\nother only for bare powers, seems to be, because the ideas we have of\ndistinct colours, sounds, &c., containing nothing at all in them of\nbulk, figure, or motion, we are not apt to think them the effects of\nthose primary qualities which appear not to our senses to operate in\ntheir production, and with which they have not any apparent congruity or\nconceivable connexion. Hence it is that we are so forward to imagine\nthat those ideas are the resemblances of something really existing in\nthe objects themselves. But in the other case, in the operation of\nbodies, changing the qualities, one of another, we plainly discover that\nthe quality produced hath commonly no resemblance with any thing in the\nthing producing it; wherefore we look on it as a bare effect of power.\nFor though receiving the idea of heat or light from the sun, we are apt\nto think it is a perception and resemblance of such a quality _in_ the\nsun, yet when we see wax or a fair face receive change of colour from\nthe sun, we cannot imagine that to be the perception or resemblance of\nany thing in the sun, because we find not those different colours in the\nsun itself. For our senses being able to observe a likeness or\nunlikeness of sensible qualities in two different external objects, we\nforwardly enough conclude the production of any sensible quality in any\nsubject to be an effect of bare power, and not the communication of any\nquality, which was really in the efficient, when we find no such\nsensible quality in the thing that produced it. But ourselves not being\nable to discover any unlikeness between the idea produced in us and the\nquality of the object producing it, we are apt to imagine that our ideas\nare resemblances of some thing in the objects, and not the effects of\ncertain powers placed in the modification of their primary qualities,\nwith which primary qualities the ideas produced in us have no\nresemblance.\u2019 Vol. i. page 127.\n\nFrom the secondary qualities later writers, as Hume and Berkeley, have\nproceeded to the primary ones, and have endeavoured to shew that they\nhave not a real existence out of the mind, any more than the others.\nHume says, \u2018The fundamental principle of the modern philosophy is the\nopinion concerning colours, sounds, tastes, smells, heat and cold,\u2019 &c.;\nand Bishop Berkeley has made use of the same principle to banish the\nleast particle of matter out of the universe. What Hume has said is\nmerely taken from Berkeley, from whom his opinions are generally\nborrowed. As I do not know that I shall have a better opportunity, I\nwill here state Berkeley\u2019s arguments against the existence of these\nprimary qualities, or his _ideal_ system, in his own words. I will only\nfirst observe, on the argument against the existence of the secondary\nqualities of things, from their different effects in different\ncircumstances and on different persons, which Hume considers as the only\nsolid one, but which Berkeley thinks more doubtful, seems to me no\nargument at all; for that an object changes its colour, or food its\ntaste, is in consequence of distance or of the interposition of another\nobject, or of the indisposition of the organ, and does not prove that\nthe object has not a particular colour, or the food a particular taste,\nbut that colour is combined with and altered by the colour of the air,\nand that taste is combined with and altered by another taste in the\nmouth or stomach. The logical inference is merely that one object has\nnot the same sensible qualities as another, or, as Berkeley has\nremarked, that we do not know what the true or natural qualities of any\nobject are.\n\n\u2018It is evident,\u2019 says Bishop Berkeley, \u2018to any one who takes a survey of\nthe objects of Human Knowledge, that they are either ideas actually\nimprinted on the senses, or else such as are perceived by attending to\nthe passions and operations of the mind, or, lastly, ideas formed by\nhelp of memory and imagination; either compounding, dividing, or barely\nrepresenting those originally perceived in the aforesaid ways. By sight\nI have the ideas of light and colours, with their several degrees and\nvariations. By touch I perceive hard and soft, heat and cold, motion and\nresistance, &c. and of all these more and less, either as to quantity or\ndegree. Smelling furnishes me with odours: the palate with tastes; and\nhearing conveys sounds to the mind in all their variety of tone and\ncomposition. And as several of these are observed to accompany each\nother, they come to be marked by one name, and so to be reputed as one\nthing. Thus, for example, a certain colour, taste, smell, figure, and\nconsistence, having been observed to go together, are accounted one\ndistinct thing, signified by the name _apple_. Other collections of\nideas constitute a stone, a tree, a book, and the like sensible things;\nwhich, as they are pleasing or disagreeable, excite the passions of\nlove, hatred, joy, grief, &c.\n\n\u20182. But besides all that endless variety of ideas or objects of\nknowledge, there is likewise something which knows and perceives them,\nand exercises divers operations, as willing, imagining, remembering, &c.\nabout them. This perceiving, active being is what I call _mind_,\n_spirit_, _soul_, or _myself_. By which words I do not denote any one of\nmy ideas, but a thing entirely distinct from them, wherein they exist,\nor, which is the same thing, whereby they are perceived, for the\nexistence of an idea consists in being perceived.\n\n\u20183. That neither our thoughts, nor passions, nor ideas formed by the\nimagination, exist without the mind, is what every body will allow; and\nto me it is no less evident that the various sensations or ideas\nimprinted on the sense, however blended or combined together, (that is,\nwhatever objects they compose,) cannot exist otherwise than in a mind\nperceiving them. I think an intuitive knowledge may be obtained of this,\nby any one that shall attend to what is meant by the term _exist_, when\napplied to sensible things. The table I write on, I say, exists; _i.e._\nI see and feel it, and if I were out of my study, I should say it\nexisted, meaning thereby, that if I was in my study I might perceive it,\nor that some other spirit actually does perceive it. There was an odour,\n_i.e._ it was smelt; there was a sound, _i.e._ it was heard; a colour or\nfigure, and it was perceived by sight or touch. This is all that I can\nunderstand by these and the like expressions. For as to what is said of\nthe absolute existence of unthinking things without any relation to\ntheir being perceived, that is to me perfectly unintelligible. Their\n_esse_ is _percipi_, nor is it possible they should have any existence,\nout of the minds or thinking things which perceive them.\n\n\u20184. It is indeed an opinion strangely prevailing among men, that houses,\nmountains, rivers, and in a word all sensible objects, have an existence\nnatural or real, distinct from their being perceived by the\nunderstanding. But with how great an assurance and acquiescence soever\nthis principle may be entertained in the world, yet whoever shall find\nin his heart to call it in question, may, if I mistake not, perceive it\nto involve a manifest contradiction. For what are the forementioned\nobjects but the things we perceive by sense, and what, I pray you, do we\nperceive besides our own ideas or sensations? And is it not plainly\nrepugnant that any one of these, or any combination of them, should\nexist unperceived?\n\n\u20185. If we thoroughly examine this tenet, it will, perhaps, be found at\nbottom to depend on the doctrine of _abstract ideas_. For can there be a\nnicer strain of abstraction than to distinguish the existence of\nsensible objects from their being perceived, so as to conceive them\nexisting unperceived? Light and colours, heat and cold, extension and\nfigures, in a word, the things we see and feel, what are they but so\nmany sensations, notions, ideas, or impressions on the sense; and is it\npossible to separate, even in thought, any of these from perception? For\nmy part, I might as easily divide a thing from itself. I may, indeed,\ndivide in my thoughts, or conceive apart from each other, those things\nwhich, perhaps, I never perceived by sense so divided. Thus I imagine\nthe trunk of a human body without the limbs, or conceive the smell of a\nrose without thinking on the rose itself. So far I will not deny I can\nabstract, if that may be properly called _abstraction_ which extends\nonly to the conceiving separately such objects as it is possible may\nreally exist or be actually perceived asunder. But my conceiving or\nimagining power does not extend beyond the possibility of real existence\nor perception. Hence, as it is impossible for me to see or feel any\nthing without an actual sensation of that thing, so it is impossible for\nme to conceive in my thoughts any sensible thing or object distinct from\nthe sensation or perception of it. In truth, the object and the\nsensation are the same thing, and cannot therefore be extracted from\neach other.\n\n\u20186. Some truths there are so near and obvious to the mind that a man\nneed only open his eyes to see them. Such I take this important one to\nbe, viz. that all the choir of heaven, and furniture of the earth, in a\nword, all those bodies which compose the mighty frame of the world, have\nnot any subsistence without a mind, that their _esse_ is to be perceived\nor known; that consequently, so long as they are not actually perceived\nby me, or do not exist in my mind or that of any other created spirit,\nthey must either have no existence at all, or else subsist in the mind\nof some eternal spirit: it being perfectly unintelligible, and involving\nall the absurdity of abstraction, to attribute to any single part of\nthem an existence independent of a spirit. To make this appear with all\nthe light and evidence of an axiom, it seems sufficient if I can but\nawaken the reflection of the reader, that he may take an impartial view\nof his own meaning, and turn his thoughts upon the subject itself, free\nand disengaged from all embarrass of words and prepossession in favour\nof received mistakes.\n\n\u20187. From what has been said, it is evident there is not any other\nsubstance than spirit, or that which perceives. But for the fuller\ndemonstration of this point, let it be considered, the sensible\nqualities are colour, figure, motion, smell, taste, &c.; _i.e._ the\nideas perceived by sense. Now, for an idea to exist in an unperceiving\nthing is a manifest contradiction; for to have an idea is all one as to\nperceive; that, therefore, wherein colour, figure, &c. exist must\nperceive them. Hence it is clear there can be no unthinking substance or\n_substratum_ of those ideas.\n\n\u20188. But, say you, though the ideas themselves do not exist without the\nmind, yet there may be things like them whereof they are copies or\nresemblances, which things exist without the mind, in an unthinking\nsubstance. I answer, an idea can be like nothing but an idea, a colour\nor figure, can be like nothing but another colour or figure. If we look\nbut never so little into our thoughts, we shall find it impossible for\nus to conceive a likeness except only between our ideas. Again, I ask\nwhether those supposed originals, or external things, of which our ideas\nare the pictures or representations, be themselves perceivable or no? If\nthey are, then they are ideas, and we have gained our point; but if you\nsay they are not, I appeal to any one whether it be sense to assert a\ncolour is like something which is invisible: hard or soft, like\nsomething which is intangible, and so of the rest.\n\n\u20189. Some there are who make a distinction between _primary_ and\n_secondary_ qualities; by the former, they mean extension, figure,\nmotion, rest, solidity or impenetrability, and number; by the latter,\nthey denote all other sensible qualities, as colours, sounds, tastes,\n&c. The ideas we have of these they acknowledge not to be the\nresemblances of any thing existing without the mind, or unperceived, but\nthey will have our ideas of the primary qualities to be patterns or\nimages of things which exist without the mind, in an unthinking\nsubstance, which they call _matter_. By matter, therefore, we are to\nunderstand an inert, useless substance, in which extension, figure,\nmotion, &c. do actually subsist. But it is evident from what we have\nalready shewn, that extension, figure, and motion are only ideas\nexisting in the mind, and that consequently neither they nor their\narchetypes can exist in an unperceiving substance. Hence it is plain\nthat the very notion of what is called _matter_ or _corporeal substance_\ninvolves a contradiction in it, insomuch that I should not think it\nnecessary to spend more time in exposing its absurdity; but because the\ntenet of the existence of matter seems to have taken so deep a root in\nthe minds of philosophers, and draws after it so many ill consequences,\nI choose rather to be thought prolix and tedious, than omit any thing\nthat might conduce to the full discovery and extirpation of that\nprejudice.\n\n\u201810. They who assert that figure, motion, and the rest of the primary or\noriginal qualities do exist without the mind, in unthinking substances,\ndo at the same time acknowledge that colours, sounds, heat, cold, &c. do\nnot, which they tell us are sensations existing in the mind alone, that\ndepend on, and are occasioned by the different size, texture, motion,\n&c. of the minute particles of matter. This they take for an undoubted\ntruth, which they can demonstrate beyond all exception. Now if it be\ncertain that those original qualities are inseparably united with the\nother sensible qualities, and not, even in thought, capable of being\nabstracted from them, it plainly follows that they exist only in the\nmind. But I desire any one to reflect and try whether he can, by any\nabstraction of thought, conceive the extension and motion of a body,\nwithout all other sensible qualities. For my own part, I see evidently\nthat it is not in my power to form an idea of a body extended and\nmoving, but I must withal give it some colour or other sensible quality,\nwhich is acknowledged to exist only in the mind. In short, extension,\nfigure, and motion, abstracted from all other qualities, are\ninconceivable. Where, therefore, the other sensible qualities are, there\nmust these be also, _i.e._ in the mind, and no where else.\n\n\u201811. Again, _great_ and _small_, _swift_ and _slow_, are allowed to\nexist nowhere without the mind, being entirely relative, and changing as\nthe frame or position of the organs of sense varies. The extension,\ntherefore, which exists without the mind, is neither great nor small,\nthe motion neither swift nor slow; that is, they are nothing at all.\nBut, say you, they are extension in general and motion in general. Thus\nwe see how much the tenet of extended, moveable substances, existing\nwithout the mind, depends on that strange doctrine of _abstract ideas_.\nAnd here I cannot but remark, how nearly the vague and indeterminate\ndescription of matter, or corporeal substance, which the modern\nphilosophers are run into by their own principles, resembles that\nantiquated and so much ridiculed notion of _materia prima_, to be met\nwith in Aristotle and his followers. Without extension, solidity cannot\nbe conceived; since, therefore, it has been shown that extension exists\nnot in an unthinking substance, the same must also be true of solidity.\n\n\u201812. That number is entirely the creature of the mind, even though the\nother qualities be allowed to exist without it, will be evident to\nwhoever considers that the same thing bears a different denomination of\nnumber, as the mind views it with different aspects. Thus the same\nextension is one, or three, or thirty-six, according as the mind\nconsiders it with reference to a yard, a foot, or an inch. Number is so\nvisibly relative, and dependent on men\u2019s understandings, that it is\nstrange to think how any one should give it an absolute existence\nwithout the mind. We say _one_ book, _one_ page, _one_ line, &c., all\nthese are equally units, though some contain several of the others; and\nin each instance it is plain the unit relates to some particular\ncombination of ideas arbitrarily put together by the mind.\n\n\u201813. Unity, I know, some will have to be a simple or uncompounded idea,\naccompanying all other ideas into the mind. That I have any such idea\nanswering the word _unity_ I do not find, and if I had, methinks I could\nnot miss finding it; on the contrary, it should be the most familiar to\nmy understanding, since it is said to accompany all other ideas, and to\nbe perceived by all the ways of sensation and reflection.[6] To say no\nmore, it is an _abstract idea_.\n\n\u201814. I shall farther add, that after the same manner as modern\nphilosophers prove colours, tastes, &c., to have no existence in matter,\nor without the mind, the same thing may be likewise proved of all other\nsensible qualities whatever. Thus for instance, it is said, that heat\nand cold are affections only of the mind, and not at all patterns of\nreal beings existing in the corporeal substances which excite them, for\nthat the same body which appears cold to one hand, seems warm to\nanother. Now, why may we not as well argue, that figure and extension\nare not patterns or resemblances of qualities existing in matter,\nbecause to the same eye at different stations, or eyes of a different\ntexture at the same station, they appear various, and cannot therefore\nbe the images of any thing settled and determinate without the mind?\nAgain, \u2019tis proved that sweetness is not really in the sapid thing,\nbecause the thing remaining unaltered, the sweetness is changed into\nbitter, as in case of a fever, or otherwise vitiated palate. Is it not\nas reasonable to say, that motion is not without the mind, since if the\nsuccession of ideas in the mind become swifter, the motion, it is\nacknowledged, shall appear slower without any external alteration.\n\n\u201815. In short, let any one consider those arguments which are thought\nmanifestly to prove that colours, tastes, &c. exist only in the mind,\nand he will find they may with equal force be brought to prove the same\nthing of extension, figure, and motion. Though it must be confessed this\nmethod of arguing does not so much prove that there is no extension,\ncolour, &c. in an outward object, as that we do not know by sense which\nis the true extension or colour of the object. But the foregoing\narguments plainly show it to be impossible that any colour or extension\nat all, or other sensible quality whatsoever, should exist in an\nunthinking subject without the mind, or in truth, that there should be\nany such thing as an outward object.\u2019\u2014_Principles of Human Knowledge_,\npp. 54, &c.\n\nAgain, he says, page 58:\u2014\n\n\u2018But though it were possible that solid, figured movable substances may\nexist without the mind, corresponding to the ideas we have of bodies,\nyet how is it possible for us to know this? Either we must know it by\nsense or by reason. As for our senses, by them we have the knowledge\nonly of our sensations, ideas, or those things that are immediately\nperceived by sense, call them what you will; but they do not inform us\nthat things exist without the mind, or unperceived, like to those which\nare perceived. This the materialists themselves acknowledge. It remains,\ntherefore, that if we have any knowledge at all of external things, it\nmust be by reason, inferring their existence from what is immediately\nperceived by sense. But I do not see what reason can induce us to\nbelieve the existence of bodies without the mind, from what we perceive,\nsince the very patrons of matter themselves do not pretend there is any\nnecessary connexion betwixt them and our ideas. I say it is granted on\nall hands (and what happens in dreams, frenzies, and the like, puts it\nbeyond dispute) that it is possible we might be affected with all the\nideas we have now, though there were no bodies existing without\nresembling them. Hence it is evident the supposition of external bodies\nis not necessary for the producing our ideas, since it is granted they\nare produced sometimes, and might possibly be produced always, in the\nsame order we see them in at present, without their concurrence. But\nthough we might possibly have all our sensations without them, yet\nperhaps it may be thought easier to conceive and explain the manner of\ntheir production, by supposing external bodies in their likeness rather\nthan otherwise, and so it might be at least probable there are such\nthings as bodies that excite their ideas in our minds. But neither can\nthis be said, for though we give the materialists their external bodies,\nthey, by their own confession, are never the nearer knowing how our\nideas are produced, since they own themselves unable to comprehend in\nwhat manner body can act upon spirit, or how it is possible it should\nimprint any idea in the mind. Hence it is evident the production of\nideas or sensations in our minds, can be no reason why we should suppose\nmatter or corporeal substances, since that is acknowledged to remain\nequally inexplicable with, or without this supposition. If therefore it\nwere possible for bodies to exist without the mind, yet to hold they do\nso, must needs be a very precarious opinion; since it is to suppose,\nwithout any reason at all, that God has created innumerable beings that\nare entirely useless, and serve to no manner of purpose.\n\n\u2018But say what we can, some one perhaps might be apt to reply, he will\nstill believe his senses, and never suffer any arguments, how plausible\nsoever, to prevail over the certainty of them. Be it so, assert the\nevidence of sense as high as you please, we are willing to do the same.\nThat what I see and hear, and feel, doth exist, _i.e._ is perceived by\nme, I no more doubt than I do of my own being: but I do not see how the\ntestimony of sense can be alleged as a proof for the existence of any\nthing which is not perceived by sense. We are not for having any man\nturn sceptic, and disbelieve his senses; on the contrary, we give them\nall the stress and assurance imaginable, nor are there any principles\nmore opposite to scepticism than those we have laid down, as shall be\nhereafter clearly shown. Secondly, it will be objected that there is a\ngreat difference between real fire, for instance, and the idea of fire,\nbetwixt dreaming or imagining oneself burnt and actually being so: if\nyou suspect it to be only the idea of fire which you see, do but put\nyour hand into it, and you\u2019ll be convinced with a witness. This and the\nlike may be urged in opposition to our tenets. To all which the answer\nis evident from what hath been already said, and I shall only add in\nthis place, that if real fire be very different from the idea of fire,\nso also is the real pain that it occasions very different from the idea\nof the same pain, and yet nobody will pretend that real pain either is,\nor can possibly be, in an unperceiving thing or without the mind, any\nmore than its idea.\u2019\n\nNow with regard to this system, whatever we may think of the solidity of\nthe foundation, the superstructure is as light and elegant as possible.\nThere is a peculiar character in the metaphysical writings of Berkeley\nwhich is to be found no where else. With all the closeness and subtilty\nof the deepest reflection, they combine the ease and vivacity of a\ncommon essay: so that the most violent paradoxes and elaborate\ndistinctions are rendered familiar by the simplicity of the style. His\nwritings show that he had thought with the utmost intensity on almost\nevery subject, yet he has the same careless freedom of manner as if he\nhad never thought at all. He is never entangled in the labyrinth of his\nown thoughts, and the buoyancy of his spirit surmounts every objection\nwith a singular felicity, as if his mind had wings. It is perhaps worth\nremarking that the \u2018Principles of Human Knowledge\u2019 were published in\n1710, at a time when the author was only five-and-twenty, as was the\n\u2018Essay on Vision,\u2019 the greatest by far of all his works, and the most\ncomplete example of elaborate analytical reasoning and particular\ninduction joined together that perhaps ever existed. It is also\ngenerally free from that air of paradox and fanciful hypothesis which\nruns through his other writings.[7] I mention this the more because I\nbelieve that the greatest efforts of intellect have almost always been\nmade while the passions are in their greatest vigour, and before hope\nloses its hold on the heart, and is the elastic spring which animates\nall our thoughts.\n\nOn the reasoning I have just quoted I will make one or two remarks\nwithout pretending to enter into the real difficulties of the question.\nFirst, it seems to me that the argument against the existence of the\nsecondary qualities, drawn from the various effects produced by them on\ndifferent minds or in different circumstances, which Hume mentions as\nthe only solid one, and which Berkeley thinks more doubtful, is no\nargument at all. That an object at a distance, for example, does not\nlook like the same object near is in consequence of the interposition of\nthe air, which gives it a different hue; the logical inference merely is\nthat one object has not the same sensible qualities as another, or as\nBerkeley has remarked, since the effect depends upon the combination and\nreaction of a number of things that we do not know what the true or\nnatural qualities of each object are.\n\n2. The proof of the non-existence of the primary qualities or of matter\naltogether, as inconceivable by the mind, goes upon the supposition that\nwhat is different cannot be the same. \u2018An idea,\u2019 says Berkeley, \u2018can be\nlike nothing but an idea, a perception like nothing but a perception.\u2019\nBut it might be proved in this manner that a print cannot resemble a\npicture, because that which has colour cannot be represented by any\nthing without colour. That as far as our ideas are perceptions they do\nnot resemble any thing in matter is true, but no one ever supposed that\nin this respect there was any resemblance between them, or that matter\nthought. That they cannot be alike in any thing does not seem to me\nproved by this mode of reasoning: for that our ideas of things are not\nmere perceptions is evident from this, that they are different among\nthemselves, that is, have other distinguishing qualities besides being\nperceived.\n\n3. Berkeley\u2019s argument against the existence of matter not merely as the\nobject or archetype, but as the cause of our sensations, is founded on\nthe notion that we have a right to reject every general conclusion in\nwhich there is the least flaw or difficulty. Common sense is brought to\nthe bar, like an old offender, and condemned upon the slightest shadow\nof evidence. If the vulgar system is vulnerable in any part, it is taken\nfor granted that it ought to be discarded, to make room for a perfectly\nrational and philosophical account, the sufficiency of the understanding\nbeing never once doubted. But all this severe logic and scrutiny into\nthe perfect connexion of our ideas vanishes, when the author comes to\nexplain the cause of our external impressions, or to find a substitute\nfor matter. This, he says, is God or an all-powerful spirit, and yet he\naffirms that we have no more idea of spirit than of matter, and\nconsequently the one ought upon this theory to pass for a nonentity as\nmuch as the other.\n\n\u2018We perceive a continual succession of ideas, some are anew excited,\nothers are changed or totally disappear. There is therefore some cause\nof those ideas, whereon they depend, and which produces and changes\nthem. That this cause cannot be any quality or idea or combination of\nideas, is clear from what has been said. It must therefore be a\nsubstance, but it has been shewn that there is no corporeal or material\nsubstance. It remains therefore that the cause of ideas is an\nincorporeal active substance or spirit.\n\n\u2018A spirit is one simple, undivided, active being: as it perceives ideas,\nit is called the understanding, and as it produces or otherwise operates\nabout them, it is called the will. Hence there can be no idea formed of\na soul or spirit. For all ideas whatever being passive and inert, they\ncannot represent unto us by way of image or likeness that which acts.\nSuch is the nature of spirit or that which acts, that it cannot be\nitself perceived, but only by the effects which it produceth. If any man\nshall doubt of the truth of what is here delivered, let him but reflect\nand try if he can frame the idea of any power or active being. A little\nattention will make it plain to any one, that to have an idea which\nshall be like that active principle of motion and change of ideas, is\nabsolutely impossible.\u2019 That is to say, matter is here excluded from\nbeing the cause or in any way the occasion of our ideas, because we know\nnot what it is, and the inference is, that the cause of our ideas must\nbe spirit, of which we are equally ignorant. The reasoning might have\nbeen reversed. But it is thus that philosophy seems to be in general\nnothing else but \u2018reason pandering will.\u2019 The literal conclusion from\nthe foregoing argument is, that there is nothing in the universe but\noneself, nor even that, but only the present idea: all other words must\nsignify nothing.\n\nTo return to Mr. Locke. He has treated on the same question in the\nsecond volume, but without advancing any thing remarkable on it, and it\nis the only place in which he loses his temper, and substitutes ridicule\nfor argument.\n\nIn the chapter on Perception, there are some observations on the manner\nin which our judgments alter the impressions of sensible objects, which\nare well worth notice, and show that the author was well acquainted with\nwhat may be called the practical processes of the human mind.\n\nHe says, p. 130, \u2018We are farther to consider concerning perception, that\nthe ideas we receive by sensation are often in grown people altered by\nthe judgment without our taking notice of it. When we set before our\neyes a round globe of any uniform colour, _e.g._ gold, alabaster, or\njet, it is certain that the idea thereby imprinted in our mind is of a\nflat circle, variously shadowed with several degrees of light and\nbrightness coming to our eyes. But we having by use been accustomed to\nperceive what kind of appearance convex bodies are wont to make in us,\nwhat alterations are made in the reflections of light by the difference\nof the sensible figures of bodies, the judgment presently, by an\nhabitual custom, alters the appearances into their causes; so that from\nthat which truly is variety of shadow or colour, collecting the figure,\nit makes it pass for a mark of figure, and frames to itself the\nperception of a convex figure and an uniform colour, when the idea we\nreceive from thence is only a plane variously coloured; as is evident in\npainting. To which purpose I shall here insert a problem of that very\ningenious and studious promoter of real knowledge, the learned and\nworthy Mr. Molineux, which he was pleased to send me in a letter some\nmonths since: and it is this: \u201cSuppose a man born blind, and now adult,\nand taught by his touch to distinguish between a cube and a sphere of\nthe same metal and nigh of the same bigness, so as to tell, when he felt\nthe one and the other, which is the cube, which the sphere. Suppose then\nthe cube and sphere placed on a table, and the blind man made to see:\nQuere, whether by his sight, before he touched them, he could now\ndistinguish and tell which is the globe, which the cube?\u201d To which the\nacute and judicious proposer answers, \u201cNo. For though he has obtained\nthe experience of how a globe, how a cube affects his touch, yet he has\nnot yet attained the experience that what affects his touch so or so,\nmust affect his sight so or so; or that a protuberant angle in the cube\nthat pressed his hand unequally, shall appear to his eye as it does in\nthe cube.\u201d I agree\u2019 (says Mr. Locke) \u2018with this thinking gentleman, whom\nI am proud to call my friend, in his answer to this his problem; and am\nof opinion that the blind man at first sight, would not be able with\ncertainty to say, which was the globe, which the cube, whilst he only\nsaw them; though he could unerringly name them by his touch, and\ncertainly distinguish them by the difference of their figures felt. This\nI have set down, and leave with my reader as an occasion for him to\nconsider how much he may be beholden to experience, improvement, and\nacquired notions, where he thinks he has not the least use of, or help\nfrom them, and the rather, because this observing gentleman farther\nadds, that having upon the occasion of my book, proposed this to divers\nvery ingenious men, he hardly ever met with one that at first gave the\nanswer to it which he thinks true, till by hearing his reasons they were\nconvinced.\u2019 Mr. Locke then adds other instances to the same effect, as\n\u2018That a man who reads or hears with attention and understanding takes\nlittle notice of the characters or sounds, but of the ideas that are\nexcited in him by them. How frequently do we in a day cover our eyes\nwith our eyelids, without at all perceiving that we are in the dark! Men\nthat by custom have got the use of a by-word do almost in every sentence\npronounce sounds, which though taken notice of by others, they\nthemselves neither hear nor observe: and therefore it is not so strange\nthat our mind should often change the idea of its sensation into that of\nits judgment, and make one serve only to excite the other without our\ntaking notice of it.\u2019\n\nOn the problem above stated, which has been often made a subject of\ndispute, I shall only remark that the answer given to it, with which Mr.\nLocke agrees, is directly repugnant to his doctrine of the real\nexistence of the primary qualities of matter, namely figure and\nextension. For it is plain, that if there is any thing in external\nobjects answering to their ideas in our minds, the ideas we have of\nthose qualities and which are conveyed by different senses, must be like\none another. If the ideas of figure as a visible and tangible thing have\nno resemblance to themselves, it is ridiculous to suppose that they can\ncoincide with any thing out of them in nature. Secondly, it appears to\nme that the mind must recognise a certain similarity between the\nimpressions of different senses in this case. For instance, the sudden\nchange or discontinuity of the sensation, produced by the sharp angles\nof the cube, is something common to both ideas, and if so, must afford a\nmeans of comparing them together. Berkeley, in his \u2018Essay on Vision,\u2019\ngoes so far as to deny that there is any intuitive analogy between the\nideas of number as conveyed by different senses, and asserts that the\ndistinction between the two legs of a statue, for instance, as perceived\nby the touch or by the sight would not imply any idea of like or same. I\ngrant this consequence to be true, on the principle maintained by him\nthat there are no abstract ideas in the mind, for on this principle\nthere can be no idea answering to the words _same_ or _different_, but\nthen this argument would destroy all kind of coincidence not only\nbetween ideas of different senses, but between repeated impressions of\nthe same sense. The \u2018Essay on Vision,\u2019 of which I have already spoken,\napparently originated in the problem here inserted, and is a more\ncomplete exemplification of the effects of association with respect to\nobjects of sight than is to be found even in Hartley\u2019s account of this\nsubject.\n\nMr. Locke\u2019s account of the distinction between wit and understanding I\nhave already noticed; his explanation of the difference between idiots\nand madmen has been often referred to, and is as follows:\n\n\u2018The defect in naturals seems to proceed from want of quickness,\nactivity, and motion in the intellectual faculties, whereby they are\ndeprived of reason: whereas madmen, on the other side, seem to suffer by\nthe other extreme. For they do not appear to me to have lost the faculty\nof reasoning; but having joined together some ideas very wrongly, they\nmistake them for truths; and they err as men do that argue right from\nwrong principles: for, by the violence of their imaginations, having\ntaken their fancies for realities, they make right deductions from them.\nThus you shall find a distracted man, fancying himself a king, with a\nright inference require suitable attendance, respect, and obedience:\nothers, who have thought themselves made of glass, have used the caution\nnecessary to preserve such brittle bodies. Hence it comes to pass, that\na man who is very sober, and of a right understanding in all other\nthings, may in one particular be as frantic as any in Bedlam, if either\nby any sudden very strong impression, or long fixing his fancy upon one\nsort of thoughts, incoherent ideas have been cemented together so\npowerfully as to remain united. But there are degrees of madness, as of\nfolly; the disorderly jumbling together of ideas is in some more, and\nsome less. In short, herein seems to lie the difference between idiots\nand madmen: that madmen put wrong ideas together, and so make wrong\npropositions, but argue and reason right from them: but idiots make very\nfew or no propositions, and reason scarce at all.\u2019\n\nMr. Locke\u2019s account of Liberty and Necessity, contained in his chapter\n\u2018On Power,\u2019 has been commented upon in the previous Essay. As is there\nremarked, it is one which has been more found fault with than any other\npart of his work, I think without reason. He seems evidently to have\nadmitted the definition of necessity, but not the name, which is not\nmuch to be wondered at, considering the improper use to which it is\nliable, and which can scarce be separated from it in the closest\nreasoning, much less as a term of general signification: in other words,\nhe denies the power of the mind to act without a cause or motive, or, in\nany manner, in any circumstances, from mere indifference and absolute\nself motion; but he at the same time denies the inference which has been\ndrawn from this principle, that the mind is not an agent at all, but\naltogether subject to external force, or blind impulse.\n\nMr. Locke, in treating of complex ideas, divides them into three sorts,\nthose of modes, substances, and relations.\n\nFirst, \u2018Modes,\u2019 he says, \u2018I call such complex ideas, which, however\ncompounded, contain not in them the supposition of subsisting by\nthemselves, but are considered as dependences on, or affections of\nsubstances: such are the ideas signified by the words _triangle_,\n_gratitude_, _murder_, &c. Of these modes there are two sorts. 1. There\nare some which are only variations or different combinations of the same\nsimple idea, without the mixture of any other, as a _dozen_ or _score_,\nwhich are nothing but the ideas of so many distinct units added\ntogether, and these I call simple modes. 2. There are others, compounded\nof simple ideas of several kinds put together, to make one complex one;\n_e.g._ _beauty_, consisting of a certain composition of colour and\nfigure, causing delight in the beholder; _theft_, which being the\nconcealed change of the possession of any thing, without the consent of\nthe proprietor, contains, as is visible, a combination of several ideas\nof several kinds, and these I call _mixed modes_.\u2019\n\nWith respect to modes, the author endeavours to shew, I think\nimproperly, that as they are put together arbitrarily by the mind,\naccording to circumstances, that they have no real existence in nature,\nand that the ideas we form of them are always correct. Neither of these\nconsequences will be found to follow: _i.e._ the circumstances and\nactions which constitute theft do actually exist without the mind and\nare necessary to that idea, though it is arbitrary in me according to\nthe occasion or the purpose in view, to think of that collection of\nideas or another, which shall constitute robbery; that is, I may add or\nleave out the circumstance of violence, as it happens; secondly, I may,\nwithout being aware of it, add or leave out some circumstance necessary\nto the combination of ideas spoken of, and thus confuse one idea with\nanother, and not merely miscal, as Mr. Locke supposes, but misconceive\nthe mode in question. We then merely miscal when though we give a wrong\nname to a thing, the idea is kept perfectly distinct and clear from\nother ideas, otherwise we confound both names and things. But it will\nnot be contended, that the ideas of theft, robbery, and fraud, for\ninstance, are always kept clear in every one\u2019s mind, so that he is at no\nloss ever to define them, or can immediately in all cases refer any\naction to the class to which it belongs. Every collection of ideas which\nthe mind puts together is undoubtedly that collection and no other; but\nin forming the ideas of mixed modes, the mind does something more than\nthis, or it supposes one collection of ideas to be the same as another\nwhich it has had at a former time, and gives a certain name to, and in\nthis supposition it often errs.\n\nOn this subject, the author is a good deal puzzled with the question,\nhow it is possible for the mind ever to confound one idea with another?\nIt is indeed a puzzling question, but the answer which he gives to it in\nresolving it into a mistake of words, is very unsatisfactory. For there\nis no more reason why we should mistake one name or sign of an idea for\nanother, than why we should mistake the ideas themselves. If every\ncircumstance belonging to our ideas was necessarily clear and\nself-evident to the mind, the sign affixed to it, which is one of those\ncircumstances, would be so too, and we find that in those things with\nwhich we have a thorough acquaintance, we never confound one name with\nanother, or if we should, it does not disturb the idea, and is of no\nconsequence.\n\nAmong the second sort of complex ideas Mr. Locke classes those of\nsubstances. These, he says, are such combinations of simple ideas as are\ntaken to represent distinct, particular things, subsisting by\nthemselves, in which the supposed or confused idea of substance, such as\nit is, is always the first or chief. Thus, if to substance be joined the\nsimple idea of a certain dull whitish colour, with certain degrees of\nweight, hardness, ductility and fusibility, we have the idea of lead;\nand a combination of the ideas of a certain sort of figure, with the\npower of motion, thought, and reasoning, joined to substance, make the\nordinary idea of a man. Now of substances also there are two sorts of\nideas; one of single substances, as they exist separately, as of a man\nor a sheep; the other of several of those put together, as an army of\nmen or a flock of sheep: which collective ideas of several substances\nare as much each of them one single idea as that of a man or an unit.\u2019\nHe then adds, \u2018and the third sort of complex ideas is that which we call\nrelative, which consists in the consideration and comparing one idea\nwith another.\u2019 This last sort of ideas seems to me the only ones that\nare perfectly simple and indivisible: things themselves are always\ncomplex. Mr. Locke considers rightly that we know nothing of the nature\nof substance, and that we can only define it as an abstract idea of some\nthing, that supports accidents or connects different sensible qualities\ntogether. For this modest confession of his own ignorance he was however\ncalled to a very severe account by the learned of the time, Bishop\nStillingfleet and others, who thought they knew more of the matter, and\ncould penetrate the essence of things. The \u2018Essay on the Human\nUnderstanding\u2019 is swelled out with repeated and long extracts from this\ncontroversy, and they are not the least valuable part of the work, as\nthey show to what shifts men can be driven, to defend systematically not\ntruth but their own opinion, who become blind and obstinate by implicit\nfaith, and who by adhering to every established prejudice drive others\ninto all the absurdities of paradox.\n\nMr. Locke\u2019s own account of our ideas of substance is a good deal spun\nout, and is enriched with as many illustrations from the qualities of\ngold, as if he had been candidate for the place of assay-master of the\nmint. The chapter \u2018On Identity\u2019 is perhaps the best reasoned and the\nmost full of thought and observation of any in the Essay: though the\nauthor sets out with an observation which seems to augur differently.\nFor after explaining identity as it relates to individuality, or implies\nthat a thing is the same with itself, he says, \u2018From what has been said\nit is easy to discover what is so much inquired after, the _principium\nindividuationis_: and that, it is plain, is existence itself, which\ndetermines a being of any sort to a particular time and place,\nincommunicable to two beings of the same kind.\u2019 He then, very wisely\nquitting this principle which would certainly be of no use to him,\nproceeds directly to account for the identity of different things from a\ncontinuance, not of the same substance, but of the same essence, or of\nthe characteristic properties of any thing, carried on in succession; as\na river is the same while it flows through the same channel, or an oak\nwhile it retains the same organization, and a man while he retains the\nsame life and continued consciousness.\n\nIn the chapter entitled \u2018Of true and false Ideas,\u2019 the author supposes\ntruth to depend on some mental or verbal proposition, and does not, like\nHobbes and the modern metaphysical writers, make it consist entirely in\na form of words. In the last chapter of the first volume he treats of\nthe association of ideas. This chapter was added after the first edition\nof the work, and he confesses, that the subject was something new to\nhim. He has treated it in that mixed way of observation and reasoning,\nin which the peculiar force of his mind lay. The account he has given of\nit does not form a system, but the fragments of a system, something like\nthe French memoirs that are to serve for the materials of a history. He\ndoes not appear to have laid down any general theorem on the subject, or\nto have been aware of the possibility of applying this principle to\naccount in a plausible manner for the whole chain of our thoughts and\nfeelings, as Hobbes and Hartley have done. Sound, practical, good sense,\nand a kind of discursive observation, neither grovelling in vulgar\ncommon place, nor soaring into the regions of paradox, are in fact the\ngeneral characteristics of his mind, which has not been understood by\nhis admirers and commentators. A short passage will suffice to show his\nmanner of considering this doctrine of association.\n\n\u2018Many children,\u2019 he says, \u2018imputing the pain they endured at school to\ntheir books they were corrected for, so join those ideas together that a\nbook becomes their aversion, and they are never reconciled to the study\nand use of them all their lives after: and thus reading becomes a\ntorment to them, which otherwise possibly they might have made the great\npleasure of their lives. There are rooms convenient enough that some men\ncannot study in, and fashions of vessels, which though ever so clean and\ncommodious they cannot drink out of, and that by reason of some\naccidental ideas which are annexed to them, and make them offensive: and\nwho is there that has not observed some man to flag at the appearance,\nor in the company of some certain person, not otherwise superior to him,\nbut because having once on some occasion got the ascendant, the idea of\nauthority and distance goes along with that of the person? And he that\nhas been thus subjected is not able to separate them. Instances of this\nkind are so plentiful every where, that if I add one more, it is only\nfor the pleasant oddness of it: it is of a young gentleman, who having\nlearned to dance, and that to great perfection, there happened to stand\nan old trunk in the room where he learned: the idea of this remarkable\npiece of household stuff had so mixed itself with all the turns and\nsteps of his dances, that though in that chamber he could dance\nexceedingly well, yet it was only whilst that trunk was there; nor could\nhe perform well in any other place, unless that, or some such other\ntrunk had its due position in the room.\u2019\n\nThe following passage approaches the nearest to the statement of a\ngeneral principle:\n\n\u2018This strong combination of ideas, not allied by nature, the mind makes\nin itself either voluntarily or by chance: and hence it comes in\ndifferent men to be very different, according to their different\ninclinations, educations, interests, &c. Custom settles habits of\nthinking in the understanding, as well as of determining in the will,\nand of motions in the body: all which seems to be but trains of motion\nin the animal spirits, which once set agoing continue in the same steps\nthey have been used to, which by often treading are worn into a smooth\npath, and the motion in it becomes easy, and as it were natural. As far\nas we can comprehend thinking, thus ideas seem to be produced in our\nminds; or if they are not, this may serve to explain their following one\nanother in an habitual train when once they are put into that track, as\nwell as it does to explain such motions of the body. A musician used to\nany tune will find, that let it but once begin in his head, the ideas of\nthe several notes of it will follow one another orderly in his\nunderstanding, without any care or attention, as regularly as his finger\nmoves orderly over the keys of the organ to play out the tune he has\nbegun, though his inattentive thoughts be elsewhere a wandering. Whether\nthe natural cause of these ideas, as well as of that regular dancing of\nthe fingers, be the motion of his animal spirits, I will not determine,\nhow probable soever by this instance it appears to be so; but this may\nhelp us a little to conceive of intellectual habits, and of the tying\ntogether of ideas. That there are such associations of them made by\ncustom in the minds of most men, I think nobody will question, who has\nwell considered himself or others; and to this perhaps might be justly\nattributed most of the sympathies and antipathies observable in men,\nwhich work as strongly and produce as regular effects as if they were\nnatural, and are therefore called so, though they at first had no other\noriginal but the accidental connexion of two ideas, which either the\nstrength of the first impression or future indulgence so united, that\nthey always afterwards kept company together in that man\u2019s mind, as if\nthey were but one idea. I say, most of the antipathies, I do not say\nall; for some of them are truly natural, depend upon our original\nconstitution, and are born with us; but a great part of those which are\ncounted natural, would have been known to be from unheeded though\nperhaps early impressions, or wanton fancies at first, which would have\nbeen acknowledged the original of them, if they had been warily\nobserved.\u2019\n\nThe former part of this passage, relating to the dancing of the animal\nspirits, the Abb\u00e9 Condillac in his \u2018Logic\u2019 has paraphrased with a\nself-sufficiency, an assumption of originality, and a smoothness of\nflippancy, peculiar almost to himself.\n\nOn the subject of materialism, Mr. Locke seems to have had two opinions;\nthe first, that as far as we can discern, the properties of mind and\nmatter are utterly distinct and irreconcileable; the second, that God\nmight for aught we know be able to superadd to matter a faculty of\nthinking: either the one or the other of these opinions must be without\nmeaning. In speaking of the difficulties attending both sides of this\nquestion, he has, however, offered one of the best moral cautions\nagainst precipitancy of judgment and impatience of inquiry to be found\nin any author. He says, (vol. ii. p. 203:) \u2018He that considers how hardly\nsensation is in our thoughts reconcilable to extended matter, or\nexistence to any thing that hath no extension at all, will confess that\nhe is very far from certainly knowing what his soul is. It is a point\nwhich seems to me to be put out of the reach of our knowledge: and he\nwho will give himself leave to consider freely, and look into the dark\nand intricate part of each hypothesis, will scarce find his reason able\nto determine him fixedly for or against the soul\u2019s materiality. Since on\nwhich side soever he views it, either as an unextended substance, or a\nthinking extended matter, the difficulty to conceive either, will,\nwhilst either alone is in his thoughts, still drive him to the contrary\nside. An unfair way which some men take with themselves; who because of\nthe unconceivableness of some thing they find in one, throw themselves\nviolently into the contrary hypothesis, though altogether as\nunintelligible to an unbiassed understanding. This serves not only to\nshow the weakness and scantiness of our knowledge, but the insignificant\ntriumph of such sort of arguments, which drawn from our own views may\nsatisfy us that we can find no certainty on one side of the question;\nbut do not at all thereby help us to truth, by running into the opposite\nopinion, which on examination will be found clogged with equal\ndifficulties.\u2019\n\nMr. Locke has not, I think, himself enough attended to this admirable\ncaution in his adoption of the common argument to demonstrate the\nexistence of God _\u00e0 priori_, towards which I conceive not the slightest\nadvances can be made in this method. For the axiom that every thing must\nhave a cause can never be made to infer the existence of a first cause,\nthat is, of something without a cause. It is equally impossible for the\nhuman mind to conceive of the beginning of existence, or to pass from\nnothing to something, either by the help of an infinite series of finite\nexistences, or by the infinite duration of one simple, absolute\nexistence. Those who wish to see how far human ingenuity can push a\ncomplete confusion of ideas into the verge of the strictest logical\ndemonstration and self-evident truth, may find all that they want in Dr.\nClarke\u2019s celebrated work on the \u2018Attributes,\u2019 which contains more\nlogical acuteness and more power of scholastic disputation than any\nother work that I know of in modern times. Hartley has lost himself in\nthe same endless labyrinth of finite and infinite series. And Locke\u2019s\nstatement of this question is only better, because it is shorter, and\ngoes straight forward, without stopping to answer difficulties.\n\n\n\n\n ON TOOKE\u2019S \u2018DIVERSIONS OF PURLEY\u2019\n\n\nI would class the merits of Mr. Tooke\u2019s work under three heads: the\netymological, the grammatical, and the philosophical. The etymological\npart is excellent, the grammatical part indifferent, and the\nphilosophical part to the last degree despicable; it is downright,\nunqualified, unredeemed nonsense. As Mr. Tooke himself says that all\nmetaphysical reasoning is nonsense, it is scarcely rude to say that\n_his_ metaphysical reasoning is so. It appears to me to be \u2018mere\nmidsummer madness.\u2019 He ought not indeed to have meddled with logic or\nmetaphysics after such a declaration; he ought to have supposed that he\nlaboured under some natural defect in this respect, as a man who finds\nno harmony in any tune that is played to him, may without much modesty\nconclude that he has no ear for music.\n\nThe opinion which I have here advanced of this writer\u2019s merits as a\ngeneral reasoner may seem a bold one; but the proof of it is not\ndifficult; it is as easy as transcribing. I have only to take a few\npassages in which he has applied etymology to the illustration of moral\nand metaphysical truth, to make his undistinguishing admirers blush, not\nfor their idol, but for the weakness and bounded faculties of human\nnature.\n\nMr. Tooke lays it down as a maxim, that the mind has neither complex nor\nabstract ideas. He was in some things a zealot, and his zeal had led him\nto believe that his system of etymology would in some way or other\nestablish this metaphysical principle, and overturn the established\nnotions of law, morality, philosophy, and divinity. The full development\nand execution of this project is reserved for a future volume, but there\nare perpetual hints and intimations of it in the two first, something\nlike the aerial music and flying noises in Prospero\u2019s island. The author\nseems constantly in his own mind on the point of detecting all imposture\nand delusion with the Ithuriel spear of etymology, but he as constantly\ndraws back, and postpones his triumph. The second volume of the\n\u2018Diversions\u2019 consists chiefly of about two thousand instances of the\netymology of words, to prove that there can be no abstract ideas:\nscarcely one of which two thousand meanings is anything else but a more\nabstract idea than the word was in general supposed to convey: for\nexample, the word _loaf_ commonly stands for a pretty substantial,\nsolid, tangible kind of an idea, and is not suspected of any latent,\nvery refined, abstracted meaning. The author shows, on the contrary,\nthat the word has no such palpable, positive meaning, as the particular\nobject to which we apply it, but merely signifies something, any thing,\nraised or _lifted_ up. A singular method, surely, of reducing all\ngeneral and abstract signs to individual, physical objects! Yet we find\nthis tiresome catalogue of derivations concluded in this manner.\n\n\u2018And on this subject of _subaudition_ I will at present exercise your\npatience no farther: for my own begins to flag. You have now instances\nof my doctrine in, I suppose, about a thousand words. Their number may\nbe easily increased. But I trust these are sufficient to discard that\nimagined operation of the mind, which has been termed _abstraction_: and\nto prove that what we call by that name, is merely one of the\ncontrivances of language, for the purpose of more speedy\ncommunication.\u2019\u2014Page 396, vol. ii.\n\nHow a thousand instances of words, signifying a common quality or\nabstract idea, with something understood (_subauditum_), can be supposed\nto discard that imagined operation of the mind called abstraction, or in\nwhat subaudition differs from abstraction, or whether there is not\nsomething _subintellectum_, as well as _subauditum_,\u2014that is, certain\ncircumstances left out by the mind for the necessary progress of\nthought, as well as in language, for its more speedy communication,\u2014it\nis not easy to guess. This farcical mummery, this inexplicable dumb\nshow, this emphatical insignificance, neither admits nor deserves any\nanswer.\n\nThe only places in the work in which this wary reasoner has fairly\ncommitted himself, and given an intelligible explanation of his mode of\napplying his system to general questions, are in his account of the\nwords, _right and wrong_, _just and unjust_, in his list of metaphysical\nnonentities, demonstrated to be such because they are expressed by the\npast participles of certain verbs, and in his definition of Truth.\nThese, therefore, I shall give as specimens, and I hope they will be\nquite satisfactory. The \u2018Diversions of Purley,\u2019 it should be observed,\nis supposed to be carried on in a dialogue between the author and Sir\nFrancis Burdett.\n\n\u2018Enough, enough,\u2019 says Burdett, \u2018innumerable instances of the same may,\nI grant you, be given from all our ancient authors. But does this import\nus any thing?\u2019\n\n\u2018TOOKE. Surely, much, if it shall lead us to the clear understanding of\nthe words we use in discourse. For as far as we \u201cknow not our own\nmeaning,\u201d as far as \u201cour purposes are not endowed with words to make\nthem known,\u201d so far we \u201cgabble like things most brutish.\u201d But the\nimportance rises higher, when we reflect upon the application of words\nto metaphysics. And when I say metaphysics, you will be pleased to\nremember that all general reasoning, all politics, law, morality, and\ndivinity, are merely metaphysics.\u2019 [What is this general reasoning of\nMr. Tooke\u2019s?]\n\n\u2018Well,\u2019 replies his pupil, \u2018you have satisfied me that wrong, however\nwritten, whether wrang, wrong or wrung, like the Italian _torto_ and the\nFrench _tort_, is merely the past tense or participle of the verb to\nwring; and has merely that meaning.\n\n\u2018TOOKE. True; it means wrung or wrested from the _right_ or _ordered_\nline of conduct. Right is no other than _rectum_, the past participle of\nthe Latin verb _regere_. The Italian _dritto_, and the French _droit_,\nare no other than the past participle _directum_. In the same manner our\nEnglish word _just_ is the past participle of the verb _jubere_\n(_jussum_).\n\n\u2018BURDETT. What, then, is law?\n\n\u2018TOOKE. It is merely the past participle _lag_, of the Gothic and\nAnglo-Saxon verb _legan_, _ponere_; and it means something or anything\n_laid down_ as a rule of conduct. Thus when a man demands his _right_,\nhe only asks that which it is _ordered_ he shall have. A _right_ conduct\nis that which is ordered. A _right_ line is that which is ordered or\ndirected, not a random extension, but the shortest between two points. A\n_right_ and _just_ action is such a one as is ordered and commanded. The\nright hand is that which custom, and those who have brought us up, have\nordered or directed us to use in preference, when one hand only is\nemployed, and the left hand is that which is _lieved_ or left.\n\n\u2018BURDETT. Surely the word _right_ is sometimes used in some other sense.\nAnd see, in this newspaper before us, M. Portalis, contending for the\n_concordat_, says:\u2014\u201cThe multitude are much more impressed with what they\nare _commanded_ to obey, than with what is proved to them to be _right_\nand _just_.\u201d This will be complete nonsense, if _right_ and _just_ mean\n_ordered_ and _commanded_.\n\n\u2018TOOKE. I will not undertake to make sense of the arguments of M.\nPortalis. The whole of his speech is a piece of wretched mummery,\nemployed to bring back again to France the more wretched mummery of pope\nand popery. Writers on such subjects are not very anxious about the\nmeaning of their words. Ambiguity and equivocation are their\nstrongholds. Explanation would undo them.\n\n\u2018BURDETT. Well, but Mr. Locke uses the word in a manner hardly to be\nreconciled with your account of it. He says:\u2014\u201cGod has a right to do it,\nwe are his creatures.\u201d\n\n\u2018TOOKE. It appears to me highly improper to say, that God has a right,\nas it is also to say that God is just. For nothing is ordered, directed,\nor commanded concerning God. The expressions are inapplicable to the\nDeity: though they are common, and those who use them have the best\nintentions. They are applicable only to men, to whom alone language\nbelongs, and of whose sensations only words are the representations; to\nmen, who are by nature the subjects of orders and commands, and whose\nchief merit is obedience.\n\n\u2018BURDETT. Every thing, then, that is ordered and commanded is right and\njust.\n\n\u2018TOOKE. Surely; for that is only affirming that what is ordered and\ncommanded is\u2014ordered and commanded.\n\n\u2018BURDETT. These sentiments do not appear to have made you very\nconspicuous for obedience. There are not a few passages, I believe, in\nyour life, where you have opposed what was ordered and commanded. Upon\nyour own principles, was that _right_?\n\n\u2018TOOKE. Perfectly.\n\n\u2018BURDETT. How now! was it ordered and commanded that you should oppose\nwhat was ordered and commanded? Can the same thing be at the same time\nboth right and wrong?\n\n\u2018TOOKE. Travel back to the island of Melinda, and you will find the\ndifficulty most easily solved. A thing may be at the same time both\n_right_ and _wrong_, as well as _right_ and _left_. It may be commanded\nto be done, and commanded not to be done. The law, _i.e._ that which is\nlaid down, may be different by different authorities.\n\n\u2018I have always been most obedient when most taxed with disobedience. But\nmy right hand is not the right hand of Melinda. The right I revere is\nnot the right adored by sycophants, the _jus vagum_, the capricious\ncommand of princes or ministers. I follow the law of God (which is laid\ndown by him for the rule of my conduct) when I follow the laws of human\nnature: which, without any testimony, we know must proceed from God, and\nupon these are founded the rights of man, or what is ordered for man.\u2019\n\nOn this passage I will observe that I think it would be difficult for\nMr. Tooke himself to find a more precious instance of unmeaning jargon\nin the writings of any school-divine. Mr. Tooke first pretends gravely\nto define the essence of _law_ and _just_ from the etymology of those\nwords, by saying that they are something _laid down_ and something\n_ordered_; and when pressed by the difficulty that there are many things\nlaid down and many things ordered which are neither \u2018law\u2019 nor \u2018just,\u2019\nmakes answer that their obligation depends on a higher species of law\nand justice, to wit, a law which is no where laid down, and a justice\nwhich is no where ordered, except indeed by the nature of things, on\nwhich the etymology of these two words does not seem to throw much\nlight. At one time, it seems quite demonstrable that the essence of all\nlaw, right, and justice consists in its being ordered or communicated by\nwords: the very idea is absurd, unless we conceive of it as some thing\neither spoken or written in a book; and yet the very next moment this\nfastidious reasoner sets up the unwritten, uncommunicated law of God,\nwhich he says must conform to the laws of human nature, as the rule of\nhis conduct, and as paramount to all other positive orders and commands\nwhatever. What is this original law of God or nature, which Mr. Tooke\nsets up as the rule of right? Is it the good of the whole, or\nself-interest? Is it the voice of reason, or conscience, or the moral\nsense? Here then we have to set out afresh in our pursuit, and to grope\nour way as well as we can through the old labyrinth of morality,\ndivinity, and metaphysics. This new-invented patent lamp of etymology\ngoes out just as it is beginning to grow dark, and as the path becomes\nintricate.\n\nNeither can I at all see why our author should quarrel with M. Portalis\nfor using these words in their common sense. He affirms that the whole\nof this gentleman\u2019s speech is a piece of wretched mummery, that his\ndistinction between what is right and what is commanded is a senseless\nambiguity, and that explanation would undo him. Yet he himself, two\npages after, discovers that this distinction has a real meaning in it,\nand that he has acted upon it all his life. \u2018The one,\u2019 he says, \u2018is the\n_jus vagum_, the capricious command of princes; the other is the law of\nGod and nature.\u2019 It is not impossible but M. Portalis might have given\nquite as profound an explanation of his own meaning. Junius\u2019s sarcasm\ndid not, it seems, entirely cure Mr. Tooke \u2018of the little sneering\nsophistries of a collegian.\u2019\n\nMr. Tooke next makes strange havoc with a whole host of metaphysical\nagents; like Sir Richard Blackmore,\n\n \u2018Undoes creation at a jerk,\n And of redemption makes damn\u2019d work.\u2019\n\n \u2018Rebelling angels, the forbidden tree,\n Heaven, hell, earth, chaos, all\u2019\u2014\n\nare weighed in the balance and found wanting. We cannot say with\nMarvell, that the argument\n\n \u2018Holds us a while misdoubting his intent,\n That he would ruin (for I saw him strong)\n The sacred truths to fable and old song.\n (So Sampson groped the temple\u2019s posts in spite)\n The world o\u2019erwhelming to revenge his sight.\u2019\n\nFor Mr. Tooke leaves us in no doubt about his intent. All these sacred\ntruths are, according to him, so many falsehoods, which by taking\npossession of certain adjectives and participles, have palmed themselves\nupon the world as realities, but which, by spelling their names\nbackwards, he proposes to exorcise and reduce to their original\nnothingness again. Here follows a list of them which he has strung\ntogether, as a warning to all other pseudo-substantives. It is rather\nstrange, by the bye, that the author should have resorted to this mode\nof argument, since he affirms that adjectives are the names of things,\nas well as substantives; and laughs at Dr. South for saying that they\nare the names of nothing.\n\n\u2018These words, these participles and adjectives,\u2019 says Mr. Tooke, \u2018not\nunderstood as such, have caused a metaphysical jargon and a false\nmorality, which can only be dissipated by etymology. And when they come\nto be examined you will find that the ridicule which Dr. Conyers\nMiddleton has so justly bestowed upon the papists for their absurd\ncoinage of saints, is equally applicable to ourselves and to all other\nmetaphysicians; whose moral deities, moral causes, and moral qualities\nare not less ridiculously coined and imposed upon their followers.\n\n Fate\n Destiny\n Luck\n Lot\n Chance\n Accident\n Heaven\n Hell\n Providence\n Prudence\n Innocence\n Substance\n Fiend\n Angel\n Apostle\n Saint\n Spirit\n True\n False\n Desert\n Merit\n Fault. &c. &c.\n\nas well as _just_, _right_, and _wrong_, are all merely participles\npoetically embodied and substantiated by those who use them.\n\n\u2018So Church, for instance (_Dominicum aliquid_) is an adjective; and\nformerly a most wicked one: whose misinterpretation caused more\nslaughter and pillage of mankind than all the other cheats together.\u2019\n\nSir Francis says, \u2018Something of this sort I can easily perceive, but not\nto the extent you carry it. I see that those sham deities, Fate and\nDestiny, aliquid _fatum_, quelque chose _destin\u00e9e_, are merely the past\nparticiples of _fari_ and _destiner_. That Chance (\u201chigh arbiter,\u201d as\nMilton calls him) and his twin-brother Accident are merely the\nparticiples of _escheoir_, _cheoir_, and _cadere_. And that to say, it\nbefell me by chance or by accident, is absurdly saying it befell me by\nfalling.\n\n\u2018I agree with you, that Providence, Prudence, Innocence, Substance, and\nall the rest of that tribe of qualities (in _ence_ and _ance_) are\nmerely the neuter plurals of the present participles of _ordere_,\n_nocere_, _stare_, &c. &c. That Angel, Saint, Spirit, are the past\nparticiples \u03b1\u03b3\u03b3\u03b5\u03bb\u03bb\u03b5\u03b9\u03c5, sanciri, spirare. That the Italian _cucolo_, a\ncuckoo, gives us the verb to cucol, and its past participle cuckold.\u2019\n\nAnd what if it does: will Mr. Tooke therefore pretend to say that there\nis no such thing? This is indeed turning etymology to a good account. It\nis clearing off old scores with a vengeance, and establishing morality\non an entirely new basis. For my own part, I can only say of the whole\nof the reasoning of this author, with Voltaire\u2019s Candide, \u2018_la t\u00eate me\ntourne: on ne sait ou l\u2019on est_.\u2019 Whether any or all of those\nmetaphysical beings enumerated by Mr. Tooke do or do not exist, what\ntheir nature or qualities are, whether modes, relatives, substances, I\nshall not here undertake to determine, but I do conceive that none of\nthese questions can be resolved in any way by inquiring whether the\nnames denoting them are not the past participles of certain verbs. A\nshorter method would I think be to say at once that all metaphysical and\nmoral terms, whether participles or not, are but names, that names are\nnot things, and that therefore the things themselves have no existence.\nIt is upon this philosophical principle that the heroical Jonathan Wild\nproceeds in his definition of the word Honour, for after losing himself\nto no purpose in the common metaphysical jargon on the subject, and in\nmoral causes and qualities, he comes at last to this clear and\nunembarrassed conclusion,\u2014\u2018That honour consists in the word _honour_,\nand nothing else.\u2019\n\nI will only give one instance more of this reformed system of logic and\nmetaphysics.\n\n\u2018BURDETT. I still wish for an explanation of one word more: which on\naccount of its extreme importance ought not to be omitted. What is\nTruth? You know when Pilate had asked the same question, he went out and\nwould not stay for an answer, and from that time to this no answer has\nbeen given. And from that time to this mankind have been wrangling and\ntearing each other to pieces for the truth, without once considering the\nmeaning of the word.\u2019\n\n\u2018TOOKE. This word will give us no trouble. Like the other words, _true_\nis also a past participle of the Saxon verb _treowan_, confidere, to\nthink, to believe firmly, to be thoroughly persuaded of, to trow.\n_True_, as we now write it, or _trew_, as it was formerly written, means\nsimply and merely that which is trowed, and instead of its being a rare\ncommodity upon earth, except only in words, there is nothing but truth\nin the world.\n\n\u2018That every man, in his communication with others, should speak that\nwhich he troweth, is of so great importance to mankind, that it ought\nnot to surprise us, if we find the most extravagant and exaggerated\npraises bestowed upon truth. But truth supposes mankind; for whom and by\nwhom alone the word is formed, and to whom only it is applicable. If no\nman, no truth. There is therefore no such thing as eternal, immutable,\neverlasting truth; unless mankind, such as they are at present, be also\neternal, immutable, and everlasting. Two persons may contradict each\nother, and yet both speak truth. For the truth of one person may be\nopposite to the truth of another. To speak truth may be a vice as well\nas a virtue; for there are many occasions when it ought not to be\nspoken. If you reject my explanation, find out if you can some other\npossible meaning of the word, or content yourself with Johnson, by\nsaying that _true_ is not false, and _false_ is\u2014not true. For so he\nexplains the words.\u2019\u2014Vol. ii. p. 407.\n\nIn a note the author adds, \u2018Mr. Locke, in the second book of his Essay,\nchapter xxxii., treats of _true_ and _false_ ideas, and is much\ndistressed throughout the whole chapter, because he had not in his mind\nany determinate meaning of the word _true_. If that excellent man had\nhimself followed the advice which he gave to his disputing friends\nconcerning the word _liquor_; if he had followed his own rule,\npreviously to writing about _true_ and _false_ ideas, and had determined\nwhat meaning he applied to _true_, _being_, _thing_, _real_, _right_,\n_wrong_, he could not have written the above chapter, which exceedingly\ndistresses the reader, who searches for a meaning where there is none to\nbe found.\u2019\n\nWhether Mr. Locke would have been satisfied with Mr. Tooke\u2019s account of\nthese words, I cannot say. I know that I am not. I do not think it the\ntrue one. It is therefore not the true one. Mr. Tooke thinks it is, and\ntherefore it is the true one. Which of us is right? That what a man\nthinks, he thinks, and that if he speaks what he thinks, he speaks truth\nin one principal sense of the word, is what does not require much\nillustration; but whether what he thinks is true or false, whether his\nopinion is right or wrong, or whether there is not another possible and\nactual meaning of the terms besides that given by Mr. Tooke, is the old\ndifficulty, which remains just where it was before, in spite of\netymology.\n\nThe application of the theory of language to the philosophy of the mind,\nMr. Tooke has reserved for a volume by itself: the principle, however,\nwhich he means to establish, he has very explicitly laid down in the\nbeginning of his first volume. \u2018The business of the mind,\u2019 he says, \u2018as\nfar as it concerns language, appears to me to be very simple. It extends\nno farther than to receive impressions, that is, to have sensations or\nfeelings. What are called its operations, are merely the operations of\nlanguage. The greatest part of Mr. Locke\u2019s Essay, that is, all which\nrelates to what he calls the _composition_, _abstraction_, _complexity_,\n_generalization_, _relation_, &c. of ideas, does indeed merely concern\nlanguage. If he had been sooner aware of the inseparable connexion\nbetween words and knowledge, he would not have talked of the composition\nof ideas; but would have seen that the only composition was in the\nterms; and consequently that it was as improper to talk of a complex\nidea as of a complex star. It is an easy matter, upon Mr. Locke\u2019s own\nprinciples and a physical consideration of the senses and the mind, to\nprove the impossibility of the composition of ideas; and that they are\nnot ideas, but merely terms which are general and abstract.\u2019\u2014Vol. i. pp.\n39, 51, &c.\n\nNow I grant that Mr. Locke\u2019s own principles, and a physical\nconsideration of the mind, do lead to the conclusion here stated, that\nis, to an absurdity; and it is from thence I have endeavoured to show\nmore than once that those principles, and the considering the mind as a\nphysical thing, are themselves absurd. How a term can be complex\notherwise than from the complexity of its meaning, that is, of the idea\nattached to it, is difficult to understand.\n\nAs to the other position, that we have no general ideas, but that it is\nthe terms only that are general and abstract, Mr. Tooke has borrowed\nthis piece of philosophy from Mr. Locke, who borrowed it from Hobbes.\n\u2018Universality\u2019 says Mr. Locke, as quoted by our author, \u2018belongs not to\nthings, which are all of them particular in their existence. When,\ntherefore, we quit particulars, the generals that rest are only\ncreatures of our own; their general nature being nothing but the\ncapacity they are put into of signifying or representing many\nparticulars.\u2019 I have, however, before shown how very loose, uncertain,\nand wavering, Mr. Locke\u2019s reasoning on this subject is, though I cannot\nagree with Mr. Tooke that it is therefore \u2018_very different from that\nincomparable author\u2019s usual method of proceeding_.\u2019 There is one\nquestion which may be asked with respect to this statement, which, if\nfairly answered, will perhaps, decide the point in dispute: _viz._ if\nthere is no general nature in things, or if we have no general idea of\nwhat they have in common or the same, how is it that we know when to\napply the same general terms to different particulars, which on this\nprinciple will have nothing left to connect them together in the mind?\nFor example, take the words, _a white horse_. Now say they, it is the\nterms which are general or common, but we have no general or abstract\nidea corresponding to them. But if we had no general idea of _white_,\nnor any general idea of _a horse_, we should have nothing more to guide\nus in applying this phrase to any but the first horse, than in applying\nthe terms of an unknown tongue to their respective objects. For it is\nthe idea of something general or common between the several objects,\nwhich can alone determine us in assigning the same name to things which,\nconsidered as particulars, or setting aside that general nature, are\nperfectly distinct and independent. Without this link in the mind, this\ngeneral perception of the qualities of things, the terms _a white horse_\ncould no more be applied, and would, in fact, be no more applicable to\nanimals of this description generally, than to any other animal. In\nshort, what is it that \u2018puts the same common name into a capacity of\nsignifying many particulars,\u2019 but that those particulars are, and are\nconceived to be of the same kind? That is, general terms necessarily\nimply a class of things and ideas. Language without this would be\nreduced to a heap of proper names: and we should be just as much at a\nloss to name any object generally, from its agreement with others, as to\nknow whether we should call the first man we met in the street by the\nname of John or Thomas. The existence and use of general terms is alone\na sufficient proof of the power of abstraction in the human mind; nor is\nit possible to give even a plausible account of language without it. But\nMr. Tooke has on all possible occasions sacrificed common sense to a\nfalse philosophy and epigrammatic logic. In opposition to this author\u2019s\nassertion, that we have neither complex nor abstract ideas, I think it\nmay be proved to a demonstration that we have no others. If our ideas\nwere absolutely simple and individual, we could have no idea of any of\nthose objects which in this erring, half-thinking philosophy are called\nindividual, as a table or a chair, a blade of grass, or a grain of sand.\nFor every one of these includes a certain configuration, hardness,\ncolour, &c. _i.e._ ideas of different things, and received by different\nsenses, which must be put together by the understanding before they can\nbe referred to any particular thing, or form one idea. Without the\ncementing power of the mind, all our ideas would be necessarily\ndecomposed and crumbled down into their original elements and flexional\nparts. We could indeed never carry on a chain of reasoning on any\nsubject, for the very links of which this chain must consist, would be\nground to powder. No two of these atomic impressions could ever club\ntogether to form even a sensible point, much less should we be able ever\nto arrive at any of the larger masses, or nominal descriptions of\nthings. All nature, all objects, all parts of all objects would be\nequally \u2018without form and void.\u2019 _The mind alone is formative_, to\nborrow the expression of a celebrated German writer, or it is that alone\nwhich by its pervading and elastic energy unfolds and expands our ideas,\nthat gives order and consistency to them, that assigns to every part its\nproper place, and that constructs the idea of the whole. Ideas are the\noffspring of the understanding, not of the senses. In other words, it is\nthe understanding alone that perceives relation, but every object is\nmade up of a bundle of relations. In short, there is no object or idea\nwhich does not consist of a number of parts arranged in a certain\nmanner, but of this arrangement the parts themselves cannot be\nconscious. A \u2018physical consideration of the senses and the mind\u2019 can\nnever therefore account for our ideas, even of sensible objects. Mr.\nLocke\u2019s own principles do indeed exclude all power of understanding from\nthe human mind. The manner in which Hobbes and Berkeley have explained\nthe nature of mathematical demonstration upon this system shows its\nutter inadequacy to any of the purposes of general reasoning, and is a\nplain confession of the necessity of abstract ideas. Mr. Hume considers\nthe principle that abstraction is not an operation of the mind, but of\nlanguage, as one of the most capital discoveries of modern philosophy,\nand attributes it to Bishop Berkeley. Berkeley has however only adopted\nthe arguments and indeed almost the very words of Hobbes. The latter\nauthor in the passage which has been already quoted says, \u2018By this\nimposition of names, some of larger, some of stricter signification, we\nturn the reckoning of the consequences of things imagined in the mind\ninto a reckoning of the consequences of appellations. For example, a man\nthat hath no use of speech at all, such as is born and remains perfectly\ndeaf and dumb, if he set before his eyes a triangle, and by it two right\nangles, (such as are the corners of a square figure) he may by\nmeditation compare and find that the three angles of that triangle are\nequal to those two right angles that stand by it. But if another\ntriangle be shewn him different in shape from the former, he cannot know\nwithout a new labour, whether the three angles of that also be equal to\nthe same. But he that hath the use of words, when he observes that such\nequality was consequent not to the length of the sides, nor to any other\nparticular thing in his triangle, but only to this, that the sides were\nstraight and the angles three, and that that was all for which he named\nit a triangle, will boldly conclude universally, that such equality of\nangles is in all triangles whatsoever; and register his invention in\nthese general terms: _Every triangle hath its three angles equal to two\nright ones_. And thus the consequence found in one particular, comes to\nbe registered and remembered as an universal rule; and discharges our\nmental reckoning of time and place, and delivers us from all labour of\nthe mind saving the first, and makes that which was found true _here_\nand _now_ to be true _in all times_ and _places_.\u2019\u2014_Leviathan_, p. 14.\n\nBishop Berkeley gives the same view of the nature of abstract reasoning\nin the introduction to his \u2018Principles of Human Knowledge.\u2019 \u2018But here,\u2019\nhe says, \u2018it will be demanded how we can know any proposition to be true\nof all particular triangles, except we have first seen it demonstrated\nof the abstract idea of a triangle, which agrees equally to all. To\nwhich I answer, that though the idea I have in view, whilst I make the\ndemonstration be, for instance, that of an isosceles rectangular\ntriangle, whose sides are of a determinate length, I may nevertheless be\ncertain it extends to all other rectilinear triangles of what sort or\nbigness soever. And that because neither the right angle nor the\nequality nor the determinate length of the sides are at all concerned in\nthe demonstration. \u2019Tis true, the diagram I have in view includes all\nthese particulars, but then there\u2019s not the least mention made of them\nin the proof of the proposition. It is not said the three angles are\nequal to two right ones, because one of them is a right angle, or\nbecause the sides comprehending it are of the same length; which\nsufficiently shows that the right angle might have been oblique and the\nsides unequal, and for all that the demonstration have held good. And\nfor this reason it is that I conclude that to be true of any oblique\nangular or scalenon, which I had demonstrated of a particular right\nangled equicrural triangle, and not because I demonstrated the\nproposition of the abstract idea of a triangle.\u2019\u2014Page 34.\n\nThis answer does not appear to me satisfactory. It amounts to this, that\nthough the diagram we have in view includes a number of particular\ncircumstances, not applicable to other cases, yet we know the principle\nto be true generally, because _there is not the least mention made of\nthese particulars in the proof of the proposition_.\n\nWhen it is asserted that we must necessarily have the idea of a\nparticular size whenever we think of a man in general, all that is\nintended I believe is that we must think of a particular height. This\nidea it is supposed must be particular and determinate, just as we must\ndraw a line with a piece of chalk, or make a mark with the slider of a\nmeasuring instrument in one place and not in another. I think it may be\nshown that this view of the question is also extremely fallacious and an\ninversion of the order of our ideas. The height of the individual is\nthus resolved into the consideration of the lines terminating or\ndefining it, and the intermediate space of which it properly consists is\nentirely overlooked. For let us take any given height of a man, whether\ntall, short, or middle-sized, and let that height be as visible as you\nplease, I would ask whether the actual length to which it amounts does\nnot consist of a number of other lengths, as if it be a tall man, the\nlength will be six feet, and each of these feet will consist of as many\ninches, and those inches will be again made up of decimals, and those\ndecimals of other subordinate and infinitesimal parts, which must be all\ndistinctly perceived and added together before the sum total which they\ncompose can be pretended to be a distinct, particular, or individual\nidea. In any given visible object we have always a gross, general idea\nof something extended, and never of the precise length; for this precise\nlength as it is thought to be is necessarily composed of a number of\nlengths too many, and too minute to be separately attended to or jointly\nconceived by the mind, and at last loses itself in the infinite\ndivisibility of matter. What sort of distinctness or individuality can\ntherefore be found in any visible image or object of sense, I cannot\nwell conceive: it seems to me like seeking for certainty in the dancing\nof insects in the evening sun, or for fixedness and rest in the motions\nof the sea. All particulars are nothing but generals, more or less\ndefined according to circumstances, but never perfectly so. The\nknowledge of any finite being rests in generals, and if we think to\nexclude all generality from our ideas of things, as implying a want of\nperfect truth and clearness, we must be constrained to remain in utter\nignorance. Let any one try the experiment of counting a flock of sheep\ndriven fast by him, and he will soon find his imagination unable to keep\npace with the rapid succession of objects; and his idea of a particular\nnumber slide into the general notion of multitude: not that because\nthere are more objects than he can possibly count he will think there\nare none, or that the word _flock_ will present to his mind a mere name\nwithout any idea corresponding to it. Every act of the attention, every\nobject we see or think of, offers a proof of the same kind.\n\nThe application of this view of the subject to explain the difference\nbetween the synthetical and analytical faculties, between generalization\nand abstraction in the proper acceptation of this last word, between\ncommon sense or feeling and understanding or reason, demands a separate\nessay.\n\nI do not think it possible ever to arrive at the truth upon these, or to\nprove the existence of general or abstract ideas, by beginning in Mr.\nLocke\u2019s method with particular ones. This faculty of abstraction or\ngeneralization (to use the words indifferently) is indeed by most\nconsidered as a sort of artificial refinement upon our other ideas, as\nan excrescence, no ways contained in the common impressions of things,\nnor scarcely necessary to the common purposes of life; and is by Mr.\nLocke altogether denied to be among the faculties of brutes. It is the\nornament and top-addition of the mind of man which proceeding from\nsimple sensation upwards, is gradually sublimed into the abstract\nnotions of things: \u2018so from the root springs lighter the green stalk,\nfrom thence the leaves more airy, last the bright consummate flower.\u2019 On\nthe other hand, I imagine that all our notions from first to last are,\nstrictly speaking, general and abstract, not absolute and particular,\nand that this faculty mixes itself more or less with every act of the\nmind, and in every moment of its existence.\n\nLastly, I conceive that the mind has not been fairly dealt with in this\nand other questions of the same kind. The difficulty belonging to the\nnotion of abstraction or comprehension it is perhaps impossible ever to\nclear up: but that is no reason why we should discard those operations\nfrom the human mind any more than we should deny the existence of\nmotion, extension, or curved lines in nature, because we cannot explain\nthem. Matter alone seems to have the privilege of presenting\ndifficulties and contradictions at any time, which pass current under\nthe name of _facts_; but the moment any thing of this kind is observed\nin the understanding, all the petulance of logicians is up in arms. The\nmind is made the mark on which they vent all the modes and figures of\ntheir impertinence; and metaphysical truth has in this respect fared\nlike the milk-white hind, the emblem of pure faith, in Dryden\u2019s fable,\nwhich\n\n \u2018Has oft been chased\n With Scythian shafts and many winged wounds\n Aimed at her heart, was often forced to fly,\n And doomed to death, though fated not to die.\u2019\n\n\n\n\n ON SELF-LOVE\n\n\nThe modern system of philosophy has one great advantage, which makes it\ndifficult to attack it with any hopes of success, namely, that it is not\nfounded on any of the prevailing opinions or natural feelings of\nmankind. It rests upon a single principle\u2014its boasted superiority over\nall prejudice. Unsupported by facts or reason, it is by this\ncircumstance alone enabled to trample upon every dictate of the\nunderstanding or feeling of the heart, as weak and vulgar prejudices. In\nthis alone it is secure and invulnerable. To this it owes its giant\npower and dreaded name. Let the contradictions and fallacies contained\nin the system be proved over and over again, still the answer is\nready:\u2014all the objections made to it are resolved into _prejudice_.\nDestitute of every other support, it staggers our faith in received\nopinions by the hardihood of its assertions, and derives its claim to\nimplicit credence by the boldness of its defiance of all established\nauthority. Common sense is brought to the bar like an old offender, and\ncondemned without a hearing. Under the shelter of this presumption there\nis no absurdity so great as not to be advanced with impunity. There is\nno hypothesis, however gratuitous, however inadequate, or however\nunfounded, that is not held up as the true one, if it is but contrary to\nall observation and experience. The grossest credulity succeeds to the\nmost extravagant scepticism. From being the slaves of authority we\nbecome the dupes of paradox. Every opinion which is so absurd as never\nto have been affirmed before is converted into an undeniable truth.\nWhoever dares to question it, unawed by the authority on the one hand,\nand undazzled by the novelty on the other, is considered as a person of\na narrow and bigoted understanding, and as relinquishing all claim to\nthe exercise of his reason. We are effectually deterred from protesting\nagainst any of these \u2018wise saws and modern instances\u2019 by the dread of\nbeing mixed up with the vulgar, and we dare not avoid the common\nfeelings of humanity lest we should be ridiculed as the dupes of\nself-love, or of the whining cant of moralists. There is however no\nbigotry so blind as that which is founded on a supposed exemption from\nall prejudice. The mind in this case identifies every opinion of its own\nwith reason itself: and regarding the objections made to it as\nproceeding from a jaundiced and distorted view of the case, it converts\nthem into the strongest confirmations of the depth and comprehensiveness\nof its own views. There are accordingly no people so little capable of\nreasoning as those who make the loudest pretensions to it: and having\nassumed the name of Philosophers, are astonished that any one should\ncall their title in question.\n\nI have been led to make these observations from reading\nHelvetius\u2019s account of self-love, which is nothing but a series of\nmisrepresentations and assumptions of the question, and which can\nonly have imposed upon his readers from that tone of confidence\nand alertness which men always have in attacking a received and\nlong-established principle, and a tacit and involuntary feeling\nthat boldness of opinion implies strength and independence of\nmind. A few examples will show that this censure is well-founded.\n\u2018What,\u2019 says this author in the beginning of his view of the\nquestion,\u2014\u2018what is the human understanding? It is the assemblage\nof his ideas. To what sort of understanding do we give the name of\ntalent? To the understanding concentrated upon a single subject;\nthat is to say to a large assemblage of ideas of the same kind.\n\n\u2018Now if there are no innate ideas, human understanding and genius are\nonly acquired; and both one and the other have the following faculties\nfor their principles:\n\n\u20181. Physical sensibility; without which we could receive no sensations.\n\n\u20182. Memory, that is to say, the faculty of recalling the sensations\nreceived.\n\n\u20183. The interest which we have in comparing our sensations together,\nthat is to say, in observing with attention the resemblances and\ndifferences, the agreements and disagreements of several objects amongst\nthem. It is this interest which fixes the attention, and in minds\ncommonly well-organised, is the efficient cause of understanding.\u2019\n\nIt is added in a note, \u2018To judge, according to M. Rousseau, is not to\nfeel. The proof of his opinion is that we have a faculty or power which\nenables us to compare objects. Now this power according to him cannot be\nthe effect of physical sensibility. But,\u2019 continues Helvetius, \u2018if\nRousseau had more profoundly considered the question, he would have\nperceived that this power (or faculty of understanding) is no other than\nthe interest itself which we have to compare these objects, and that\nthis interest takes its rise in the feeling of self-love, which is the\nimmediate effect of physical sensibility.\u2019 This is the author\u2019s account\nof the understanding. It is bold and decided, but it is not on that\naccount either more or less true. It comes to this; that the faculty or\npower of understanding is owing to the use we have for such a faculty;\nor that we have a power of comparing our sensations, because we have an\ninterest in comparing them, and that therefore this power is nothing but\nthe effect of physical sensibility. So that a man before he has any\nunderstanding, feeling the want of it, supplies himself with this very\nnecessary faculty by an act of the will, and out of pure friendly regard\nto himself. The interest or desire to fly might at this rate supply us\nwith a pair of wings, or an effort of curiosity might furnish us with a\nnew sense, or an effort of self-interest might enable a man to be in two\nplaces at once. All these consequences might very easily follow, if we\nwere only satisfied to believe any extravagance of assertion, and to use\nwords systematically without either connexion or meaning.\n\nThe whole of this writer\u2019s argument against the existence of a\nbenevolent principle in the mind is founded either on a play of words,\nor an arbitrary substitution of one feeling for another. He has\nconfounded, and does not even seem to have been aware of the distinction\nbetween, self-love, considered as a rational principle of action, or the\nvoluntary and deliberate pursuit of our own good as such, and that\nimmediate interest or gratification which the mind may have in the\npursuit of any object either relating to ourselves or others. He\nsometimes evidently considers the former of these, that is, a\ndeliberating, calculating, conscious selfishness, as the only rational\nprinciple of action, and treats all other feelings as romance and folly,\nor even denies their existence; while at other times he contends that\nthe most disinterested generosity, patriotism, and love of fame, are\nequally and in the strictest sense self-love, because the pursuit of\nthese objects is connected with and tends immediately and intentionally\nto the gratification of the individual who has an attachment to them.\n\nAfter stating the sentiment of Rousseau, that without an innate and\nabstract sense of right and wrong we should not see the just man and the\ntrue citizen consult the public good to his own prejudice, Helvetius\ngoes on thus:\u2014\u2018No one, I reply, has ever been found to promote the\npublic good when it injured his own interest. The patriot who risks his\nlife to crown himself with glory, to gain the public esteem, and to\ndeliver his country from slavery, yields to the feeling which is most\nagreeable to him. Why should he not place his happiness in the exercise\nof virtue, in the acquisition of public respect, and in the pleasure\nconsequent upon this respect? For what reason, in a word, should he not\nexpose his life for his country, when the sailor and soldier, the one at\nsea, and the other in the trenches, daily expose theirs for a shilling?\nThe virtuous man who seems to sacrifice his own good to that of the\npublic is only governed by a sentiment of noble self-interest. Why\nshould M. Rousseau deny here that interest is the exclusive and\nuniversal motive of action, when he himself admits it in a thousand\nplaces of his work?\u2019 The author then quotes the following passage from\nRousseau\u2019s \u2018Emilius\u2019 in support of his doctrine:\u2014\u2018A man may indeed\npretend to prefer my interest to his own: however plausibly he colours\nover this falsehood, I am quite sure it is one.\u2019 But I would ask why, on\nthe principle just stated by Helvetius, he should not prefer another to\nhimself, \u2018if it is agreeable to him?\u2019 Why should he not place his\nhappiness in the exercise of friendship? Why should he not risk his life\nfor his friend, as well as the patriot for his country, or as the\nsoldier or sailor for a shilling a day? What is become, all of a sudden,\nof that noble self-interest which identifies us with our country and our\nkind? Is it quite forgot? Has it evaporated with a breath? Is there\nnothing of it left? When any instances are brought, or supposed, of the\nsacrifice of private interest to principle, or virtue, or passion, it is\nimmediately pretended that these instances are not at all inconsistent\nwith the grand universal principle of self-interest, which embraces all\nthe sentiments and affections of the human mind, even the most heroical\nand disinterested. But the moment these instances are out of sight and\nthe evasion is no longer necessary, this expansive principle shrinks\ninto its own natural littleness again; and excludes all regard to the\ngood of others as romantic and idle folly. All those instances of virtue\nwhich are at one moment perfectly compatible with this \u2018universal\nprinciple of action\u2019 are the next moment said to be incompatible with\nit, and the author after his little rhetorical glozings on the extensive\nviews and generous sacrifices of self-interest, immediately descends\ninto the vulgar proverb that \u2018the misfortunes of others are but a\ndream.\u2019 To proceed: Helvetius says, (p. 14):\n\n\u2018What we understand by goodness or the moral sense in man, is his\nbenevolence towards others: and this benevolence we always find in\nproportion to the utility they are of to him. I prefer my\nfellow-citizens to strangers, and my friend to my fellow-citizens. The\nwelfare of my friend is reflected upon me. If he becomes more rich and\nmore powerful, I partake of his riches and his power. Benevolence\ntowards others is nothing, then, but the effect of love to ourselves.\u2019\n\nThe inference here stated, that benevolence is merely a reflection from\nself-love, is founded on the assumption that we always feel for others\nin proportion to the advantage they are of to us, and this assumption is\na false one. That the habitual or known connexion between our own\nwelfare and that of others, is one great source of our attachment to\nthem, one bond of society, is what I do not wish to deny: the question\nis whether it is the only one in the mind, or whether benevolence has\nnot a natural basis of its own to rest upon, as well as self-love. Grant\nthis, and the actual effects which we observe in human life will follow\nfrom both principles combined: but to say that our attachment to others\nis in the exact ratio of our obligations to them, is contrary to all we\nknow of human nature. I would ask whether the affection of a mother for\nher child is owing to the good received or bestowed; to the child\u2019s\npower of conferring benefits, or its standing in need of assistance? Are\nnot the fatigues which the mother undergoes for the child, its helpless\ncondition, its little vexations, its sufferings from ill health or\naccidents, additional ties upon maternal tenderness, which by increasing\nthe attention to the wants of the child and anxiety to supply them,\nproduce a proportionable interest in an attachment to its welfare?\nHelvetius justly observes that we prefer a friend to a stranger, but the\nreason which he assigns for it, that our interests and pleasures are\nmore closely allied, is not the only one. We participate in the\nsuccesses of our friends, it is true, but we also participate in their\ndistresses and disappointments, and it is not always found that this\nlessens our regard for them. Benevolence, therefore, is not a mere\nphysical reflection from self-love. His account of friendship agrees\nexactly with that which the grave historian of Jonathan Wild has given\nof the friendship between his hero and Count La Ruse: \u2018Mutual interest,\nthe greatest of all purposes, was the cement of this alliance, which\nnothing of consequence but superior interest was capable of dissolving.\u2019\n\nThe mechanical principle of association, understood in a strict sense,\nwill not account for the multifarious and mixed nature of our\naffections, and if we do not understand it in a strict sense, it will\nthen only be another name for sympathy, imagination, or any thing else.\n\n\u2018What then in truth,\u2019 proceeds this author, \u2018is the natural goodness, or\nmoral sense, so much extolled by the English? What distinct idea can we\nform of such a sense, or on what evidence found its existence? If we\nallow a moral sense, why not allow an algebraical or chemical sense?\nNothing is more absurd than this theological philosophy of Shaftesbury,\nand yet most of the English are as much delighted with it as the French\nformerly were with their music. It is not the same with other nations.\nNo foreigner can understand the one or hear the other. It is a film on\nthe eye of the English, which it is necessary to remove in order that\nthey may see.\n\n\u2018According to their philosophy, a man in a state of indifference sitting\nin his elbow chair, desires the good of others: but in as far as he is\nindifferent, man desires and can desire nothing. A state of desire and\nindifference is incompatible. These philosophers repeat in vain that the\nmoral sense is implanted in man, and makes him at a certain time\ndisposed to compassionate the sufferings of his fellows. This system is\nin fact nothing more than the system of innate ideas overturned by\nLocke. For my part, I can form an idea of my five senses, and of the\norgans which constitute them: but I confess that I have no more idea of\na moral sense than of a moral elephant and castle. The enthusiasts for\n\u201cmoral beauty\u201d are ignorant of the contempt in which these nations are\nheld by all those who, either in the character of statesmen, officers of\npolice, or men of the world, have an opportunity of knowing what human\nnature is.\u2019\u2014Page 15.\n\nIn reply to the dogmatical question with which this passage begins\u2014\u2018What\ndistinct idea can be given of the moral sense?\u2019\u2014I answer for myself, the\nfollowing very explicit one: namely, that it is the natural preference\nof good to evil, arising from the conception or idea formed of them in\nthe understanding. Those who assert a moral sense, affirm that there is\na faculty of some sort or other inseparable from the nature of a\nrational and intelligent being, that enables us to form a conception of\ngood and evil, or of the feelings of pleasure and pain generally\nspeaking, which ideas so formed have a natural tendency to excite\ncertain affections and actions.\n\nThose, on the other hand, who deny a moral sense, or any thing\nequivalent to it, must affirm either that we can form no idea whatever\nof the feelings of others, or of good and evil generally speaking, or\nthat these ideas have no possible influence over the mind, except from\ntheir connexion with physical impressions, memory, habit, self-interest,\nor some other motive, quite distinct from the ideas themselves. But I\nhave already shown that without the co-operation of rational motives,\nthere could be neither habit, nor self-interest, nor voluntary action of\nany kind. The moral is therefore nothing but the application of the\nunderstanding to the feelings or ideas of good. The question,\nconsequently, whether there is a moral sense, is reducible to this;\nwhether the mind can understand or conceive, or be affected by any thing\nbeyond its own physical or mechanical feelings. If it can, then there is\nsomething in man besides his five senses and the organs which compose\nthem, for these can give him no thought, conception, or sympathy with\nany thing beyond himself, or even with himself beyond the present\nmoment. The actions, and events, and feelings of human life, the\npassions and pursuits of men, could no more go on without the\ninterference of the understanding than without an original principle of\nphysical sensibility. Neither the one nor the other explains the whole\neconomy of our moral nature, but that is no reason why both are not\nessential and integrant parts of it. The five senses and the organs\nwhich compose them will not account for the science of morality, let it\nbe as imperfect as it may, any more than for the science of algebra or\nchemistry in the different degrees in which they are possessed by\ndifferent men. The point is not whether reason is furnishing us with a\nperfect and infallible rule of action, absolute over any other motive or\npassion, but whether it is any rule at all, whether it has any possible\ninfluence over our moral feelings. According to Helvetius, the moral\nsense is either a word without meaning, or it must signify one of our\nfive senses: that is, impressions not actually affecting one or other of\nthese are to him absolutely nothing. It is strange that after this he\nshould propose to take the film from the eyes of those who ridiculously\nfancy that they have other ideas. It is as if a blind man should\nundertake to undeceive those who can see, with respect to certain\nchemical notions, called objects of sight. In confirmation of his\ntheory, he refers the romantic admirers of moral beauty to the opinion\nof certain classes and professions of men, whose visual ray has been\npurged, and who, it should seem, possess a sort of second sight into\nhuman nature, namely, ministers of state, officers of police, and men of\nbusiness. Either this argument is a satire on these characters, or on\nthe understanding of his readers. If these respectable, and, I dare say,\nvery well-meaning persons, are by the narrowness of their occupations\nand views, precluded from any general knowledge of human nature, or the\nvirtues of the human heart, it is an uncivil irony to propose them as\nconsummate judges of the abstract nature of man. If, on the other hand,\nin spite of their employment, they retain the same notions and\nliberality of feeling as other men, there is no reason to suppose that\nthey would subscribe to the sentiment of our author, that morality \u2018is\nan affair of the five senses:\u2019 a proposition which any minister of\nstate, or police officer, or man of the world, possessed of the least\ncommon sense, would treat with as much contempt and incredulity as\nShaftesbury or Hutcheson. Our author\u2019s observation, that the notion of a\nmoral sense or natural disposition to sympathise with others, is only\nthe doctrine of innate ideas in disguise, is another misconception of\nthe nature of the question. The actual feeling of compassion is not, as\nhe says, innate; but this no more proves that the disposition to\ncompassion or benevolence is not innate, than the fact that the ideas or\nfeelings of pleasure and pain are not innate and born with us, proves\nthat physical sensibility is not an original faculty of the mind. Moral\nsensibility, or the capacity of being affected by the ideas of certain\nobjects, is as much a part of our nature as physical sensibility, or the\ncapacity of being affected in a certain manner by the objects\nthemselves. Helvetius says, physical sensibility is the only quality\nessential to the nature of man: I answer, that physical sensibility is\n_not_ the only quality essential to the nature of man. To show how\nsenseless and insignificant is this kind of reasoning, I will refer back\nto Helvetius\u2019s concise profession of his metaphysical faith, which is\nthat he can form an idea of the five senses and of the organs of them,\nbut of nothing else. Now, I may ask, how he comes by this _idea_? Which\nof his senses or which of the organs of them is it that gives him an\nidea of the other four? Has the eye an action of words, or the ear of\ncolours, or either of the impressions of taste, smell, or feeling? Which\nof them is the common sense? or if none, must we not suppose some\nsuperintending faculty to which all the other impressions are subject,\nand which alone can give him an idea of his own senses or their organs?\nAnother instance of the utter want of logical and consecutive reasoning\nwhich characterizes the French philosophers, might be given in their\nsingular proof of the selfishness of the human mind from the\nincompatibility of a state of desire and a state of indifference. The\nEnglish philosophers are charged with representing a man in a state of\nindifference, \u2018seated in his arm-chair,\u2019 as desiring the good of others.\nThis arm-chair it should seem, no less than his state of indifference,\npresents certain insurmountable barriers to his desires, which they\ncannot pass so as to affect him with the slightest concern for any thing\nbeyond it. So far as a man is indifferent to every thing, he cannot it\nis true desire any thing. All that follows from this is, that so far as\nhe desires the good of others he is not in a state of indifference.\n\nThat a man cannot desire an object and not desire it at the same time\nrequires no proof. But what ought to have been proved, and what was\nmeant to be so, is that a man in a state of indifference to the welfare\nof others on his own account, cannot desire it for their sake, and this\nis what is not proved by the truism mentioned. The general maxim, that I\ncannot desire any object as long as I am indifferent to it, cannot be\nmade to show that self-interest is the only motive that can make me pass\nfrom the one state into the other. By indifference, as used by the\nwriters here ridiculed, in a popular sense, is evidently meant the want\nof personal or physical interest in any object, and to say that this\nnecessarily implies the want of every other kind of interest in it, of\nall rational desire of the good of others, is a meagre assumption of the\npoint in dispute. It is strange that these pretenders to philosophy\nchoose to insult the English writers for daring to wear the plain,\nhomely, useful, national garb of philosophy, while their most glossy and\nmost fashionable suits are made up of the shreds and patches stolen from\nour countryman Hobbes, disguised with a few spangles, tinselled lace,\nand tagged points of their own.\n\nHelvetius\u2019s paraphrase of Hobbes\u2019s maxim, that \u2018pity is only another\nname for self-love,\u2019 is as follows:\n\n\u2018What then do I feel in the presence of an object of compassion? A\nstrong emotion. What causes this emotion? The recollection of the\nsufferings to which man is subject, and to which I am myself liable.\nIt is this consideration that disturbs, that torments me, and so long\nas the unfortunate sufferer continues in my presence I am affected\nwith melancholy sensations. Have I relieved him,\u2014do I no longer see\nhim? A calm is insensibly restored to my breast, because in proportion\nto the distance to which he is removed, the remembrance of the evils\nwhich his sight recalled is gradually effaced. When I was concerned\nfor him, then, I was concerned only for myself. What are, in fact, the\nsufferings which I compassionate the most? They are those not only\nwhich I have felt myself, but those which I may still feel. Those\nevils the more present to my memory impress me more strongly. My\nsympathy with the sufferings of another is always in exact proportion\nto my fear of being exposed to the same sufferings myself. I would\nwillingly, if it were possible, destroy the very germ of my own\nsufferings in him, and thus be released from the apprehension of the\nlike evils to myself in time to come. The love of others is never any\nthing more in the human mind than the effect of love to ourselves, and\nconsequently of our physical sensibility.\u2019\u2014Vol. ii. page 20.\n\nTo this I answer as follows:\u2014What do I feel in the presence of an object\nof compassion? A strong emotion. What causes this emotion? Not,\ncertainly, the general recollection of the sufferings to which man in\ngeneral is subject, or to which I myself may be exposed. It is not this\nremote and accidental reflection, which has no particular reference to\nthe object before me, but a strong sense of the sufferings of the\nparticular person, excited by his immediate presence, which affects me\nwith compassion, and impels me to his relief. The relief I afford him,\nor the absence of the object, lessens my uneasiness, either by the\ncontemplation of the diminution of his sufferings, to which I have\ncontributed, or by diverting my mind from the consideration of his\nsufferings. Neither the relief afforded, nor the absence of the object\ncould produce this effect, if the strong emotion which I experience did\nnot relate to the particular object. It is the fate of the individual,\nand of him only, which I am contemplating, and my sympathy accordingly\nrises and falls with it, or as my attention is more or less fixed upon\nit. A total alteration in the situation of the individual produces a\ntotal change in my feelings with respect to him, which could not be the\ncase, if my compassion depended wholly on my sense of my own security,\nor the general condition of human nature. In feeling compassion for\nanother, therefore, it was not for myself that I was concerned, but for\nthe sufferer: my feelings were, in a manner, bound up with his, and I\nforgot for the moment both myself and others. But do I not compassionate\nmost those evils which I have felt myself? Yes; because from my own\nknowledge of them I have a more lively sense of what others must suffer\nfrom them: just in the same manner I dread those evils most with respect\nto myself in time to come. For those evils which I have not experienced,\nI feel, for that reason, less sympathy in respect to others, and less\ndread with reference to myself in time to come. Neither do I always feel\nfor others in proportion as I dread the same feelings myself. The memory\nof my past sufferings cannot excite my disposition to relieve those of\nothers, and the imaginary apprehension of my own _future_ sufferings can\nonly tend to produce voluntary action on the same principle as my\nimagination of those or others. I do not wish to prevent their\nsufferings as the germ or cause of mine, but because they are of the\nsame nature as mine. Benevolence, therefore, is not the effect of self\nlove, though it is the effect of our physical sensibility, combined with\nour other faculties. I will in this place insert the reply of Bishop\nButler (a true philosopher) to the same argument in Hobbes, in a note to\none of his sermons.\n\n\u2018If any person can in earnest doubt whether there be such a thing as\ngood-will in one man towards another (for the question is not concerning\neither the degree or extensiveness of it, but concerning the affection\nitself,) let it be observed, that _whether man be thus or otherwise\nconstituted, what is the inward frame in this particular_ is a mere\nquestion of fact or natural history, not proveable immediately by\nreason. It is therefore to be judged of and determined in the same way\nother facts or historical matters are; by appealing to the external\nsenses, or inward perceptions, respectively, as the matter under\nconsideration is cognizable by one or the other; by arguing from\nacknowledged facts and actions, inquiring whether these do not suppose\nand prove the matter in question so far as it is capable of proof. And,\nlastly, by the testimony of mankind. Now that there is some degree of\nbenevolence amongst men, may be as strongly and plainly proved in all\nthese ways, as it could possibly be proved, supposing there was this\naffection in our nature. And should any one think fit to assert, that\nresentment in the mind of man was absolutely nothing but reasonable\nconcern for our own safety, the falsity of this, and what is the real\nnature of that passion, could be shown in no other ways than those in\nwhich it may be shown, that there is such a thing in _some degree_ as\n_real_ good-will in man towards man.\n\n\u2018There being manifestly this appearance of men\u2019s substituting others for\nthemselves, and being carried out and affected towards them as towards\nthemselves; some persons, who have a system which excludes every\naffection of this sort, have taken a pleasant method to solve it; and\ntell you it is _not another_ you are at all concerned about, but your\n_self only_, when you feel the affection called compassion; _i.e._ there\nis a plain matter of fact, which men cannot reconcile with the general\naccount they think fit to give of things; they therefore, instead of\n_that_ manifest fact, substitute _another_, which is reconcilable to\ntheir own scheme. For does not every body by compassion mean an\naffection the object of which is another in distress? Instead of this,\nbut designing to have it mistaken for this, they speak of an affection\nor passion, the object of which is ourselves, or danger to ourselves.\nSuppose a person to be in real danger, and by some means or other to\nhave forgot it; any trifling accident, any sound might alarm him, recall\nthe danger to his remembrance, and renew his fears: but it is almost too\ngrossly ridiculous (though it is to show an absurdity) to speak of that\nsound or accident as an object of compassion; and yet, according to Mr.\nHobbes, our greatest friend in distress is no more to us, no more the\nobject of compassion or of any affection in our heart. Neither the one\nnor the other raises any emotion in our mind, but only the thoughts of\nour liableness to calamity, and the fear of it: and both equally do\nthis.\n\n\u2018There are often three distinct perceptions or inward feelings upon\nsight of persons in distress: real sorrow and concern for the misery of\nour fellow-creatures; some degree of satisfaction from a consciousness\nof our freedom from that misery; and, as the mind passes on from one\nthing to another, it is not unnatural from such an occasion to reflect\nupon our own liableness to the same or other calamities. The two last\nfrequently accompany the first, but it is the first _only_ which is\nproperly compassion, of which the distressed are the object, and which\ndirectly carries us with calmness and thought to their assistance. Any\none of these, from various and complicated reasons, may in particular\ncases prevail over the other two; and there are, I suppose, instances\nwhere the bare _sight_ of distress, without our feeling any compassion\nfor it, may be the occasion of either or both of the two latter.\u2019\n\nI shall proceed to examine the objection to the doctrine of benevolence,\non the supposition that our sympathy when it exists is really a part of\nour interest. This objection was long ago stated by Hobbes,\nRochefoucault, and Mandeville, and has been adopted and glossed over by\nHelvetius. It is pretended, then, that in wishing to relieve the\ndistresses of others we only desire to remove the uneasiness which pity\ncreates in our mind; that all our actions are unavoidably selfish, as\nthey all arise from the feeling of pleasure or pain existing in the mind\nof the individual, and that whether we intend our own good or that of\nothers, the immediate gratification connected with the idea of any\nobject is the sole motive which determines us to the pursuit of it.\n\nFirst, this objection does not at all affect the main question in\ndispute. For if it is allowed that the idea of the pleasures or pains of\nothers excites an immediate interest in the mind, if we feel sorrow and\nanxiety for their imaginary distresses exactly in the same way that we\ndo for our own, and are impelled to action by the same principle,\nwhether the action has for its object our own good, or that of others;\nin a word, if we sympathise with others as we do with ourselves, the\nnature of man as a voluntary agent must be the same, whether we choose\nto call this principle self-love, or benevolence, or whatever\nrefinements we may introduce into our manner of explaining it. The\nrelation of man to himself and others as a moral agent is plainly\ndetermined, whether a rational pursuit of his own future welfare and\nthat of others is the real or only the ostensible motive of his actions.\nWere it not that our feelings are so strongly attached to names, the\nrest would be a question more of speculative curiosity than practice.\nAll that, commonly speaking, is meant by the most disinterested\nbenevolence is this immediate sympathy with the feelings of others, as\nby self-love is meant the same kind of attachment to our own future\ninterests. For if by self-love we understand any thing beyond the\nimpulse of the present moment, any thing different from inclination, let\nthe object be what it will, this can no more be a mechanical thing than\nthe most refined and comprehensive benevolence. Self-love, used in the\nsense which the above objection implies, must therefore mean some thing\nvery different from an exclusive principle of deliberate, calculating\nselfishness, rendering us indifferent to every thing but our own\nadvantage, or from the love of physical pleasure or aversion to physical\npain, which could produce no interest in any but sensible impressions.\nIn a word, it expresses merely any inclination of the mind be it to what\nit will, and does not at all determine or limit the object of pursuit.\nSupposing, therefore, that our most generous feelings and actions were\nso far equivocal, the object only bearing a show of disinterestedness,\nthe secret motive being always selfish, this would be no reason for\nrejecting the common use of the term _disinterested benevolence_, which\nexpresses nothing more than an immediate reference of our actions to the\ngood of others, as self-love expresses a conscious reference of them to\nour own good as means to an end. This is the proper meaning of the\nterms. If we denominate our actions not from the object in view, but\nfrom the inclination of the individual, there will be an end at once,\nboth of \u2018selfishness\u2019 and \u2018benevolence.\u2019\n\nBut farther, I deny that there is any foundation for the objection\nitself, or any reason for resolving the feelings of compassion or our\nvoluntary motives in general into a principle of mechanical self-love.\nThat the motive to action exists in the mind of the person who acts, is\nwhat no one can deny, or I suppose ever meant to deny. The passion\nexcited and the impression producing it must necessarily affect the\nindividual. There must always be some one to feel and act, or there\ncould evidently be no such thing as feeling or action. If therefore it\nhad ever been implied as a condition in the love of others, that this\nlove should not be felt by the person who loves them, this would be to\nsay that he must love them and not love them at the same time, which is\ntoo palpable an absurdity to be thought of for a moment. It could never,\nI say, be imagined that in order to feel for others, we must in reality\nfeel nothing, or that benevolence, to exist at all, must exist no where.\nThis kind of reasoning is therefore the most arrant trifling. To call my\nmotives or feelings selfish, because they are felt by myself, is an\nabuse of all language: it might just as well be said that my idea of the\nmonument is a selfish idea, or an idea of myself, because it is I who\nperceive it. By a selfish feeling must be meant, therefore, a feeling,\nnot which belongs to myself (for that all feelings do, as is understood\nby every one) but which _relates_ to myself, and in this sense\nbenevolence is not a selfish feeling. It is the individual who feels\nboth for himself and others; but by self-love is meant that he feels\nonly for himself; for it is presumed that the word _self_ has some\nmeaning in it, and it would have absolutely none at all, if nothing more\nwere intended by it than any object or impression existing in the mind.\nIt therefore becomes necessary to set limits to the meaning of the\nterms. If we except the burlesque interpretation of the word just\nnoticed, self-love can mean only one of these three things. 1. The\nconscious pursuit of our own good as such; 2. The love of physical\npleasure and aversion to physical pain; 3. The gratification derived\nfrom our sympathy with others. If all our actions do not proceed from\none of these three principles, they are all resolvable into self-love.\n\nFirst, then, self-love may properly signify, as already explained, the\nlove or affection excited by the idea of our own interest, and the\nconscious pursuit of it as a general, remote, ideal object. In this\nsense, that is, considered with respect to the proposed end of our\nactions, I have shown sufficiently that there is no exclusive principle\nof self-love in the human mind which constantly impels us, as a set\npurpose, to pursue our own advantage and nothing but that.\n\nSecondly, any being would be strictly a selfish agent, all whose\nimpulses were excited by mere physical pleasure or pain, and who had no\nsense or imagination, or anxiety about any thing but its own bodily\nfeelings. Such a being could have no idea beyond its actual, momentary\nexistence, and would be equally incapable of rational self-love or\nbenevolence. But it is allowed on all hands that the wants and desires\nof the human mind are not confined within the limits of his bodily\nsensations.\n\nThirdly, it is said that though man is not merely a physical agent, but\nis naturally capable of being influenced by imagination and sympathy,\nyet that this does not prove him to be possessed of any degree of\ndisinterestedness or real good-will to others; since he pursues the good\nof others only from its contributing to his own gratification; that is,\nnot for their sakes, but for his own, which is still selfishness. That\nis, the indulgence of certain affections necessarily tends, without our\nthinking of it, to our own immediate gratification, and the impulse to\nprolong a state of pleasurable feeling and put a stop to whatever gives\nthe mind the least uneasiness, is the real spring and over-ruling\nprinciple of our actions. If our benevolence and sympathy with others\narose out of and was entirely regulated by this principle of\nself-gratification, then these might indeed be with justice regarded as\nthe ostensible accidental motives of our actions, as the form or vehicle\nwhich served only to transmit the efficacy of any other hidden\nprinciple, as the mask and cover of selfishness. But the supposition\nitself is the absurdest that can well be conceived. Self-love and\nsympathy are inconsistent. The instant we no longer suppose man to be a\nphysical agent, and allow him to have ideas of things out of himself and\nto be influenced by them, that is, to be endued with sympathy at all, he\nmust necessarily cease to be a merely selfish agent. The instant he is\nsupposed to conceive and to be affected by the ideas of other things, he\ncannot be wholly governed by what relates to himself. The terms\n\u2018selfish\u2019 and \u2018natural agent\u2019 are a contradiction. For the one\nexpression implies that the mind is actuated solely by the impulse of\nself-love, and the other that it is in the power and under the control\nof other motives. If our sympathy with others does not always originate\nin the pleasure with which it is accompanied to ourselves, or does not\ncease the moment it becomes troublesome to us, then man is not entirely\nand necessarily the creature of self-love. He is under another law and\nanother necessity, and in spite of himself is forced out of the direct\nline of his own interest, both future and present, by other principles\ninseparable from his nature as an intelligent being. Our sympathy\ntherefore is not the servile, ready tool of our self-love, but this\nlatter principle is itself subservient to and over-ruled by the former;\nthat is, an attachment to others is a real independent principle of\nhuman action. What I wish to state is this: that the mind neither\nconstantly aims at nor tends to its own individual interest. That in\nbenevolence, compassion, friendship, &c. the mind does aim at its good,\nis what every one must acknowledge. The only sense then in which our\nsympathy with others can be construed into self-love, must be that the\nmind is so constituted that without forethought or any reflection in\nitself, or when seeming most occupied with others, it is still governed\nby the same universal feeling of which it is wholly unconscious; and\nthat we indulge in compassion, &c. only because and in as far as it\ncoincides with our own immediate gratification. If it could be shown\nthat the current of our desires always runs the same way, either with or\nwithout knowledge, I should confess that this would be a strong\npresumption of what has been called the falsity of human virtue. But it\nis not true that such is the natural disposition of the mind. It is not\nso constructed as to receive no impressions but those which gratify its\ndesire of happiness, or to throw off every the least uneasiness relating\nto others, like oil from water. It is not true that the feelings of\nothers have no natural hold upon the mind but by their connexion with\nself-interest. Nothing can be more evident than that we do not on any\noccasion blindly consult the interest of the moment; there is no\ninstinctive unerring bias to our own good, which in the midst of\ncontrary motives and doubtful appearances, puts aside all other impulses\nand guides them but to its own purposes. It is against all experience to\nsay that in giving way to the feelings of sympathy, any more than to\nthose of rational self-interest (for the argument is the same in both\ncases), I always yield to that impulse which is accompanied with most\npleasure at the time. It is true that I yield to the strongest impulse,\nbut not that my strongest impulse is to pleasure. The idea, for\ninstance, of the relief I may afford to a person in extreme distress, is\nnot necessarily accompanied by a correspondent degree of pleasurable\nsensation to counterbalance the painful sensation his immediate distress\noccasions in my mind. It is certain that sometimes the one and sometimes\nthe other may prevail without altering my purpose in the least. I am led\nto persevere in it by the idea of what are the sufferings, and that it\nis in my power to alleviate them: though that idea is not always the\nmost agreeable contemplation I could have. Those who voluntarily perform\nthe most painful duties of friendship or humanity do not do them from\nthe immediate gratification arising therefrom; it is as easy to turn\naway from a beggar as to relieve him; and if the mind were not actuated\nby a sense of truth, and of the real consequences of its actions, we\nshould uniformly listen to the distresses of others with the same sort\nof feeling as we go to see a tragedy, only because we calculate that the\npleasure is greater than the pain. But I appeal to every one whether\nthis is a true account of human nature. There is indeed a false and\nbastard kind of feeling commonly called sensibility, which is governed\naltogether by this reaction of pity on our own minds, and which instead\nof disproving only serves more strongly to distinguish the true. Upon\nthe theory here stated the mind is supposed to be imperceptibly attached\nto or to fly from every idea or impression simply as it affects it with\npleasure or pain: all other impulses are carried into effect or remain\npowerless according as they touch this great spring of human affection,\nwhich determines every other movement and operation of the mind. Why\nthen do we not reject at first every tendency to what may give us pain?\nWhy do we sympathise with the distresses of others at all?\n\n \u2018The jealous God at sight of human ties,\n Spreads his light wings and in a moment flies.\u2019\n\nWhy does not our self-love in like manner, if it is so perfectly\nindifferent and unconcerned a principle as it is represented,\nimmediately disentangle itself from every feeling or idea which it finds\nbecoming painful to it? It should seem we are first impelled by\nself-love to feel uneasiness at another\u2019s sufferings, in order that the\nsame principle of tender concern for ourselves may afterwards impel us\nto get rid of that uneasiness by endeavouring to remove the suffering\nwhich is the cause of it. In desiring to relieve the distress of\nanother, it is pretended that our only wish is to remove the uneasiness\nit occasions us: do we also feel this uneasiness in the first instance\nfor the same reason, or from regard to ourselves! It is absurd to say\nthat in compassionating others I am only occupied with my own pain or\nuneasiness, since this very uneasiness arises from my compassion. It is\nto take the effect for the cause. One half of the process, namely, our\nconnecting the sense of pain with the idea of it, has evidently nothing\nto do with self-love: nor do I see any more reason for ascribing the\nactive impulse which follows to this principle, since it does not tend\nto remove the idea of the object as it gives _me_ pain, or as it\nactually affects _myself_, but as it is supposed to affect another.\nSelf, mere positive self, is entirely forgotten, both practically and\nconsciously. The effort of the mind is not to remove the idea or the\nimmediate feeling of pain as an abstract impression of the individual,\nbut as it represents the pain which another feels, and is connected with\nthe idea of another\u2019s pain. So long then as this imaginary idea of what\nanother feels excites my sympathy with him, as it fixes my attention on\nhis sufferings, however painful, as it impels me to his relief, and to\nemploy the necessary means for that purpose, at the expense of my ease\nand satisfaction, that is, so long as I am interested for others, it is\nnot true that my only concern is for myself, or that I am governed\nsolely by the principles of self-interest. Abstract our sympathy as it\nwere from itself, and resolve it into another principle, and it will no\nlonger produce the effects which we constantly see it produce wherever\nit exists. Let us suppose, for a moment, that the sensations of others\nwere embodied by some means or other with our own, that we felt for them\nexactly as for ourselves, would not this give us a real sympathy in\nthem, and extend our interest and identity beyond ourselves? Would the\nmotives and principles by which we are actuated be the same as before?\nBut the imagination, though not in the same degree, produces the same\neffects: it modifies and overrules the impulses of self-love, and binds\nus to the interests of others as to our own. If the imagination gives us\nan artificial interest in the welfare of others, if it determines my\nfeelings and actions, and if it even for a moment draws them off from\nthe pursuit of an abstract principle of self-interest, then it cannot be\nmaintained that self-love and benevolence are the same. The motives that\ngive birth to our social affections are by means of the understanding as\nmuch regulated by the feelings of others as if we had a real\ncommunication and sympathy with them, and are swayed by an impulse\naltogether foreign to self-love. If it should be said, that after all we\nare as selfish as we can be, and that the modifications and restrictions\nof the principle of self-love are only a necessary consequence of the\nnature of a thinking being, I answer, that this is the very point I wish\nto establish; or that it is downright nonsense to talk of a principle of\nentire selfishness in connexion with a power of reflection, that is,\nwith a mind capable of perceiving the consequences of things beyond\nitself, and of being affected by them.\n\nShould any desperate metaphysician persist in affirming that my love of\nothers is still the love of myself, because the impression exciting my\nsympathy must exist in my mind, and so be a part of myself, I would\nanswer that this is using words without affixing any distinct meaning to\nthem. The love or affection excited by any general idea existing in my\nmind, can no more be said to be the love of myself, than the idea of\nanother person is the idea of myself, because it is I who perceive it.\nThis method of reasoning, however, will not go a great way to prove the\ndoctrine of an abstract principle of self-interest; for, by the same\nrule, it would follow that in hating another person I hate myself.\nIndeed, upon this principle, the whole structure of language is a\ncontinued absurdity. It is pretended by a violent assumption, that\nbenevolence is only a desire to prolong the idea of another\u2019s pleasure\nin one\u2019s own mind, because the idea exists there: malevolence must,\ntherefore, be a disposition to prolong the idea of pain in one\u2019s own\nmind for the same reason, that is, to injure oneself, for by this\nphilosophy no one can have a single idea which does not refer to, nor\nany impulse which does not originate in, self. But the love of others\ncannot be built on the love of self, considering this last as the effect\nof \u2018physical sensibility;\u2019 and the moment we resolve self-love into the\nrational pursuit of a remote object, it has been shown that the same\nreasoning applies to both, and that the love of others has the same\nnecessary foundation in the human mind as the love of ourselves.\n\nI have endeavoured to prove that there is no real, physical, or\nessential difference between the motives by which we are naturally\nimpelled to the pursuit of our own welfare and that of others. The truth\nof this paradox, great as it seems, may be brought to a very fair test:\nnamely, the being able to demonstrate that the doctrine of\nself-interest, as it is commonly understood, is in the nature of things\nan absolute impossibility; and, the being able to account for that\nhypothesis,\u2014that is, for the common feeling and motives of men from\nhabits, and a confused association of ideas aided by the use of\nlanguage. If others cannot answer my reasons, and if I can account for\ntheir prejudices, I should not be justified in hastily relinquishing my\nopinion, merely on account of its singularity. It may not be improper\nbriefly to recapitulate the former argument as far as it proceeded. I am\nfar from denying that there is a difference between real or physical\nimpulses and ideal motives, but I contend that this distinction is quite\nbeside the present purpose. For self-love properly relates to action,\nand all action relates to the future, and all future objects are ideal,\nand the interest we take in all such objects, and the motives to the\npursuit of them are ideal too. The distinction between self-love and\nbenevolence, therefore, as separate principles of action, cannot be\nfounded on the difference between real and imaginary objects, between\nphysical and rational motives, inasmuch as the motives and objects of\nthe one and the other are equally ideal things. Whether we voluntarily\npursue our own good or that of another, we must inevitably pursue that\nwhich is at a distance from us, something out of ourselves, abstracted\nfrom the being that acts and wills, and that is incompatible always with\nour present sensation or physical existence. Self-love, therefore, as\nthe actuating principle of the mind, must imply the efficacy and\noperation of the imagination of the remote ideas of things, as connected\nwith voluntary action, and the most refined benevolence, the greatest\nsacrifices of natural affection, of sincerity, of friendship, or\nhumanity, can imply nothing more. The notion of the necessity of actual\nobjects or impressions as the motives to action could not so easily have\ngained ground as an article of philosophical faith, but from a perverse\ndistinction of the use of the idea to abstract definitions or external\nforms, having no reference to the feelings or passions; and again from\nassociating the word _imagination_ with merely fictitious situations and\nevents such as never have a real existence, and which consequently do\nnot admit of action. If then self-love, even the most gross and\npalpable, can only subsist in a rational and intellectual nature, not\ncircumscribed within the narrow limits of animal life, or of the\nignorant present time, but capable of giving life and interest to the\nforms of its own creatures, to the unreal mockeries of future things, to\nthat shadow of itself which the imagination sends before; is it not the\nheight of absurdity to stop here, and poorly and pitifully to suppose\nthat this pervading power must bow down and worship this idol of its own\nmaking, and become its blind and servile drudge, and that it cannot\nextend its creatures as widely around it, as it projects them forward,\nthat it cannot breathe into all other forms the breath of life, and\nendow even sympathy with vital warmth, and diffuse the soul of morality\nthrough all the relations and sentiments of human life? Take away the\nreal, physical, mechanical principle of self-interest, and it will have\nno basis to rest upon, but that which it has in common with every\nprinciple of natural justice or humanity. That there is no real,\nphysical, or mechanical principle of selfishness in the mind, has been\nabundantly proved. All that remains is, to show how the continued\nidentity of the individual with himself has given rise to the notion of\nself-interest, which after what has been premised will not be a very\ndifficult task. What I shall attempt to show will be, that individuality\nexpresses not either absolute unity or real identity, but properly such\na particular relation between a number of things as produces an\nimmediate or continued connexion between them, and a correspondent\nmarked separation between them and other things. Now, in coexisting\nthings, one part may by means of this communication mutually act and be\nacted upon by others, but where the connexion is continued, or in\nsuccessive identity of the individual, though what follows may depend\nintimately on what has gone before, that is, be acted upon by it, it\ncannot react upon it; that is, the identity of the individual with\nitself can only relate practically to its connexion with its past, and\nnot with its future self.\n\nEvery human being is distinguished from every other human being both\nnumerically and characteristically. He must be numerically distinct by\nthe supposition, or he would not be another individual, but the same.\nThere is, however, no contradiction in supposing two individuals to\npossess the same absolute properties: but then these original properties\nmust be differently modified afterwards from the necessary difference of\ntheir situations, unless we conceive them both to occupy the same\nrelative situation in two distinct systems, corresponding exactly with\neach other. In fact, every one is found to differ essentially from every\none else; if not in original qualities, in the circumstances and events\nof their lives, and consequently in their ideas and characters. In\nthinking of a number of individuals, I conceive of them all as differing\nin various ways from one another as well as from myself. They differ in\nsize, in complexion, in features, in the expression of their\ncountenances, in age, in occupation, in manners, in knowledge, in\ntemper, in power. It is this perception or apprehension of their real\ndifferences that first enables me to distinguish the several individuals\nof the species from each other, and that seems to give rise to the most\nobvious idea of individuality, as representing, first, positive number,\nand, secondly, the sum of the differences between one being and another,\nas they really exist, in a greater or less degree in nature, or as they\nwould appear to exist to an impartial spectator, or to a perfectly\nintelligent mind. But _I_ am not in reality more different from others\nthan any one individual is from any other individual, neither do I in\nfact suppose myself to differ really from them otherwise than as they\ndiffer from each other. What is it then that makes the difference seem\ngreater _to me_, or that makes me feel a greater change in passing from\nmy own idea to that of another person, than in passing from the idea of\nanother person to that of any one else? Neither my existing as a\nseparate being, nor my differing from others, is of itself sufficient to\naccount for the idea of self, since I might equally perceive others to\nexist and compare their actual differences without ever having this\nidea.\n\nFarther, individuality is sometimes used to express not so much the\nabsolute difference or distinction between one individual and another,\nas a relation or comparison of that individual with itself, whereby we\ntacitly affirm that it is in some way or other the same with itself, or\none idea. Now in one sense it is true of all existences whatever that\nthey are literally the same with themselves; that is, they are what they\nare, and not something else. Each thing is itself, is that individual\nthing, and no other; and each combination of things is that combination,\nand no other. So also each individual conscious being is necessarily the\nsame with himself; or in other words, that combination of ideas which\nrepresents any individual person is that combination of ideas, and not a\ndifferent one. This literal and verbal is the only true and absolute\nidentity which can be affirmed of any individual; which, it is plain,\ndoes not arise from a comparison of the different parts or successive\nimpressions composing the general idea one with another, but each with\nitself or all of them taken together with the whole. I cannot help\nthinking that some idea of this kind is frequently at the bottom of the\nperplexity which is felt by most people who are not metaphysicians (not\nto mention those who are), when they are told that man is not always the\nsame with himself, their notion of identity being that he must always be\nwhat he is. He is the same with himself, in as far as he is not another.\nWhen they say that the man is the same being in general, they do not\nreally mean that he is the same at twenty that he is at sixty, but their\ngeneral idea of him includes both these extremes, and therefore the same\nman, that is, the same collective idea, is both the one and the other.\nThis however is but a rude logic. Not well understanding the process of\ndistinguishing the same individual into different metaphysical sections,\nto compare, collate, and set one against the other (so awkwardly do we\nat first apply ourselves to the analytical art), to get rid of the\ndifficulty the mind produces a double individual, part real and part\nimaginary, or repeats the same idea twice over; in which case it is a\ncontradiction to suppose that the one does not correspond exactly with\nthe other in all its parts. There is no other absolute identity in the\ncase. All individuals (or all that we name such) are aggregates, and\naggregates of dissimilar things. Here, then, the question is not how we\ndistinguish one individual from another, or a number of things from a\nnumber of other things, which distinction is a matter of absolute truth,\nbut how we come to confound a number of things together, and consider\nmany things as the same, which cannot be strictly true. This idea must\nthen merely relate to such a connexion between a number of things as\ndetermines the mind to consider them as one whole, each part having a\nmuch nearer and more lasting connexion with the rest than with any thing\nelse not included in the same collective idea. (It is obvious that the\nwant of this close affinity and intimate connexion between any number of\nthings is what so far produces a correspondent distinction and\nseparation between one individual and another.) The eye is not the same\nthing as the ear; it is a contradiction to call it so. Yet both are\nparts of the same body, which contains these and infinite other\ndistinctions. The reason of this is, that all the parts of the eye have\nevidently a distinct nature, a separate use, a greater mutual dependence\non one another than on those of the ear; at the same time that there is\na considerable connexion between the eye and the ear, as parts of the\nsame body and organs of the same mind. Similarity is in general but a\nsubordinate circumstance in determining this relation. For the eye is\ncertainly more like the same organ in another individual, than the\ndifferent organs of sight and hearing are like one another in the same\nindividual. Yet we do not, in making up the imaginary individual,\nassociate our ideas according to this analogy, which would answer no\nmore purpose than the things themselves would, so separated and so\nunited; but we think of them in that order in which they are\nmechanically connected together in nature, and in which alone they can\nserve to any practical purpose. However, it seems hardly possible to\ndefine the different degrees or kinds of identity in the same thing by\nany general rule. The nature of the thing will best point out the sense\nin which it is to be the same. Individuality may relate either to\nabsolute unity, to the identity or similarity of the parts of any thing,\nor to an extraordinary degree of connexion between things neither the\nsame, nor similar. This last sense principally determines the positive\nuse of the word, at least with respect to man and other organized\nbeings. Indeed, the term is hardly ever applied in common language to\nother things.\n\nTo insist on the first circumstance, namely, absolute unity, as\nessential to individuality, would be to destroy all individuality; for\nit would lead to the supposition of as many distinct individuals as\nthere are thoughts, feelings, actions, and properties in the same being.\nEach thought would be a separate consciousness, each organ a different\nsystem. Each thought is a distinct thing in nature; but the individual\nis composed of numberless thoughts and various faculties, and\ncontradictory passions, and mixed habits, all curiously woven, and\nblended together in the same conscious being.\n\nBut to proceed to a more particular account of the origin of the idea of\nself, which is the connexion of a being with itself. This can only be\nknown in the first instance from reflecting on what passes in our own\nminds. I should say that individuality in this sense does not arise\neither from the absolute simplicity of the mind, or from its identity\nwith itself, or from its diversity from other minds, which are not in\nthe least necessary to it, but from the peculiar and intimate connection\nwhich subsists between the several faculties and perceptions of the same\nthinking being constituted as man is; so that, as the subject of his own\nreflection or consciousness, the same things impressed on any of his\nfaculties produce a quite different effect upon him from what they would\ndo, if they were impressed in the same way on any other being. The sense\nof personality seems then to depend entirely on the particular\nconsciousness which the mind has of its own operations, sensations, or\nideas. Self is nothing but the limits of the mind\u2019s consciousness; as\nfar as that reaches it extends, and where that can go no further, it\nceases. The mind is one, from the confined sphere in which it acts; or\nbecause it is not all things. It is nearer and more present to itself\nthan to other minds. What passes within it, what acts upon it\nimmediately from without, of this it cannot help being conscious; and\nthis consciousness is continued in it afterwards, more or less\nperfectly. All that does not come within this sphere of personal\nconsciousness, all that has never come within it, is equally without the\nverge of self; for that word relates solely to the difference of the\nmanner, or the different degrees of force and certainty with which, from\nthe imperfect and limited nature of our faculties, certain things affect\nus as they act immediately upon ourselves, and are supposed to act upon\nothers. Hence it is evident that personality itself cannot extend to\nfuturity; for the whole of this idea depends on the peculiar force and\ndirectness with which certain impulses act upon the mind. It is by\ncomparing the knowledge I have of my own impressions, ideas, feelings,\npowers, &c. with my knowledge of the same or similar impressions, ideas,\n&c. in others, and with this still more imperfect conception that I form\nof what passes in their minds when this is supposed to be entirely\ndifferent from what passes in my own, that I acquire the general notion\nof self. If I could form no idea of any thing passing in the minds of\nothers, or if my ideas of their thoughts and feelings were perfect\nrepresentations, _i.e._ mere conscious repetitions of them, all personal\ndistinction would be lost either in pure sensation or in perfect\nuniversal sympathy. In the one case it would be impossible for me to\nprefer myself to others, as I should be the sole object of my own\nconsciousness; and in the other case I must love all others as myself,\nbecause I should then be nothing more than a part of a whole, of which\nall others would be equally members with myself. This distinction,\nhowever, subsists as necessarily and completely between myself and those\nwho most nearly resemble me, as between myself and those whose\ncharacters and properties are the very opposite to mine. Indeed, the\ndistinction itself becomes marked and intelligible in proportion as the\nobjects or impressions themselves are intrinsically the same, as then it\nis impossible to mistake the true principle on which it is founded,\nnamely, the want of any direct communication between the feelings of one\nbeing and those of another. This will shew why the difference between\nourselves and others appears greater to us than that between other\nindividuals, though it is not really so.\n\nConsidering mankind in this twofold relation, as they are to themselves,\nor as they appear to one another, as the subjects of their own thoughts,\nor the thoughts of others, we shall find the origin of that wide and\nabsolute distinction which the mind feels in comparing itself with\nothers, to be confined to two faculties, viz., sensation, or rather\nconsciousness, and memory. To avoid an endless subtilty of distinction,\nI have not given here any account of consciousness in general; but the\nsame reasoning will apply to both. The operation of both these faculties\nis of a perfectly exclusive and individual nature, and so far as their\noperation extends (but no farther) is man a personal, or if you will, a\nselfish being. The sensation excited in me by a piece of red-hot iron\nstriking against any part of my body is simple, absolute, terminating as\nit were in itself, not representing any thing beyond itself, nor capable\nof being represented by any other sensation, or communicated to any\nother being. The same kind of sensation may be indeed excited in another\nby the same means, but this sensation will not imply any reference to,\nor consciousness of mine; there is no communication between my nerves\nand another\u2019s brain, by which he can be affected with my sensations as I\nam myself. The only notice or perception which another can have of this\nsensation in me, or which I can have of a similar sensation in another,\nis by means of the imagination. I can form an imaginary idea of that\npain as existing out of myself; but I can only feel it as a sensation\nwhen it is actually impressed on myself. Any impression made on another\ncan neither be the cause nor object of sensation to me. Again, the\nimpression or idea left in my mind by this sensation, and afterwards\nexcited either by seeing iron in the same state, or by any other means,\nis properly an idea of memory. This recollection necessarily refers to\nsome previous impression in my own mind, and only exists in consequence\nof that impression, or of the continued connexion of the same mind with\nitself: it cannot be derived from any impression made on another. My\nthoughts have a particular mechanical dependence only on my own previous\nthoughts or sensations. I do not remember the feelings of any one but\nmyself. I may, indeed, remember the objects which must have caused such\nand such feelings in others, or the outward signs of passion which\naccompanied them. These, however, are but the recollections of my own\nimmediate impressions of what I saw, and I can only form an idea of the\nfeelings themselves by means of the imagination. But, though we take\naway all power of imagination from the human mind, my own feelings must\nleave behind them certain traces, or representations of themselves\nretaining the same general properties, and having the same intimate\nconnexion with the conscious principle. On the other hand, if I wish to\nanticipate my own future feelings, whatever these may be, I must do so\nby means of the same faculty by which I conceive of those of others,\nwhether past or future. I have no distinct or separate faculty on which\nthe events and feelings of my future being are impressed before hand,\nand which shows, as in an enchanted mirror, to me, and me alone, the\nreversed picture of my future life. It is absurd to suppose that the\nfeelings which I am to have hereafter, should excite certain\ncorrespondent impressions of themselves before they have existed, or act\nmechanically upon my mind by a secret sympathy. The romantic sympathies\nof lovers, the exploded dreams of judicial astrology, the feats of\nmagic, do not equal the solid, substantial absurdity of this doctrine of\nself-interest, which attributes to that which is not and has not been, a\nmechanical operation and a reality in nature. I can only abstract myself\nfrom this present being, and take an interest in my future being, in the\nsame sense and manner in which I can go out of myself entirely, and\nenter into the minds and feelings of others. In short, there neither is\nnor can be any principle belonging to the individual that antecedently\nidentifies his future events with his present sensation, or that\nreflects the impression of his future feelings backwards with the same\nkind of consciousness that his past feelings are transmitted forward\nthrough the channels of memory. The size of the river as well as its\ntaste depends on the water that has already fallen into it. I cannot\nroll back its course, nor is the stream next the source affected by the\nwater which falls into it afterwards, yet we call both the same river.\nSuch is the nature of personal identity. It is founded on the continued\nconnexion of cause and effect, and awaits their gradual progress, and\ndoes not consist in a preposterous and wilful unsettling of the natural\norder of things. There is an illustration of this argument, which,\nhowever quaint or singular it may appear, I rather choose to give than\nomit any thing which may serve to make my meaning clear and\nintelligible. Suppose then a number of men employed to cast a mound into\nthe sea. As far as it has gone, the workmen pass backwards and forwards\non it: it stands firm in its place, and though it advances further and\nfurther from the shore, it is still joined to it. A man\u2019s personal\nidentity and self-interest have just the same principle and extent, and\ncan reach no farther than his actual existence. But if any man of a\nmetaphysical turn, seeing that the pier was not yet finished, but was to\nbe continued to a certain point, and in a certain direction, should take\nit into his head to insist that what was already built, and what was to\nbe built were the same pier, that the one must therefore afford as good\nfooting as the other, and should accordingly walk over the pier-head on\nthe solid foundation of his metaphysical hypothesis\u2014he would act a great\ndeal more ridiculously, but would not argue a whit more absurdly than\nthose who found a principle of absolute self-interest on a man\u2019s future\nidentity with his present being. But, say you, the comparison does not\nhold in this, that a man can extend his thoughts (and that very wisely\ntoo), beyond the present moment, whereas in the other case he cannot\nmove a single step forwards. Grant it. This will only show that the mind\nhas wings as well as feet, which is a sufficient answer to the selfish\nhypothesis.\n\nIf the foregoing account be true (and for my part, the only perplexity\nthat crosses my mind in thinking of it arises from the utter\nimpossibility of conceiving of the contrary supposition), it will follow\nthat those faculties which may be said to constitute self, and the\noperations of which convey that idea to the mind, draw all their\nmaterials from the past and present. But all voluntary action, as I have\nbefore largely shown, must relate solely and exclusively to the future.\nThat is, all those impressions or ideas with which selfish, or more\nproperly speaking, personal feelings must be naturally connected are\njust those which have nothing to do at all with the motives to action in\nthe pursuit either of our own interest, or that of others. If indeed it\nwere possible for the human mind to alter the present or the past, so as\neither to recal what was past, or to give it a still greater reality, to\nmake it exist over again, and in some more emphatical sense, then man\nmight, with some pretence of reason, be supposed naturally incapable of\nbeing impelled to the pursuit of any _past_ or _present_ object but from\nthe mechanical excitement of personal motives. It might in this case be\npretended that the impulses of imagination and sympathy are of too\nlight, unsubstantial, and remote a creation to influence our real\nconduct, and that nothing is worthy of the concern of a wise man in\nwhich he has not this direct, unavoidable, and homefelt interest. This\nis, however, too absurd a supposition to be dwelt on for a moment. The\nonly proper objects of voluntary action are (by necessity) future\nevents: these can excite no possible interest in the mind but by the aid\nof the imagination; and these make the same direct appeal to that\nfaculty, whether they relate to ourselves or to others, as the eye\nreceives with equal directness the impression of our own external form\nor that of others. It will be easy to perceive by this train of\nreasoning how, notwithstanding the contradiction involved in the\nsupposition of a generally absolute self-interest, the mind comes to\nfeel a deep and habitual conviction of the truth of this principle.\nFinding in itself a continued consciousness of its past impressions, it\nis naturally enough disposed to transfer the same sort of identity and\nconsciousness to the whole of its being. The objects of imagination and\nof the senses are, as it were, perpetually playing into one another\u2019s\nhands, and shifting characters, so that we lose our reckoning, and do\nnot think it worth while to mark where the one ends and the other\nbegins. As our actual being is constantly passing into our future being,\nand carries the internal feeling of consciousness along with it, we seem\nto be already identified with our future being in this permanent part of\nour nature, and to feel by a mutual impulse the same necessary sympathy\nwith our future selves that we know we shall have with our past selves.\nWe take the tablets of memory, reverse them, and stamp the image of self\non that which as yet possesses nothing but the name. It is no wonder\nthen that the imagination, constantly disregarding the progress of time,\nwhen its course is marked out along the straight unbroken line of\nindividuality, should confound the necessary differences of things, and\nconvert a distant object into a present reality. The interest which is\nhereafter to be felt by this continued conscious being, this indefinite\nunit, called _me_, seems necessarily to affect me in every state of my\nexistence,\u2014\u2018thrills in each nerve, and lives along the line.\u2019 In the\nfirst place we abstract the successive modifications of our being, and\n_particular_ temporary interests, into one simple nature and general\nprinciple of self-interest, and then make use of this nominal\nabstraction as an artificial medium to compel those particular actual\ninterests into the closest affinity and union with each other, as\ndifferent lines meeting in the same centre must have a mutual\ncommunication with each other. On the contrary, as I always remain\nperfectly distinct from others (the interest which I take in their\nformer or present feelings being like that which I take in their future\nfeelings, never any thing more than the effect of imagination and\nsympathy), the same illusion and transposition of ideas cannot take\nplace with regard to these; namely, the confounding a physical impulse\nwith the rational motives to action. Indeed the uniform nature of my\nfeelings with regard to others (my interest in their welfare having\nalways the same source and sympathy) seems by analogy to confirm the\nsupposition of a similar simplicity in my relation to myself, and of a\npositive, natural, absolute interest in whatever belongs to that self,\nnot confined to my actual existence, but extending over the whole of my\nbeing. Every sensation that I feel, or that afterwards recurs vividly to\nmy memory strengthens the sense of self, which increased strength in the\nmechanical feeling is indirectly transferred to the general idea, and to\nmy remote, future, imaginary interest; whereas our sympathy with the\nfeelings of others being always imaginary, standing only on its own\nbasis, having no sensible interest to support it, no restless mechanical\nimpulse to urge it on, the ties by which we are bound to others hang\nloose upon us: the interest we take in their welfare seems to be\nsomething foreign to our own bosoms, to be transient, arbitrary, and\ndirectly opposed to that necessary, unalienable interest we are supposed\nto have in whatever conduces to our own well-being.\n\nThere is another consideration (and that probably the principal one) to\nbe taken into the account in explaining the origin and growth of our\nselfish habits, which is perfectly consistent with the foregoing theory,\nand evidently arises out of it. There is naturally, then, no essential\ndifference between the motives by which I am impelled to the pursuit of\nmy own good or that of others: but though there is not a difference in\nkind, there is one in degree. We know better what our own future\nfeelings will be than what those of others will be in a like case. We\ncan apply the materials afforded us by experience with less difficulty\nand more in a mass in making out the picture of our future pleasures and\npains, without frittering them away or destroying their original\nsharpnesses: in a word, we can imagine them more plainly, and must\ntherefore be more interested in them. This facility in passing from the\nrecollection of my former impressions to the anticipation of my future\nones makes the transition almost imperceptible, and gives to the latter\nan apparent reality and presentness to the imagination, to a degree in\nwhich the feelings of others can scarcely ever be brought home to us. It\nis chiefly from this greater readiness and certainty with which we can\nlook forward into our own minds than out of us into those of other men,\nthat that strong and uneasy attachment to self, which often comes at\nlast to overpower every generous feeling, takes its rise; not, as I\nthink I have shown, from any natural and impenetrable hardness of the\nhuman heart, or necessary absorption of all its thoughts and purposes in\na blind exclusive feeling of self-interest. It confirms this account,\nthat we constantly are found to feel for others in proportion as we know\nfrom long acquaintance with the turn of their minds, and events of their\nlives, \u2018the hair-breadth scapes\u2019 of their travelling history, or \u2018some\ndisastrous stroke which their youth suffered,\u2019 what the real nature of\ntheir feelings is; and that we have in general the strongest attachment\nto our immediate relatives and friends, who from this intercommunity of\nthoughts and feelings may more truly be said to be a part of ourselves\nthan from even the ties of blood. Moreover, a man must be employed more\nusually in providing for his own wants and his own feelings than those\nof others. In like manner he is employed in providing for the immediate\nwelfare of his family and connexions much more than in providing for the\nwelfare of those who are not bound by any positive ties. And we\naccordingly find that the attention, time, and pains bestowed on these\nseveral objects give him a proportionable degree of anxiety about, and\nattachment to his own interest, and that of those connected with him;\nbut it would be absurd to conclude that his affections are therefore\ncircumscribed by a natural necessity within certain impassable limits,\neither in the one case or the other. It should not be forgotten here\nthat this absurd opinion has been very commonly referred to the effects\nof natural affection as it has been called, as well as of self-interest;\nparental and filial affection being supposed to be originally implanted\nin the mind by the ties of nature, and to move round the centre of\nself-interest in an orbit of their own, within the circle of our\nfamilies and friends. This general connexion between the habitual\npursuit of any object and our interest in it, will account for the\nwell-known observation, that the affection of parents to children is the\nstrongest of all others, frequently overpowering self-love itself. This\nfact does not seem easily reconcilable to the doctrine that the social\naffections are all of them ultimately to be deduced from association, or\nthe reputed connexion of immediate selfish gratification with the idea\nof some other person. If this were strictly the case we must feel the\nstrongest attachment to those from whom we had received, instead of\nthose to whom we had done, the greatest number of kindnesses, or where\nthe greatest quantity of actual enjoyment had been associated with an\nindifferent idea. Junius has remarked that friendship is not conciliated\nby the power of conferring benefits, but by the equality with which they\nare received and may be returned.\n\nI have hitherto purposely avoided saying any thing on the subject of our\nphysical appetites and the manner in which they may be thought to affect\nthe principle of the foregoing reasonings. They evidently seem at first\nsight, to contradict the general conclusion which I have endeavoured to\nestablish, as they all of them tend either exclusively or principally to\nthe gratification of the individual, and at the same time refer to some\nfuture or imaginary object, as the source of this gratification. The\nimpulse which they give to the will is mechanical, and yet this impulse,\nblind as it is, constantly tends to and coalesces with the pursuit of\nsome rational end. That is, here is an end aimed at, the desire and\nregular pursuit of a known good, and all this produced by motives\nevidently mechanical, and which never impel the mind but in a selfish\ndirection: it makes no difference in the question whether the active\nimpulse proceed directly from the desire of positive enjoyment, or a\nwish to get rid of some positive uneasiness. I should say then that,\nsetting aside what is of a purely physical nature in the case, the\ninfluence of appetite over our volitions may be accounted for\nconsistently enough with the foregoing hypothesis, from the natural\neffects of a particularly irritable state of bodily feeling, rendering\nthe idea of that which will heighten and gratify its susceptibility of\npleasurable feeling, or remove some painful feeling, proportionably\nvivid, and the object of a more vehement desire than can be excited by\nthe same idea, when the body is supposed to be in a state of\nindifference, or only ordinary sensibility to that particular kind of\ngratification. Thus the imaginary desire is sharpened by constantly\nreceiving supplies of pungency, from the irritation of bodily feeling,\nand its direction is at the same time determined according to the bias\nof this new impulse; first, indirectly by having the attention fixed on\nour own immediate sensation; secondly, because that particular\ngratification, the desire of which is increased by the pressure of\nphysical appetite, must be referred primarily and by way of distinction\nto the same being, by whom the want of it is felt, that is, to myself.\nAs the actual uneasiness which appetite implies can only be excited by\nthe irritable state of my own body, so neither can the desire of the\ncorrespondent gratification subsist in that intense degree, which\nproperly constitutes appetite, except when it tends to relieve that very\nsame uneasiness by which it was excited, as in the case of hunger. There\nis in the first place the strong mechanical action of the nervous and\nmuscular systems co-operating with the rational desire of my own belief,\nand forcing it its own way. Secondly, this state of uneasiness grows\nmore and more violent, the longer the relief which it requires is\nwithheld from it: hunger takes no denial, it hearkens to no compromise,\nis soothed by no flattery, tired out by no delay. It grows more\nimportunate every moment, its demands become larger the less they are\nattended to. The first impulse which the general love of personal ease\nreceives from bodily pain will give it the advantage over my disposition\nto sympathise with others in the same situation with myself, and this\ndifference will be increasing every moment, till the pain is removed.\nThus, if I at first, either through compassion or by an effort of the\nwill, am regardless of my own wants, and wholly bent upon satisfying the\nmore pressing wants of my companions, yet this effort will at length\nbecome too great, and I shall be incapable of attending to any thing but\nthe violence of my own sensations, or the means of alleviating them. It\nwould be easy to show from many things that mere appetite (generally, at\nleast, in reasonable beings) is but the fragment of a self-moving\nmachine, but a sort of half organ, a subordinate instrument even in the\naccomplishment of its own purposes; that it does little or nothing\nwithout the aid of another faculty to inform and direct it. Before the\nimpulses of appetite can be converted into the regular pursuit of a\ngiven object, they must first be communicated to the understanding, and\nmodify the will through that. Consequently, as the desire of the\nultimate gratification of the appetite is not the same with the appetite\nitself, that is mere physical uneasiness, but an indirect result of its\ncommunication to the thinking or imaginative principle, the influence of\nappetite over the will must depend on the extraordinary degree of force\nand vividness which it gives to the idea of a particular object; and we\naccordingly find that the same cause which irritates the desire of\nselfish gratification, increases our sensibility to the same desires and\ngratification in others, where they are consistent with our own, and\nwhere the violence of the physical impulse does not overpower every\nother consideration.\n\n\n\n\n MADAME DE STA\u00cbL\u2019S ACCOUNT OF GERMAN PHILOSOPHY AND LITERATURE.\n\n\n _The Morning Chronicle._] [_Feb. 3, 1814._\n\nThe most interesting part of Madame De Sta\u00ebl\u2019s very ingenious and\nelegant work on Germany is undoubtedly (to literary readers) that in\nwhich she has sketched with so much intelligence and grace, the present\nstate of opinions with respect to philosophy and taste in that country.\nI have not yet seen any satisfactory abstract of her reasonings on\neither of these subjects. The article in _The Edinburgh Review_ touches\nbut lightly and incidentally on them, from the variety and pressure of\nother topics of a more lively and general interest. I shall attempt to\nsupply this deficiency, and at the same time to offer some farther\nthoughts on each subject. The two points on which I wish to enlarge are\nthe view which Madame De Sta\u00ebl takes of German poetry, as contrasted\nwith the French, and secondly of the spirit and principles of the German\nphilosophy, that of Professor Kant, as opposed to the French system of\nphilosophy which is not indeed peculiar to them as a nation, but common\nto the age. I shall begin with the last first, not only because it is\nperhaps the most important, but because I think that as the English were\nthe first to propagate the latter system (for the French have only\nadopted it from us, carrying its practical and popular application\nfarther), we ought not to be the last to disclaim and explode it. It may\nnot be uninteresting as a branch of national literature, to take a\ngeneral view of the rise and progress of their philosophy, before we\ncome to examine Madame De Sta\u00ebl\u2019s account of the system which Kant has\nopposed to it, and to shew in what that system is well-founded, and\nwhere it fails.\n\nAccording to the prevailing system,\u2014I mean the material or modern\nphilosophy, as it has been called, all thought is to be resolved into\nsensation, all morality into the love of pleasure, and all action into\nmechanical impulse. These three propositions taken together, embrace\nalmost every question relating to the human mind, and in their different\nramifications and intersections form a net, not unlike that used by the\nenchanters of old, which, whosoever has once thrown over him, will find\nall farther efforts vain, and his attempts to reason freely on any\nsubject in which his own nature is concerned, baffled and confounded in\nevery direction.\n\nThis system, which first rose at the suggestion of Lord Bacon, on the\nruins of the school-philosophy, has been gradually growing up to its\npresent height ever since, from a wrong interpretation of the word\n_experience_, confining it to a knowledge of things without us; whereas\nit in fact includes all knowledge, relating to objects either within or\nout of the mind, of which we have any direct and positive evidence. We\nonly know that we ourselves exist, the most certain of all truths, from\nthe experience of what passes within ourselves. Strictly speaking, all\nother facts of which we are not immediately conscious, are such in a\nsecondary and subordinate sense only. Physical experience is indeed the\nfoundation and the test of that part of philosophy which relates to\nphysical objects: farther, physical analogy is the only rule by which we\ncan extend and apply our immediate knowledge, or infer the effects to be\nproduced by the different objects around us. But to say that physical\nexperiment is either the test, or source, or guide of that other part of\nphilosophy which relates to our internal perceptions, that we are to\nlook in external nature for the form, the substance, the colour, the\nvery life and being of whatever exists in our minds, or that we can only\ninfer the laws which regulate the phenomena of the mind from those which\nregulate the phenomena of matter, is to confound two things entirely\ndistinct. Our knowledge of mental phenomena from consciousness,\nreflection, or observation of their correspondent signs in others is the\ntrue basis of metaphysical inquiry, as the knowledge of _facts_,\ncommonly so called, is the only solid basis of natural philosophy. To\nassert that the operations of the mind and the operations of matter are\nin reality the same, so that we should always regard the one as symbols\nor exponents of the other, is to assume the very point in dispute, not\nonly without any evidence, but in defiance of every appearance to the\ncontrary.\n\nLord Bacon was undoubtedly a great man, indeed one of the greatest that\nhave adorned this or any other country. He was a man of a clear and\nactive spirit, of a most fertile genius, of vast designs, of general\nknowledge, and of profound wisdom. He united the powers of imagination\nand understanding in a greater degree than almost any other writer. He\nwas one of the most remarkable instances of those men, who, by the rare\nprivilege of their nature, are at once poets and philosophers, and see\nequally in both worlds\u2014the individual and sensible, and the abstracted\nand intelligible forms of things. The Schoolmen and their followers\nattended to nothing but names, to essences and species, to laboured\nanalyses and artificial deductions. They seem to have alike disregarded\nall kinds of experience, whether relating to external objects, or to the\nobservation of our own internal feelings. From the imperfect state of\nknowledge, they had not a sufficient number of facts to guide them in\ntheir experimental researches; and intoxicated with the novelty of their\nvain distinctions, learnt by rote, they were tempted to despise the\nclearest and most obvious suggestions of their own minds. Subtle,\nrestless, and self-sufficient, they thought that truth was only made to\nbe disputed about, and existed no where but in their demonstrations and\nsyllogisms. Hence arose their \u2018logomachies\u2019\u2014their everlasting\nword-fights, their sharp debates, their captious, bootless\ncontroversies. As Lord Bacon expresses it, \u2018they were made fierce with\ndark keeping,\u2019 signifying that their angry and unintelligible contests\nwith one another were owing to their not having any distinct objects to\nengage their attention. They built altogether on their own whims and\nfancies; and, buoyed up by their specific levity, they mounted in their\nairy disputations in endless flights and circles, clamouring like birds\nof prey, till they equally lost sight of truth and nature. This great\nman, therefore, intended an essential service to philosophy, in wishing\nto recall the attention to facts and experience which had been almost\nentirely neglected; and thus, by incorporating the abstract with the\nconcrete, and general reasoning with individual observation, to give to\nour conclusions that solidity and firmness which they must otherwise\nalways want. He did nothing but insist on the necessity of experience,\nmore particularly in natural science; and from the wider field that is\nopen to it there, as well as the prodigious success it has met with,\nthis latter application of the word, in which it is tantamount to\nphysical experiment, has so far engrossed the whole of our attention,\nthat mind has, for a good while past, been in some danger of being\noverlaid by matter. We run from one error into another, and as we were\nwrong at first, so in altering our course, we have passed into the\nopposite extreme. We despised experience altogether before: now we would\nhave nothing but experience, and that of the grossest kind. We have, it\nis true, gained much by not consulting the suggestions of our own minds\nin questions where they inform us of nothing, namely, on the particular\nlaws and phenomena of the material world; and we have hastily concluded\n(reversing the rule) that the best way to arrive at the knowledge of\nourselves also, was to lay aside the dictates of our own consciousness,\nthoughts, and feelings, as deceitful and insufficient guides, though\nthey are the only means by which we can obtain the least light upon the\nsubject. We seem to have resigned the natural use of our understandings,\nand to have given up our own existence as a nonentity. We look for our\nthoughts and the distinguishing properties of our minds in some image of\nthem in matter as we look to see our faces in a glass. We no longer\ndecide physical problems by logical dilemmas, but we decide questions of\nlogic by the evidence of the senses. Instead of putting our reason and\ninvention to the rack indifferently on all questions, whether we have\nany previous knowledge of them or not, we have adopted the easier method\nof suspending the use of our faculties altogether, and settling tedious\ncontroversies by means of \u2018four champions fierce\u2014hot, cold, moist and\ndry,\u2019 who with a few more of the retainers and hangers on of matter\ndetermine all questions relating to the nature of man and the limits of\nthe human understanding very learnedly. But the laws by which we think,\nfeel, and act, we must discover in the mind itself, or not at all.\n\nThis original bias in favour of mechanical reasoning and physical\nanalogy was confirmed by the powerful aid of Hobbes, who was, indeed,\nthe father of the modern philosophy. His strong mind and body appear to\nhave resisted all impressions, but those which were derived from the\ndownright blows of matter: all his ideas seemed to lie like substances\nin his brain: what was not a solid, tangible, distinct, palpable object,\nwas to him nothing. The external image pressed so close upon his mind\nthat it destroyed the power of consciousness, and left no room for\nattention to any thing but itself. He was by nature a materialist. Locke\nassisted greatly in giving popularity to the same scheme, as well by\nespousing the chief of Hobbes\u2019s metaphysical principles as by the\ndoubtful resistance which he made to the rest. And it has been perfected\nand has received its last polish and roundness in the hands of some\nFrench philosophers, as Condillac and others.\n\nThe modern metaphysical system assumes as its basis that the operations\nof the intellect are only a continuation of the impulses existing in\nmatter; or that all the thoughts and conceptions of the mind are nothing\nmore than various modifications of the original impressions of things on\na being endued with sensation or simple perception. This system\nconsiders ideas merely as they are caused by outward impressions acting\non the organs of sense, and excludes the understanding as a distinct\nfaculty or power from all share in its own operations.\n\nThe following is a summary of the general principles of this philosophy\nas they are expressly laid down by Hobbes, and by the latest writers of\nthe French school.\n\n1. That our _ideas_ are copies of the impressions made by external\nobjects on the senses.\n\n2. That as nothing exists out of the mind but matter and motion, so it\nis itself with all its operations nothing but matter and motion.\n\n3. That thoughts are single, or that we can think of only one object at\na time.\n\n4. That we have no general nor abstract ideas.\n\n5. That the only principle of connection between one thought and another\nis association, or their previous connection in sense.\n\n6. That reason and understanding depend entirely on the mechanism of\nlanguage.\n\n7 and 8. That the sense of pleasure and pain is the sole spring of\naction, and self-interest the source and centre of all our affections.\n\n9. That the mind acts from a mechanical or physical necessity, over\nwhich it has no controul, and consequently is not a moral or accountable\nagent.\u2014_The manner of reasoning upon this last question is the only\ncircumstance of importance in which Hobbes differs decidedly from modern\nwriters._\n\n10. That there is no difference in the natural capacities of men, the\nmind being originally passive to all impressions alike, and becoming\nwhatever it is from circumstances.\n\nExcept the first, all of these positions are either denied or doubtfully\nadmitted by Mr. Locke. It is, however, his admission of the first\nprinciple, which has opened a door directly or indirectly to all the\nrest. The system of Kant is a formal and elaborate antithesis to that\nwhich bears the name of Locke, and it is built on \u2018the _sublime_\nrestriction (as Madame de Sta\u00ebl expresses it) added by Leibnitz to the\nwell-known axiom _nihil in intellectu quod non prius in sensu_\u2014NISI\nINTELLECTUS IPSE.\u2019\n\nIt is in the manner of proving this restriction, and of explaining this\nword, _the intellect_, that the whole question depends, and to this I\nshall devote another letter.\n\n AN ENGLISH METAPHYSICIAN.\n\n\n\n\n THE SAME SUBJECT CONTINUED\n\n\n _The Morning Chronicle._] [_Feb. 17, 1814._\n\nThe principle that _all the ideas, operations, and faculties of the mind\nmay be traced to, and ultimately accounted for, from simple sensation_,\nis all that remains of Mr. Locke\u2019s celebrated Essay, and that to which\nit owes its present rank among philosophical productions. His various\nattempts to modify this principle, or reconcile it to common notions\nhave been gradually exploded, and have given place, one by one, to the\nmore severe and logical deductions of Hobbes from the same general\nprinciple. Mr. Locke took the faculties of the mind as he found them in\nhimself and others, and instead of levelling the structure, was\ncontented to place it on a new foundation. By this compromise with\nprudence and candour, he prepared the way for the introduction of the\nprinciple, which being once established, very soon overturned all the\ntrite opinions, and vulgar prejudices, which had been improperly\nassociated with it. There was in fact, no place for them in the new\nsystem. I confess it strikes some degree of awe into the mind, and makes\nit feel, that fame, even the best, is not a substantial thing, but the\nuncertain shadow of real excellence, when we reflect that the immortal\nrenown, which attends the name of Locke as the great luminary of the age\nin which he lived, is but a dim and borrowed lustre from the writings of\none, whom he himself calls, and who has been universally considered as\n\u2018a justly decried author.\u2019 The sentence of the poet is as applicable\nhere as it ever was\u2014\n\n \u2018Fame is no plant that grows on mortal soil,\n Nor in the glistering foil\n Set off to the world, nor in broad rumour lies;\n But lives and spreads aloft by those pure eyes,\n And perfect witness of all-judging Jove!\u2019\n\nThe great defect with which the Essay on Human Understanding is\nchargeable, is that there really is not a word about the understanding\nin it, nor any attempt to shew what it is, or whether it is, or is not\nany thing, distinct from the faculty of simple perception. The\noperations of thinking, comparing, discerning, reasoning, willing, and\nthe like, which Mr. Locke generally ascribes to it, are the operations\nof nothing, or of we know not what. All the force of his mind seems to\nhave been so bent on exploding innate ideas, and tracing our thoughts to\ntheir external source, that he either forgot, or had not leisure to\nexamine what the internal principle of all thought is. He took for his\nbasis a bad simile, namely, that the mind is like a blank sheet of\npaper, originally void of all characters, and merely passive to the\nimpressions made upon it: for this, though true as far as relates to\ninnate ideas, that is, to any impressions previously existing in the\nmind, is not true of the mind itself, or of the manner in which it forms\nits ideas of the objects actually impressed upon it. The obvious\ntendency of this simile was to convert the understanding into the mere\npassive receiver and retainer of physical impressions, a convenient\nrepository for the straggling images of things, or a sort of empty room\ninto which ideas are conveyed from without through the doors of the\nsenses, as you would carry goods into an unfurnished lodging. And hence,\nagain, it has been found necessary, by subsequent writers, to get rid of\nthose different faculties and operations, which Mr. Locke elsewhere\nsupposes to belong to the mind, but which are in truth only compatible\nwith the active powers, and independent nature of the mind itself. It\nwas to remedy this deficiency that Leibnitz proposed to add to the maxim\nof Locke, _that there is nothing in the understanding which was not\nbefore in the senses_\u2014\u2018that sublime restriction,\u2019 so much applauded by\nMadame de Sta\u00ebl\u2014\u2018EXCEPT THE UNDERSTANDING ITSELF:\u2019 and it is to the\nestablishment and development of this distinction, that the whole of the\nKantean philosophy appears to be directed. In what manner, and in what\nsuccess (judging from the representations we have received of it)\nremains to be shewn.\n\nThe account which Madame de Sta\u00ebl has given of this system is full of\nthe graces of imagination and the charm of sentiment: it passes slightly\nover many of the difficulties, and softens the abruptness of the\nreasoning by the harmony of the style. It is therefore the most popular\nand pleasing account which has been given of the system of the German\nPhilosopher: but after all, it will be better to take his own statement,\nthough somewhat \u2018harsh and crabbed\u2019 as the most tangible, authentic, and\nsatisfactory.\n\n\u2018The following,\u2019 says his translator Willich, \u2018are the elements of his\n_Critique of Pure Reason_, the first of Kant\u2019s systematical works, and\nthe most remarkable for profound reasoning and the striking\nillustrations, with which it throughout abounds.\n\n\u2018We are in possession of certain notions _\u00e0 priori_[8] which are\nabsolutely independent of all experience, although the objects of\nexperience correspond with them, and which are distinguished by\nnecessity, and strict universality. To these are opposed empirical\nnotions, or such as are only possible _\u00e0 posteriori_, that is, through\nexperience. Besides these, we have certain notions, with which no\nobjects of experience ever correspond, which rise above the world of\nsense, and which we consider as the most sublime, such as God, liberty,\nimmortality. There is always supposed in every empirical notion, or\nimpression of external objects, a pure perception _\u00e0 priori_, a form of\nthe sensitive faculty, _viz._ space and time. This form first renders\nevery actual appearance of objects possible. By the sensitive faculty we\nare able to form perceptions; by the understanding we form general\nideas. By the sensitive faculty we experience impressions, and objects\nare given to us; by the understanding we bring representations of these\nobjects before us: we think of them. Perceptions and general ideas are\nthe elements of all our knowledge. Without the sensitive faculty, no\nobject could be given (proposed to) us; without the understanding none\nwould be thought of by us. These two powers are really distinct from one\nanother; but neither of the two without the other can produce a\n_notion_. In order to obtain a distinct notion of any one thing, we must\npresent to our general ideas objects in perception, and reduce our\nperceptions to, or connect them with, these general ideas. As the\nsensitive faculty has its determined forms, so has our understanding\nlikewise forms _\u00e0 priori_. These may be properly termed _categories_;\nthey are pure ideas of the understanding, which relate, _\u00e0 priori_, to\nthe objects of perception in general. The objects of experience,\ntherefore, are in no other way possible; they can in no other way be\nthought of by us, and their multiplied diversity can only be reduced to\none act of judgment, or to one act of consciousness, by means of these\ncategories of sense. Hence, the categories have objective reality. They\nare either categories of\n\n1. _Quantity_, as unity, number, totality; or,\n\n2. Of _Quality_, as reality, negation, limitation; or,\n\n3. Of _Relation_, as substance and accident, cause and effect; or,\n\n4. Of _Modality_, as possibility and impossibility, existence and\nnon-existence, necessity and contingency.\n\n\u2018The judgment is the capacity of applying the general ideas of the\nunderstanding to the information of experience. The objects of\nexperience are regulated according to these ideas; and not, _vice\nvers\u00e2_, our ideas according to the objects.\u2019\n\nSuch is the outline of this author\u2019s account of the intellect, which,\nafter all, appears to be rather dogmatical than demonstrative. He is\nmuch more intent on raising an extensive and magnificent fabric, than on\nlaying the foundations. Each part does not rest upon its own separate\nbasis, but, like the workmanship of some lofty arch, is supported and\nrivetted to its place by the weight and regular balance of the whole.\nKant does not appear to trouble himself about the evidence of any\nparticular proposition, but to rely on the conformity and mutual\ncorrespondence of the different parts of his general system, and its\nsufficiency, if admitted, to explain all the phenomena of the human\nintellect with consistency and accuracy;\u2014in the same manner as the\ndecypherer infers that he has found the true key of the hieroglyphic\nhand-writing, when he is able to solve every difficulty by it. However\nprofound and comprehensive we may allow the views of human nature\nunfolded by this philosopher to be, his method is necessarily defective\nin simplicity, clearness, and force. His reasoning is seldom any thing\nmore than a detailed, paraphrased explanation of his original statement,\ninstead of being (what it ought to be) an appeal to known facts, or a\ndeduction from acknowledged principles, or a detection of the\ninconsistencies of other writers. The extreme involution and\ntechnicality of his style proceed from the same source; that is, from\nthe necessity of adapting a conventional language to the artificial and\narbitrary arrangement of his ideas. The whole of Kant\u2019s system is\nevidently an elaborate antithesis or contradiction to the modern\nphilosophy, and yet it is by no means a real approximation to popular\nopinion. Its chief object is to oppose certain fundamental principles to\nthe _empirical_ or mechanical philosophy, and it either rejects or\nexplains away the more common and established notions, except so far as\nthey coincide with the rigid theory of the author. He sets out with a\npreconceived hypothesis; and all other facts and opinions are made to\nbend to a predominant purpose.\n\nThe founder of the _transcendental_ philosophy very properly insists on\nthe distinction between the sensitive and the intellectual faculties,\nand makes this division the ground-work of his entire system. He\nconsiders the joint operation of these different powers as necessary to\nall our knowledge, and enumerates with scrupulous formality the\ndifferent ideas which originate in this complex progress, and points out\nthe share which each has in each. The author conceives of certain\ngeneral ideas, as _substance_ and _accident_, _cause_ and _effect_,\n_totality_, _number_, _quantity_, _relation_, _possibility_,\n_necessity_, etc. as pure ideas of the understanding; and he classes\n_space_ and _time_ as primary forms of the sensitive faculty.[9] All\nthis may be very true; but the proof may also be required, and it is not\ngiven. Yet modern metaphysicians are not likely, either as sceptical\ninquirers after truth, or as lovers of abstruse paradoxes, to be\nsatisfied with the bare assumption of a common prejudice. They will say,\neither that all these ideas have no real existence in the mind, that\nthey are mere abstract terms which owe their force and validity to the\nmechanism of language; or admitting their existence in the mind, they\nwill contend with Locke, that they are only general, reflex, and\ncompound ideas, originally derived from sensation. \u2018Whence do all the\nideas and operations of the mind proceed?\u2019 _From experience_, is the\nanswer given by the modern philosophy\u2014_From experience and from the\nunderstanding_, is the answer given by Kant. The former solution has the\nadvantage of simplicity; and the logical proof is wanting to the latter.\nTo compare grave things with gay, the display which this celebrated\nphilosopher makes of his categories, his forms of the sensitive faculty,\nhis pure ideas, and _\u00e0 priori_ principles, somewhat resembles the method\ntaken by Sir Epicure Mammon in _The Alchymist_ to persuade his sceptical\nfriend that he is about to discover the philosopher\u2019s stone by\noverpowering his imagination with the description of the fine things he\nwill do when he has it:\u2014\u2018And all this I will do with the stone.\u2019 \u2018But\nwill all this give you the stone?\u2019 says Pertinax Surly, who \u2018will not\nbelieve antiquity\u2019 any more than our modern sceptics.\n\nI think that the truth may be got at much more simply, and without all\nthis parade of words. The business of the mind is twofold\u2014to receive\nimpressions and to perceive their relations; without which there can be\nno ideas. Now the first of these is the office of the senses, and is the\nonly original function of the mind, according to the prevailing system.\nThe second is properly the office of the understanding, and is that, the\nnature or existence of which is the great point in debate between the\ncontending parties. The more complex and refined operations of this\nfaculty, such as judging, reasoning, abstraction, willing, etc. are\neither totally denied, or at best resolved into simple ideas of\nsensation by modern metaphysical writers. I know of no better way,\ntherefore, to establish the contrary hypothesis than to take these\nsimple ideas of the moderns, and shew that they contain the same\nnecessary principles of the understanding, the same operations of\njudging, comparing, distinguishing, abstracting, which they discard with\nso much profound contempt, or treat as accidental and artificial results\nof some higher faculty. If it can be proved that the understanding, in\nthe strict and exclusive sense, is necessary to our having any _ideas_\nwhatever,\u2014that the very terms are synonymous and inseparable\u2014that in the\nfirst original conception of the simplest object of nature there is\nimplied the same principle, a power of perceiving the relations of\ndifferent things, which is only exerted in a more perfect and\ncomprehensive manner in the most complex and difficult processes of the\nhuman intellect, one would think that there must be an end of the\nquestion.\n\n AN ENGLISH METAPHYSICIAN.\n\n\n\n\n THE SAME SUBJECT CONTINUED\n\n\n _The Morning Chronicle._] [_March 3, 1814._\n\n \u2018For men to have recourse to subtleties in raising difficulties, and\n then to complain that they should be taken off by minutely examining\n these subtleties, is a strange kind of proceeding.\u2019\n\nI cannot better explain the modern theory of the understanding (which it\nwill be the object of this letter to consider) than in the words of one\nof the best and ablest commentators of that school, Mr. Horne Tooke.\n\n\u2018The business of the mind,\u2019 he says \u2018appears to me to be very simple. It\nextends no farther than to receive impressions, that is, to have\nsensations or feelings. What are called its operations are merely the\noperations of language. The greatest part of Mr. Locke\u2019s Essay, that is,\nall which relates to what he calls _the composition_, _abstraction_,\n_complexity_, _generalization_, _relation_, etc. of ideas, does indeed\nmerely concern language. If he had been sooner aware of the inseparable\nconnection between words and knowledge, he would not have talked of the\ncomposition of ideas, but would have seen that the only composition was\nin the terms, and consequently, that it was as improper to talk of a\ncomplex idea as of a complex star! I will venture to say that it is an\neasy matter, upon Mr. Locke\u2019s own principles and a physical\nconsideration of the senses and the mind, to prove the impossibility of\nthe composition of ideas, and that they are not ideas, but merely terms,\nwhich are general and abstract.\u2019\u2014Diversions of Purley, Vol. i. p. 39,\n51, &c.[10]\n\nNow this is very explicit, and, I also conceive, very logical. For I am\nready to grant that \u2018Mr. Locke\u2019s own principles and a physical\nconsideration of the mind\u2019 do lead to the conclusions here stated; and\nit is on that account that I shall attempt to shew that those principles\nand the consideration of the mind, as a physical thing, are in\nthemselves absurd. These writers taking up the principle, that to have\nsensations or feelings was the only real faculty of the mind, and\nperceiving that the having sensations merely was a different thing from\nhaving an idea or consciousness of their relations (inasmuch as no\nsensation as such can include a knowledge of or reference to any other)\nhave inferred very rationally that all the operations of the mind\nfounded on a principle of general consciousness or common understanding,\n_viz._ _compounding_, _comparing_, _discerning_, _judging_, _reasoning_,\netc. were excluded from their physical theory of sensation, and must be\nreferred to some trick or deception of the mind, the mechanism of\nlanguage or habitual association of ideas. According to this theory,\nbesides the sensible impressions of individual objects, and their\ndistinct traces left in the memory\u2014the rest is merely words. In\nsupposing that we combine these different impressions together, that we\ncompare different objects, that we reason upon them, it seems we only\ndeceive ourselves, and mistake a rapid and mechanical transition from\none idea to another for the actual perception of the relations between\nthem. Thus have these philosophers sacrificed all the known facts and\nconscious operations of the mind to a literal deduction from a gross\nverbal fallacy. For what are these single objects or individual ideas,\nof which the senses are competent to take cognizance, and beyond which\nthe understanding can never advance a step? Neither more nor less than\ncomplex and general ideas, which imply all the same intellectual\nimpossibilities of comparing, judging, distinguishing, &c. _i.e._ of\nperceiving a number of diversified relations, of connecting the MANY\ninto the ONE, which are objected to the more deliberate and formal acts\nof understanding and reason. The mind, say they, can perceive but one\nidea at a time, that is, it may perceive a square or a triangle, but it\ncannot compare them together, or perceive their proportions, because to\ndo this, it must attend to different ideas at once. Yet what is this\nindividual idea of a square, for instance, but an idea of given lines,\ntheir direction, equality, connection, &c. all which must be combined\ntogether in the mind, before it can possibly form any idea of the\nobject? Mr. Tooke says, the complexity is in the term. I should say, the\nindividuality is in the term, that is, in the application of one name to\na collective idea, which superficial reasoners, at once the slaves of\nidle paradox and vulgar prejudice, have therefore imagined to be one\nthing. The whole error of this system has, indeed, arisen from\nconsidering ideas themselves, or those particular objects, which are\nmarked by a single name, or strike at once, and in a mass, upon the\nsenses, as simple things. But there is no one of these particular ideas,\nas they are called, which is not an aggregate of many things, or that\ncan subsist for a moment but in the understanding. By destroying the\ncomposition of ideas, all ideas as well as all combinations of ideas,\nwould be completely and for ever banished from the mind; which would be\nleft a mere _tabula rasa_, a blank, indeed, or would at all times\nstrictly resemble what Mr. Locke describes it to be in its original\nstate, \u2018a dark closet with a little glimmering of light let in through\nthe loop-holes of the senses.\u2019\n\nWriters, in general, who have maintained the existence of a distinct\nfaculty besides the senses, have applied themselves to shew that,\nbesides particular ideas or objects, it was necessary to admit the\nunderstanding to explain the perception of the relations between them.\nMy purpose is to shew that the same perception of relation, the same\nunderstanding is implied in the very ideas or objects themselves. To\nhave sensations is not to compare them, that is, sensation and\nunderstanding are not the same thing. To have ideas, it is necessary to\ncompare our sensations, that is, ideas and understanding are the same\nthing.\n\nI can conceive then of a being endued with the power of sensation, so as\nto receive the direct impressions of outward objects, and also with\nmemory, so as to retain them for any length of time, as they were\nseverally and unconnectedly presented, yet without any signs of\nunderstanding. The state of such a being would be that of animal life,\nand something more (with the addition of memory), but it would not\namount to intellect. As this distinction is rather difficult to be\nexplained, I hope I may be allowed to express it in any way I can, and\nwithout sacrificing to the graces. Suppose a number of animalcul\u00e6, as a\nheap of mites in a rotten cheese, lying as close together as they\npossibly can (though the example should be of something more \u2018drossy and\ndivisible\u2019 of something less reasonable, approaching nearer to pure\nsensation than we can conceive of any creature that exercises the\nfunctions of the meanest instinct). No one will contend that in this\nheap of living matter there is any idea or intimation of the number,\nposition, or intricate involutions of that little, lively, restless\ntribe. This idea is evidently not contained in any of the parts\nseparately, nor is it contained in all of them put together. That is,\nthe aggregate of many actual sensations is, we here plainly see, a\ntotally different thing from the collective idea, comprehension or\nconsciousness of those sensations, as connected together into one whole,\nor of any of their relations to each other. We may go on multiplying\nsensations to the end of time, without ever advancing one step in the\nother process, or producing a single thought. But in what, I would ask,\ndoes this supposition differ from that of many distinct particles of\nmatter, full of animation, tumbling about, and pressing against each\nother, in the same brain, except that we make use of this brain as a\ncommon medium to unite their different desultory actions in the same\ngeneral principle of thought or consciousness\u2014that is, understanding?\nOr, if this comparison should be thought not courtly enough, let us\nimagine one of Mrs. Salmon\u2019s full faced, comely wax figures, sitting in\nits chair of state, to be suddenly endued with life and physical\norganization but nothing more. Such an unaccountable _lusus natur\u00e6_\nwould answer exactly to the theory of modern metaphysicians, or would be\ncapable of receiving feelings or impressions by its different organs,\nbut would be totally void of any reflection upon them. It would be only\na bloated mass of listless sensation, a sordid compound of proud flesh\nand irritable humours, a mere animal existence, a living automation,\ncrawling all over with morbid feelings, but without the least ray of\nunderstanding, or any knowledge of itself or of the things around,\nincapable of consistency of character or purpose, of foresight,\ndeliberation, sympathy, and of all that distinguishes human reason or\ndignifies human nature!\n\nBesides actual, sensible impressions, I suppose that there is a common\nprinciple of thought, a superintending faculty, which alone perceives\nthe relations of things and enables us to comprehend their connections,\nforms, and masses. This faculty is properly the understanding, and it is\nby means of this faculty that man indeed becomes a reasonable soul.\nWithout this surrounding and forming power, we could never conceive the\nidea of any one object, as of a table or a chair, a blade of grass or a\ngrain of sand. Every one of these includes a certain configuration,\nhardness, colour, size, &c. _i.e._ impressions of different things,\nreceived by different senses, which must be put together by the\nunderstanding before they can be referred to any particular object, or\nconsidered as one idea. Without this faculty, all our ideas would be\nnecessarily decomposed, and crumbled down into their original elements\nand fluxional parts. We could assuredly in this case never connect the\ndifferent links in a chain of reasoning together, for the very links of\nwhich this chain must consist would be ground to powder. We could\nneither form any comparison between our ideas, nor have any ideas to\ncompare. There would be an infinite divisibility in the impressions of\nthe mind, as well as in the parts of material objects. Each separate\nimpression must remain absolutely simple and distinct, unknown to and\nunconscious of the rest, shut up in the narrow cell of its own\nindividuality. No two of these atomic impressions could ever club\ntogether to form even a sensible point, much less should we be able to\narrive at any of the larger masses or nominal descriptions of things.\nThe most that sensation could possibly do for us would be to furnish the\nmind with ideas of some of those which Mr. Locke calls the simple\nqualities of objects, as of colour or pressure, though not as a general\nnotion or diffused feeling, for it is certain that no one impression\ncould ever contain more than the tinge of a single ray of light, or the\npuncture of a single particle of matter. Perhaps we might in this way be\nsupposed to possess an infinite number of microscopic impressions and\nfractions of ideas, but there being nothing to arrange or bind them\ntogether, the whole would present only a disjointed mass of blind,\nunconscious confusion. All nature, all objects, all parts of all\nobjects, would be equally \u2018without form and void.\u2019 _The mind alone is\nformative_, to use the expression of Kant; or it is that which by its\npervading and elastic energy unfolds and expands our ideas, that gives\norder and consistency to them, that assigns to every part its proper\nplace, and fixes it there, and that frames the idea of the whole. Or in\nother words, it is the understanding alone that perceives relation, but\nevery object is made up of a bundle of relations. In short, there is no\nobject or idea which does not consist of a number of parts arranged in a\ncertain manner, but of this arrangement the parts themselves cannot be\nsensible. To make each part conscious of its relation to all the rest is\nto suppose an infinite number of intellects instead of one; and to say\nthat a knowledge or perception of each part separately _without_ a\nreference to the rest can produce a conception of the whole, is a\ncontradiction in terms.\n\nIdeas then are the offspring of the understanding, not of the senses. An\nidea necessarily implies, not only a number of distinct positive\nimpressions, but some bond of union between them, some internal\nconscious principle to which they are alike communicated, and which\ngrasps, overlooks, and comprehends the whole. The idea of a square, for\nexample, is not the same thing with the compound impression made by the\nfigure on the senses. For the immediate impression of any one of the\nsides cannot, as a mere sensation, be accompanied with an additional\nknowledge or reflex image of the remaining three sides, but is a\nperfectly distinct, physical thing; neither can the actual coexistence\nof all these impressions be accompanied with a consciousness of their\nmutual relations to each other, _i.e._ with an idea of the whole,\nwithout supposing some general representative faculty, to which these\ndistinct impressions are referred.\n\nOtherwise, different impressions made on the same organized or sentient\nbeing would no more produce the slightest continuity of thought or idea\nof the same object than different physical impressions conveyed to\ndifferent organized beings would produce an immediate consciousness of\nthese different objects or of the relations between them. If to have\nsensations were the same thing as to compare them, then different\npersons seeing different objects might without any communication make an\nexact comparison between them. If to have the sensible impression of the\ndifferent parts of an object were the same thing as to form an idea of\nit, then different persons looking at the two halves of any object would\nbe able to compound an idea of the whole between them, though each of\nthem was perfectly unconscious of what was passing in the other\u2019s mind.\nUnless we suppose some faculty of this sort which opens a direct\ncommunication between our perceptions, so that the same thinking\nprinciple is at the same time cognisant of different impressions, and of\ntheir relations to each other, it seems a thing impossible to conceive\nhow any comparison can take place between different impressions existing\nat the same time, or between our past and present impressions, or ever\nto explain what is meant by saying, \u2018_I_ perceive such and such objects,\n_I_ remember such and such events,\u2019 since these different impressions\nare evidently referred to the same conscious being, which very idea of\nindividuality could never have been so much as conceived of, if there\nwere no other connection between our perceptions, than that which arises\nfrom the juxtaposition of the particles of matter on which they are\nactually impressed, or from \u2018a physical consideration of the senses and\nthe mind.\u2019 The mind in this case consisting of nothing more than a\nsuccession of material points, each part would be sensible of the\ncorresponding part of any object which might be impressed upon it, but\ncould certainly know nothing of the impression which was made on any\nother part of the same organic substance, except by its communication to\nthe same general principle of understanding. Ideas would exist in the\nmind, like tapestry figures or pictures in a gallery, without a\nspectator. On this hypothesis, I perfectly agree with Mr. Horne Tooke,\nthat it would be as absurd to talk of a complex idea as of a complex\nstar; for each impression or sensation must be as perfectly distinct\nfrom, and unconnected with the rest, as the stars that compose a\nconstellation. One idea or impression would have no more connection with\nany other, than if it were parcel of another intellect, or floated in\nthe region of the moon.[11]\n\nIt is strange that Mr. Locke should rank among simple ideas that of\nnumber, which he defines to be the idea of unity repeated. But how the\nimpression of successive or distinct units should ever give the idea of\nrepetition, unless the former instances are borne in mind, I have not\nthe slightest conception. There might be an endless transition from one\nunit to another, but no addition made or ideal aggregate formed. As well\nmight we suppose, that a body of an inch diameter, by shifting from\nplace to place, may enlarge its dimensions to a foot or a mile, as that\na succession of units, perceived separately, should produce the complex\nidea of multitude. On the mechanical hypothesis, the mind can receive or\nattend to but one impression at a time, and the idea of number would be\ntoo mighty for it. Though Mr. Locke constantly supposes the mind to\nperceive relations, and explains its common operations on this\nprinciple, there is but one place in his work in which he seems to have\nbeen upon the point of discovering that this principle lies at the\nfoundation of, and is absolutely necessary to all our ideas whatever. He\nsays, in the beginning of his chapter on Power, which he classes among\nsimple ideas, \u2018I confess power includes in it _some kind of relation_ (a\nrelation to action or change), as, indeed, which of our ideas, of what\nkind soever, when attentively considered, does not? For our ideas of\nextension, duration, and number, do they not all contain in them a\nsecret relation of the parts? Figure and motion have something relative\nin them much more visibly; and sensible qualities, as colours and\nsmells, what are they but the powers of different bodies in relation to\nour perception? And if considered in the things themselves, do they not\ndepend on the bulk, figure, texture, and motion of the parts? All which\ninclude some kind of relation in them. Our idea, therefore, of power, I\nthink, may well have a place amongst other simple ideas, and be\nconsidered as one of them, being one of those that make a principal\ningredient in our complex ideas of substances.\u2019\u2014Essay on Human\nUnderstanding, vol. i. p. 234.\n\nThat is to say, in other words, the idea of power, though confessedly\ncomplex, according to Mr. Locke, as depending on the changes we observe\nproduced by one thing on another, is to pass for a simple idea, because\nit has as good a right to this denomination as other complex ideas,\nwhich are usually classed as simple ones. It is thus that the inquiring\nmind seems to be always hovering on the brink of truth: but timidity, or\nindolence, or prejudice, makes us shrink back, unwilling to trust\nourselves to the fathomless abyss.\n\nI have thus given the best account which it is in my power to give of\nthe understanding, as that conscious, comprehensive principle, which is\nthe source not only of judgment and reasoning, but which is implied in\nevery possible idea of the mind, or conception even of sensible objects.\nEvery such object, it has been shewn, is made up of a number of\nindividual impressions, yet how these perfectly detached, and desultory\nimpressions should of themselves contain or produce a knowledge of their\nrelations to each other, of their order, number, likeness, distances,\nlimits, &c. by which alone they can be connected into one whole\u2014without\nbeing first communicated to the same conscious principle of thought, to\none diffusive, and yet self-centered intellect, one undivided active\nspirit, co-extended with the object, and yet ever present to itself,\nthat\n\n \u2018Thrills in each nerve, and lives along the line,\u2019\n\nit is difficult to imagine. There is no idea that is not evolved from\nthis coinstantaneous power in the mind. The activity which Shakespeare\nascribes to _Ariel_ is not greater than that which is necessary to the\nproduction of the meanest thought. \u2018Jove\u2019s light\u2019nings more momentary\nand sight-outrunning are not!\u2019\n\n AN ENGLISH METAPHYSICIAN.\n\n\n\n\n THE SAME SUBJECT CONTINUED (ON ABSTRACTION)\n\n\n _The Morning Chronicle._] [_April 8, 1814._\n\nI am aware that the long digression on the formation of our ideas, with\nwhich I troubled you in my last, will be looked upon as rhapsody and\nextravagance by the strictest sect of those who are called philosophers.\nThe understanding has been set aside by these ingenious persons as an\nawkward incumbrance, since they conceived it practicable to carry on the\nwhole business of thought and reason by a succession of individual\nimages and sensible points. The fine network of the mind, the\nintellectual cords that bind and hold our scattered perceptions\ntogether, and form the living line of communication between them, are\ndissolved and vanish before the clear light of modern metaphysics, as\nthe gossamer is dissipated by the sun. The adepts in this system smile\nat the contradictions involved in the supposition of perceiving the\nrelations between different things, and say that the common theory of\nthe understanding leads to the absurdity that the mind may attend to two\nideas at once, which is with them impossible. What I have endeavoured to\nestablish, is, that if the mind cannot have more than one idea at a\ntime, it can never have any, since all the ideas we know of consist of\nmore than one; and though the conviction we have of attending to\ndifferent impressions at once, when we compare, distinguish, judge,\nreason, &c. has been gratuitously resolved into a deception of the mind,\nmistaking a rapid succession of objects for a joint conception of them,\nyet it will hardly be pretended that we deceive ourselves in thinking we\nhave any ideas at all. Whether the advocates for this hypothesis will\nsit down contented under the total dissipation of all thought, the utter\nprivation of all ideas, to which, by their own arguments, they will have\nreduced themselves, it remains for them to determine. We have seen that\nMr. Tooke resolves the complexity of our ideas into the complexity of\nthe terms made use of. How a term can be complex, otherwise than from\nthe complexity of its meaning, that is, of the idea attached to it, is\nby no means easy to understand. Other writers, to avoid the seeming\ncontradiction of supposing the mind to divide its attention between\ndifferent objects, have suggested the instant of its passing from one to\nthe other as the true point of comparison between them; or that the time\nwhen it had the idea of both together, was the time when it had an idea\nof neither. To such absurdities are ingenious men driven by setting up\nargument against fact, and denying the most obvious truths for which\nthey cannot account, like the sophist who denied the existence of\nmotion, because he could not understand its nature. It might perhaps be\ndeemed a sufficient answer to those who build systems and lay down\nlearned propositions on the principle that the mind can comprehend but\none idea at a time, to say that they consequently can have no meaning in\nwhat they write, since when they begin a sentence, they cannot have the\nleast idea what will be the end of it, and by the time they get there,\nmust totally forget the beginning.\u2014\u2018Peace to all such.\u2019[12]\n\nMr. Horne Tooke justly complains of the uncertainty, confusion, and\nlaxity of Mr. Locke\u2019s reasoning on the subject of abstract ideas, though\nI cannot agree with him that it is therefore \u2018very different from that\nincomparable author\u2019s usual method of proceeding.\u2019\u2014See Essay on Human\nUnderstanding, vol. ii. p. 15, &c.\n\nI am quite at a loss to determine, from Mr. Locke\u2019s various statements,\nwhether he really supposed the abstraction to be in the ideas, or merely\nin the terms. There is none of this wavering and perplexity in the minds\nof his French commentators, none of this suspicion of error, and anxious\ndesire to correct it; no unforeseen objections arise to stagger their\nnatural confidence in themselves; it is all the same light, airy,\nself-complacency, not a speck is seen to sully the clear sky of their\nphilosophy, not a wrinkle disturbs the smooth and smiling current of\ntheir thoughts. In the Logic of the Abb\u00e9 Condillac, that manual of the\nmodern sciolist, the question of abstract ideas is settled and cleared\nfrom all difficulties, past, present, and to come, with as little\nexpence of thought, time, and trouble, as possible. The Abb\u00e9\ndemonstrates with ease.\n\n\u2018But what in truth,\u2019 he asks, \u2018is the reality which a general and\nabstract idea has in the mind? It is nothing but a name; or if it is any\nthing more, it necessarily ceases to be abstract and general. If in\nthinking of _a man_ in general I contemplate anything in this word,\nbesides the mere denomination, it can only be by representing to myself\nsome one man; and a man can no more be a man in the abstract in my mind\nthan in nature. Abstract ideas are therefore only denominations. This\nconfirms what we have already demonstrated, how necessary words are to\nus; for if we had no general terms, we should have no abstract ideas; if\nwe had no abstract ideas, we should have neither _genera_ nor _species_;\nand without _genera_ and _species_, we could reason upon nothing. To\nspeak, to reason, to form general and abstract ideas, are then in fact\nthe same thing; and this truth, simple as it is, might pass for a\ndiscovery. Certainly, men in general have not even had a notion of\nit.\u2019\u2014Logic, p. 136.\n\nNow, in order to prevent these _genera_ and _species_, and all rational\nideas along with them, from being precipitated into the empty abyss of\nwords prepared for them by these philosophers, it may be proper to ask\none question, viz. if we have no idea of _genera_ and _species_, or of\nwhat different things have in common or alike, that is, if the idea is\nnothing but the name, how is it that we know when to apply the same\ngeneral name to different particulars, which on this principle can have\nnothing left to connect them in the mind? For example, take the words,\n_a white horse_. Now, say they, it is the terms which are general or\ncommon, but we have no general or abstract idea corresponding to them.\nBut if we have no general idea of _white_, nor any general idea of _a\nhorse_, what have we left to guide us in applying the phrase to any but\nthe first horse, any more than in applying the terms of an unknown\ntongue to their respective objects? In short, what is it that \u2018puts the\nsame common name into a capacity of signifying many particulars,\u2019 but\nthat common nature or kind which is conceived to belong to them?\nCondillac says, that without general terms, there would be no general\nideas; it appears to me, that without general ideas there could be no\ngeneral terms. Language without this would be reduced to a heap of\nproper names, and we should be as completely at a loss to class any\nobject generally from its agreement with others, or to say at sight,\nthis is a man, this is a horse, as to know whether we should call the\nfirst man we accidentally met in the street by the name of John or\nThomas. The very existence of language is alone a sufficient proof of\nthe power of abstraction in the human mind.\n\nIt is so far from being true, according to the modern philosophy, that\nwe have neither complex nor general ideas, that, I think, it may be\nproved to a demonstration that we have and can have no others. I must\npremise, however, that I do not believe it possible ever to arrive at\ngeneral or abstract ideas by beginning in Mr. Locke\u2019s method with\nparticular images. This faculty of abstraction is by most writers\nconsidered as a sort of artificial refinement upon our other ideas, as\nan excrescence no ways contained in the common impressions of things,\nnor necessary to the common purposes of life; and is by Mr. Locke\naltogether denied to be among the faculties of brutes. It is described\nas the ornament and top-addition of the mind of man, which proceeding\nfrom simple sensations upwards is gradually sublimed into the abstract\nnotions of things:\u2014\n\n \u2018So from the root\n Springs lighter the green stalk, from thence the leaves\n More airy, last the bright consummate flower.\u2019\n\nOn the contrary, I conceive that all our notions, from first to last,\nare (strictly speaking) general and abstract, not absolute or\nparticular; and that to have a perfectly distinct idea of any one\nindividual object or concrete existence, either as to the parts of which\nit is composed, or the differences belonging to it, or the circumstances\nconnected with it, would require an unlimited power of comprehension in\nthe human mind, which is impossible. All particular things consist of,\nand even lead to, an infinite number of other things. Abstraction is\ntherefore a necessary consequence of the limitation of the comprehensive\nfaculty, and mixes itself, more or less, with every act of the\nunderstanding, of whatever kind, during every moment of its existence.\nThe same fallacy has led to the rejection of abstract and general ideas\nwhich has led to the rejection of complex ones, viz. that of supposing\nsensible images to be perfectly simple or individual things. But the\ntruth is, that there is no one idea of an individual object which is any\nthing more than a general and imperfect notion of it: for as there is no\nsuch idea which does not relate to a number of complicated impressions\nand their connections, so we can conceive the whole of no one object.\nAgain, there is no idea of a particular quality of any object, which is\nperfectly simple and definite, but the result of a number of sensible\nimpressions of the same sort, classed together by the mind under the\nabstract notion of likeness, or of something common between them,\nwithout attending to their difference in other respects.\n\nThis view of the subject is not, I confess, very obvious at first sight,\nand requires strong and clear proof, but it also admits of it. The only\nway to defend our common sense against the sophisms of the moderns is to\nretort their own analytical distinctions upon them.\n\nIn looking at any object, as at St. James\u2019s Palace, for example, it is\ntaken for granted that the impression I have of it is a perfectly\ndistinct, precise, and definite idea, in which abstraction or\ngeneralisation has no concern. Now it appears to me an easy matter to\nshew that this sensible image of a particular building is itself but a\nvague and confused notion, not one precise, individual impression, or\nany number of impressions, distinctly perceived. For I would demand of\nany one who thinks his senses furnish him with these infallible and\nperfect images of things, free from all contradiction and perplexity,\nwhat is the amount of the knowledge which he has of the object before\nhim? For instance, is the knowledge which he has that St. James\u2019s Palace\nis larger than the houses which are near it, owing to his perceiving,\nwith a glance of the eye, all the bricks of which the front is composed,\nor can he not tell that it contains a number of windows of different\nsizes, without distinctly counting them? Let us even suppose that he has\nthis exact knowledge, yet this will not be enough unless he has also a\ndistinct perception of the number and size of the panes of glass in each\nwindow, and of every mark, stain, or dent in each brick, otherwise, his\nidea of each of these particulars will still be general, and his most\nsubstantial knowledge built on shadows, that is, composed of a number of\nparts, of the parts of which he has no knowledge. In the same manner\nthat I form an idea of St. James\u2019s Palace, I can form an idea of\nPall-Mall, of the adjoining streets, of Westminster, and London, of\nParis, of France, and England, and of the different cities and kingdoms\nof the world. At least, I do not see the point of separation in this\nprogressive scale of our ideas. May I not be able, in looking out of my\nwindow, to distinguish, first, a certain object in the distance, then\nthat it is a man, then that it is a person whom I know, and all this\nbefore I can distinguish his particular features; and after I can\ndistinguish those features, what do I know or see of them, except their\ngeneral form, expression, and effect? Little or nothing. Let any one,\nwho is not an artist, or let any one who is, attempt to give an outline\nfrom memory of the features of his most intimate friend, and he will\nfeel the truth of this remark. Yet though he does not know the exact\nturn of any one feature, he will instantly, and without fail, recognise\nthe person the moment he meets him in the street, and that often, merely\nfrom catching a glimpse of some part of his dress, or from peculiarity\nof motion, though he may be quite at a loss to define in what this\npeculiarity consists, or to account for its impression on him. We may be\nsaid to have a particular knowledge of things, in proportion to the\nnumber of parts which we distinguish in them. But the real ultimate\nfoundation of all our knowledge is and must be general, that is, made up\nof masses, not of points, a mere confused result of a number of\nimpressions, not analysed by the mind, since there is no object which\ndoes not consist of an infinite number of parts, and we have not an\ninfinite number of distinct ideas, answering to them. The knowledge of\nevery finite being rests in generals, and if we think to exclude all\ngenerality from our ideas of things, as implying a want of perfect truth\nand clearness, it will be impossible for the mind to form an idea of any\none object whatever. Let any person try the experiment of counting a\nflock of sheep driven fast by him, and he will soon find his imagination\nunable to keep pace with the rapid succession of objects, and his idea\nof a positive number slide into the general notion of multitude. But\nbecause there are more objects passing before him than he can possibly\ncount, he will not, therefore, think that there are none, nor will the\nword, _flock_, present to his mind a mere name without any idea\ncorresponding to it. Every act of the attention, every object we see or\nthink of, offers a proof of the same kind.\n\nThese remarks will be found to contain the answer to the common argument\nused on this subject, that in thinking of a man in general, we must\nalways conceive of a man of a particular size and figure. Now if it be\nmeant that when we pronounce the word _man_, we have either no idea at\nall, or a distinct and perfect one of an entire figure of a man with all\nits parts and proportions, it would amount to a knowledge, which no\nsculptor or painter ever had of any one figure of which he was the most\nthorough master, and which he had immediately before him. Or if it be\nonly meant that we think of a particular height, which must be a\nprecise, positive, determinate idea, even this supposition may in the\nsame way be shewn to be exceedingly fallacious, and an inversion of the\nnatural order of our ideas. For take any given height of a man, whether\ntall, short, or middle-sized, and let that height be as visible as you\nplease, yet the actual height to which it amounts must be made up of the\nlength of the different parts, the head, the face, the neck, the body,\nlimbs, &c. all which must be distinctly added together by the mind,\nbefore the sum total which they compose can be pretended to be a\nprecise, definite, individual idea. In the impression then of a given\nvisible object, we have only a general idea of something more or less\nextended, and never of the precise length itself, for this precise\nlength (as it is thought to be) is necessarily composed of a number of\nsubordinate lengths, too many and too minute to be separately attended\nto, or jointly conceived by the mind, and at last loses itself in the\ninfinite divisibility of matter. What sort of absolute certainty can\ntherefore be found in any such image or ideas, I cannot well conceive:\nit seems to me like seeking for distinctness in the dancing of insects\nin the evening sun, or for fixedness and rest in the motion of the sea.\nAll particulars are nothing but generals, more or less defined according\nto circumstances, but never perfectly so.\n\nLastly, as the ideas of sensible objects can only be general notions, so\nthe ideas of sensible qualities are properly abstract ideas of likeness\nor of something common between a number of sensible impressions of the\nsame class or sort. For example, the idea I have of the whiteness of a\nmarble statue is not the idea of a point, nor of any number of points,\nwith all their differences and circumstances, but a relative idea of the\ncolour of the whole statue. Now in arriving at this general result, or\nin classing its sensible impressions together as of the same sort or\nquality, the mind certainly is not conscious of every stain in the\ncolour of the marble, or streak that may happen to vary it, or of its\nshape or size, or of every difference of light and shade, arising from\ninequality of surface, &c. Yet if the idea falls any thing short of this\nminute and absolute knowledge, it can only be an imperfect and abstract\none. The idea of whiteness in the same object (or as a sensible quality)\nnecessarily implies the same power of _abstracting from particulars_ in\nthe mind, as the general idea of whiteness taken from different objects,\nfrom a white horse, a white cloud, a white wall, a white lily, or from\nall the other white objects I have ever seen. The precise differences of\nform, size, and every other actual circumstance in these particular\nimages, are as little necessary to be attended to in forming the general\nidea of whiteness, as the differences of shape, size, and colour in\nevery particle of the statue of white marble are to the general\nimpression of colour in the whole object.\n\nI will only add, that the mind has not been fairly dealt with in this\nand other questions of the same sort. The difficulties belonging to the\nabstraction, complexity, generalization, &c. of our ideas, it is,\nperhaps, impossible ever to clear up; but that is no reason why we\nshould discard these operations from the human mind, any more than we\nshould deny the existence of motion, of extension, or of curve lines,\nbecause we cannot explain them. Matter alone seems to have the privilege\nof presenting difficulties and contradictions at every turn, which pass\ncurrent under the name of _facts_: but the moment any thing of this kind\nis observed in the understanding, all the petulance of logicians is up\nin arms against it. The mind is made the mark on which they vent all the\nmoods and figures of their impertinence; and metaphysical truth has, in\nthis respect, fared like the milk-white hind, the emblem of pure faith,\nin Dryden\u2019s fable, which \u2018had oft been chased\u2014\n\n With Scythian shafts, and many winged wounds\n Aimed at her heart, was often forced to fly,\n And doomed to death, though fated not to die.\u2019\n\n AN ENGLISH METAPHYSICIAN.\n\n\n\n\n FINE ARTS. BRITISH INSTITUTION\n\n\n _The Morning Chronicle._] [_February 5, 1814._\n\nThe exhibition of this year is, we think, upon the whole, inferior to\nthe one or two last exhibitions; for though the historical department is\nquite as respectably filled, there is not the same proportion of\npleasing representations of common life, and natural scenery. In spite\nof certain classical prejudices, we should be sorry to see this which\nhas been the most successful walk of the modern English school,\nneglected for the pursuit of prize-medals and _epic mottos_, which look\nwell in the catalogue. There is indeed a greater difference between an\nhistorical picture, and a picture of an historical subject, than even\nsome eminent painters seem to have imagined. But we are, we confess, so\nlittle refined in our taste, as to prefer a good imitation of common\nnature to a bad imitation of the highest, or rather to an imitation of\nnothing. Many of the pictures exhibited by young artists at this\nInstitution, have shewn a capacity for correct and happy delineation of\nactual objects and domestic incidents, perhaps only inferior to the\nmaster-pieces of the Dutch school, from the use of a less perfect\nvehicle, and the want of long practice, steadily and uniformly directed\nto the same object. But in the higher, and what is rather affectedly\ncalled the epic style of art,\u2014in giving the movements of the loftier and\nmore violent passions, this country has not a single painter to boast,\nwho has made even a faint approach to the excellence of the great\nItalian painters. We have indeed a good number of specimens of the\nclay-figure, the bones and muscles of the man, the anatomical mechanism,\nthe regular proportions measured by a two-foot rule\u2014large canvasses\ncovered with stiff figures arranged in decent order, with the characters\nand story correctly expressed by uplifted eyes or hands, according to\nold receipt-books for the passions, and with all the hardness and\ninflexibility of figures carved in wood, and painted over in good strong\nbody colours, that look as if some of nature\u2019s journeymen had made them,\nand not made them well. But we still want a Prometheus to give life to\nthe cumbrous mass, to throw an intellectual light over the opaque image,\nto embody the inmost refinements of thought to the outward eye, to lay\nbare the very soul of passion. That picture is of little comparative\nvalue, which can be completely _translated_ into another language, of\nwhich the description in a common catalogue is as good, and conveys all\nthat is expressed by the picture itself; for it is the excellence of\nevery art to give what can be given by no other, in the same degree.\nMuch less is that picture to be esteemed which only injures and defaces\nthe idea already existing in the mind\u2019s eye, which does not come up to\nthe conception which the imagination forms of the subject, and\nsubstitutes a dull reality for high sentiment; for the art is in this\ncase an incumbrance, not an assistance, and interferes with, instead of\nadding to, the stock of our pleasurable sensations. But we should be at\na loss to point out (we will not say any English picture, but certainly)\nany English painter, who in heroic and classical composition, has risen\nto the height of his subject, and answered the expectation of the\nwell-informed spectator, or excited the same impression by visible means\nas had been excited by words, or by reflection. That this inferiority in\nEnglish art is not owing to a deficiency of genius, imagination, or\npassion, is proved sufficiently by the works of our poets and dramatic\nwriters, which, in loftiness and force, are certainly not surpassed by\nthose of any other nation. But whatever may be the depth of internal\nthought and feeling in the English character, it seems to be _more\ninternal_, and (whether this is owing to climate, habit, or physical\nconstitution) to have, comparatively, a less immediate and powerful\ncommunication with the organic expression of passion, which exhibits the\nthoughts and feelings in the countenance, and furnishes matter for the\nhistoric muse of painting. The English artist is instantly sensible that\nthe flutter, grimace, and extravagance of the French physiognomy, are\nincompatible with high history; and we are at no loss to explain in this\nway, that is, from the defect of existing models, why the productions of\nthe French school are marked with all the affectation of national\ncaricature, or sink into tame and lifeless imitations of the antique.\nMay we not account satisfactorily for the general defects of our own\nhistoric productions in a similar way,\u2014from a certain inertness and\nconstitutional phlegm, which does not habitually impress the workings of\nthe mind by correspondent traces on the countenance, and which may also\nrender us less sensible of these outward and visible signs of passion,\neven when they are so impressed there? The irregularity of proportion\nand want of symmetry in the structure of the national features, though\nit certainly enhances the difficulty of infusing natural grace and\ngrandeur into the works of art, rather accounts for our not having been\nable to attain the exquisite refinements of Grecian sculpture, than for\nour not having rivalled the Italian painters in expression.\n\nThe strongest exception to these general remarks in the present\ncollection, is certainly _Mr. Bird\u2019s Picture of Job_, surrounded by his\nfriends. Many of the heads and figures in this very able composition\nhave a strong and deeply infused tincture of true history. The best of\nthem are in a mixed style, which reminds us at the same time of Annibal\nCaracci, and N. Poussin. The three finest figures are undoubtedly those\nof Job, and the man and woman seated on each side of him. The\ncountenance of Job displays a noble firmness with a mixture of\nsuppressed feeling, not, perhaps, sufficiently marked for the character\nor for the interest of the subject. The full grey drapery which\nenvelopes his whole figure, has an admirable effect, and seems in a\nmanner to shroud him from the attacks of external misfortune, in the\nconsolations of his own mind. The action of the man on his right hand,\npointing with his finger, and indeed the whole figure, are equally\nappropriate and striking. The posture of the man leaning on a marble\nslab, is also natural and picturesque, though it has too great an\nappearance of ease and indifference for the occasion. The drapery of\nthis last figure is remarkably loose and flimsy, or what the painters,\nwe believe, call _woolly_. There are several other good heads in the\npicture; but both the countenance and attitude of the man behind the\nmessenger, and the face of the figure between Job and the front figure\nin red, are mean and vulgar\u2014mere low life, without sense or dignity. The\nexpression in the countenance of the messenger, who comes to inform Job\nof the last calamity that has befallen him, is neither intelligent nor\nbeautiful; and the whole of the figure, both by its situation and the\nquantity of light thrown upon it, assumes a prominence disproportioned\nto its importance, and throws the rest of the composition into a kind of\nhalf back-ground. The story is illustrated (whether with chronological\npropriety or not we leave to the critics) by a group of figures just\nbehind the circle of Job and his friends, carrying off the dead body of\none of his children. The great fault of this picture, which displays\nmuch sense, character, study, and invention, is the heaviness and\nmonotony of the colour. It is of one uniform leaden tone, as if it had\nbeen smeared over with putty, except where a sudden transition to a\nglaring red or yellow, or the introduction of a spotty light, not at all\naccounted for, serves, instead of relieving, to add greater weight to\nthat mechanic gloom, which affects, not the imagination, but the eye. We\nthink it right to notice a defect which may be more easily remedied by\nattention, viz. that the extremities of Mr. Bird\u2019s figures are in\ngeneral very ill made out.\n\nMr. Allston\u2019s large picture of _the dead man restored to life by\ntouching the bones of Elisha_, deserves great praise both for the choice\nand originality of the subject, the judicious arrangement of the general\ncomposition, and the correct drawing and very great knowledge of the\nhuman figure throughout. The figure of the revived soldier in the\nforeground is noble and striking; the drapery about him is equally well\nimagined and well executed. There is also a very beautiful head of a\nyoung man in a blue drapery with his hands lifted together, and in the\nact of attention to another, who is pointing out the miracle, which has\nmuch of the simple dignity and pathos of Raphael. With respect to the\ngeneral colour and expression of this picture, we think it has too much\nof the look of a French composition. The faces are in the school of Le\nBrun\u2019s heads\u2014theoretical diagrams of the passions\u2014not natural and\nprofound expressions of them; forced and overcharged, without precision\nor variety of character. The colouring, too, is without any strongest\ncontrasts or general gradations, and is half-toned and half-tinted away,\nbetween reddish brown flesh and wan-red drapery, till all effect, union,\nand relief, is lost. It would be unjust not to add, that we think Mr.\nAllston\u2019s picture demonstrates great talents, great professional\nacquirements, and even genius; but we suspect that he has paid too\nexclusive an attention to the instrumental and theoretical parts of his\nart. The object of art is not merely to display knowledge, but to give\npleasure.\n\nThere is a small picture of _Diana bathing_, by this gentleman, which we\nthink equally admirable for the character and drawing. The knowledge of\nthe human figure in this pleasing composition might be opposed with\nadvantage to the utter ignorance of it in some Musidora sketches, in\nwhich the limbs seem to have been kneaded in paste, and are thrown\ntogether like a bundle of drapery.\n\nOf Mr. Hilton\u2019s picture of _Mary Magdalen anointing the feet of our\nSaviour_, we have little more to say, than that the figures are much\nlarger than life, and that, we understand, it has been purchased by the\nInstitution for 500 guineas.\n\nMr. West\u2019s picture of _Lot and his Family_ is one of those highly\nfinished specimens of _metallurgy_ which too often proceed from the\nPresident\u2019s hardware manufactory. As to the subject, we conceive it has\nbeen often enough treated in a country famed for \u2018pure religion\nbreathing household laws.\u2019 We do not mean to lay it down as a rule, that\nthe sublimity of the execution may not redeem the deformity of the\nsubject of a composition, as there is a great and acknowledged\ndifference between Shakspeare and the Newgate Calendar; but this of Mr.\nWest\u2019s is a mere furniture picture, and offers no palliation from the\ngenius displayed by the artist. Having touched unawares on this very\ndelicate subject of the ethics of painting, we shall just notice, that\nthe picture of \u2018Venus weeping over the dead body of Adonis,\u2019 seems to\nhave been painted _tout expres_, for the purpose of being bought up by\nsome member of the Society for the Suppression of Vice.\n\nMr. Turner\u2019s grand landscape of _Apullius_ and _Apullia_ has one\nrecommendation, which must always enhance the value of this most able\nartist\u2019s productions, that the composition is taken _verbatim_ from Lord\nEgremont\u2019s picture of \u2018Jacob and Laban.\u2019 The beautiful arrangement is\nClaude\u2019s; the powerful execution is his own. From this specimen of\nparody, and from his never-enough-to-be-admired picture of \u2018Mercury and\nHerse,\u2019 we could almost wish that this gentleman would always work in\nthe trammels of Claude or N. Poussin. All the taste and all the\nimagination being borrowed, his powers of eye, hand, and memory, are\nequal to any thing. In general, his pictures are a waste of morbid\nstrength. They give pleasure only by the excess of power triumphing over\nthe barrenness of the subject. The artist delights to go back to the\nfirst chaos of the world, or to that state when the waters were merely\nseparated from the dry land, and no creeping thing nor herb bearing\nfruit was seen upon the face of the land. The figures in the present\npicture are execrable. Claude\u2019s are flimsy enough; but these are\nimpudent and obtrusive vulgarity. The utter want of a capacity to draw a\ndistinct outline with the force, the depth, the fulness, and precision\nof this artist\u2019s eye for colour, is truly astonishing. There is only one\npart of the colouring of Mr. Turner\u2019s landscape which did not please us:\nit is the blue of the water nearest the foreground, immediately after\nthe dark brown shadow of the trees.\n\nThe picture of the _Favourite Lamb_, by Collins, has exquisite feeling.\nThe groupe of children surrounding the little victim, and arresting him\nin his progress to the butcher\u2019s cart, has a degree of natural pathos\nand touching simplicity, which we have never seen surpassed in any\npicture of the kind. It may easily draw tears from eyes, at all used to\nthe melting mood.\n\n\n\n\n THE STAGE.\n\n\n _The Morning Chronicle_] [_February 24, 1814._\n\nThe manner in which Shakespeare\u2019s plays have been generally altered, or\nrather mangled, by modern mechanists, is in our opinion a disgrace to\nthe English Stage. The patch-work _Richard_ which is acted under the\nsanction of his name, is a striking example of this remark. The play\nitself is undoubtedly one of the finest effusions of Shakespeare\u2019s\ngenius. It is as truly _Shakespearian_\u2014that is, it has as much of the\nauthor\u2019s mind, of passion, character, and interest, with as little alloy\nof the peculiarities of the age, or extraneous matter, as almost any\nother of his productions. Wherever Shakespeare relied upon himself, and\ndid not appeal to the taste of his audience, he outstripped all\ncompetition, and this he did as often as he had a motive in his subject\nto do so; he had none in his vanity, or in the affectation of conforming\nto certain critical rules. The winds blow as they list; and the golden\ntide of passion no sooner rises in his breast, than it swells and bears\ndown every thing in its mighty course.\n\nThe ground-work of the character of _Richard_,\u2014that mixture of\nintellectual vigour with moral depravity, in which Shakespeare delighted\nto shew his strength,\u2014gave full scope as well as temptation to the\nexertion of his genius. The character of his hero is almost everywhere\npredominant, and marks its lurid track throughout. The original play is,\nhowever, too long for representation, and there are some few scenes\nwhich might be better spared than preserved and by omitting which, it\nwould remain a complete whole. The only rule, indeed, for altering\nShakespeare, is to retrench certain passages which may be considered\neither as superfluous or obsolete, but not to add or transpose any\nthing. The arrangement and developement of the story, and the mutual\ncontrast and combination of the _dramatis person\u00e6_, are in general as\nfinely managed as the developement of the characters or the expression\nof the passions.\n\nThis rule has not been adhered to in the present instance. Some of the\nmost important and striking passages in the principal character have\nbeen omitted, to make room for tedious and misplaced extracts from other\nplays; the only intention of which seems to have been, to make the\ncharacter of _Richard_ as odious and disgusting as possible. A bugbear\nseems to have been always necessary to the English nation, and\u2014give them\nbut this to vent their spleen upon\u2014they will, either in matters of taste\nor opinion, \u2018as tenderly be led by the nose as asses are.\u2019 It is\napparently for no other purpose than to make _Gloucester_ stab _King\nHenry_ on the stage, that the fine abrupt introduction of this character\nin the opening of the play is lost in the tedious whining morality of\nthe uxorious King (taken from another play);\u2014we say _tedious_, because\nit interrupts the business of the scene, and loses its beauty and effect\nby having no intelligible connection with the previous character of the\nmild and well-meaning monarch. The passages which Mr. Wroughton has to\nrecite are in themselves exquisitely pathetic, but they have nothing to\ndo with the world that _Richard_ has to \u2018bustle in.\u2019 In the same spirit\nof vulgar caricature is the scene between _Richard_ and _Lady Anne_\n(when his wife)\u2014interpolated, merely to gratify this favourite\npropensity to disgust and loathing. With the same perverse consistency,\n_Richard_, after his last fatal struggle, is raised up by some Galvanic\nprocess, to utter the imprecation, without any motive but pure\nmalignity, which is so finely put into the mouth of _Northumberland_ on\nhearing of _Percy\u2019s_ death. We hope that Mr. Kean, when he acts\n_Macbeth_, will die as Shakespeare makes him, and not with four lines of\ncanting penitence (a common-place against ambition) in his mouth. To\nmake room for these needless additions and interpolations, many of the\nmost striking passages in the real play have been omitted by the foppery\nand ignorance of the prompt-book critics. We do not mean to insist\nmerely on passages which are fine as poetry and to the reader, such as\n_Clarence\u2019s_ dream, &c. but those which are important to the\ndevelopement of the character, and peculiarly adapted for stage effect.\nWe give the following as instances among many others.\n\nThe first is the scene where _Richard_ enters abruptly to the Queen and\nher friends, to defend himself:\n\n _Enter_ GLOUCESTER.\n\n _Glo._ They do me wrong, and I will not endure it.\n Who are they that complain unto the King,\n That I, forsooth, am stern, and love them not?\n By holy Paul, they love his Grace but lightly,\n That fill his ears with such dissentious rumours;\n Because I cannot flatter, and look fair,\n Smile in men\u2019s faces, smooth, deceive, and cog,\n Duck with French nods and apish courtesy,\n I must be held a rancorous enemy.\n Cannot a plain man live, and think no harm,\n But thus his simple truth must be abused\n With silken, sly, insinuating Jacks\n\n _Gray._ To whom in all this presence speaks your Grace?\n\n _Glo._ To thee, that hast nor honesty nor grace;\n When have I injured thee? When done thee wrong?\n Or thee? or thee? or any of your faction?\n A plague upon you all!\n\nWhat can be more characteristic than the turbulent pretensions to\nmeekness and simplicity in this address?\n\nAgain, the versatility and adroitness of _Richard_ is admirably\ndescribed in the following ironical answer to Brakenbury:\u2014\n\n _Brakenbury._ I beseech your graces both to pardon me,\n His Majesty hath straitly given in charge,\n That no man shall have private conference,\n Of what degree soever, with your brother.\n\n _Glo._ E\u2019en so, and please your worship, Brakenbury,\n You may partake of any thing we say:\n We speak not reason, man\u2014we say the King\n Is wise and virtuous, and his noble Queen\n Well strook in years, fair, and not jealous.\n We say that Shore\u2019s wife hath a pretty foot,\n A cherry lip, a passing pleasing tongue:\n That the Queen\u2019s kindred are made gentle folks.\n How say you, Sir? Can you deny all this?\n\n _Brak._ With this, my Lord, myself have nought to do.\n\n _Glo._ What, fellow, nought to do with Mistress Shore?\n I tell you, Sir, he that doth nought with her,\n Excepting one, were best to do it secretly alone.\n\n _Brak._ What one, my Lord?\n\n _Glo._ Her husband, knave\u2014wouldst thou betray me?\n\nThe feigned reconciliation of Gloucester with the Queen\u2019s kinsmen, is\nalso a master-piece. One of the finest features in the play, and which\nserves to shew, as much as any thing, the deep duplicity of _Richard_,\nis the unsuspecting security of _Hastings_, at the very time when the\nformer is plotting his death.\n\nPerhaps the two most beautiful passages in the original, are the\nfarewell apostrophe of the _Queen_ to the Tower, where her children are\nshut up from her, and _Tyrrel\u2019s_ description of their death. We will\nfinish our quotations with them:\u2014\n\n _Queen._ Stay, yet look back with me, unto the Tower;\n Pity, you ancient stones, those tender babes,\n Whom envy hath immured within your walls;\n Rough cradle for such little pretty ones;\n Rude, rugged nurse, old sullen playfellow,\n For tender princes!\n\nThe other passage is the account of their death by _Tyrrel_:\u2014\n\n Dighton and Forrest, whom I did suborn\n To do this piece of ruthless butchery,\n Albeit they were flesh\u2019d villains, bloody dogs,\n Wept like to children in their death\u2019s sad story:\n O thus! quoth Dighton, lay the gentle babes;\n Thus, thus! quoth Forrest, girdling one another,\n Within their innocent alabaster arms;\n Their lips were four red roses on a stalk,\n And in that summer-beauty kiss\u2019d each other;\n A book of prayers on their pillow lay,\n Which once, quoth Forrest, almost changed my mind.\n But Oh the Devil!\u2014there the villain stopped:\n When Dighton thus told on\u2014we smothered\n The most replenished sweet work of nature,\n That from the prime creation ere she framed.\n\nThese are those wonderful bursts of feeling, done to the very height of\nnature which our Shakespeare alone could give. We do not insist on the\nrepetition of these last passages as proper for the stage; we should\nindeed be loth to trust them with almost any actor; but we should wish\nthem to be retained, at least in preference to the fantoccini exhibition\nof the young Princes, bandying childish wit with their uncle.\n\nWe have taken the present opportunity to offer these remarks on the\nnecessity of acting the plays of our great Bard, in spirit and\nsubstance, instead of burlesquing them, because we think the stage has\nacquired in Mr. Kean an actor capable of doing singular justice to many\nof his finest delineations of character.\n\n\n\n\n FINE ARTS\u2014THE LOUVRE\n\n\n _The Morning Chronicle_] [_March 24, 1814._\n\n\u2018If Bl\u00fccher, if the Cossacks, get to Paris,\u2014to Paris, the seat of\nBonaparte\u2019s pride and insolence,\u2014what mercy will they shew to it, or why\nshould they shew it any mercy? Will they spare the precious works of\nart, to decorate the palace of a monster whom they justly detest? Will\nthey treat the Thuileries more tenderly than the French Officers, only\neight months ago, openly threatened to treat Berlin? Is Paris,\nBonaparte\u2019s Paris, more sacred than Moscow? or are the slaves of the\nCorsican more inviolable than the brave and virtuous citizens of\nHamburgh? No, no; the indignant warriors will cry,\u2014\n\n \u201cAway to Heav\u2019n respective Lenity,\n And fire-eyed Fury be my conduct now.\u201d\n\n\u2018There is no other mode by which the Parisians can disarm the vengeance\nwhich now so closely impends over them, than by disclaiming for ever him\nwhose crimes have been the just cause of that vengeance. Paris under the\nwhite standard, returning to loyalty and virtue, may be spared by a\ngenerous conqueror;\u2014but Paris, identified with Bonaparte, must partake\nall the vindictive sentiments which are attached to that hateful name.\n\n[Yet some time ago this writer assured us that if the French people\nidentified themselves with Bonaparte, they ought not to be separated\nfrom him.]\n\n\u2018In what momentous times do we live! Perhaps, the famous city of which\nwe speak may even now be laid in ashes! Perhaps and more welcome be the\nomen, it may have returned to its allegiance, and proclaimed its native\nSovereign, and set a price on the head of that wicked rebel who still\ndares to call himself the Emperor of France.\u2019\u2014_Times_, March 17.\n\n \u2018Nay, if you mouth, I\u2019ll rant as well as you!\u2019\n\nIt is a pity to spoil this morsel of Asiatic eloquence, so worthy of the\nsubject and the sentiments; but the evident meaning of it is, that the\nFrench must expect to do penance in sack-cloth and ashes, or consent to\nput on the old livery jackets, made up for them by our army-agents long\nago, and which have unfortunately lain on hand ever since. If so, they\nmust needs be \u2018pigeon-liver\u2019d, and lack gall.\u2019 Yet we hardly know what\nto say to the chivalrous and classical politicians of the Stock\nExchange. They are not driven to the extremity of Gothic rage by the\nranking inveteracy, and old unsatisfied grudge of the Pitt-school. Yet\nsurely no pitiable enthusiast that\n\n \u2018Scrawls\n With desperate charcoal on his darken\u2019d walls,\u2019\n\ncan be more incorrigible to reason. They are always setting out on their\nway to Paris from Moscow, while the Pitt-school studiously return to\njoin Lord Hawkesbury in the year 1793, or they think the whole ceremony\nincomplete! The treaty of Pilnitz does not stand between our modern\npopular incendiaries and their just revenge! They live only in \u2018this\npresent ignorant time!\u2019 They see the white standard of the Bourbons\nwaving over the walls of Paris, unspotted with the blood of millions of\nFrenchmen! They do not seem ever to have known, or (with our\npoet-laureat) they forget, that the same standard to which our milky\npoliticians advise the French people, sick of destruction, and panting\nfor freedom, to fly for deliverance and repose, is that very standard,\nwhich, for twenty years, hovering round them, now seen like a cloudy\nspeck in the distance\u2014now spreading out its drooping lilies wide, has\nbeen the cause of that destruction\u2014has robbed them at once of liberty\nand of repose!\n\nMoscow is, however, the watch-word of the renegados of _The Times_. It\nseems to them just that Paris should be sacrificed to revenge the\nsetting fire to Moscow by the Russians, and that the monuments of art in\nthe Louvre ought to be destroyed because they are Bonaparte\u2019s. No; they\nare ours as well as his;\u2014they belong to the human race; he cannot\nmonopolize all genius and all art. But these madmen would, if they\ncould, blot the Sun out of heaven, because it shines upon France. They\nverify the old proverb, \u2018Tell me your company, and I\u2019ll tell you your\nmanners!\u2019 They, no more than their friends the Cossacks, can perceive\nany difference between the Kremlin and the Louvre. There is at least one\ndifference, that the one may be built up again, and the other cannot.\nFor there, in the Louvre, in Bonaparte\u2019s Louvre, are the precious\nmonuments of art\u2014the sacred pledges which human genius has given to time\nand nature;\u2014there \u2018stands the statue that enchants the world;\u2019 there is\nthe _Apollo_, the _Laocoon_, the _Dying Gladiator_, the _Head of the\nAntinous_, _Diana with her Fawn_, and all the glories of the antique\nworld;\u2014\n\n \u2018There is old Proteus coming from the sea,\n And wreathed Triton blows his winding horn.\u2019\n\nThere, too, are the two _St. Jeromes_, Correggio\u2019s and Dominichino\u2019s;\nthere is Raphael\u2019s _Transfiguration_, the _St. Mark_ of Tintoret, Paul\nVeronese\u2019s _Marriage of Cana_, the _Deluge_ of Nicholas Poussin, and\nTitian\u2019s _St. Peter Martyr_;\u2014all these, and more than these, of which\nthe world is scarce worthy. Yet all these amount to nothing in the eyes\nof those virtuosos the Cossacks, and their fellow-students of _The\nTimes_! \u2018What\u2019s Hecuba to them, or they to Hecuba?\u2019 But we must be\nallowed to see with our own eyes, and to have certain feelings of our\nown. We will not be brayed by these quacks _like fools in a mortar_. We\ntoo, as Mr. Burke expresses it, have \u2018real feelings of flesh and blood\nbeating in our bosoms.\u2019 \u2018We look up with awe to Kings; with affection to\nparliaments; with duty to magistrates; with reverence to priests; and\nwith respect to nobility.\u2019 But all this is a machine that goes on of\nitself, and may be repaired if out of order. We bow willingly to Lords\nand Commoners, though we know that \u2018breath can make them as a breath has\nmade.\u2019 Bl\u00fccher, Wittgenstein, Winzingerode, and Ktzichigoff, are true\nheroes; their names become the mouth well, and rouse the ear as the\nsound of a trumpet; but they are the heroes of a day, and all that they\nhave done might be as well done by others to-morrow. But here it is:\nonce destroy the great monuments of art, and they cannot be replaced.\nThose mighty geniuses, who have left their works behind them an\ninheritance to mankind, live but once to do honour to themselves and\ntheir nature. \u2018But once put out their light, and there is no Promethean\nheat that can their light relumine.\u2019 Nor ought it ever to be re-kindled,\nto be extinguished a second time by the harpies of the human race. What\nhave \u2018the worshippers of cats and onions\u2019 to do with those triumphs of\nhuman genius, which give the eternal lie to their creed? We would\ntherefore recommend these accomplished pioneers of civilisation and\nsocial order, after they have done their work at the Louvre, to follow\nthe river-side, and they will come to a bare inclosure, surrounded by\nfour low walls. It is the place where the Bastille stood: let them rear\nthat, and all will be well. And then some whiffling poet who celebrated\nthe fall of that monument of mild paternal sway\u2014that sacred ark of the\nconfidence of Kings\u2014that strong bulwark of \u2018time-hallowed laws,\u2019 and\nprecious relic of \u2018the good old times,\u2019 in an ode, may hail its\nrestoration in a sonnet!\n\n\n\n\n WILSON\u2019S LANDSCAPES, AT THE BRITISH INSTITUTION\n\n\n _The Champion._] [_July 17, 1814._\n\nThe landscapes of this celebrated artist may be divided into three\nclasses;\u2014his Italian landscapes, or imitations of the manner of Claude,\nhis copies of English scenery, and his historical compositions.\n\nThe first of these are, in our opinion, by much the best; and of the\npictures of this class in the present collection, we should, without any\nhesitation, give the preference to the _Apollo and the Seasons_, and to\nthe _Phaeton_. The figures are of course out of the question\u2014(Wilson\u2019s\nfigures are as uncouth and slovenly as Claude\u2019s are insipid and\nfinical)\u2014but the landscape in both pictures is delightful. In looking at\nthem we breath the very air which the scene inspires, and feel the\ngenius of the place present to us. In the first, there is all the cool\nfreshness of a misty spring morning: the sky, the water, the dim horizon\nall convey the same feeling. The fine grey tone, and varying outline of\nthe hills, the graceful form of the retiring lake, broken still more by\nthe hazy shadows of the objects that repose on its bosom; the light\ntrees that expand their branches in the air, and the dark stone figure\nand mouldering temple, that contrast strongly with the broad clear light\nof the rising day, give a charm, a truth, a force and harmony to this\nlandscape, which produce the greater pleasure the longer it is dwelt\non.\u2014The distribution of light and shade resembles the effect of light on\na globe.\n\nThe _Phaeton_ has the dazzling fervid appearance of an autumnal evening;\nthe golden radiance streams in solid masses from behind the flickering\nclouds; every object is baked in the sun;\u2014the brown foreground, the\nthick foliage of the trees, the streams shrunk and stealing along behind\nthe dark high banks, combine to produce that richness, and\ncharacteristic propriety of effect, which is to be found only in nature,\nor in art derived from the study and imitation of nature. The glowing\nsplendour of this landscape reminds us of the saying of Wilson, that in\npainting such subjects, he endeavoured to give the effect of insects\ndancing in the evening sun. His eye seemed formed to drink in the light.\nThese two pictures, as they have the greatest general effect, are also\nmore carefully finished in the particular details than the other\npictures in the collection. This circumstance may be worth the attention\nof those who are apt to think that strength and slovenliness are the\nsame thing.\n\n_Cicero at his Villa_ is a clear and beautiful representation of nature.\nThe sky is admirable for its pure azure tone. Among the less finished\nproductions of Wilson\u2019s pencil, which display his great knowledge of\nperspective, are _A Landscape with figures bathing_, in which the\nfigures are wonderfully detached from the sea beyond; and _A View in\nItaly_, with a lake and a little boat, which appear at an immeasurable\ndistance below:\u2014the boat is diminished to\n\n \u2018A buoy almost too small for sight.\u2019\n\n_A View of Ancona_; _Adrian\u2019s Villa at Rome_; a small blue greenish\nlandscape; _The Lake of Neimi_; a small, richly-coloured landscape of\nthe banks of a river; and a landscape containing some light and elegant\ngroups of trees, are masterly and interesting sketches. _A View on the\nTiber_, near Rome, a dark landscape which lies finely open to the sky;\nand _A View of Rome_, are successful imitations of N. Poussin. _A View\nof Sion House_, which is hung almost out of sight, is remarkable for the\nclearness of the perspective, particularly in the distant windings of\nthe River Thames, and still more so for the parched and droughty\nappearance of the whole scene. The air is adust, the grass burned up and\nwithered: and it seems as if some figures, reposing on the level, smooth\nshaven lawn on the river\u2019s side, would be annoyed by the parching heat\nof the ground. We consider this landscape, which is an old favourite, as\none of the most striking proofs of Wilson\u2019s genius, as it conveys not\nonly the image, but the feeling of nature, and excites a new interest\nunborrowed from the eye, like the fine glow of a summer\u2019s day. There is\na sketch of the same subject, called _A View on the Thames_.\n\n_A View near Llangollen, North Wales_; _Oakhampton Castle, Devonshire_;\nand _The Bridge at Llangollen_, are the principal of Wilson\u2019s English\nlandscapes. They want almost every thing that ought to recommend them.\nThe subjects are not fit for the landscape-painter, and there is nothing\nin the execution to redeem them. Ill-shaped mountains, or great heaps of\nearth, trees that grow against them without character or elegance,\nmotionless water-falls, a want of relief, of transparency, and\ndistance,\u2014without the imposing grandeur of real magnitude (which it is\neither not within the province of the art to give, or which is certainly\nnot given here), are the chief features and defects of these\npictures.\u2014The same general objections apply to _Solitude_, and to one or\ntwo pictures near it, which are masses of common-place confusion. In\nnear scenes, the effect must depend almost entirely on the difference in\nthe execution, and the details: for the difference of colour alone is\nnot sufficient to give relief to objects placed at a small distance from\nthe eye. But in Wilson there are commonly no details; all is loose and\ngeneral; and this very circumstance, which assisted him in giving the\nmassy contrasts of light and shade, deprived his pencil of all force and\nprecision within a limited space. In general, air is necessary to the\nlandscape-painter: and for this reason, the lakes of Cumberland and\nWestmoreland afford few subjects for landscape-painting. However\nstupendous the scenery of that country is, and however powerful and\nlasting the impression which it must always make on the imagination, yet\nthe effect is not produced merely through the eye of the spectator, but\narises chiefly from collateral and associated feelings. There is the\nknowledge of the distance from which we have seen the objects, in the\nmidst of which we are now placed,\u2014the slow, improgressive motion which\nwe make in traversing them,\u2014the abrupt precipice,\u2014the torrent\u2019s\nroar,\u2014the dizzy rapture and boundless expanse of the prospect from the\nhighest mountains,\u2014the difficulty of their ascent,\u2014their loneliness, and\nsilence;\u2014in short, there is a constant sense and superstitious awe of\nthe collective power of matter, of the gigantic and eternal forms of\nnature, on which from the beginning of time the hand of man has made no\nimpression, and which by the lofty reflections they excite in him, give\na sort of intellectual sublimity even to his sense of physical weakness.\nBut there is little in all these circumstances that can be translated\ninto the picturesque, which depends not on the objects themselves, so\nmuch as on the symmetry and relation of these objects to one another. In\na picture a mountain shrinks to a molehill, and the lake that expands\nits broad bosom to the sky, seems hardly big enough to launch a fleet of\ncockle-shells.\n\nWilson\u2019s historical landscapes, the two _Niobes_, _Celadon and Amelia_,\n_Meleager and Atalanta_, do not, in our opinion, deserve the name; that\nis, they do not excite feelings corresponding with the scene and story\nrepresented. They neither display true taste nor fine imagination; but\nare affected and violent exaggerations of clumsy, common nature. They\nare all made up of the same mechanical materials, an overhanging rock,\nbare shattered trees, black rolling clouds, and forked lightning. The\nscene of _Celadon and Amelia_, though it may be proper for a\nthunder-storm, is not a place for lovers to walk in. The _Meleager and\nAtalanta_ is remarkable for nothing but a castle at a distance, very\nmuch \u2018resembling a goose-pye.\u2019 The figures in the two other pictures are\nnot like the children of _Niobe_, punished by the Gods, but like a\ngroupe of rustics, crouching from a hail-storm. In one of these,\nhowever, there is a fine break in the sky worthy of the subject. We\nagree with Sir J. Reynolds, that Wilson\u2019s mind was not, like N.\nPoussin\u2019s, sufficiently imbued with the knowledge of antiquity to\ntransport the imagination two thousand years back, to give natural\nobjects a sympathy with preternatural events, and to inform rocks, and\ntrees, and mountains with the presence of a God.[13]\n\nThe writer of the Preface to the Catalogue of the British Gallery,\nsays\u2014\u2018Few artists have excelled Wilson in the tint of air, perhaps the\nmost difficult point of attainment for the landscape-painter: every\nobject in his pictures keeps its place, because each is seen through its\nproper medium. _This excellence alone_ gives a charm to his pencil, and\nby judicious application may be turned to the advantage of the British\nartist.\u2019\u2014This praise is equivocal: if it be meant that \u2018the tint of air\u2019\nis the only excellence of Wilson\u2019s landscapes, the observation is not\ntrue. He had also great truth, harmony, and richness of local colouring:\nhe had a fine feeling of the proportions and conduct of light and shade;\nand, in general, an eye for graceful form, as far as regards the bold\nand varying outlines of indefinite objects\u2014as may be seen in his\nforegrounds, hills, etc.\u2014where the mind is left to chuse according to an\nabstract principle, as it is filled or affected agreeably by certain\ncombinations,\u2014and is not tied down to an imitation of characteristic and\narticulate forms. In his figures, trees, cattle, buildings and in every\nthing which has a determinate and regular form, Wilson\u2019s pencil was not\nonly deficient in accuracy of outline, but even in perspective and\nactual relief. His trees, in particular, seem pasted on the canvas, like\nbotanical specimens.\n\nWe shall close these remarks with observing, that we cannot subscribe to\nthe opinion of those who assert that Wilson was superior to Claude as a\nman of genius: nor can we discern any other grounds for this opinion,\nthan those which lead to the general conclusion, that the more slovenly\nthe performance, the finer the picture; and that that which is imperfect\nis superior to that which is perfect. It might as well be said, that a\nsign-painting is better than the reflection of a landscape in a mirror;\nand the only objection that can be made in the latter case cannot be\nmade to the landscapes of Claude, for in them the Graces themselves\nhave, with their own hands, assisted in disposing and selecting every\nobject.\u2014Is the general effect in his pictures injured by the details? Is\nthe truth inconsistent with the beauty of the imitation? Are the scope\nand harmony of the whole destroyed by the exquisite delicacy of every\npart? Does the perpetual profusion of objects and scenery, all perfect\nin themselves, interfere with the simple grandeur, and immense extent of\nthe whole? Does the precision with which a plant is marked in the\nforeground, take away from the air-drawn distinctions of the blue,\nglimmering distant horizon? Is there any want of that endless airy\nspace, where the eye wanders at liberty under the open sky, explores\ndistant objects, and returns back as from a delightful journey? There is\nno comparison between him and Wilson. The landscapes of Claude have all\nthat is exquisite and refined in art and nature. Every thing is moulded\ninto grace and harmony; and at the touch of his pencil, shepherds with\ntheir flocks, temples and groves, and winding glades, and scattered\nhamlets, rise up in never-ending succession, under the azure sky, and\nthe resplendent sun, \u2018while universal Pan,\n\n \u2018Knit with the Graces, and the hours in dance\n Leads on the eternal spring.\u2019\u2014\n\nThere is a fine apostrophe in a sonnet of Michael Angelo\u2019s to the\nearliest Poet of Italy:\n\n \u2018Fain would I to be what our Dante was,\n Forego the happiest fortunes of mankind;\u2019\n\nWhat landscape-painter does not feel this of Claude![14]\n\n\n\n\n ON GAINSBOROUGH\u2019S PICTURES\n\n\n _The Champion._] [_July 31, 1814._\n\nThere is an anecdote connected with the reputation of Gainsborough\u2019s\nPictures, which rests on pretty good authority. Sir Joshua Reynolds, at\none of the Academy dinners, speaking of Gainsborough, said to a friend,\n\u2018He is undoubtedly the best English landscape-painter.\u2019 \u2018No,\u2019 said\nWilson, who overheard the conversation, \u2018he\u2019s not the best English\nlandscape-painter, but he is the best portrait-painter in England.\u2019 They\nwere certainly both wrong; but the story is creditable to the variety of\nGainsborough\u2019s talents.\n\nOf his portraits, in the present collection at the British Gallery, the\nonly fine one is _A Portrait of a Youth_. This picture is from Lord\nGrosvenor\u2019s collection, where it used to look remarkably well, and has\nbeen sometimes mistaken for a Vandyke. There is a spirited glow of youth\nabout the face, and the attitude is striking and elegant. The drapery of\nblue satin is admirably painted. The _Portrait of Garrick_ is\ninteresting as a piece of biography. He looks much more like a gentleman\nthan in Reynolds\u2019s tragi-comic representation of him.\u2014There is a\nconsiderable lightness and intelligence in the expression of the face,\nand a piercing vivacity about the eyes, to which the attention is\nimmediately directed. Gainsborough\u2019s own portrait, which has, however,\nmuch truth and character, and makes a fine print, seems to have been\npainted with the handle of his brush. There is a portrait of _The Prince\nRegent leading a horse_, in which it must be confessed the man has the\nadvantage of the animal.\n\nGainsborough\u2019s landscapes are of two classes, or periods; his early and\nhis later pictures. The former are, we imagine, the best. They are\nimitations of nature, or of painters who imitated nature;\u2014such as a\n_Woody Scene_; another, which is a fine imitation of Ruysdale; and a\n_Road Side, with figures_, which has great truth and clearness. His\nlater pictures are flimsy caricatures of Rubens, who himself carried\ninattention to accuracy of detail to the utmost limit that it would\nbear. Lord Bacon says, that \u2018distilled books are, like distilled waters,\nflashy things.\u2019 The same may be said of pictures.\u2014Gainsborough\u2019s latter\nlandscapes are bad water-colour drawings, washed in by mechanical\nmovements of the hand, without any communication with the eye. The truth\nseems to be, that Gainsborough found there was something wanting in his\n\u2018_early manner_,\u2019\u2014that is, something beyond mere literal imitation of\nnatural objects, and he seems to have concluded, rather hastily, that\nthe way to arrive at that _something more_, was to discard truth and\nnature altogether. He accordingly ran from one extreme into the other.\nWe cannot conceive anything carried to a greater excess of slender\nexecution and paltry glazing, than _A Fox hunted with grey-hounds_, _A\nromantic Landscape with Sheep at a Fountain_, and many others. We were,\nhowever, much pleased with an upright landscape, with figures, which has\na fine, fresh appearance of the open sky, with a dash of the wildness of\nSalvator Rosa; and also with _A Bank of a River_, which is remarkable\nfor the elegance of the forms and the real delicacy of the execution. _A\nGroup of Cattle in a warm Landscape_ is an evident imitation of Rubens,\nbut no more like to Rubens than \u2018I to Hercules.\u2019 _Landscape with a\nWaterfall_ should be noticed for the sparkling clearness of the\ndistance. _Sportsmen in a Landscape_ is copied from Teniers with much\ntaste and feeling, though very inferior to the original picture in Lord\nRadnor\u2019s collection.\n\nOf the fancy pictures, on which Gainsborough\u2019s fame chiefly rests, we\nare disposed to give the preference to his _Cottage Children_. There is,\nwe apprehend, greater truth, variety, force, and character, in this\ngroupe, than in any other. The colouring of the light-haired child is\nparticularly true to nature, and forms a sort of natural and innocent\ncontrast to the dark complexion of the elder sister, who is carrying it.\n_The Girl going to the Well_ is, however, the general favourite. The\nlittle dog is certainly admirable. His hair looks as if it had been just\nwashed and combed. The attitude of the _Girl_ is also perfectly easy and\nnatural. But there is a consciousness in the turn of the head, and a\nsentimental pensiveness in the expression, which is not taken from\nnature, but intended as an improvement on it. There is a regular\ninsipidity, a systematic vacancy, a round, unvaried smoothness, to which\nreal nature is a stranger, and which is only an idea existing in the\npainter\u2019s mind. We think the gloss of art is never so ill bestowed as on\nsubjects of this kind, which ought to be studies of natural history. It\nis perhaps the general fault of Gainsborough, that he presents us with\nan ideal common life, whereas it is only the reality that is here good\nfor any thing. His subjects are softened and sentimentalised too much,\nit is not simple, unaffected nature that we see, but nature sitting for\nher picture. Gainsborough, we suspect, from some of the pictures in this\ncollection, led the way to that masquerade style, which piques itself on\ngiving the air of an Adonis to the driver of a hay-cart, and models the\nfeatures of a milk-maid on the principles of the antique. The _Girl and\nPigs_ is hardly liable to this objection. There is a healthy glow in the\ngirl\u2019s face, which seems the immediate effect of the air blowing upon\nit. The expression is not quite so good. The _Fox-dogs_ are admirable.\nThe young one is even better than the old one, and has undeniable\nhereditary pretensions. The _Shepherd Boys_ are fine. We do not like the\n_Boys with Dogs fighting_. We see no reason why the one should be so\nhandsome and the other so ugly, why the one should be so brown and the\nother so yellow, or why their dogs should be of the same colour as\nthemselves: nor why the worst-looking of the two should be most anxious\nto part the fray. The sketch of the _Woodman_, the original of which was\nunfortunately burned, fully justifies all the reputation it has\nacquired. It is a really fine study from nature. There is a picture of\nGainsborough\u2019s somewhere of _A Shepherd Boy in a Storm_, of which we\nmany years ago saw an indifferent copy in a broker\u2019s shop, but in which\nthe unconscious simplicity of the boy\u2019s expression, looking up with his\nhands folded, and with timid wonder, the noisy chattering of a magpye\nperched above him, and the rustling of the coming storm in the branches\nof the trees, produced a romantic pastoral impression, which we have\noften recalled with no little pleasure since that time. We have always,\nindeed, felt a strong prepossession in favor of Gainsborough, and were\ndisappointed at not finding his pictures in the present collection, all\nthat we had wished to find them.\n\nHe was to be considered, perhaps, rather as a man of taste, and of an\nelegant and feeling mind, than as a man of genius; as a lover of the\nart, rather than an artist. He pursued it, with a view to amuse and\nsooth his mind, with the ease of a gentleman, not with the severity of a\nprofessional student. He wished to make his pictures, like himself,\namiable; but a too constant desire to please almost necessarily leads to\naffectation and effeminacy. He wanted that vigour of intellect, which\nperceives the beauty of truth; and thought that painting was to be\ngained, like other mistresses, by flattery and smiles. It is an error\nwhich we are disposed to forgive in one, around whose memory, both as a\nman and an artist, many fond recollections, many vain regrets must\nalways linger. Peace to his shade![15]\n\n\n\n\n MR. KEMBLE\u2019S PENRUDDOCK\n\n\n _The Champion._] [_Nov. 20, 1814._\n\nMr. Kemble lately appeared at this theatre in the character of\nPenruddock, and was received (not indeed with waving handkerchiefs, and\nlaurel garlands thrown on the stage, but what is much better) with\nheart-felt approbation and silent tears. His delineation of the part is\none of his most correct and interesting performances, and one of the\nmost perfect on the modern stage. The deeply rooted, mild, pensive\nmelancholy of the character, its embittered recollections and dignified\nbenevolence, were given by Mr. Kemble with equal truth, elegance, and\nfeeling. This admirable actor appeared to be the unfortunate, but\namiable individual whom he represented; and the expression of the\nsentiments, the look, the tone of voice, exactly true to nature, struck\na correspondent chord in every bosom.\u2014The range of characters, in which\nMr. Kemble shines, and is superior to every other actor, are those which\nconsist in the developement of some one sentiment or exclusive passion.\nFrom a want of rapidity, of scope, and variety, he is often deficient in\nexpressing the bustle and complication of different interests, nor does\nhe possess the faculty of overpowering the mind by sudden and\nirresistible bursts of passion. But in giving the habitual workings of a\npredominant feeling, as in Penruddock, Coriolanus, and some others,\nwhere all the passions move round a central point, and have one master\nkey, he stands unrivalled. In Penruddock, he broods over the\nrecollection of disappointed hope, till it becomes a part of himself, it\nsinks deeper into his mind the longer he dwells upon it, and his whole\nperson is moulded to the character. The weight of sentiment which\noppresses him never seems suspended, the spring at his heart is never\nlightened, his regrets only become more profound as they become more\ndurable. So in Coriolanus, he exhibits the ruling passion with the same\ncontinued firmness, he preserves the same haughty dignity of demeanour,\nthe same energy of will, and unbending sternness of temper throughout.\nHe is swayed by a single impulse. His tenaciousness of purpose is only\nirritated by opposition: he turns neither to the right nor to the left:\nbut the vehemence with which he moves forward increases every instant,\ntill it hurries him to the catastrophe. In Leontes, in the Winter\u2019s\nTale, the growing jealousy of the king, and the exclusive possession\nwhich it at length obtains of his mind, are marked in the finest manner,\nparticularly where he exclaims\u2014\n\n \u2018Is whispering nothing?\n Is leaning cheek to cheek? is meeting noses?\n Kissing with inside lip? stopping the career\n Of laughter with a sigh, a note infallible\n Of breaking honesty? horsing foot on foot?\n Skulking in corners? wishing clocks more swift?\n Hours minutes? the noon, midnight? and all eyes\n Blind with the pin and web, but theirs; theirs only\n That would unseen be wicked? Is this nothing?\n Why then the world and all that\u2019s in \u2018t is nothing.\n The covering sky is nothing, Bohemia nothing,\n My wife is nothing, if this be nothing.\u2019\n\nIn the course of this enumeration every proof tells harder, his\nconviction becomes more rivetted at every step of his progress, and at\nthe end his mind is wound up to a frenzy of despair. In such characters,\nMr. Kemble has no occasion to call in the resources of invention, or the\ntricks of the art; his excellence consists entirely in the increasing\nintensity with which he dwells on a given feeling or enforces a\npredominant passion. In Hamlet, on the contrary, Mr. Kemble unavoidably\nfails from a want of flexibility, or of that quick sensibility, which\nyields to every motive, and is borne away with every breath of fancy,\nwhich is distracted by the multiplicity of its reflections, and lost in\nits own purposes. There is a perpetual undulation of feeling in the\ncharacter of Hamlet (though it must be confessed, much of this, which is\nthe essence of the play, is left out on the stage), but in Mr. Kemble\u2019s\nacting \u2018there is no variableness nor shadow of turning.\u2019 He plays it\nlike a man in armour, with a determined inveteracy of purpose, in one\nundeviating strait line, which is as remote from the natural grace and\neasy susceptibility of the character, as the sharp angles and abrupt\nstarts to produce an effect, which Mr. Kean introduces into it. Mr.\nKean\u2019s Hamlet is, in our opinion, as much too \u2018splenetic and rash,\u2019 as\nMr. Kemble\u2019s is too deliberate and formal. In Richard, Mr. Kemble has\nnot that tempest and whirlwind of the passions, that life and spirit,\nand dazzling rapidity of motion, which, as it were, fills the stage, and\nburns in every part, which Mr. Kean displayed in it till he was worn out\nby the managers. Mr. Kean\u2019s acting, in general, strongly reminds us of\nthe lines of the poet, when he describes\n\n \u2018The fiery soul that working out its way\n Fretted the pigmy body to decay,\n And o\u2019erinformed the tenement of clay.\u2019\n\nMr. Kemble\u2019s manner on the contrary has always something dry, hard and\npedantic in it. \u2018You shall relish him more in the scholar than the\nsoldier.\u2019 But his monotony does not fatigue, his formality does not\ndisplease, because there is always sense and feeling in what he does.\nThe fineness of Mr. Kemble\u2019s figure has perhaps led to that statue-like\nappearance which his acting is sometimes too apt to assume; as the\ndiminutiveness of Mr. Kean\u2019s person has probably forced him to bustle\nabout too much, and to attempt to make up for the want of dignity of\nform by the violence and contrast of his attitudes. If Mr. Kemble were\nto remain in the same posture for half an hour, his figure would only\nproduce admiration\u2014if Mr. Kean were to stand still only for a moment,\nthe contrary effect would be produced.\n\nTo return to Penruddock and the Wheel of Fortune. The only novelties\nwere Miss Foote in Emily Tempest, and her lover, Mr. Farley, as Sir\nDavid Daw. The latter, who is a Welch Adonis of five-and-twenty, from\nthe natural advantages of his person, and the artificial improvements\nwhich were added to it, was a very admirable likeness, on a reduced\nscale, of the Prince Regent. We do not know whether the burlesque was\nintended, but it had a laughable effect. We acknowledge that Mr. Farley\nis one of those persons whom we always welcome heartily when we see him.\nWhat with laughing at him and laughing with him, we hardly know a more\ncomic personage. Miss Foote played and looked the part of Emily Tempest\nvery naturally and very prettily, but without giving to the character\neither much interest or much elegance. Her voice is in itself as sweet\nas her person, and when she exerts it, she articulates with ease and\nclearness: but we should add, that she has a habit of tripping in her\ncommon speaking, that is, of dropping her voice so low, except where a\nparticular emphasis is to be laid, as to make it difficult for the ear\nto follow the sense.\n\n\n\n\n INTRODUCTION TO AN ACCOUNT OF SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS\u2019S DISCOURSES\n\n\n _The Champion._] [_Nov. 27, 1814._\n\nThe general merit of these Discourses is so well established that it\nwould be needless to enlarge on it here. The graces of the composition\nare such, that scholars have been led to suspect that it was the style\nof Burke (the first prose-writer of our time) carefully subdued, and\nsoftened down to perfection: and the taste and knowledge of the subject\ndisplayed in them are so great, that this work has been, by common\nconsent, considered as a text-book on the subject of art, in our English\nschool of painting, ever since its publication. Highly elegant and\nvaluable as Sir Joshua\u2019s opinions are, yet they are liable (so it\nappears to us) to various objections; and it becomes more important to\nstate these objections, because, as it generally happens, the most\nquestionable of his precepts are those which have been the most eagerly\nadopted, and carried into practice with the greatest success. The\nerrors, if they are such, which we shall attempt to point out, are not\ncasual, but systematic. There is a finespun metaphysical theory, either\nnot very clearly understood, or not very correctly expressed, pervading\nSir Joshua\u2019s reasoning; and which appears to have led him in several of\nthe most important points to conclusions, either false or only true in\npart.[16] The rules thus laid down, as general and comprehensive maxims,\nare in fact founded on a set of half principles, which are true only as\nfar as they imply a negation of the opposite errors, but contain in\nthemselves the germ of other errors just as fatal: which, if strictly\nand literally understood, cannot be defended, and which by being taken\nin an equivocal sense, of course leave the student as much to seek as\never. The English school of painting is universally reproached by\nforeigners with the slovenly and unfinished state in which they send\ntheir productions into the world, with their ignorance of academic rules\nand neglect of the subordinate details; in other words, with aiming at\n_effect_ only in all their works of art: and though it is by no means\nnecessary that we should adopt the defects of the French and German\npainters, yet we might learn from them to correct our own. There was no\noccasion to encourage our constitutional indolence and impatience by\npositive rules, or to incorporate our vicious habits into a system. Or\nif our defects were to be retained, at least they ought to have been\ntolerated only for the sake of certain collateral and characteristic\nexcellencies out of which they might be thought to spring. Thus a\ncertain degree of precision or regularity might be sacrificed rather\nthan impair that boldness, vigour, and originality of conception, in\nwhich the strength of the national genius might be supposed to lie. But\nthe method of instruction pursued in the Discourses seems calculated for\nneither of these objects. Without endeavouring to overcome our habitual\ndefects, which might be corrected by proper care and study, it damps our\nzeal, ardour, and enthusiasm. It places a full reliance neither on art\nnor nature, but consists in a kind of fastidious tampering with both.\nBoth genius and industry are put out of countenance in turn. The height\nof invention is made to consist in compiling from others, and the\nperfection of imitation in not copying from nature. We lose the\nsubstance of the art in catching at a shadow, and are thought to embrace\na cloud for a Goddess!\n\nThat we may not seem to prejudge the question, we shall state at once,\nand without further preface, the principal points in the Discourses\nwhich we deem either wrong in themselves, or liable to misconception and\nabuse. They are the following:\u2014\n\n1. _That genius or invention consists chiefly in borrowing the ideas of\nothers, or in using other men\u2019s minds._\n\n2. _That the great style in painting depends on leaving out the details\nof particular objects._\n\n3. _That the essence of portrait consists in giving the general\ncharacter, rather than the individual likeness._\n\n4. _That the essence of history consists in abstracting from\nindividuality of character and expression as much as possible._\n\n5. _That beauty or ideal perfection consists in a central form._\n\n6. _That to imitate nature is a very inferior object in art._\n\nAll of these positions appear to require a separate consideration, which\nwe shall give them in the following articles on this subject.\n\n\n\n\n ON GENIUS AND ORIGINALITY\n\n\n _The Champion._] [_December 4, 1814_\n\nIt is a leading and favourite position of the Discourses that genius and\ninvention are principally shewn in borrowing the ideas, and imitating\nthe excellences of others. Differing entirely from those \u2018who have\nundertaken to write on the art of painting, and have represented it as a\nkind of _inspiration_, as a _gift_ bestowed upon peculiar favourites at\ntheir birth,\u2019 Sir Joshua proceeds to add, \u2018I am, on the contrary,\npersuaded, that by imitation only,\u2019 (that is, of former masters,)\n\u2018variety and even originality of invention is produced. I will go\nfurther! even genius, at least what is generally called so, is the child\nof imitation.\u2019 \u2018There can be no doubt but that he who has most materials\nhas the greatest means of invention; and if he has not the power of\nusing them, it must proceed from a feebleness of intellect.\u2019 \u2018Study is\nthe art of using other men\u2019s minds.\u2019 \u2018It is from Raphael\u2019s having taken\nso many models, that he became himself a model for all succeeding\npainters; always imitating, and always original.\u2019 Vol. i. p. 151, 159,\n169, &c. All that Sir Joshua says on this subject, is either vague and\ncontradictory, or has an evident bias the wrong way. That genius either\nconsists in, or is in any proportion to, the knowledge of what others\nhave done, in any branch of art or science, is a paradox which hardly\nadmits serious refutation. The answer is indeed so obvious and so\nundeniable, that one is almost ashamed to give it. As it happens in all\nsuch cases, an advantage is taken of the old-fashioned simplicity of\ntruth to triumph over it. It is another of Sir Joshua\u2019s theoretical\nopinions, often repeated, and almost as often retracted in his lectures,\nthat there is no such thing as genius in the first formation of the\nhuman mind. That is not the question here, though perhaps we may recur\nto it. But, however a man may come by the faculty which we call\n_genius_, whether it is the effect of habit and circumstances, or the\ngift of nature, yet there can be no doubt, that what is meant by the\nterm, is a power of original observation and invention. To take it\notherwise, is a solecism in language, and a misnomer in art. A work\ndemonstrates genius exactly as it contains what is to be found no where\nelse, or in proportion to what we add to the ideas of others from our\nown stores, and not to what we receive from them. It may contain also\nwhat is to be found in other works, but it is not that which stamps it\nwith the character of genius. The contrary view of the question can only\ntend to deter those who have genius from using it, and to make those who\nare without genius, think they have it. It is attempting to excite the\nmind to the highest efforts of intellectual excellence, by denying the\nchief ground-work of all intellectual distinction. It is from the same\ngeneral spirit of distrust of the existence or power of genius that Sir\nJoshua exclaims with confidence and triumph, \u2018There is one precept,\nhowever, in which I shall only be opposed by the vain, the ignorant, and\nthe idle. I am not afraid that I shall repeat it too often. You MUST\nHAVE NO DEPENDENCE ON YOUR OWN GENIUS. If you have great talents,\nindustry will improve them. If you have but moderate abilities, it will\nsupply their deficiency. Nothing is denied to well directed labour;\nnothing can be obtained without it. Not to enter into metaphysical\ndiscussions on the nature and essence of genius, I will venture to\nassert, that assiduity unabated by difficulty, and a disposition eagerly\ndirected to the object of its pursuit, will produce effects similar to\nthose which some call the _result of natural powers_.\u2019 P. 44, 45. Yet so\nlittle influence had the metaphysical theory, which he wished to hold\n_in terrorem_ over the young enthusiast, on Sir Joshua\u2019s habitual\nunreflecting good sense, that he afterwards, in speaking of the\nattainments of Carlo Maratti, which, as well as those of Raphael, he\nattributes to his imitation of others, says, \u2018It is true there is\nnothing very captivating in Carlo Maratti; but this proceeded from a\nwant which cannot be completely supplied, that is, _want of strength of\nparts. In this, certainly, men are not equal_; and a man can bring home\nwares only in proportion to the capital with which he goes to market.\nCarlo, by diligence, made the most of what he had: but there was\nundoubtedly a heaviness about him, which extended itself uniformly to\nhis invention, expression, his drawing, colouring, and the general\neffect of his pictures. The truth is, he never equalled any of his\npatterns in any one thing, and he added little of his own.\u2019 P. 172. Poor\nCarlo, it seems, then, was excluded from the benefit of the sweeping\nclause in this general charter of dulness, by which all men are declared\nto be equal in natural powers, and to owe their superiority only to\nsuperior industry. What is here said of Carlo Maratti is, however, an\nexact description of the fate of all those, who, without any genius of\ntheir own, pretend to avail themselves of the genius of others. Sir\nJoshua attempts to confound genius and the want of it together, by\nshewing, that some men of great genius have not disdained to borrow\nlargely from their predecessors, while others, who affected to be\nentirely original, have really invented little of their own. This is\nfrom the purpose. If Raphael, for instance, had only copied his figure\nof St. Paul from Massacio, or his groupe, in the sacrifice of Lystra,\nfrom the ancient bas-relief, without adding other figures of equal force\nand beauty, he would have been considered as a mere plagiarist. As it\nis, the pictures here referred to, would undoubtedly have displayed more\ngenius, that is, more originality, if those figures had also been his\nown invention. Nay, Sir Joshua himself, in giving the preference of\ngenius to Michael Angelo, does it on this very ground, that \u2018Michael\nAngelo\u2019s works seem to proceed from his own mind entirely, and that mind\nso rich and abundant, that he never needed, or seemed to disdain to look\nabroad for foreign help;\u2019 whereas, \u2018Raffaelle\u2019s materials are generally\nborrowed, though the noble structure is his own.\u2019 On the justice of this\nlast statement, we shall remark presently. Perhaps Reynolds\u2019s general\naccount of the insignificance of genius, and the all-sufficiency of the\nmerits of others, may be looked upon as an indirect apology for the\ngradual progress of his own mind, in selecting and appropriating the\nbeauties of the great artists who went before him: he appears anxious to\ndescribe and dignify the process, from which he himself derived such\nfelicitous results, but which, as a general system of instruction, can\nonly produce mediocrity and imbecility. It is a lesson which a well-bred\ndrawing-master might with great propriety repeat by rote to his\nfashionable pupils, but which a learned professor, whose object was to\nlead the aspiring mind to the heights of fame, ought not to have offered\nto the youth of a nation. \u2018You must have no dependence on your own\ngenius,\u2019 is, according to Sir Joshua, the universal foundation of all\nhigh endeavours, the beginning of all true wisdom, and the end of all\ntrue art. Would Sir Joshua have given this advice to Michael Angelo, or\nto Raphael, or to Correggio? Or would he have given it to Rembrandt, or\nRubens, or Vandyke, or Claude Lorraine, or to our own Hogarth? Would it\nhave been followed, or what would have been the consequence, if it\nhad?\u2014That we should never have heard of any of these personages, or only\nheard of them as instances to prove that nothing great can be done\nwithout genius and originality! We are at a loss to conceive where, upon\nthe principle here stated, Hogarth would have found the materials of his\nMarriage a la Mode? or Rembrandt his Three Trees? or Claude Lorraine his\nEnchanted Castle, with that one simple figure in the foreground,\u2014\n\n \u2018Sole sitting by the shores of old romance?\u2019\n\nOr from what but an eye always intent on nature, and brooding over\n\u2018beauty, rendered still more beautiful\u2019 by the exquisite feeling with\nwhich it was contemplated, did he borrow his verdant landscapes and his\nazure skies, the bare sight of which wafts the imagination to Arcadian\nscenes, \u2018thrice happy fields, and groves, and flowery vales,\u2019 breathing\nperpetual youth and freshness? If Claude had gone out to study on the\nbanks of the Tyber with Sir Joshua\u2019s first precept in his mouth,\n\u2018Individual nature produces little beauty,\u2019 and had returned poring over\nthe second, which is like unto it, \u2018You must have no dependence on your\nown genius,\u2019 the world would have lost one perfect painter.[17] Rubens\nwould have shared the same fate, with all his train of fluttering\nCupids, warriors and prancing steeds, panthers and piping Bacchanals,\nnymphs, fawns and satyrs, if he had not been reserved for \u2018the tender\nmercies\u2019 of the modern French critics, David and his pupils, who think\nthat the Luxembourg gallery ought to be destroyed, to make room for\ntheir own execrable performances. Or we should never have seen that fine\nlandscape of his in the Louvre, with a rainbow on one side, the whole\nface of nature refreshed after the shower, and some shepherds under a\ngroup of trees piping to their heedless flocks, if instead of painting\nwhat he saw and what he felt to be fine, he had set himself to solve the\nlearned riddle proposed by Sir Joshua, whether _accidents in nature_\nshould be introduced in landscape, since Claude has rejected them. It is\nwell that genius gets the start of criticism; for if these two great\nlandscape painters, not being privileged to consult their own taste and\ninclinations, had been compelled to wait till the rules of criticism had\ndecided the preference between their different styles, instead of having\nboth, we should have had neither. The folly of all such comparisons\nconsists in supposing that we are reduced to a single alternative in our\nchoice of excellence, and the true answer to the question, \u2018Which do you\nlike best, Rubens\u2019s landscapes or Claude\u2019s?\u2019 is the one which was given\non another occasion\u2014both. If it be meant which of the two an artist\nshould imitate, the answer is, the one which he is likely to imitate\nbest. As to Rembrandt, he would not have stood the least chance with\nthis new theory of art. But the warning sounds, \u2018you must have no\ndependence on your own genius,\u2019 never reached him in the little study\nwhere he watched the dim shadows cast by his dying embers on the wall,\nor at other times saw the clouds driven before the storm, or the blaze\nof noon-day brightness bursting through his casement on the mysterious\ngloom which surrounded him. What a pity that his old master could not\nhave received a friendly hint from Sir Joshua, that getting rid of his\nvulgar musty prejudices, he might have set out betimes for the regions\nof _virt\u00f9_, have scaled the ladder of taste, have measured the antique,\nlost himself in the Vatican, and after \u2018wandering through dry places,\nseeking he knew not what, and finding nothing,\u2019 have returned home as\ngreat a critic and painter as so many others have done! Of Titian,\nVandyke, or Correggio we shall say nothing here, as we have said so much\nin another place.\n\nA theory, then, by which these great artists could have been lost to\nthemselves and to the art, and which explains away the two chief\nsupports and sources of all art, _nature_ and _genius_, into an\nunintelligible jargon of words, cannot be intrinsically true. The\nprinciples thus laid down may be very proper to conduct the machinery of\na royal academy, or to precede the distribution of prizes to the\nstudents, or to be the topics of assent and congratulation among the\nmembers themselves at their annual exhibition dinner: but they are so\nfar from being calculated to foster genius or to direct its course, that\nthey can only blight or mislead it, wherever it exists, and \u2018lose more\nmen of talents to this nation,\u2019 by the dissemination of false\nprinciples, than have been already lost to it by the want of any.\n\nBut it may be said, that though the perfection of portrait or landscape\nmay be derived from the immediate study of nature, yet higher subjects\nare not to be found in it; that there we must raise our imaginations by\nreferring to artificial models; and that Raphael was compelled to go to\nMichael Angelo and the antique. Not to insist that Michael Angelo\nhimself, according to Sir Joshua\u2019s account, formed an exception to this\nrule, it has been well observed on this statement, that what Raphael\nborrowed was to conceal or supply his natural deficiencies: what he\nexcelled in was his own. Raphael never had the grandeur of form of\nMichael Angelo, nor the correctness of form of the antique. His\nexpression was perfectly different from both, and perhaps better than\neither, certainly better than what we have seen of Michael Angelo in the\nprints from him compared with those from Raphael in the Vatican. In\nRaphael\u2019s faces, particularly his women, the expression is superior to\nthe form; in the antique statues, the form is evidently the principal\nthing. The interest which they excite is in a manner external, it\ndepends on a certain grace and lightness of appearance, joined with\nexquisite symmetry and refined susceptibility to voluptuous emotions,\nbut there is no pathos; or if there is, it is the pathos of present and\nphysical distress, rather than of sentiment. There is not that deep\ninternal interest which there is in Raphael; which broods over the\nsuggestions of the heart with love and fear till the tears seem ready to\ngush out, but that they are checked by the deeper sentiments of hope and\nfaith. What has been remarked of Leonardo da Vinci, is still more true\nof Raphael, that there is an angelic sweetness and tenderness in his\nfaces peculiarly adapted to his subjects, in which natural frailty and\npassion are purified by the sanctity of religion. They answer exactly to\nMilton\u2019s description of the \u2018human face divine.\u2019 The ancient statues are\nfiner objects for the eye to contemplate: they represent a more perfect\nrace of physical beings, but we have no sympathy with them. In Raphael,\nall our natural sensibilities are raised and refined by pointing\nmysteriously to the interests of another world. The same intensity of\npassion appears also to distinguish Raphael from Michael Angelo. Michael\nAngelo\u2019s forms are grander, but they are not so full of expression.\nRaphael\u2019s, however ordinary in themselves, are full of expression even\nto o\u2019erflowing: every nerve and muscle is impregnated with feeling, or\nbursting with meaning. In Michael Angelo, on the contrary, the powers of\nbody and mind appear superior to any events that can happen to them, the\ncapacity of thought and feeling is never full, never tasked or strained\nto the utmost that it will bear. All is in a lofty repose and solitary\ngrandeur which no human interests can shake or disturb. It has been said\nthat Michael Angelo painted _man_, and Raphael _men_; that the one was\nan epic, the other a dramatic painter. But the distinction we have made\nis perhaps truer and more intelligible, _viz._ that the former gave\ngreater dignity of form, and the latter greater force and refinement of\nexpression. Michael Angelo borrowed his style from sculpture, which\nrepresented in general only single figures, (with subordinate\naccompaniments,) and had not to express the conflicting actions and\npassions of a multitude of persons. He is much more picturesque than\nRaphael. The whole figure of his Jeremiah droops and hangs down like a\nmajestic tree surcharged with showers. His drawing of the human figure\nhas all the characteristic freedom and boldness of Titian\u2019s\nlandscapes.[18]\n\nTo return to Sir Joshua. He has given one very strange proof that there\nis no such thing as genius, namely, that \u2018the degrees of excellence\nwhich proclaims genius is different in different times and places.\u2019 If\nSir Joshua had aimed at a confutation of himself, he could not have done\nit more effectually. For what is it that makes the difference but that\nwhich originates in a man\u2019s self, _i.e._, is first done by him, is\ngenius, and when it is no longer original, but borrowed from former\nexamples, it ceases to be genius, since no one can establish this claim\nby following the steps of others, but by going before them? The test of\ngenius may be different, but the thing itself is the same,\u2014a power at\nall times to do or to invent what has not before been done or invented.\nIt is plain from the passage above cited what influenced Sir Joshua\u2019s\nmind in his views on this subject. He quarrelled with genius from being\nannoyed with premature pretensions to it. He was apprehensive that if\ngenius were allowed to stand for any thing, industry would go for\nnothing in the minds of \u2018the vain, the ignorant, and the idle.\u2019 But as\ngenius will do little without labour in an art so mechanical as\npainting, so labour will do still less without genius. Indeed, wherever\nthere is true genius, there will be true labour, that is, the exertion\nof that genius in the field most proper for it. Sir Joshua, from his\nunwillingness to admit one extreme, has fallen into the other, and has\nmistaken the detection of an error for a demonstration of the truth.\n\u2018The human understanding,\u2019 says Luther, \u2018resembles a drunken clown on\nhorseback; if you set it up on one side, it tumbles over on the other.\u2019\n\n\n\n\n ON THE IMITATION OF NATURE\n\n\n _The Champion._] [_December 25, 1814._\n\nThe imitation of nature is the great object of art. Of course, the\nprinciples by which this imitation should be regulated, form the leading\ntopic of Sir Joshua Reynolds\u2019s lectures. It is certain that the\nmechanical imitation of individual objects, or the parts of individual\nobjects, does not always produce beauty or grandeur; or, generally\nspeaking that _the whole of art does not consist in copying nature_.\nReynolds seems hence disposed to infer, that the whole of art consists\nin _not_ imitating individual nature. This is also an error, and an\nerror on the worst side.\n\nSir Joshua\u2019s general system may be summed up in two words,\u2014\u2018_That the\ngreat style in painting consists in avoiding the details, and\npeculiarities of particular objects_.\u2019 This sweeping principle he\napplies almost indiscriminately to portrait, history, and landscape;\u2014and\nhe appears to have been led to the conclusion itself, from supposing the\nimitation of particulars to be inconsistent with general truth and\neffect.\n\nIt will not be unimportant to inquire how far this opinion is\nwell-founded: for it appears to us, that the highest perfection of the\nart depends, not on the separation, but on the union (as far as\npossible) of general truth and effect with individual distinctness and\naccuracy.\n\nFirst, it is said that the great style in painting, as it relates to the\nimmediate imitation of external nature, consists in avoiding the details\nof particular objects.\n\nIt consists neither in giving nor avoiding them, but in something quite\ndifferent from both. Any one may avoid the details. So far, there is no\ndifference between the Cartoons, and a common sign-painting. Greatness\nconsists in giving the larger masses and proportions with truth;\u2014this\ndoes not prevent giving the smaller ones too. The utmost grandeur of\noutline, and the broadest masses of light and shade, are perfectly\ncompatible with the greatest minuteness and delicacy of detail, as may\nbe seen in nature. It is not, indeed, common to see both qualities\ncombined in the imitations of nature, any more than the combination of\nother excellences; nor are we here saying to which the principal\nattention of the artist should be directed; but we deny, that,\nconsidered in themselves, the absence of the one quality is necessary or\nsufficient to the production of the other.\n\nIf, for example, the form of the eyebrow is correctly given, it will be\nperfectly indifferent to the truth or grandeur of the design, whether it\nconsist of one broad mark, or is composed of a number of hair-lines,\narranged in the same order. So, if the lights and shades are disposed in\nfine and large masses, the _breadth_ of the picture, as it is called,\ncannot possibly be affected by the filling up of those masses with the\ndetails;\u2014that is, with the subordinate distinctions which appear in\nnature. The anatomical details in Michael Angelo, the ever-varying\noutline of Raphael, the perfect execution of the Greek statues, do not\nassuredly destroy their symmetry or dignity of form;\u2014and in the finest\nspecimens of the composition of colour, we may observe the largest\nmasses combined with the greatest variety in the parts, of which those\nmasses are composed.\n\nThe _gross_ style consists in giving no details,\u2014the _finical_ in giving\nnothing else. Nature contains both large and small parts,\u2014both masses\nand details; and the same may be said of the most perfect works of art.\nThe union of both kinds of excellence, of strength with delicacy, as far\nas the limits of human capacity and the shortness of human life would\npermit, is that which has established the reputation of the greatest\nmasters. Farther,\u2014their most finished works are their best. The\npredominance, however, of either excellence in these masters, has, of\ncourse, varied according to their opinion of the relative value of these\ndifferent qualities,\u2014the labour they had the time or patience to bestow\non their works,\u2014the skill of the artist, or the nature and extent of his\nsubject. But, if the rule here objected to,\u2014that the careful imitation\nof the parts injures the effect of the whole,\u2014be at once admitted,\nslovenliness would become another name for genius, and the most\nunfinished performance would necessarily be the best. That such has been\nthe confused impression left on the mind by the perusal of Sir Joshua\u2019s\ndiscourses, is evident from the practice as well as the conversation of\nmany (even eminent) artists. The late Mr. Opie proceeded entirely on\nthis principle. He left many admirable studies of portraits,\nparticularly in what relates to the disposition and effect of light and\nshade. But he never finished any of the parts, thinking them beneath the\nattention of a great man. He went over the whole head the second day as\nhe had done the day before, and therefore made no progress. The picture\nat last, having neither the lightness of a sketch, nor the accuracy of a\nfinished work, looked coarse, laboured, and heavy.\n\n\u2018Would you then have an artist finish like Denner?\u2019 is the triumphant\nappeal which is made as decisive against all objections. To which, as it\nis an appeal to authority, the proper answer seems to be,\u2014\u2018No; but we\nwould have him finish like Titian or Correggio.\u2019 Denner is an example of\nfinishing not to be followed, but shunned, because _he did nothing but\nfinish_; because he finished ill, and because he finished to excess;\u2014for\nin all things there is a certain proportion of means to ends. He pored\ninto the littlenesses of objects, till he lost sight of nature, instead\nof imitating it. He represents the human face, perhaps, as it might\nappear through a magnifying glass, but certainly not as it ever appears\nto us. It is the business of painting to express objects as they appear\nnaturally, not as they may be made to appear artificially. His flesh is\nas blooming and glossy as a flower or a shell. Titian\u2019s finishing, on\nthe contrary, is equally admirable, because it is engrafted on the most\nprofound knowledge of effect, and attention to the character of what he\nrepresents. His pictures have the exact look of nature, the very tone\nand texture of flesh. The endless variety of his tints is blended into\nthe greatest simplicity. There is a proper degree both of solidity and\ntransparency. All the parts hang together: every stroke tells, and adds\nto the effect of the rest.\n\nTo understand the value of any excellence, we must refer to the use\nwhich has been made of it, not to instances of its abuse. If there is a\ncertain degree of ineffectual microscopic finishing, which we never find\nunited with an attention to other higher and more indispensable parts of\nthe art, we may suspect that there is something incompatible between\nthem, and that the pursuit of the one diverts the mind from the\nattainment of the other. But this is the real point to stop at\u2014where\nalone we should limit our theory or our efforts. Wherever different\nexcellences have been actually united to a certain point of perfection,\nto that point (abstractedly speaking) we are sure that they may, and\nought to be united again. There is no occasion to add the incitements of\nindolence, affectation, and false theory, to the other causes which\ncontribute to the decline of art!\n\nSir Joshua seems, indeed, to deny that Titian finished much, and says\nthat he produced, by two or three strokes of his pencil, effects which\nthe most laborious copyists would in vain attempt to equal. It is true\nthat he availed himself, in a considerable degree, of what is called\n_execution_, to facilitate his imitation of nature, but it was to\nfacilitate, not to supersede it. By the methods of scumbling or glazing,\nhe often broke the masses of his flesh,\u2014or by laying on lumps of colour\nproduced particular effects, to a degree that he could not otherwise\nhave reached without considerable loss of time. We do not object to\nexecution: it saves labour, and shews a mastery both of hand and eye.\nBut then there is nothing more distinct than execution and _daubing_.\nIndeed, it is evident, that the only use of execution is to give the\ndetails more compendiously, and sometimes, even more happily. Leave out\nall regard to the details, reduce the whole into crude unvarying masses,\nand it becomes totally useless; for these can be given just as well\nwithout execution as with it. Titian, however, made a very moderate,\nthough a very admirable use of this power; and those who copy his\npictures will find, that the simplicity is in the results, not in the\ndetails.\n\nThe other Venetian painters made too violent a use of execution, unless\ntheir subjects formed an excuse for them. Vandyke successfully employed\nit in giving the last finishing to the details. Rembrandt employed it\nstill more, and with more perfect truth of effect.\u2014Rubens employed it\nequally, but not so as to produce an equal resemblance of nature. His\npencil ran away with his eye.\u2014To conclude our observations on this head,\nwe will only add, that while the artist thinks that there is any thing\nto be done, either to the whole or to the parts of his picture, which\ncan give it still more the look of nature, if he is willing to proceed,\nwe would not advise him to desist.\u2014This rule is still more necessary to\nthe young student, for he will relax in his attention as he grows older.\nAnd again, with respect to the subordinate parts of a picture, there is\nno danger that he will bestow a disproportionate degree of labour upon\nthem, because he will not feel the same interest in copying them, and\nbecause a much less degree of accuracy will serve every purpose of\ndeception;\u2014the nicety of our habitual observations being always in\nproportion to our interest in the objects.\u2014Sir Joshua somewhere objects\nto the attempt to deceive by painting; and his reason is, that wax-work,\nwhich deceives most effectually, is a very disagreeable as well as\ncontemptible art. It might be answered, first, that nothing is much more\nunlike nature than such figures generally are, and farther, that they\nonly produce the appearance of prominence and relief, by having it in\nreality,\u2014in which they are just the reverse of painting.\n\nSecondly, with regard to EXPRESSION, we can hardly agree with Sir Joshua\nthat \u2018_the perfection of imitation consists in giving the general idea\nor character, not the peculiarities of individuals_.\u2019\u2014We do not think\nthis rule at all well-founded with respect to portrait-painting, nor\napplicable to history to the extent to which Sir Joshua carries it. For\nthe present, we shall confine ourselves to the former of these.\n\nNo doubt, if we were to chuse between the general character and the\npeculiarities of feature, we ought to prefer the former. But they are so\nfar from being incompatible with, that they are not without some\ndifficulty distinguishable from, each other. There is indeed a general\nlook of the face, a predominant expression arising from the\ncorrespondence and connection of the different parts, which it is always\nof the first and last importance to give; and without which no\nelaboration of detached parts, or marking of the peculiarity of single\nfeatures, is worth any thing; but which at the same time, is certainly\nnot destroyed, but assisted, by the careful finishing, and still more by\ngiving the exact outline of each part.\n\nIt is on this point that the French and English schools differ, and (in\nmy opinion) are both wrong. The English seem generally to suppose, that,\nif they only leave out the subordinate parts, they are sure of the\ngeneral result. The French, on the contrary, as idly imagine, that by\nattending to each separate part, they must infallibly arrive at a\ncorrect whole,\u2014not considering that, besides the parts, there is their\nrelation to each other, and the general character stamped upon them by\nthe mind itself, which to be seen must be felt,\u2014for it is demonstrable\nthat all expression and character are perceived by the mind, and not by\nthe eye only. The French painters see only lines, and precise\ndifferences;\u2014the English only general masses, and strong effects. Hence\nthe two nations constantly reproach one another with the difference of\ntheir styles of art; the one as dry, hard and minute, the other as\ngross, gothic, and unfinished; and they will probably remain for ever\nsatisfied _with each other\u2019s defects_, which afford a very tolerable\nfund of consolation on either side.\n\nThere is something in the two styles, which arises, perhaps, from\nnational countenance as well as character:\u2014the French physiognomy is\nfrittered away into a parcel of little moveable compartments and\ndistinct signs of intelligence,\u2014like a telegraphic machinery. The\nEnglish countenance, on the other hand, is too apt to sink into a\nlumpish mass, with very few ideas, and those set in a sort of stupid\nstereotype.\n\nTo return to the proper business of portrait-painting. We mean to speak\nof it, not as a lucrative profession, nor as an indolent amusement, (for\nwe interfere with no man\u2019s profits or pleasures), but as a _bona fide_\nart, the object of which is to exercise the talents of the artist, and\nto add to the stock of ideas in the public. And in this point of view,\nwe should imagine that that is the best portrait which contains the\nfullest representation of individual nature.\n\nPortrait-painting is the biography of the pencil, and he who gives most\nof the peculiarities and details, with most of the general\ncharacter,\u2014that is of _keeping_,\u2014is the best biographer, and the best\nportrait-painter. What if Boswell (the prince of biographers) had not\ngiven us the scene between Wilkes and Johnson at Dilly\u2019s table, or had\nnot introduced the little episode of Goldsmith strutting about in his\npeach-coloured coat after the success of his play,\u2014should we have had a\nmore perfect idea of the general character of those celebrated persons\nfrom the omission of these particulars? Or if Reynolds had not painted\nthe former as \u2018_blinking Sam_,\u2019 or had given us such a representation of\nthe latter as we see of some modern poets in some modern magazines, the\nfame of that painter would have been confined to the circles of\nfashion,\u2014where they naturally look for the same selection of beauties in\na portrait, as of topics in a dedication, or a copy of complimentary\nverses!\n\nIt has not been uncommon that portraits of this kind, which professed to\nadmit all the peculiarities, and to heighten all the excellences of a\nface, have been elevated by ignorance and affectation, to the dignified\nrank of historical portrait. But in fact they are merely _caricature\ntransposed_: that is, as the caricaturist makes a mouth wider than it\nreally is, so the painter of _flattering likenesses_ (as they are\ntermed) makes it not so wide, by a process just as mechanical, and more\ninsipid. Instead, however, of objecting captiously to common theory or\npractice, it will perhaps be better to state at once our own conceptions\nof historical portrait. It consists, then, in seizing the predominant\nform or expression, and preserving it with truth throughout every part.\nIt is representing the individual under one consistent, probable, and\nstriking view; or shewing the different features, muscles, etc. in one\naction, and modified by one principle. A face thus painted, is\n_historical_;\u2014that is, it carries its own internal evidence of truth and\nnature with it; and the number of individual peculiarities, as long as\nthey are true to nature, cannot lessen, but must add to the general\nstrength of the impression.\n\nTo give an example or two of what we mean. We conceive that the common\nportrait of Oliver Cromwell would be less valuable and striking if the\nwart on the face were taken away. It corresponds with the general\nroughness and knottiness of the rest of the face;\u2014or if considered\nmerely as an accident, it operates as a kind of circumstantial evidence\nof the genuineness of the representation. Sir Joshua Reynolds\u2019s portrait\nof Dr. Johnson has altogether that sluggishness of outward\nappearance,\u2014that want of quickness and versatility,\u2014that absorption of\nfaculty, and look of purblind reflection, which were characteristic of\nhis mind. The accidental discomposure of his wig indicates his habits.\nIf, with the same felicity and truth of conception, this portrait (we\nmean the common one reading) had been more made out, it would not have\nbeen less historical, though it would have been more like and natural.\n\nTitian\u2019s portraits are the most historical that ever were painted; and\nthey are so for this reason, that they have most consistency of form and\nexpression. His portraits of Hippolito de Medici, and of a young\nNeapolitan nobleman in the Louvre, are a striking contrast in this\nrespect. All the lines of the face in the one;\u2014the eyebrows, the nose,\nthe corners of the mouth, the contour of the face,\u2014present the same\nsharp angles, the same acute, edgy, contracted expression. The other\nface has the finest expansion of feature and outline, and conveys the\nmost exquisite idea possible of mild, thoughtful sentiment. The harmony\nof the expression constitutes as great a charm in Titian\u2019s portraits, as\nthat of colour. The similarity sometimes objected to them, is partly\nnational, and partly arises from the class of persons whom he painted.\nHe painted only Italians; and in his time none but persons of the\nhighest rank, senators or cardinals, sat for their pictures.\n\nSir Joshua appears to have been led into several errors by a false use\nof the terms _general_ and _particular_. Nothing can be more different\nthan the various application of both these terms to different things,\nand yet Sir Joshua constantly uses and reasons upon them as invariable.\nThere are three senses of the expression _general character_, as applied\nto ideas or objects. In the first, it signifies the general appearance\nor aggregate impression of the whole object, as opposed to the mere\ndetail of detached parts. In the second, it signifies the class, or what\na number of such objects have in common with one another, to the\nexclusion of their characteristic differences. In this sense it is\ntantamount to _abstract_. In the third it signifies what is usual or\ncommon, in opposition to mere singularity, or accidental exceptions to\nthe ordinary course of nature. The general idea or character of a\nparticular face, _i.e._ the aggregate impression resulting from all the\nparts combined, is surely very different from the abstract idea, or what\nit has in common with several others. If on giving the former all\ncharacter depends; to give nothing but the latter is to take away all\ncharacter. The more a painter _comprehends_ of what he sees, the more\nvaluable his work will be: but it is not true that his excellence will\nbe the greater, the more he _abstracts_ from what he sees.\u2014There is an\nessential distinction which Sir Joshua has not observed. The details and\npeculiarities of nature are only inconsistent with abstract ideas, and\nnot with general or aggregate effects. By confounding the two things,\nSir Joshua excludes the peculiarities and details not only from his\nhistorical composition, but from an enlarged view and comprehensive\nimitation of individual nature.\n\nWe have here attempted to give some account of what should be meant by\nthe _ideal_ in portrait-painting: in our next and concluding article on\nthis subject, we shall attempt an explanation of this term, as it\napplies to historical painting.\n\n\n\n\n ON THE IDEAL.\n\n\n _The Champion._] [_January 8, 1815._\n\n\u2018For I would by no means be thought to comprehend those writers of\nsurprising genius, the authors of immense romances, or the modern novel\nand Atalantis writers, who, without any assistance from nature or\nhistory, record persons who never were, or will be, and facts which\nnever did, nor possibly can happen: whose heroes are of their own\ncreation, and their brains the chaos whence all their materials are\ncollected. Not that such writers deserve no honour; so far from it, that\nperhaps they merit the highest. One may apply to them what Balzac says\nof Aristotle, that they are _a second nature_; for they have no\ncommunication with the first, by which authors of an inferior class, who\ncannot stand alone, are obliged to support themselves, as with\ncrutches.\u2019\u2014FIELDING\u2019S _Joseph Andrews_, vol. ii.\n\nWhat is here said of certain writers of romance, would apply equally to\na great number of painters of history. These persons, not without the\nsanction of high authority, have come to the conclusion that they had\nonly to quit the vulgar path of truth and reality, in order that they\n\u2018might ascend the brightest heaven of invention,\u2019\u2014and that to get rid of\nnature was all that was necessary to the loftiest flights of art, as the\nsoul disentangled from the load of matter soars to its native skies. But\nthis is by no means the truth. All art is built upon nature; and the\ntree of knowledge lifts its branches to the clouds, only as it has\nstruck its roots deep into the earth. He is the greatest artist, not who\nleaves the materials of nature behind him, but who carries them with him\ninto the world of invention;\u2014and the larger and more entire the masses\nin which he is able to apply them to his purpose, the stronger and more\ndurable will his productions be. Sir Joshua Reynolds admits that the\nknowledge of the individual forms and various combinations of nature, is\nnecessary to the student, but it is only in order that he may _avoid_\nthem, and steering clear of all representation of things as they\nactually exist, wander up and down in the empty void of his own\nimagination, having nothing better to cling to, than certain shadowy\nmiddle forms, made up of an abstraction of all others, and containing\nnothing in themselves. Stripping nature of substance and accident, he is\nto exhibit a decompounded, disembodied, vague, ideal nature in her\nstead, seen through the misty veil of metaphysics, and covered with the\nsame fog and haze of confusion, while\n\n \u2018Obscurity her curtain round him draws,\n And siren sloth a dull quietus sings.\u2019\n\nThe concrete, and not the abstract, is the object of painting, and of\nall the works of imagination. History-painting is _imaginary_\nportrait-painting. The portrait-painter gives you an individual, such as\nhe is in himself, and vouches for the truth of the likeness as a matter\nof fact: the historical painter gives you the individual such as he is\nlikely to be,\u2014that is, approaches as near to the reality as his\nimagination will enable him to do, leaving out such particulars as are\ninconsistent with the preconceived idea,\u2014as are merely trifling and\naccidental,\u2014and retaining all such as are striking, probable, and\nconsistent. Because the historical painter has not the same immediate\ndata to go upon, but must connect individual nature with an imaginary\nsubject, is that any reason why he should discard individual nature\naltogether, and thus leave nothing for his imagination, or the\nimagination of the spectator to work upon? Portrait and history differ\nas a narration of facts or a probable fiction differ; but abstraction is\nthe essence of neither. That is not the finest historical head which has\nleast the look of nature, but which has most the look of nature, if it\nhas the look of history also. But it has the look of nature, _i.e._ of\nstriking and probable nature,\u2014as it has a marked and decided character,\nand not a character of indifference: and as the features and expression\nare consistent with themselves, not as they are common to others. The\nideal is that which answers to the idea of something, and not to the\nidea of any thing, or of nothing. Any countenance strikes most upon the\nimagination, either in a picture or in reality, which has most\ndistinctness from others, and most identity with itself. The keeping in\nthe character, not the want of character, is the essence of history.\nWithout some such limitation as we have here given, on the general\nstatement of Sir Joshua, we see no resting-place where the painter or\nthe poet is to make his stand, so as not to be pushed to the utmost\nverge of naked common-place inanity,\u2014nor do we understand how there\nshould be any such thing as poetry or painting tolerated. A _tabula\nrasa_, a verbal definition, the bare name, must be better than the most\nstriking description or representation;\u2014the argument of a poem better\nthan the poem itself,\u2014or the catalogue of a picture than the original\nwork. Where shall we stop in the easy down-hill pass of effeminate,\nunmeaning insipidity? There is one circumstance, to be sure, to\nrecommend the system here objected to, which is, that he who proposes\nthis ideal perfection to himself, can hardly fail to succeed in it. An\nartist who paints on the infallible principle of not imitating nature,\nin representing the meeting of Telemachus and Calypso, will not find it\ndifficult to confound all difference of sex or passion, and in\npourtraying the form of Mentor, will leave out every distinctive mark of\nage or wisdom. In representing a Grecian marriage he will refine on his\nfavourite principles till it will be possible to transpose the features\nof the bridegroom and the bride without the least violation of\npropriety; all the women will be like the men; and all like one another,\nall equally young, blooming, smiling, elegant, and insipid. On Sir\nJoshua\u2019s theory of the _beau ideal_, Mr. Westall\u2019s pictures are perhaps\nthe best that ever were painted, and on any other theory, the worst; for\nthey exhibit an absolute negation of all expression, character, and\ndiscrimination of form and colour.\n\nWe shall endeavour to explain our doctrine by some examples which appear\nto us either directly subversive of, or not very obviously included in,\nSir J. Reynolds\u2019s theory of history painting, or of the principles of\nart in general. Is there any one who can possibly doubt that Hogarth\u2019s\npictures are perfectly and essentially _historical_?\u2014or that they convey\na story perfectly intelligibly, with faces and expressions which every\none must recognise? They have evidently a common or general character,\nbut that general character is defined and modified by individual\npeculiarities, which certainly do not take away from the illusion or the\neffect any more than they would in nature. There is, in the polling for\nvotes, a fat and a lean lawyer, yet both of them are lawyers, and\nlawyers busy at an election squabble. It is the same with the voters,\nwho are of all descriptions, the lame, the blind, and the halt, yet who\nall convey the very feeling which the scene inspires, with the greatest\nvariety and the greatest consistency of expression. The character of\n_Mr. Abraham Adams_ by Fielding, is somewhat particular, and even\nsingular: yet it is not less intelligible or striking on that account;\nand his lawyer and his landlady, though copied from individuals in real\nlife, had yet, as he himself observes, existed four thousand years, and\nwould continue to make a figure in the world as long as certain passions\nwere found united with certain situations, and operating on certain\ndispositions.\n\nIt will, we suppose, be objected that this, though history and\ninvention, is not high history, or poetical invention. We would answer\nthen at once by appealing to Shakespeare. It will be allowed that his\ncharacters are poetical as well as natural; yet the individual portrait\nis almost as striking as the general expression of nature and passion.\nIt is this and this only which distinguishes him from the French school.\nDr. Johnson, proceeding on the same theoretical principles as his friend\nSir Joshua, affirms, that the excellence of Shakespeare\u2019s characters\nconsists in their generality. We grant in one sense it does; but we will\nadd that it consists in their particularity also. Are the admirable\ndescriptions of the kings of Thrace and Inde in Chaucer\u2019s Knight\u2019s Tale,\nless poetical or historical, or ideal, because they are distinguished by\ntraits as characteristic as they are striking;\u2014in their lineaments,\ntheir persons, their armour, their other attributes, the one black and\nbroad, the other tall, and fair, and freckled, with yellow crisped locks\nthat glittered as the sun. The four white bulls, and the lions which\naccompany them are equally fine, but they are not fine because they\npresent no distinct image to the mind. The effect of this is somehow\nlost in Dryden\u2019s Palamon and Arcite, and the poetry is lost with it.\n\nMuch more is it necessary to combine individuality with the highest\nworks of art in painting, \u2018whose end and use both at the first, now is,\nand was, to hold as \u2019twere the mirror up to nature.\u2019 The painter gives\nthe degree and peculiarity of expression where words in a manner leave\noff, and if he does not go beyond mere abstraction, he does nothing. The\ncartoons of Raphael, and his pictures in the Vatican, are sufficiently\nhistorical, yet there is hardly a face or figure in any of them which is\nanything more than fine and individual nature finely disposed. The late\nMr. Barry, who could not be suspected of a prejudice on this side of the\nquestion, speaks thus of them,\u2014\u2018In Raphael\u2019s pictures (at the Vatican)\nof the Dispute of the Sacrament and the School of Athens, one sees all\nthe heads to be entirely copied from particular characters in nature,\nnearly proper for the persons and situation which he adapts them to; and\nhe seems to me only to add and take away what may answer his purpose in\nlittle parts, features, &c.: conceiving, while he had the head before\nhim, ideal characters and expressions, which he adapts these features\nand peculiarities of face to. This attention to the particulars which\ndistinguish all the different faces, persons and characters, the one\nfrom the other, gives his pictures quite the verity and unaffected\ndignity of nature, which stamp the distinguishing differences betwixt\none man\u2019s face and body and another\u2019s.\u2019\n\nIf any thing is wanting to the conclusiveness of this testimony, it is\nonly to look at the pictures themselves, particularly the Miracle of the\nConversion, and the Assembly of Saints, which are little else than a\ncollection of divine portraits, in natural and expressive\nattitudes,\u2014full of the loftiest thought and feeling, and as varied as\nthey are fine. It is this reliance on the power of nature, which has\nproduced those master-pieces by the prince of painters, in which\nexpression is all in all;\u2014where one spirit\u2014that of truth\u2014pervades every\npart, brings down heaven to earth, mingles cardinals and popes with\nangels and apostles, and yet blends and harmonises the whole by the true\ntouches and intense feeling of what is beautiful and grand in nature. It\nis no wonder that Sir Joshua, when he first saw Raphael\u2019s pictures in\nthe Vatican, was at a loss to discover any great excellence in them, if\nhe was looking out for his theory of the ideal, of neutral character and\nmiddle forms.\n\nAnother authority, which has been in some measure discovered since the\npublication of Sir Joshua\u2019s Discourses, is to be found in the Elgin\nMarbles, taken from the Acropolis, and supposed to be the works of the\ncelebrated Phidias. The process of fastidious refinement, and flimsy\nabstraction, is certainly not visible there. The figures have all the\nease, the simplicity, and variety of nature, and look more like living\nmen turned to stone than any thing else. Even the details of the\nsubordinate parts, the loose folds in the skin, the veins under the\nbelly or on the sides of the horses, more or less swelled as the animal\nis more or less in action, are given with scrupulous exactness. This is\ntrue nature, and true history. In a word, we can illustrate our position\nhere better than we could with respect to painting, by saying that these\ninvaluable remains of antiquity are precisely like casts taken from\nnature.\u2014Michael Angelo and the antique may still be cited against us,\nand we wish to speak on this subject with great diffidence. We confess,\nthey appear to us much more artificial than the others, but we do not\nthink that this is their excellence. For instance, it strikes us that\nthere is something theatrical in the air of the _Apollo_, and in the\n_Hercules_ an ostentatious and over-laboured display of the knowledge of\nthe muscles. Perhaps the fragment of the _Theseus_ at Lord Elgin\u2019s has\nmore grandeur as well as more nature than either of them. The form of\nthe limbs, as affected by pressure or action, and the general sway of\nthe body, are better preserved in it. The several parts in the later\nGreek statues are more balanced, made more to tally like modern periods;\neach muscle is more equally brought out, and highly finished, and is so\nfar better in itself, but worse as a part of a whole. If these wonderful\nproductions have a fault, it is the want of simplicity, of a due\nsubordination of parts, which sometimes gives them more a look of\nperfect lay-figures put into attitudes, than of real imitations of\nnature. The same objection may be urged against the works of Michael\nAngelo, and is indeed the necessary consequence either of selecting from\na number of different models, or of proceeding on a scientific knowledge\nof the structure of the different parts; for the physical form is\nsomething given and defined, but motion is various and infinite. The\nsuperior symmetry of form, common to the ancient statues, we have no\nhesitation in attributing to the superior symmetry of the models in\nnature, and to the superior opportunity for studying them.\n\nIn general, we would be understood to mean, that the ideal is not a\nvoluntary fiction of the brain, a fanciful piece of patch-work, a\ncompromise between the defects of nature, or an artificial balance\nstruck between innumerable deformities, (as if we could form a perfect\nidea of beauty though we never had seen any such thing,) but a\npreference of what is fine in nature to what is less so. There is\nnothing fine in art but what is taken almost immediately and entirely\nfrom what is finer in nature. Where there have been the finest models in\nnature, there have also been the finest works of art. The Greek statues\nwere copied from Greek forms. Their portraits of individuals were often\nsuperior to their personifications of their gods; the head of the\n_Antinous_, for example, to that of the _Apollo_. Raphael\u2019s expressions\nwere taken from Italian faces; and we have heard it observed, that the\nwomen in the streets of Rome seem to have walked out of his pictures in\nthe Vatican.\n\nIf we are asked, then, what it is that constitutes historic expression\nor ideal beauty, we should answer, not (with Sir Joshua) abstract\nexpression or middle forms, but consistency of expression in the one,\nand symmetry of form in the other.\n\nA face is historical, which is made up of consistent parts, let those\nparts be ever so peculiar or uncommon. Those details or peculiarities\nonly are inadmissible in history, which do not arise out of any\nprinciple, or tend to any conclusion,\u2014which are merely casual,\ninsignificant, and unconnected,\u2014which do not _tell_; that is, which\neither do not add to, or which contradict the general result,\u2014which are\nnot integrant parts of one whole, however strange or irregular that\nwhole may be. That history does not require or consist in the middle\nform or central features is proved by this, that the antique heads of\nfauns and satyrs, of _Pan_ or _Silenus_, are perfectly grotesque and\nsingular; yet are as undoubtedly historical, as the Apollo or the Venus,\nbecause they have the same predominant, intelligible, characteristic\nexpression throughout. _Socrates_ is a person whom we recognise quite as\nfamiliarly, from our general acquaintance with human nature, as\n_Alcibiades_.[19] The simplicity or the fewness of the parts of a head\nfacilitates this effect, but is not necessary to it. The head of a\nnegro, a mulatto, &c. introduced into a picture is always historical,\nbecause it is always distinct from the rest, and uniform with itself.\nThe face covered with a beard is historical for the same reason, because\nit presents distinct and uniform masses. Again, a face, not so in\nitself, becomes historical by the mere force of passion. The same strong\npassion moulds the features into the same emphatic expression, by giving\nto the mouth, the eyes, the forehead, etc., the same expansion or\ncontraction, the same voluptuous movement or painful constraint. All\nintellectual and impassioned faces are historical;\u2014the heads of\nphilosophers, poets, lovers, and madmen. Passion sometimes produces\nbeauty by this means, and there is a beauty of form, the effect entirely\nof expression; as a smiling mouth, not beautiful in common, becomes so\nby being put into that action.\n\nSir Joshua was probably led to his opinions on art in general by his\ntheory of beauty, which he makes to consist in a certain central form,\nthe medium of all others. In the first place, this theory is\nquestionable in itself: or if it were not so, it does not include many\nother things of much more importance in historical painting (though\nperhaps not so in sculpture[20]) namely, character, which necessarily\nimplies individuality; expression, which is the excess of thought or\nfeeling, strength or grandeur of form, which is excess also.\u2014There\nseems, however, to be a certain symmetry of form, as there is a certain\nharmony of sounds or colours, which gives pleasure, and produces beauty,\nindependently of custom. Custom is undoubtedly one source or condition\nof beauty, but it appears to be rather its limit than its essence; that\nis, there are certain given forms and proportions established by nature\nin the structure of each thing, and sanctioned by custom, without which\nthere can only be distortion and incongruity, but which alone do not\nproduce beauty. One kind is more beautiful than another; and the objects\nof the same kind are not beautiful merely as we are used to them. The\nrose or lily is more beautiful than the daisy, the swan than the crow,\nthe greyhound than the beagle, the deer than the wild goat; and we\ninvariably prefer the Greek to the African face, though our own inclines\nmore to the latter. We admire the broad forehead, the straight nose, the\nsmall mouth, the oval chin. Regular features are those which record and\nassimilate most to one another. The Greek face is made up of smooth\nflowing lines, and correspondent features; the African face of sharp\nangles and projections. A row of pillars is beautiful for the same\nreason. We confess, on this subject of beauty, we are half-disposed to\nfall into the mysticism of Raphael Mengs, who had some notion about a\nprinciple of _universal harmony_, if we did not dread the censure of an\neminent critic.\n\n\n\n\n CHARLEMAGNE: OU L\u2019\u00c9GLISE D\u00c9LIVR\u00c9E.\n\n\n _The Champion_] [_December 18, 1814._\n\nIt seldom happens that the same family produces an emperour and an epic\npoet. So it is, however, in the present instance. The brother of\nBuonaparte may be allowed to take his rank among poets, as Buonaparte\nhimself has done among kings. But the historian of Charlemagne does not\nappear to us to present quite the same formidable front to the\nestablished possessors of the seats of the muses, as the imitator of\nCharlemagne did to the hereditary occupiers of thrones. A self-will\nwithout controul, an ambition without bounds, a gigantic daring which\nbuilt its confidence of success on the contempt of danger, were the\nmeans by which Buonaparte obtained and lost his portentous power; and by\nwhich he would probably have lost it on the borders of the Ganges, or\namong the sands of the Red Sea, if he had not been prevented by the\nsnows of Russia.\n\nOur poet is not the same monster of genius that his brother was of\npower. In the career of fame, he does not risk the success of his\nreputation by the unlimited extravagance of his pretensions. His muse\ndoes not disdain to borrow the conceptions of others, or to submit to\nthe rules of art; and the boldest flights of his imagination seldom pass\nthe bounds of a well-regulated enthusiasm. _Charlemagne_ is the work of\na very clever man, rather than a great poet; it displays more talent\nthan genius, more ingenuity than invention. It is more artificial than\noriginal. In saying this, we would not be understood to mean, that it is\nwithout considerable novelty, either of description or sentiment. Far,\nvery far from it: almost every page presents examples of both, equally\nstriking and elegant, which it would be difficult to refer immediately\nto any similar passages in other authors. But the whole wants character:\nit does not bear the stamp of the same presiding mind: no new world of\nimagination is opened to the view: we do not feel the presence of a\npower which we have never felt before, and which we can never forget.\n\nThe stanzas are all equally or proportionably good: but they are as good\nseparately, as taken together: they do not run into one another; they do\nnot make a poem. There is no strong impulse given, no overpowering\ngrandeur of effect. In scarcely any part of the story does the mind look\nback with terror and delight at what is past, or hurry on with eager\ncuriosity to what is to come. The art is too apparent. The author is too\nbusy in managing his materials, in selecting, adorning, varying, and\namplifying them to the best advantage: but they seem something external\nto him. His subject has not taken entire possession of his mind, and\ntherefore he does not take full possession of his readers. Yet it is\ncertain that all the materials of poetry are here;\u2014imagery, incident,\ncharacter, passion, thought, and observation\u2014all but the divine\nenthusiasm of the poet, which can alone communicate true warmth and\nenthusiasm to others.\n\nThere is one praise which we most willingly bestow on this poem, which\nis, that it is not _French_. It is not another HENRIADE:\u2014that is, it is\nnot poetry devoid of all imagination, and of every thing like\nimagination. On the contrary, it abounds with variety and distinctness\nof conception, and is evidently written on the model of Italian poetry.\nWe were a little surprised to find that the author had not adopted the\ncommon heroic French verse, but has borrowed the Italian Stanza with\nvarying rhymes, and a little half verse in the middle, which has an\nagreeable effect enough in the lighter parts of the poem, but does not\naccord so well with the more serious and impressive. The following\nstanzas will give our readers an idea of the metre, and of the general\nstyle of description.\u2014They represent Charlemagne traversing the Alps the\nnight before a battle.\n\n \u2018Au dessus du mont Jove, un mont plus escarp\u00e9\n S\u2019\u00e9lance dans la nue, et sa cime effrayante\n N\u2019offre point des sentiers la trace rassurante.\n Par les vents orageux sans cesse il est frapp\u00e9.\n Ici, plus de for\u00eats, plus de germe de vie:\n Sur la surface unie\n L\u2019ardente canicule en vain darde ses feux:\n Des gla\u00e7ons entass\u00e9s (piramide \u00e9ternelle!)\n Etouffent la nature; et dans ces tristes lieux,\n A sa f\u00e9condit\u00e9 la terre est infid\u00e8le.\n\n C\u2019est par l\u00e0 qu\u2019aujourd\u2019hui Charles s\u2019ouvre un passage,\n Les coursiers d\u00e9laiss\u00e9s errent dans le vallon:\n Et par mille d\u00e9tours le terrible escadron\n Avance lentement sur la pente sauvage.\n L\u2019astre des nuits suivait son cours silencieux;\n Les vents imp\u00e9tueux\n Entrechoquant par fois les lances formidables,\n S\u2019opposaient vainement \u00e0 ces audacieux,\n Qui suivant de leur chef les pas infatigables,\n Touchent enfin le sol du piton sourcilleux.\n\n En cercles resserr\u00e9s pr\u00e8s du fils de Pepin,\n Ses dignes compagnons au loin jettent la vue\n Sur une t\u00e9n\u00e9breuse et profonde \u00e9tendue\n De mobiles vapeurs, de nuages sans fin.\n Appuy\u00e9s sur leur glaive ils dominent la sphere\n O\u00f9 le bruyant tonnerre\n S\u2019allume par le choc des principes divers.\n Le barde peint ainsi les ombres eclatantes\n D\u2019Oscar et de Fingal errant au haut des airs,\n Et brandissant encor leurs lances flamboyantes.\n\n Tels, aupr\u00e8s d\u2019Ilion, les dieux enfants d\u2019Hom\u00e8re,\n Franchissant de l\u2019Ida les sommets \u00e9branl\u00e9s,\n Pr\u00e8s du fils de Saturne en foule rassembl\u00e9s,\n Sont d\u00e9crits pr\u00e9parant les destins de la terre.\n Ces fant\u00f4mes divins furent jadis des preux:\n Les si\u00e8cles t\u00e9n\u00e9breux,\n Osant de J\u00e9hova d\u00e9naturer l\u2019image,\n Dress\u00e8rent des autels aux h\u00e9ros fabuleux:[21]\n Et de l\u2019idolatrie affirmissant l\u2019ouvrage,\n De ces guerriers obscurs[21] Hom\u00e8re fit de dieux\n\n Ainsi les paladins, environnant leur roi,\u2019 etc.\n _Chant huitieme._\n\nWe might refer to many other passages equally picturesque, though\nperhaps to none so poetical. Such as the comparison of Roland taken from\nthe scene of combat by Oliver, to a lion led off by an African, that\nstill roars as he follows his well-known guide;\u2014the first appearance of\nArmelie, the death of Wilfred at the altar, the vanishing of Adelard\nfrom the sight of Charlemagne, the forest of Eresbourg, the Druidical\nsacrifice, and the funeral rites of Orlando in the valley of\nRonscevalles.\n\nThe language of the poem often bears a striking resemblance to the\nlanguage of painting, or seems like a detailed description of some _chef\nd\u2019\u0153uvre_ of the art, rather than the creation of the poet\u2019s fancy. We\nshould have little doubt that the solitary church in the valley of\nRonscevalles is copied from that in the back-ground of Titian\u2019s _St.\nPeter Martyr_, and the massacre at the altar in the first canto is\ncertainly taken from some picture of Raphael!\n\nIn the sentiments of this poem there is more feebleness, a greater\nnumber of Gallicisms, than in the imagery. We meet with such courtly\nexpressions as these:\n\n \u2018Les Francs \u00e0 chaque instant voient de nouveaux guerriers\n _Solliciter l\u2019honneur d\u2019embrasser leur defense_!\u2019\n\nThe devil addresses the deity with the following piece of high-flown\nsentimentality:\n\n \u2018Pour braver les remords, et la g\u00eane et la flamme,\n Je ne demande rien _qu\u2019un seul rayon d\u2019espoir_.\u2019\n\nWe know, indeed, from whence the allusion is taken, and we wonder the\nmore at the affectation implied in the alteration. It is like some of\nPope\u2019s refinements on Isaiah. In giving an account of the sorrow which\nprevails in heaven at the disasters of the church of Christ, the author\nhas expressed a trite theological sentiment with more felicity than we\nrecollect to have seen it expressed before:\n\n \u2018On entend \u00e0 ces mots toutes les voix c\u00e9lestes\n D\u2019une douce tristesse exhaler les soupirs.\n La harpe ainsi murmure au souffle des z\u00e9phirs.\n Les habitants du ciel n\u2019ont point ces sons funestes\u2014\n Qu\u2019ici-bas les malheurs arrachent aux humains.\n Aux peines, aux chagrins,\n Aux passions du monde ils ne sont plus en proie;\n D\u2019un amour sans m\u00e9lange ils go\u00fbtent la douceur:\n Leurs maux sont moins amers, plus purs que notre joie;\n Et leur tristesse \u00e0 peine alt\u00e8re leur bonheur.\u2019\n\nThe conception of his Heaven is much more just than that of Hell, though\nthe execution is (almost as a matter of course) less powerful. The two\nfigures of Adam and Moses, in the former, are particularly fine:\n\n \u2018Le p\u00e8re des humains voit sa nombreuse race,\n Et calcule, pensif, le nombre des \u00e9lus!\n Mo\u00efse pr\u00e8s de lui, d\u2019un seul regard embrasse\n Les enfants d\u2019Isra\u00ebl en tous lieux r\u00e9pandus.\u2019\n\nOur poet has, very good-naturedly, (and we hope with the approbation of\nhis holiness the Pope, to whom this work is dedicated,) set aside two\nstanzas for the secret conveyance of the souls of virtuous heathens and\nof little children, into the abodes of the blest.\n\nThe author of _Charlemagne_ has constructed his hell upon an entirely\nnew and fanciful theory. We see no sort of reason why Satan should not,\nin strict propriety, sit upon a throne; nor why his followers should be\ndegraded from the rank of fallen angels into modern French\nrevolutionists. We like Milton\u2019s account much better in all respects;\nand our author himself, as is the natural consequence of all\naffectation, flounders into contradiction in the very next verse, where\nhe gives a most superb account of Lucifer. In the same spirit, he has\nmade a more enlightened distribution of crimes and punishments; and\nestablished an entire new set of regulations and bye-laws in the regions\nof the damned. Alexander and the two Brutuses figure there with Cain and\nother murderers, while \u2018the noble C\u00e6sar\u2019 is exempted. Now we have no\nnotion of such a philosophical hell as our poetical casuist would carve\nout. This celebrated place is, we think, of all others the least liable\nto plans of reform. It is almost the oldest establishment upon record,\nand placed quite out of the reach of the progress of reason and\nmetaphysics. We hate disputes in poetry, still more than in religion. At\nleast, whatever appeals to the imagination, ought to rest on undivided\nsentiment, on one undisputed tradition, one catholic faith.[22] Besides,\nthe whole account of the infernal regions is an excrescence, equally\nmisplaced and improbable. None of the heroes of the poem descend there,\nbut as Satan is brought thence to appear to Charlemagne in the shape of\na lying priest, this opportunity is taken to describe the geography of\nthe place according to the latest discoveries. There is one point in\nwhich we agree with the poet, _viz._ in his indignation against tyrants\nand their flatterers, though he does not go so far as honest Quevedo,\nwho, when his hero wonders to see so few kings in hell, makes his guide\nreply sullenly, \u2018Here are all that ever reigned.\u2019\n\nWe shall conclude our remarks on this part of the poem with the author\u2019s\ndescription of the punishment of Cain, which we think the most striking.\n\n \u2018Ici rugit Cain, les cheveux h\u00e9riss\u00e9s,\n Et portant sur son front la marque sanguinaire.\n \u201cCain, Cain, r\u00e9ponds: qu\u2019as-tu fait de ton fr\u00e8re?\u201d\n A cette voix du Ciel tous ses sens sont glac\u00e9s;\n Cain croit voir Abel \u00e9clatant de lumi\u00e8re;\n Et d\u2019un bras t\u00e9m\u00e9raire,\n Il ose encor frapper l\u2019objet de son courroux:\n Il voudrait le priver d\u2019une seconde vie:\n Mais l\u2019ombre glorieuse \u00e9chappant \u00e0 ses coups,\n Redouble dans son c\u0153ur les tourments de l\u2019envie.\u2019\n\n\n\n\n THE SAME SUBJECT CONTINUED\n\n\n _The Champion._] [_December 25, 1814._\n\nThe story of a poem is seldom worth a long description. It may be\nsufficient to say in the present case, that the danger to which the\nchurch was exposed, and from which it was afterwards delivered, arose\nfrom the second marriage of _Charlemagne_ with _Armelie_, the daughter\nof _Didier_, the King of the Lombards, who was exerting himself to\ndepose Pope Adrian. Charlemagne had divorced his first wife, _Adelinde_,\nbut he is warned in a vision to take her again to his bosom. He does so,\nand _Didier_ and his daughter consequently become the enemies of this\nChristian Emperor, who takes arms to defend the Holy See. After the\nusual casualties and fluctuations of fortune, the son of Pepin finally\ntriumphs.\n\nOn a more careful examination, we see no reason to alter our first\nopinion of this poem. It has given us no strong impulse, nor left any\npermanent trace on our minds. It opens no new and rich vein of poetry,\nthough certainly great talents are shewn in the use which is made of\nexisting materials. Perhaps it may be said that this is all that can be\ndone in a modern poem: if so, that _all_ is hardly worth the doing.\nThere is no one who has borrowed his materials more than Milton, or who\nhas made them more completely his own: there is hardly a line which does\nnot breathe the same lofty spirit, hardly a thought or image which he\nhas not clothed with the majesty of his genius. It is the same in\nreading other great poets. The informing mind is every where present to\nus. Who is there that does not know and feel sensibly the majestic\ncopiousness of Homer, the polished elegance of Virgil, enamoured of its\nown workmanship,\u2014the severe grandeur of Dante, the tender pathos of\nTasso, the endless voluptuousness of Spenser, and the unnumbered graces\nof Ariosto? Even the mysterious solemnity of Ossian, and the wild\nromantic interest of Walter Scott, are something gained to the\nimagination. But in the present instance, we do not feel the same\nparticipation with the author\u2019s mind, nor accession of strength to our\nown. So little is it in the power even of the most accomplished art to\ncounterfeit nature. The true Florimel did not differ more from the\nFlorimel which was made for the witches\u2019 son, than true genius from the\nmost successful and elaborate imitation of it.\n\nWe shall close these remarks with extracting two passages which in the\nopinion of our readers will perhaps be thought to amount to a complete\nrefutation of our objections. The first is the description of the\nfuneral rites of Orlando, in the thirteenth canto.\n\n \u2018Gaiffre a suivi son guide au fond du pr\u00e9cipice,\n Un clocher solitaire a frapp\u00e9 ses regards:\n Dans les jours du repos, les fid\u00e8les \u00e9pars\n Accourent au signal du divin sacrifice.\n Ici du haut des monts descendent les pasteurs.\n La vierge des douleurs\n De ces mortels obscurs y re\u00e7oit la pri\u00e8re:\n Sur un autel de bois on a sculpt\u00e9 ses traits;\n Les nombreux ex-voto de la divine m\u00e8re\n Dans ces lieux \u00e9cart\u00e9s attestant les bienfaits.\n\n Un son plaintif et sourd vient de frapper les airs;\n C\u2019est l\u2019airain qui g\u00e9mit pour les pompes fun\u00e8bres.\n Dans le temple le jour a fait place aux t\u00e9n\u00e8bres;\n Des signes de la mort les parois sont couverts.\n Un saint pontife offrait la victime ineffable;\n Et sa voix secourable\n Invoquait pour nos preux le c\u00e9leste repos.\n Un simple sarcophage au milieu de l\u2019enceinte\n Retrace \u00e0 tous les yeux la tombe du h\u00e9ros,\n Et r\u00e9pand dans les c\u0153urs une tristesse sainte.\n\n Le pr\u00eatre des hameaux, suivant l\u2019antique usage,\n Dans l\u2019Eglise chr\u00e9tienne en tout temps r\u00e9v\u00e9r\u00e9,\n Trois fois avec l\u2019eau sainte et l\u2019encensoir sacr\u00e9\n Fait solennellement le tour du sarcophage.\n \u201cDans le sein de ton Dieu sois heureux \u00e0 jamais:\n Roland, repose en paix.\u201d\n Du pontife telle est la fervente pri\u00e8re.\n Ces mots ont termin\u00e9 le sacrifice saint;\n Et la foule se rend dans le champ fun\u00e9raire\n Ou g\u00eet, sous une croix, le corps du paladin.\u2019\n\nIn the nineteenth canto, Lawrence and her children, after their escape\nfrom Bourdeaux, arrive at the castle of Melaric, an old christian\nknight, when the following example of perfect description occurs:\u2014\n\n \u2018La nuit envellopait les champs & les remparts;\n Sur les murs mena\u00e7ants de la salle gothique\n Une teinte plus sombre & plus m\u00e9lancholique\n Couvrait les boucliers, les glaives, & les dards;\n Le vent du soir soufflait des gorges du Pyr\u00e8ne;\n Et sa fougueuse halcine\n Des armures des preux entrechoquait l\u2019airain.\n Les lances, les cimiers rendent des sons fun\u00e8bres:\n Leur murmure plaintif ressemble au cri lointain\n D\u2019un guerrier qui succombe au milieu des t\u00e9n\u00e8bres.\u2019\n\nThe author in his notes gives us to understand that he is about another\nepic poem, the hero of which is Isolier, a native of Corsica, and which\nis to bear the same relation to Charlemagne, that the Odyssey does to\nthe Iliad.\n\n\n\n\n LUCIEN BUONAPARTE\u2019S COLLECTION, ETC.\n\n\n _The Champion._] [_January 22, 1815._\n\nWe have been able to obtain access to the almost inaccessible collection\nof the Prince of Canino. The liberality with which the collections of\nforeign princes are thrown open to strangers and the public is often\nboasted of; but this liberality, we suppose, ceases when the same\ncollections are exposed in this country for sale. The pictures of Lucien\nBuonaparte, which are valued at \u00a340,000, are kept in most \u2018vile\ndurance\u2019; and even the ticket of admission, which we presented to a\nperson who seems placed at the door to keep persons out, and not to let\nthem in, was inspected and objected to with the same scrupulous jealousy\nas if it had been a bank-note presented in payment of the purchase-money\nof the collection. A cursory glance round the room was sufficient to\nexplain the source of so much mystery and caution. The pictures are in\ngeneral mere trash. Nor is the general dearth of attraction relieved by\neven a few examples of first-rate excellence. The only exception to\nthese remarks which struck us was an exquisite female head by Leonardo\nda Vinci. It is one of the finest specimens we have seen of that great\nmaster, both for expression, drawing, the spirit and delicacy of the\nexecution, and the preservation of the tone of colouring. There is in\nLeonardo\u2019s female heads a grace and charm of expression, which is\npeculiar to himself\u2014a character of natural sweetness and playful\ntenderness, mixed up with the pride of conscious intellect, and with the\ngraceful reserve of personal dignity. He blends purity with\nvoluptuousness; and the expression of his women is equally\ncharacteristic of \u2018the mistress or the saint!\u2019 His pictures are always\nworked up to the utmost height of the idea he had conceived, with an\nelaborate felicity. No painter made more a religion of his art! His\nfault is, that his style of execution is too mathematical; that is, his\npencil does not follow the graceful variety of nature, but substitutes\ncertain refined gradations both of form and colour, producing equal\nchanges in equal distances, with a mechanical uniformity. Leonardo was a\nman of profound learning as well as genius; and perhaps transferred too\nmuch of the formality of science to his favourite art. In making this\nobjection, we have had in our eye two of the most celebrated pictures,\nthe _Jocunda_ in the Louvre, and the _St. John_ in the possession of Mr.\nHope. The picture in the present collection has more flexibility and\nvariety; as well as greater heightening of colour; and perhaps the\nlatter effect may be the cause of the former. It is not impossible that\na certain degree of monotony may have been sometimes produced by the\nrubbing off of the higher tints and finishing touches of the pencil, so\nas to leave little more of the picture than the general ground-work.\n\nTo return to the collection before us. The only remaining pictures which\ncan excite any interest are, some curious specimens of the early\nmasters, Ghirlandaio, Bellino, and others;\u2014some small sketches of\nTitian; a finely coloured Holy Family by the same master; a portrait by\nSebastian del Piombo; a sketch of Diana and Acteon, by A. Caracci; a\nlandscape by Ruysdael; and a transfiguration, said to be by Vasari.\nBesides these, there is a Frenchified Salvator Rosa, coloured pink and\nblue, a copy of Domenichino\u2019s head of St. Jerome, one or two pretended\nClaudes, and some _amatory_ pictures of the modern French school. To\nthese shall we add the picture of Lucien Buonaparte himself? Nothing\ncertainly can go beyond it in its way. It is the very _priggism_ of\nportrait-painting.\n\nWe have already said something of the French style of portraits, and we\nshall here add a few remarks in explanation, though we are aware that\nany hints of a want of refinement will be thrown away on a nation so\nentirely _spirituel_ as the French, and we are also afraid that some of\nour own artists may take credit to themselves for as many excellences,\nas we may charge their neighbours with defects.\n\nThe French systematically paint all objects as they would paint _still\nlife_; and hence they in general never paint any thing _but still life_.\nIt is not possible to paint that which has life and motion by the same\nmechanical process by which that which has neither life nor motion may\nbe represented. Thus it is not possible to imitate the human\ncountenance, which is moveable and animated, as you would imitate a\npiece of drapery, or a chair, or a table, in which the physical\nappearance is every thing, and that appearance always remains the same.\nThe industry of the eye and hand will go a great way in giving the\neffect of a number of parts of any external object, arranged in the same\norder; but to give truth of effect to that which is always varying, and\nalways expressive of more than strikes the senses, imagination and\nfeeling are absolutely required. Whenever there is life and motion, life\nand motion become the principal things; and any attempt to give these,\nwithout a distinct operation or feeling of the mind as to what\nconstitutes their essence, by a mere attention to the physical form, or\nparticular details, must necessarily destroy all appearance both of one\nand the other. To instance in expression only. This can only be given by\nbeing felt. Take for instance the outline of part of a face, and let it\nbe so placed as to form part of the outline of a rock, or any other\ninanimate object. A copy of this, done with tolerable care, will seem to\nbe the same thing: but let it be known that this is really a part of a\nhuman countenance, and then it will probably be found to be quite\ndifferent _from the difference of expression_. We distinguish all\nobjects more or less by habitual knowledge; and this knowledge is always\nacute in proportion to the interest excited, that is, to the intensity\nof the feeling or passion which is combined with the immediate\nimpression on the senses. Expression is therefore only caught by\nsympathy; and it has been received as a maxim, that no painter can\nsucceed in giving an expression which is totally foreign to his own\ncharacter. There are some painters who cannot paint a wise man, and\nothers who cannot paint a fool: some who cannot give strength, and\nothers softness to their works. It is the want of character, of\nflexibility, and transient expression, which is the great defect of\nFrench portraits. Without the indications of the mind breathed into the\ncountenance and moulding the features, the whole must appear stiff,\nhard, mean, unconnected, and lifeless\u2014like the mask of a face, not like\nthe face itself\u2014forced, affected, and unnatural. Another consequence of\nthis mode of copying the letter and leaving out the spirit of all\nobjects, is that the face in general looks the least finished part of\nthe picture, for while the other parts remain the same, this necessarily\nvaries, and the only way to make up for the want of literal exactness,\nmust be by seizing the force and animation of the expression. A head\nthat does not look like life, cannot look like any thing else.\u2014The\nportrait of Lucien Buonaparte is a striking confirmation of these\nremarks. We do not know how to describe it otherwise than by saying that\nit looks as if the artist had first modelled the face in wax, oiled it\nover, painted the lips purple, stuck on a pair of artificial eyebrows,\nand inserted a pair of dark blue glass eyes, and then set to work to\ncopy every part of this perverse misrepresentation, with tedious and\ndisgusting accuracy. In a portrait of the author of Charlemagne, one has\na right to expect some refinement of intellect and feeling, if not the\nmarks of elevated genius. No such thing. The picture has just the\nappearance of a spruce holiday mechanic, with all the hardness,\nlittleness, and vulgarity of expression which is to be found in nature,\nwhere the countenance has not been expanded by thought and sentiment,\nand in art, where this expression has been entirely overlooked. The\nFrench artists themselves, both men and women, seem to be aware of the\ndilemma to which they are reduced, and prefer copying from plaster\ncasts, or lay figures, to painting from the life; which baffles the\nmechanical minuteness and \u2018laborious foolery\u2019 of their style of art.\nThey set about painting a face as they would about engraving a picture.\nThis cannot possibly answer. From the general idea of the liveliness and\nvolatility of the French character one would be apt to suppose, that\ninstead of the method here described, their artists would have adopted\nthe happier mode proposed by Pope in describing his characters of women:\n\n \u2018Come, then, the colours and the ground prepare,\n Dip in the rainbow, trick her off in air,\n Chuse a firm cloud, before it falls, and in it\n Catch, ere the change, the Cynthia of a minute!\u2019\n\nBut the days of Watteau are over, and the plodding gravity of the Dutch\nhas succeeded to the natural levity of French art. It is no wonder: for\nboth proceed from a want of real concentration and force of\nintellect.[23]\n\nThere is another picture in this collection which we would recommend to\nthe attention of all _whom it may concern_, as a most instructive lesson\nof the vanity of human pretensions, and the capriciousness of national\ntaste. It is the historical picture of the return of Marcus Sextus, by\nGuerin, one of the most admired painters of the modern French school.\nThis picture combines all the vices of that school in their most\nconfirmed and aggravated state, and yet it drew, at the time when it was\nfirst exhibited in Paris, crowds of admirers, whose raptures were\nexcited exactly in proportion as it flattered their habitual prejudices,\nand outraged every principle of common sense. It consists of three\nfigures, that of the husband standing in front of the bed, the wife who\nlies dead upon it being behind him, and the daughter kneeling at his\nfeet. Now all these figures seem as if they had been cut out of\npasteboard, smeared over with putty to represent the shadows, and then\nstuck flat against the canvass to make a picture. This is not truth, nor\ninvention, nor art, nor nature: but it is the French style of painting.\nTheir pictures are sections of statues, or architectural elevations of\nthe human figure. They have the effect neither of painting nor\nsculpture; for painting has colour, and the appearance of substance,\nsculpture has real substance without colour; but these have neither\ncolour, substance, nor the appearance of it, but consist of mere lines.\nWhatever they may do, we cannot think this the highest style of history:\nbecause proceeding on arithmetical principles only, it wants two out of\nthree of the physical requisites of the art of painting. The picture of\nGuerin is painted in strong contrast of light and shade, and ought to\nhave proportionable prominence and relief. But from the habit of\nattending only to lines and detached parts, that is, of never combining\nthe lesser masses into larger ones, or of contemplating the general\nappearance of nature, the whole effect is frittered away, and neither\nthe prominent parts stand out, nor do the receding ones fall back. The\nsame flat, imbecile, and dingy effect is produced, as by smearing white\nstreaks upon a black ground, without knowledge or design, or reference\nto any actual object in nature. The drawing in this picture is equally\ncharacteristic of the general French style, and equally repulsive. It is\nnot easy to explain the elaborate absurdity of the process: but it is in\nreality this. The painter has taken the figure of an antique statue for\nthe figure of his hero. But finding that the position would not answer\nhis purpose; he therefore gets a lay-figure made from a cast of this\nstatue, and distorting it into the attitude he wants, places it against\nsome object which props it up, with the two feet stretched out before\nit, as if it could neither move nor stand; and this the artist calls\npainting history, and copying the ancients. This is what no other nation\ndare attempt. The expression which is given to these mockeries of art\nand nature, is of a piece with the rest. It is either copied tamely,\nservilely, and without effect, from the model before them, or if any\nthing is added to it, all grace and feeling is instantly lost in the\nextravagance of grimace and affectation. The ambition of these refiners\non nature is like that of Pygmalion to give life and animation to a\nstone, but no miracle has yet come to their assistance.[24] The French\nare incapable of painting true history, for they are a people\nessentially without imagination, and without a knowledge of the passions\nthat belong to it. All that is powerful in them, is immediate\nsensation\u2014the rest is either levity, or formality, or distortion. Take\nthe picture of the deluge by Girodet. In this, a daughter is represented\nclinging to her mother by the hair of her head, the mother is clinging\nto the husband, he is at the same time supporting his father with his\nother arm, and is enabled to support the whole of this exquisite family\ngroupe by taking hold of the branch of a tree which has just broken off\nby the weight. This effort of imagination almost equals the exploit of\nthe clown in the pantomime, who contrives to balance a dozen men on one\nanother\u2019s shoulders. If Poussin or Raphael had been fortunate enough to\nstudy in the central schools of Paris, what a difference would this new\nprinciple of grouping have introduced into their pictures of the Deluge\nand the Incendio del Borgo.\n\nBefore we quit this subject of French art, we would notice that there\nare two pictures of the Emperor Napoleon to be seen at present, one in\nLeicester-fields, which is very bad, and another in the Adelphi, by\nLefebre, which is tolerably good. The last is one of the best French\nportraits we have ever seen. The effect however is only good, very near,\nand is best when each part is seen through a magnifying glass. There is\nconsiderable character, firmness of drawing, and prominence in the\nfeatures. Still it does not convey an adequate idea of the man. It is\nheavy, perplexed, and sullen, without sufficient fierceness or energy,\nand indeed without either the high or the bad qualities of the original.\nIt has, notwithstanding, the appearance of being what is understood by a\nfaithful likeness, and only wants that full developement of the workings\nof the mind, which every portrait ought to have, and which, in a\nportrait like the present, would be invaluable.\n\n\n\n\n BRITISH INSTITUTION\n\n\n _The Champion._] [_February 5, 1815._\n\nThe Exhibition of this year, which opens to the public on Monday, is\nsaid to be inferior to the last:\u2014that was said to be inferior to the one\nbefore it,\u2014that to the preceding one, and so on. This is the common cant\nrespecting all Exhibitions; and the reason is obvious enough. We are\nnaturally less struck by pictures of the same degree and class of\nexcellence, by the same artists, on repetition than at first sight; and\nthe art appears to be retrograde, only because it is not progressive.\nPerhaps, however, there is some foundation for the objection in the\npresent instance. At least, we think there is a falling off in the\nhistorical department: though that is the department of the art which\nwould least bear any kind of retrenchment. We do not know whether to lay\nthe blame of the deficiency on those artists, who have been away this\nsummer on their visit to the French capital, or on those who have\nremained behind. The picture in this branch of the art which pleased us\nthe most on looking into it, and which we conceive has decidedly the\ngreatest number of excellent parts, though the general effect is very\nfar from striking, is \u2018_Brutus exhorting the Romans to revenge the Death\nof Lucretia_,\u2019 by C. L. Eastlake. The artist will excuse us, if we say\nthat we think the principal figure, that of _Brutus_, by much the worst\npart of the picture. A more theatrical, and less impressive figure we\nhave seldom seen. He is quite an orator of the modern stamp, and has\nnothing of the \u2018antique Roman\u2019 about him. He is not a bit better than\nany of the blustering, canting, vapid, Canning school, and is evidently\nan orator to be disposed of. We would advise Mr. Eastlake to take a hint\nfrom a high quarter, and get rid of him, at any rate. The effect of the\nattitude of this figure, which is represented pointing with a sword to\nthe body of _Lucretia_, behind him, is almost entirely lost by the want\nof distinct foreshortening and prominent relief.[25] The figure of\n_Brutus_ seems in a line with that of _Lucretia_. Indeed, the same\ndefect pervades the whole picture, which is laid-in like mosaic, and the\ngeneral pale, stone-colour appearance of the drapery, and of the flesh,\nadds to this effect. No one figure comes out before the rest to the eye,\ntill by tracing it down to the feet, you find where it stands. The dead\nfigure of _Lucretia_ herself is a complete piece of marble. We wish to\nnotice more particularly, because it is an excellence very rare in an\nEnglish artist, that the attention to costume in the decorations of the\nbier on which the dead body lies, and in the other ornaments in the\nback-ground of the picture, gives an additional air of truth and\nconsequently of interest to the scene. The peculiar merit of this\ncomposition is the great variety of distinct faces and characteristic\nexpressions to be found in it. These, if not of a very high order, are\nat least much better than the pompous nonentities to which we are\naccustomed. There is very little of passion or emotion given or\nattempted, but we think the expression of attention in the surrounding\naudience is varied very happily, and with great truth of nature. The\nmost picturesque and interesting part of the picture is the groupe in\nwhich a girl with a back-figure is supporting (we suppose) the mother of\n_Lucretia_. The expression of the countenance in the latter reminded us\nof Annibal Caracci, and we are always glad to be reminded of him.\nCertainly the same effect was not produced upon our minds by the boy in\nthe foreground, with sandy hair and weak eyes, who is crying so\npiteously: still less did we like the figure of a man in the right hand\ncorner, who is explaining the story to another with his fists clenched,\nand in a boxing attitude. The model for a Roman warrior is as little to\nbe sought in a Fives Court, as of a Roman patriot in a debating society,\nor even (with leave be it spoken) in an English House of Commons. We\nhave dwelt the longer on this picture, because its immediate effect on\nthe eye is by no means in proportion to its real merit. The\ndrab-coloured quakerism of the tone conceals it from observation almost\nas much as if it had a veil over it. We do not really understand the\nobject of these sickly half-tints, which all French artists, and some of\nour own, affect. Nicolas Poussin, who had no relief of light and shade,\nhad strong contrasts of colour: or even if he had had neither, the great\ndistinctness of his outline, and his striking manner of telling the\nstory, might still have formed a sufficient excuse for him. In short,\nthe style of colouring adopted in this picture may, for aught we know,\naccord very well with some more artificial and recondite style of\nhistorical composition; but we are sure, it has nothing to do with\nnatural expression, or immediate effect.\n\nIt has been said, that \u2018a great book is a great evil.\u2019 We think the same\nthing might be applied to pictures: or at least we should not instance\nthe large picture in this collection of _The Burial of our Lord_, by C.\nCoventry, as an exception to the rule. We admit, however, that the face,\ndress, and figure of the old man holding the drapery over Christ, are\npicturesque, and in the fine manner of Rembrandt. The attitude and\naction of this figure are exactly the same as those of a similar figure\nin Mr. Bird\u2019s picture of the same subject. This is rather a singular\ncoincidence in two pictures exhibited at the same time, and which it is\ntherefore improbable to suppose could have been copied one from the\nother. The other figures about Christ we cannot bring ourselves to\nadmire: they resemble painted wood. The colour of the Christ is a livid\npurple, the worst of all possible colours. The women are better; though\nthe fine turn in the waist of one of them is not in the best style of\nhistory, which does not profess to exhibit women of fashion.\n\nMr. Bird\u2019s picture of _The Entombment of Christ_, is, we conceive, very\ninferior to his picture last year of _Job and his Friends_. The\ncolouring is equally bad, and the composition is not equally good. There\nis one pretty figure of a girl, but her prettiness is not an advantage\nto the subject. In all things, \u2018It is place which lessens and sets off.\u2019\nMr. Bird constantly introduces the extremities of the hands and feet\ninto his pictures, only to show how ill he can paint them. The picture\nof _The Surrender of Calais_ has been already before the public.\n\nAmong the historical pictures, we suppose from its name, we must rank\nthat of the _Prophet Ezra_, by G. Hayter, though it does not appear to\nus to belong to the class. It is a fine, rich, and strongly painted\npicture of a man reading a book. The being able to copy nature with\ntruth and effect is not history, though we think it is the first step to\nit. In this picture, which we believe is a first essay, Mr. Hayter has\nnot redeemed the pledge he gave in his miniatures. If we could paint\nsuch miniatures as he does, we would do nothing but paint miniatures\nalways; and laugh at the advertisements of great historical pictures in\nthe newspapers. The _St. Bernard_, by the same artist, is very\nindifferent.\n\nMr. Harlowe\u2019s _Hubert and Arthur_ is the greatest piece of coxcombry and\nabsurdity we remember to have seen. We do not think that any one who\npleases has a right to paint a libel on Shakspeare.\n\nThe generality of the historical pictures in the gallery are such as\nhave been always painted, and as will always be painted, in spite of all\nthat can be said to the contrary, and therefore it is as well to say\nnothing about them.\n\nMiss Jackson\u2019s _Mars subdued by Peace_ is a very pleasing composition.\nBoth the face and expression of the figure of _Peace_ are those of a\nvery beautiful and interesting girl, though from the tender pensiveness\nof the features she seems rather as if sending _Mars_ out to battle than\ndisarming him; and as to the God of War himself, he does not look like\none whom \u2018deep scars of thunder have intrenched,\u2019 but as if he had been\nkept a long time at home in a lady\u2019s chamber. The Cupids (when Ladies\nimagine Cupids, what can they be less?) are very nice, little, chubby\nfellows.\n\nThere are two pictures of _The Sick Pigeon_ and _The Favourite Kitten_\nby Miss Geddes, both of which we like, gallantry out of the question.\nThe kitten in the last is exquisitely painted. You may almost hear it\n_purring_.\n\nAmong the foreign contributors to this department we ought to mention\n_Music_, by M. Messora, in the manner of the early Italian masters, and\n_Devotion_, a small picture by J. Laschallas, which is hung almost out\nof sight, and which, if it were hung a little lower, we suspect, would\nbe found to be \u2018a good picture and a true.\u2019\n\nTo the scene from the _Marriage of Figaro_, by Chalon, no praise of ours\ncould add the slightest grace or lustre. We wonder where he got the\nfigure of his _Susan_, or how he dared to paint her!\n\nIn the domestic scenes, and views of interiors, &c. this exhibition is\nmuch like the former ones, except that we miss Collins, and find no one\nto replace him.\n\nOf the landscapes, Burnett\u2019s, Fielding\u2019s, Nasmyth\u2019s, Hofland\u2019s, and\nGlover\u2019s are the best. In Mr. Glover\u2019s large picture of _Jacob and\nLaban_ (which we believe was exhibited and much admired in Paris), there\nis a want of harmony and lightness in the whole: but there is a groupe\nof trees in the foreground, which Claude himself would not have\ndisdained to borrow. Mr. Hofland\u2019s landscapes, without being much\nfinished, have the look, the tone, and freshness of nature. The _View of\nEdinburgh_ is, we think, the best. Some of the others are too much\nabstractions of aerial perspective: they are naked and cold, and\nrepresent not the objects of nature so much as the medium through which\nthey are seen. We will only add, in our professional capacity, that this\ngentleman\u2019s pictures shew themselves, and that he need not be at the\ntrouble of shewing them. Nasmyth\u2019s pictures are not too much finished,\nbut they want a certain breadth, which nature always adds to perfect\nfinishing. Fielding is a new and most promising artist, of whom we mean\nto say more. Of the two Burnetts, we shall only remark at present, that\nthey have made no addition to their live-stock since last year, which\nconsisted then, as it does now, of one black, one yellow, and one\nspotted cow.\n\n\n\n\n THE SAME SUBJECT CONTINUED\n\n\n _The Champion._] [_February 12, 1815._\n\n_Cottage Child at Breakfast_, W. Collins, A.R.A. This is a pleasing\nlittle picture, but inferior to Mr. Collins\u2019s general performances. The\nshadow cast on the wall is like plaster of a darker colour, nor should\nwe have suspected it to be meant for shadow, had it not been pointed out\nto us. _Reapers_, by the same artist, is a still greater falling off.\nThe mixture of minute finishing and slovenliness in the execution, and\nof blues and yellows in the colouring of this picture is to us very\nunaccountable.\n\n_Devotion_, J. Laschallas. We wish that we could conjure this little\npicture out of its frame to have a nearer view. The drawing, expression,\ntone, and composition appear to us admirable.\n\n_A Scolding Wife; her Husband having spent all his Money at the Fair_,\nL. Coss\u00e9. This is not a very pleasant subject, nor very pleasantly\ntreated. The little child blowing the trumpet is the pretty part of the\npicture. There is one figure of a woman in a blue stuff gown, sitting by\nthe fire-side, in an attitude of yawning, which both for the truth of\nthe colouring and the action, is inimitable.\n\n_A Country Scene_, by the same, has the hard brickdusty tone which there\nis in the faces of the other picture; but the expression is natural and\ngood.\n\n_A Colour-Grinder_, R. T. Bone, is a spirited and faithful imitation of\nnature.\n\n_A Study from Nature_, J. Harrison, is a well-painted head. At the same\ntime, there is something about it very unpleasant to us.\n\n_Hebe_ and _Sunrise_, by H. Howard, R.A., were, we believe, in last\nyear\u2019s Exhibition at Somerset-house. There is a certain grace and\nelegance in both of them. The fantastic, playful lightness of the\nfigures in the last is perhaps carried to a degree of affectation. The\nfaces of the Pleiades are very pretty and very insipid.\n\n_Conrade and Gulnare_, H. Singleton. We could neither understand this\npicture nor the lines from Lord Byron\u2019s _Corsair_, which are intended to\nexplain the subject of it.\n\n_Brutus exhorting the Romans to revenge the Death of Lucretia._ Of this\ncomposition we find we have already said quite enough.\n\n_View of Arthur\u2019s Seat near Edinburgh_, P. Nasmyth, is a very nicely\npainted landscape. We like all this gentleman\u2019s landscapes, except _A\nView of Edinburgh_, which is just like a painting on a tea-board.\n\n_Breaking the Ice_, by James Burnett, is a very delightful picture. It\nhas the effect of walking out in a fine winter\u2019s morning. Many\nincidental associations are very happily introduced; the pigeons\ncollected on the thatch of a shed, and the robin-redbreast perched in a\nwindow of an out house. The pigeons are, however, too small, and the\ncolour on the breast of the robin is on fire. Perhaps these objections\nare too minute. The pigeon-house looks suspended in the air, and the sky\nand branches of the trees seen against it are painted with admirable\nbrilliancy. _Peasants going to Market_, by the same artist, is of equal\nmerit. The skirt of the drapery of the peasant girl looks as if the sun\nshone directly upon it. The docks in the foreground of the picture are\nvery highly finished, and touched with great spirit, but we never saw\nthis kind of plant of the lightish green colour, which is here given to\nit.\n\n_Milking_, by John Burnett, is a very brilliant little picture. The red\ndress of the girl at the milk-pail is as rich as possible. The trees at\na little distance are too much in sharp points and touches. The cattle\nin the landscapes of both the painters of this name are too much in\nheavy masses, and form too violent a contrast to the lightness of the\nlandscape about them.\n\n_The Watering Place_, P. H. Rogers, deserves considerable praise, both\nfor the colouring and composition.\n\n_Banks of the Thames_, J. Wilson, is a very clever picture. The\nforeground and the distance are equally well painted; but they do not\nappear in keeping. The one is quite clear, and the other covered with\nhaze.\n\n_Morning_, and _View from Rydal Woods_, by C. V. Fielding, are both\nmasterly performances. The last, in particular, is a rich, mellow\nlandscape, and presents a fine, woody, and romantic scene, which in some\ndegree calls off our admiration from the merit of the artist to the\nbeauties of nature. This is a sacrifice of self-love which many of our\nartists do not seem willing to make. They too often chuse their\nsubjects, not to exhibit the charms of nature, but to display their own\nskill in making something of the most barren subjects.\n\nWe think this objection applies to Mr. Hofland\u2019s landscapes in general.\nThe scene he selects is represented with great truth and felicity of\npencil, but it is, generally speaking, one we should neither wish to\nlook at, nor to be in. In his _Loch-Lomond_ and _Stirling Castle_, the\neffect of the atmosphere is finely given; but this is all. We wish to\nenter our protest against this principle of separating _the imitation_\nfrom _the thing imitated_, particularly as it is countenanced by the\nauthority of the ablest landscape painter of the present day, of whose\nlandscapes some one said, that \u2018they were pictures of nothing, and very\nlike!\u2019\n\n\n\n\n THE SAME SUBJECT CONTINUED\n\n\n _The Champion._] [_February 19, 1815._\n\n_Battle-piece_, B. Barker, is a spirited sketch, harmoniously coloured.\nIn force of drawing and expression, it is inferior to _The Standard_, by\nAb. Cooper. There is too violent an opposition of white and black in the\nhorses in this picture; and the eye does not immediately connect the\nheads of the animals with the rest of their bodies. This picture,\nhowever, displays great knowledge of the subject, and considerable\nstrength of composition. _A Study from Nature_, by the same artist, Ab.\nCooper, is a masterly little picture. _Birds_, from nature, and\n_Plovers_, from nature, by M. Chantry, are both excellent in their kind.\n\n_View of Richmond, Yorkshire_, by W. Westall, A.R.A. is deficient in\nperspective and in other respects. The river below seems to be on a\nlevel with the high foreground from which it is seen. The representing\ndeclivities by means of aerial perspective is, we believe, one of the\ndifficulties of the art, and we do not remember any successful instances\nof it, except in some of Wilson\u2019s landscapes.\n\n_A Boy lamenting the Death of his Favourite Rabbit_, W. Davison, is a\nvery pleasing composition in the style of Gainsborough. The landscape\nhas too much the blue greenish hue and slender execution of\nGainsborough\u2019s back-grounds. The boy is well painted. There is a picture\nof this kind by Murillo in the collection at Dulwich, which we would\nearnestly recommend to every painter of such subjects. Or we might as\nwell, in other words, recommend them to look at nature.\n\n_Forest Scene_, by J. Stark, is painted with great truth of colour and\neffect.\n\n_Stacking Hay_, P. Dewint, has great merit.\n\n_Jacob taking charge of the Flocks and Herds of Laban_, J. Glover. We\nhave already spoken of this picture. The group of tall green trees in\nthe foreground is excellent, but there is a leaden tone spread over the\nrest of the picture, which is neither gratifying to the eye, nor true to\nnature.\n\n_The Emperor Alexander, in his Droschi_, by A. Sauerweide, is like all\nthe other pictures, busts, &c. we have seen of him, and not at all like\nthe descriptions we have heard of his fine person and countenance.\n\n_The Duke of Wellington attacking the Rear of Marshal Soult\u2019s Army on\nthe Pont de Miserali over the Great fall of Salamondi, and pursuing them\nthrough the Passes of the Sierra Morone in Portugal, 1809_, from a\nsketch by Major-general Hawker, by Perry Nursey. This is not a good\npicture; but it gives one a good idea of the sport which is to be found\nin this sort of royal game. In looking at it we have something like\nocular demonstration of the truth of what Cowper, the poet, says\u2014\n\n \u2018War is a game, which were their subjects wise,\n Kings would not play at!\u2019\n\n\n\n\n ON MR. WILKIE\u2019S PICTURES\n\n\n _The Champion._] [_March 5, 1815._\n\nIn one of Archbishop Herring\u2019s letters, written during a tour in Wales,\nis the following very picturesque description of a scene at an inn. \u2018I\nset out upon this adventurous journey on a Monday morning, accompanied\n(as bishops usually are) by my chancellor, my chaplain, secretary, two\nor three friends, and our servants. The first part of our road lay\nacross the foot of a long ridge of rocks, and was over a dreary morass,\nwith here and there a small dark cottage, a few sheep and more goats in\nview, but not a bird to be seen, save, now and then, a solitary hern,\nwatching for frogs. At the end of four of their miles, we got to a small\nvillage, where the view of things mended a little, and the road and the\ntime were beguiled by travelling for three miles along the side of a\nfine lake, full of fish, and transparent as glass. That pleasure over,\nour work became very arduous, for we were to mount a rock, and in many\nplaces of the road, over natural stairs of stone. I submitted to this,\nwhich, they told me, was but a taste of the country, and to prepare me\nfor worse things to come. However, worse things did not come that\nmorning, for we dined soon after out of our own wallets; and though our\ninn stood in a place of the most frightful solitude, and the best formed\nfor the habitation of monks (who once possessed it) in the world, yet we\nmade a cheerful meal. The novelty of the thing gave me spirits, and the\nair gave me appetite, much keener than the knife I ate with. We had our\nmusic too; for there came in a harper, who soon drew about us a group of\nfigures, that Hogarth would give any price for. The harper was in his\ntrue place and attitude; a man and a woman stood before him, singing to\nhis instrument wildly, but not disagreeably; a little dirty child was\nplaying with the bottom of the harp; a woman, in a sick night-cap,\nhanging over the stairs; a boy with crutches, fixed in a staring\nattention, and a girl carding wool in the chimney, and rocking a cradle\nwith her naked feet, interrupted in her business by the charms of the\nmusic; all ragged and dirty, and all silently attentive. These figures\ngave us a most entertaining picture, and would please you, or any man of\nobservation; and one reflection gave me particular comfort, that the\nassembly before us demonstrated, that, even here, the influential sun\nwarmed poor mortals, and inspired them with love and music.\u2019\n\nThe figures in this description form a very striking group, and we\nshould like much to see them transferred to the canvass. Those of the\ngirl with naked feet rocking the cradle, the little child playing with\nthe bottom of the harp, and the man and woman singing wildly before it\nare the most beautiful. There is one observation made by the writer to\nwhich we do not assent, that the figures are such as Hogarth would have\ngiven any price for. We doubt whether he would have meddled with them at\nall, for there was no one who understood his own powers better, or more\nseldom went out of his way. His _forte_ was satire, he painted the\nfollies or vices of men, and we do not know that there is a single\npicture of his, containing a representation of merely natural or\ndomestic scenery. The subject described in the passage we have given\nabove would have exactly suited an excellent painter of the present day,\nwe mean Mr. Wilkie; and would indeed form a very delightful companion to\nhis Blind Fiddler. With all our admiration of this last-mentioned\ncomposition, we think the story described by the bishop clearly has the\npoetry on its side.\n\nThe highest authority on art in this country, we understand, has\npronounced that Mr. Wilkie united the excellences of Hogarth to those of\nTeniers. We demur to this decision, in both its branches; but in\ndemurring to authority, it is necessary to give our reasons. We conceive\nthat this excellent and deservedly admired artist has certain essential,\nreal, and indisputable excellences of his own; and we think it,\ntherefore, the less important to clothe him with any vicarious merits,\nwhich do not belong to him.\n\nMr. Wilkie\u2019s pictures, generally speaking, derive almost their whole\nmerit from their _reality_, or the truth of the representation. They are\nworks of pure imitative art, and the test of this style of composition\nis to represent nature, faithfully and happily, in its simplest\ncombinations. It may be said of an artist, like Mr. Wilkie, that\n_nothing human is indifferent to him_. His mind takes an interest in,\nand it gives an interest to, the most familiar scenes and transactions\nof life. He professedly gives character, thought, and passion in their\nlowest degrees, and every-day forms. He selects the commonest events and\nappearances of nature for his subjects; and trusts to their very\ncommonness for the interest and amusement he is to excite. Mr. Wilkie is\na serious, prosaic, literal narrator of facts, and his pictures may be\nconsidered as diaries, or minutes of what is passing constantly about\nus. Hogarth, on the contrary, is essentially a comic painter; his\npictures are not indifferent, unimpassioned descriptions of human\nnature, but rich, exuberant satires upon it. He is carried away by a\npassion for the _ridiculous_. His object is \u2018to shew vice her own\nfeature, scorn her own image.\u2019 He is so far from contenting himself with\nstill life, that he is always on the verge of caricature, though without\never falling into it. He does not represent folly or vice in its\nincipient, or dormant, or _grub_ state, but full grown, with wings,\npampered into all sorts of affectation, airy, ostentatious, and\nextravagant. Folly is there seen at the height\u2014the moon is at the\nfull\u2014it is \u2018the very error of the time.\u2019 There is a perpetual collision\nof eccentricities\u2014a tilt and tournament of absurdities\u2014the prejudices\nand caprices of mankind are let loose, and set together by the ears, as\nin a bear-garden. Hogarth paints nothing but comedy, or tragicomedy.\nWilkie paints neither one nor the other. Hogarth never looks at any\nobject but to find out a moral or a ludicrous effect. Wilkie never looks\nat any object but to see that it is there. Hogarth\u2019s pictures are a\nperfect jest-book from one end to the other. We do not remember a single\njoke in Wilkie\u2019s, except one very bad one of the boy in The Blind\nFiddler, scraping the gridiron, or fire-shovel, we forget which.[26] In\nlooking at Hogarth, you are ready to burst your sides with laughing at\nthe unaccountable jumble of odd things, which are brought together: you\nlook at Wilkie\u2019s pictures with a mingled feeling of curiosity and\nadmiration at the accuracy of the representation. For instance, there is\na most admirable head of a man coughing in The Rent-Day: the action, the\nkeeping, the choaked sensation are inimitable: but there is nothing to\nlaugh at in a man coughing. What strikes the mind is the difficulty of a\nman\u2019s being painted coughing, which here certainly is a master-piece of\nart. But turn to the blackguard cobler in the Election Dinner, who has\nbeen smutting his neighbour\u2019s face over, and who is lolling his tongue\nout at the joke with a most surprising obliquity of vision, and\nimmediately \u2018your lungs begin to crow like chanticleer.\u2019 Again, there is\nthe little boy crying in The Cut Finger, who only gives you the idea of\na cross, disagreeable, obstinate child in pain: whereas the same face in\nHogarth\u2019s Noon, from the ridiculous perplexity it is in, and its\nextravagant, noisy, unfelt distress at the accident of having let fall\nthe pye-dish, is quite irresistible. Mr. Wilkie in his picture of the\nAle-house door, we believe, painted Mr. Liston as one of the figures,\nwithout any great effect. Hogarth would have given any price for such a\nsubject, and would have made it worth any money. We have never seen any\nthing, in the expression of comic humour, equal to Hogarth\u2019s pictures,\nbut Liston\u2019s face!\n\nWe have already remarked that we did not think Hogarth a fit person to\npaint a romantic scene in Wales. In fact, we know no one who had a less\npastoral imagination. Mr. Wilkie paints interiors: but still you always\nconnect them with the country. Hogarth, even when he paints people in\nthe open air, represents them either as coming from London, as in the\npolling for votes at Brentford, or as returning to it, as the dyer and\nhis wife at Bagnigge Wells. In this last picture he has contrived to\nconvert a common rural image into a type and emblem of city cuckoldom.\nHe delights in the thick of St. Giles\u2019s or St. James\u2019s. His pictures\nbreathe a certain close greasy tavern air. The fare he serves up to us\nconsists of high-seasoned dishes, ragouts and olla podridas, like the\nsupper in Gil Blas, which it requires a strong stomach to digest. Mr.\nWilkie presents us with a sort of lenten fare, very good and wholesome,\nbut rather insipid than overpowering.[27]\n\nAs an artist, Mr. Wilkie is not at all equal to Teniers. Neither in\ntruth and brilliant clearness of colouring, nor in facility of\nexecution, is there any comparison. Teniers was a perfect master in both\nthese respects, and our own countryman is positively defective,\nnotwithstanding the very laudable care with which he finishes every part\nof his pictures. There is an evident smear and dragging of the paint,\nwhich is also of a bad purple, or puttyish tone, and which never appear\nin the pictures of the Flemish artist, any more than in a looking-glass.\nTeniers, probably from his facility of execution, succeeded in giving a\nmore local and momentary expression to his figures. They seem each going\non with his particular amusement or occupation; while Wilkie\u2019s have in\ngeneral more a look of sitting for their pictures. Their compositions\nare very different also: and in this respect, perhaps, Mr. Wilkie has\nthe advantage. Teniers\u2019s boors are usually amusing themselves at\nskittles, or dancing, or drinking, or smoking, or doing what they like\nin a careless desultory way; and so the composition is loose and\nirregular. Wilkie\u2019s figures are all drawn up in a regular order, and\nengaged in one principal action, with occasional episodes. The story of\nthe Blind Fiddler is the most interesting, and the best told. The two\nchildren before the musician are delightful. The Card-players is the\nbest coloured of his pictures, if we are not mistaken. The Politicians,\nthough excellent as to character and composition, is inferior as a\npicture to those which Mr. Wilkie has since painted. His latest\npictures, however, do not appear to us to be his best. There is\nsomething of manner and affectation in the grouping of the figures, and\na pink and rosy colour spread over them, which is out of place. The hues\nof Rubens and Sir Joshua do not agree with Mr. Wilkie\u2019s subjects. The\npicture which he has just finished of Distraining for Rent is very\nhighly spoken of by those who have seen it. We must here conclude this\nvery general account; for to point out the particular beauties of any\none of our artist\u2019s pictures, would require a long article by itself.\n\n\n\n\n ON ROCHEFOUCAULT\u2019S MAXIMS.\n\n\n _The Examiner._] [_October 23, 1814._\n\nThe celebrated maxims of Rochefoucault contain a good deal of truth\nmixed up with more falsehood. They might in general be easily reversed.\nThe whole artifice of the author consists in availing himself of the\n_mixed_ nature of motives, so as to detect some indirect or sinister\nbias even in the best, and he then proceeds to argue as if they were\n_simple_, that is, had but one principle, and that principle the worst.\nBy the same extreme mode of reasoning which he adopts, that is, by\ntaking the exception for the rule, it might be shewn that there is no\nsuch thing as selfishness, pride, vanity, revenge, envy, &c. in our\nnature, with quite as much plausibility as he has attempted to shew that\nthere is no such thing as love, friendship, gratitude, generosity, or\ntrue benevolence. If the slightest associated circumstance, or latent\nimpulse connected with our actions, is to be magnified into the whole\nmotive, merely by the microscopic acuteness which discovered it, why not\ncomplete the paradox, by resolving our vices into some pretence to\nvirtue, which almost always accompanies and qualifies them? Or is it to\nbe taken for granted that our vices are sincere, and our virtues only\nhypocrisy and affectation? Shakespeare has given a much simpler and\nbetter account of the matter, when he says, \u2018The web of our life is of a\nmingled yarn: our virtues would be proud, if our faults whipped them\nnot; and our vices would despair, if they were not cherished by our\nvirtues.\u2019 The most favourable representations of human nature are not\ncertainly the most popular. The character of _Sir Charles Grandison_ is\ninsipid compared with that of _Lovelace_, as _Satan_ is the hero of\n_Paradise Lost_; and Mandeville\u2019s _Fable of the Bees_ is read with more\ninterest and avidity than the _Practice of Piety_ or Grove\u2019s _Ethics_.\nWhatever deviates from the plain path of duty, or contradicts received\nopinions, seems to imply a strength of will, or a strength of\nunderstanding, which seizes forcibly on the attention. Whether it is\nfortitude or cowardice, or both, there is a strong propensity in the\nhuman mind, if its suspicions are once raised, _to know the worst_. It\nis the same in speculation as in practice. When once the fairy dream in\nwhich we have lulled our senses or imagination is disturbed, we only\nfeel ourselves secure from the delusions of self-love by distrusting\nappearances altogether, and revenge ourselves for the cheat which we\nthink has been put upon us, by laughing at the credulity of those who\nare still its dupes.[28] Even the very love of virtue makes the mind\nproportionably impatient of every thing like doubt respecting it, and\nprompts us to escape from tormenting suspense in total indifference, as\njealousy cures itself by destroying its object. The _Fable of the Bees_,\nthe _Maxims of Rochefoucault_, the _Treatise on the Falsity of Human\nVirtues_, and the book _De l\u2019Esprit_ have owed much of their popularity\nto the consolation they afforded to disappointed hope. However this may\nbe, a collection of amiable paradoxes on the other side of the question,\nwould have but few readers. There would be less point and satire, though\nthere would not be less truth nor, as far as the analytical process is\nconcerned, less ingenuity, in exalting our bad qualities into virtues,\nthan in debasing our good ones into vices. I will give an example or two\nof what I mean.\n\nThus, it might be argued that there is no such thing as envy: or that\nwhat is called by that name, does not (if strictly examined) arise from\na hatred of real excellence, but from a suspicion that the excellence is\nnot real, or not so great as it is supposed to be, and consequently that\nthe preference given to others is an act of injustice done to ourselves.\nFor whenever all doubt is removed of the reality of the excellence,\neither from our own convictions, or from the concurrent opinion of\nmankind in general, envy ceases. This is the reason why the reputation\nof the dead never excites this passion, because it has been fully\nestablished by the most unequivocal testimony, it has received a\nsanction which fills the imagination and gains the assent at once, and\nthe fame of the great men of past times is placed beyond the reach of\nenvy, because it is placed beyond the reach of doubt. We feel no\nmisgivings as to the solidity of their pretensions, nor any apprehension\nthat our admiration or praise will be thrown away on what does not\ndeserve it. No one envies Shakespeare or Rubens, because no one\nentertains the least doubt of their genius. We are as prodigal of our\nadmiration of universally acknowledged excellence, making a sort of\nreligious idolatry of it, as we are niggardly and cautious in fixing the\nstamp of our approbation on that which may turn out to be only\ncounterfeit. It is not because we are competitors with the living and\nnot with the dead: but because the claims of the one are fully\nestablished, and of the other not. Why else indeed are we competitors\nwith the one and not with the other? Accordingly, where living merit is\nso clear as to bring immediate and entire conviction to the mind, we are\nno longer disposed to stint or withhold our applause, any more than to\ndispute the light of the sun. For instance, who ever felt the least\ndifficulty in acknowledging the merits of Wilkie or Turner, merely\nbecause these artists are now living? If immediate celebrity has not\nalways been the reward of extraordinary genius, this has been owing to\nthe incapacity of the public to judge of the highest works of art. There\nis no want of instances where the popular opinion has outstripped the\nclaims of justice, whenever the merits of the artist were on a level\nwith the common understanding, and of an obvious character. Sir Joshua\nReynolds had his full share of popularity in his lifetime. Raphael Mengs\nwas cried up by his countrymen and contemporaries as equal to Raphael;\nand Mr. West at present stands as high in the estimation of the public\nas he does in his own. On the other hand, and in opposition to what was\nsaid above (though the exception still confirms the rule), the French\nhate Shakespeare and Rubens, for no other reason than because there is\nnothing in their minds which really enables them to understand or relish\neither. The admiration which they hear others express of this great\npainter and greater poet, appears to them a delusion, an instance of\nfalse taste, and a bigoted preference of that which is full of faults to\nthat\u2014_which is without beauties_. The disputes and jealousies of\ndifferent nations respecting each other\u2019s productions, arise chiefly\nfrom this source. We despise French painting, French poetry, and French\nphilosophy, not because they are French, but because they appear to us\nto want the essential requisites of genius, feeling, and common sense.\nWe do not feel any reluctance to admire Titian or Rembrandt, or Phidias\nor Homer, or Boccace or Cervantes, merely because they were not English.\nThey speak the universal language of truth and nature. Our national and\nlocal prejudices for the most part operate only as a barrier against\nnational and local absurdities. To the same purpose, I might mention\nsome modern poets and critics who are actuated by nearly as intolerant\nfeelings towards Pope and Dryden, as if they had been their\ncontemporaries.[29] They are not their cotemporaries, but the\nexplanation is obvious. From the want of congeniality of mind, and a\ntaste for their peculiar excellencies, the space which those writers\noccupy in the eyes of the world seems comparatively disproportionate to\ntheir merits; and hence the irritation and gall which follows. The\nhighest reputation and the highest excellence almost always destroy\nenvy; whereas, on the common supposition, we ought to feel the greatest\nenvy, where there is the greatest superiority, and the greatest\nadmiration of it in others. If we never become entirely free from it in\nmodern works, it is because with respect to them we can never \u2018make\nassurance double sure,\u2019 by having our own feelings confirmed by the\nunited voices of ages and nations. True genius and true fame seize our\nadmiration, and our admiration, when once excited, becomes a passion,\nand we take a delight in exaggerating the excellences of our idol as if\nthey were our own. On the contrary, we all envy that reputation which is\nacquired by trick or cunning, or by mere shewy accomplishments, as when\nwith moderate talents, dexterously applied, or an appeal to ignorant\ncredulity, a man \u2018gets the start of the majestic world,\u2019 and obtains the\nhighest character for qualities which he does not possess. It becomes an\nimposture and an insult, which we resent as such.\n\nThe jealousy and uneasiness produced in the mind by a pedantic or\ndazzling display of useless accomplishments may be traced to a similar\nsource. Hence the old objection, _materiam superabat opus_. True warmth\nand vigour communicate warmth and vigour: and we are no longer inclined\nto dispute the inspiration of the oracle, when we feel the \u2018presens\nDivus\u2019 in our own bosoms. But when without gaining any new light or\nheat, we only find our ideas thrown into confusion and perplexity by an\nart that we cannot comprehend, this is a kind of superiority which must\nalways be painful, and can never be cordially admitted. It is for this\nreason that the extraordinary talents of the late Mr. Pitt were always\nviewed, except by those of his own party, with a sort of jealousy, and\ngrudgingly acknowledged: while those of his more popular rivals were\nadmitted by all parties in the most unreserved manner, and carried by\nacclamation. Mr. Burke was scouted only by the common herd of\npoliticians, who did not understand him. So on the stage, we imagine\nMrs. Siddons could hardly have excited envy or jealousy in the breast of\nany person, not totally devoid of common sensibility: because her\ntalents bore down all opposition, and filled the mind at once with\ndelight and awe. Mr. Kean has a strong and most absurd party against\nhim: but we will venture to say that if his figure, or his voice, or his\njudgment, were better, that is, if he had fewer defects, he would have\nfewer detractors from his excellencies. Any peculiar defects excite\nridicule and enmity by bringing the whole claim to our applause into\nquestion. A perfect actor would not be an object of envy even to some\nnewspaper critics. Perfect beauty excites this feeling less among women\nthan half pretensions to it. In the same manner, upstart wealth or newly\nacquired honours produce contempt rather than respect, from not being\naccompanied with any strong or permanent associations of pleasure or\npower. There is nothing more apt to occasion the feeling of envy than\nthe sudden and unexpected rise of persons we have long known under\ndifferent circumstances, not from the immediate comparison with\nourselves (the extravagant admiration of each other\u2019s talents among\nfriends is an answer to this supposition) so much as from the disbelief\nof the reality of their pretensions, and our inability to overcome our\nprevious prejudice against them. It is the same where striking mental\ninequalities exist, or where the moral properties render us averse to\nacknowledge merit of a different kind, or where the countenance or\nmanner does not denote genius. Every such incongruity increases the\ndifficulty of connecting hearty admiration with ideas so opposite to it.\nI have known artists whose physiognomy was so much against them, that no\none would ever think highly of them, though they were to paint like\nRaphael; and I once heard a very sensible man say, that if Sir Isaac\nNewton had lisped, he could not have fancied him to be a great man. I\nmyself have felt a jealousy of pretensions which I thought inferior to\nmy own, but I never knew what envy of great talents was. I do not indeed\nlike to be put down by persons I despise, or to seem to myself less than\nnothing. In a word, we feel the same jealousy and irritation at seeing\nothers surpassed, whom we have been accustomed to admire; and what is\nmore, grow jealous of our own approximation to an equality with them.\nEvery ingenuous mind shrinks from a comparison of itself, with what it\nlooks up to, and is ashamed of any advantage it may gain over those whom\nit regards as having higher powers and pretensions. The idea of fame is\ntoo pure and sacred to be mingled with our own. Our admiration of others\nis stronger than our vanity. Poor indeed is that mind which has no other\nidol but self. It is the want of all real imagination and enthusiasm, or\nthat little glittering halo of personal conceit which surrounds every\nFrenchman, and does not suffer him to see or feel any thing beyond it,\nthat makes the French perhaps the most contemptible people in the world.\n\n\n\n\n ON THE PREDOMINANT PRINCIPLES AND EXCITEMENTS IN THE HUMAN MIND\n\n\n \u2018The web of our lives is of a mingled yarn.\u2019\n\n _The Examiner._] [_February 26, 1815._\n\n\u2018Anthony Codrus Urceus, a most learned and unfortunate Italian, born\n1446, was a striking instance\u2019 (says his biographer) \u2018of the miseries\nmen bring upon themselves by setting their affections unreasonably on\ntrifles. This learned man lived at Forli, and had an apartment in the\npalace. His room was so very dark, that he was forced to use a candle in\nthe day time; and one day, going abroad without putting it out, his\nlibrary was set on fire, and some papers which he had prepared for the\npress were burned. The instant he was informed of this ill news, he was\naffected even to madness. He ran furiously to the palace, and, stopping\nat the door of his apartment, he cried aloud, \u201cChrist Jesus! what mighty\ncrime have I committed? whom of your followers have I ever injured, that\nyou thus rage with inexpiable hatred against me?\u201d Then turning himself\nto an image of the Virgin Mary near at hand, \u201cVirgin\u201d (says he) \u201chear\nwhat I have to say, for I speak in earnest, and with a composed spirit.\nIf I shall happen to address you in my dying moments, I humbly entreat\nyou not to hear me, nor receive me into heaven, for I am determined to\nspend all eternity in hell.\u201d Those who heard these blasphemous\nexpressions endeavoured to comfort him, but all to no purpose; for, the\nsociety of mankind being no longer supportable to him, he left the city,\nand retired, like a savage, to the deep solitude of a wood. Some say he\nwas murdered there by ruffians; others that he died at Bologna, in 1500,\nafter much contrition and penitence.\u2019\n\nAlmost every one may here read the history of his own life. There is\nscarcely a moment in which we are not in some degree guilty of the same\nkind of absurdity, which was here carried to such a singular excess. We\nwaste our regrets on what cannot be recalled, or fix our desires on what\nwe know cannot be attained. Every hour is the slave of the last; and we\nare seldom masters either of our thoughts or of our actions. We are the\ncreatures of imagination, passion, and self-will, more than of reason or\neven of self-interest. Rousseau, in his Emilius, proposed to educate a\nperfectly reasonable man, who was to have passions and affections like\nother men, but with an absolute control over them. He was to love and to\nbe wise. This is a contradiction in terms. Even in the common\ntransactions and daily intercourse of life, we are governed by whim,\ncaprice, prejudice, or accident. The falling of a tea-cup puts us out of\ntemper for the day; and a quarrel that commenced about the pattern of a\ngown may end only with our lives.\n\n \u2018Friends now fast sworn,\n On a dissension of a doit, break out\n To bitterest enmity. So fellest foes,\n Whose passions and whose plots have broke their sleep,\n To take the one the other, by some chance\n Some trick not worth an egg, shall grow dear friends,\n And interjoin their issues.\u2019\n\nWe are little better than humoured children to the last, and play a\nmischievous game at cross-purposes with our own happiness and that of\nothers.\n\nWe have given the above story as a striking contradiction to the\nprevailing doctrine of modern systems of morals and metaphysics, that\nman is purely a sensual and selfish animal, governed solely by a regard\neither to his immediate gratification or future interest. This doctrine\nwe mean to oppose with all our might, whenever we meet with it. We are,\nhowever, less disposed to quarrel with it, as it is opposed to reason\nand philosophy, than as it interferes with common sense and observation.\nIf the absurdity in question had been confined to the schools, we should\nnot have gone out of our way to meddle with it: but it has got abroad in\nthe world, has crept into ladies\u2019 toilettes, is entered in the\ncommon-place of beaux, is in the mouth of the learned and ignorant, and\nforms a part of popular opinion. It is perpetually applied as a false\nmeasure to the characters and conduct of men in the common affairs of\nthe world, and it is therefore our business to rectify it if we can. In\nfact, whoever sets out on the idea of reducing all our motives and\nactions to a simple principle, must either take a very narrow and\nsuperficial view of human nature, or make a very perverse use of his\nunderstanding in reasoning on what he sees. The frame of our minds, like\nthat of our bodies, is exceedingly complicated. Besides mere sensibility\nto pleasure and pain, there are other original independent principles,\nnecessarily interwoven with the nature of man as an active and\nintelligent being, and which, blended together in different proportions,\ngive their form and colour to our lives. Without some other essential\nfaculties, such as will, imagination, &c., to give effect and direction\nto our physical sensibility, this faculty could be of no possible use or\ninfluence; and with those other faculties joined to it, this pretended\ninstinct of self-love will be subject to be everlastingly modified and\ncontrolled by those faculties, both in what regards our own good and\nthat of others; that is, must itself become in a great measure dependent\non the very instruments it uses. The two most predominant principles in\nthe mind, besides sensibility and self-interest, are imagination and\nself-will, or (in general) the love of strong excitement, both in\nthought and action. To these sources may be traced the various passions,\npursuits, habits, affections, follies and caprices, virtues and vices of\nmankind. We shall confine ourselves in the present article, to give some\naccount of the influence exercised by the imagination over the feelings.\nTo an intellectual being, it cannot be altogether arbitrary what ideas\nit shall have, whether pleasurable or painful. Our ideas do not\noriginate in our love of pleasure, and they cannot therefore depend\nabsolutely upon it. They have another principle. If the imagination were\n\u2018the servile slave\u2019 of our self-love, if our ideas were emanations of\nour sensitive nature, encouraged if agreeable, and excluded the instant\nthey became otherwise, or encroached on the former principle, then there\nmight be a tolerable pretence for the Epicurean philosophy which is here\nspoken of. But for any such entire and mechanical subserviency of the\noperations of the one principle to the dictates of the other, there is\nnot the slightest foundation in reality. The attention which the mind\ngives to its ideas is not always owing to the gratification derived from\nthem, but to the strength and truth of the impressions themselves,\n_i.e._ to their involuntary power over the mind. This observation will\naccount for a very general principle in the mind, which cannot, we\nconceive, be satisfactorily explained in any other way, we mean _the\npower of fascination_. Every one has heard the story of the girl who\nbeing left alone by her companions, in order to frighten her, in a room\nwith a dead body, at first attempted to get out, and shrieked violently\nfor assistance, but finding herself shut in, ran and embraced the\ncorpse, and was found senseless in its arms.\n\nIt is said that in such cases there is a desperate effort made to get\nrid of the dread by converting it into the reality. There may be some\ntruth in this account, but we do not think it contains the whole truth.\nThe event produced in the present instance does not bear out the\nconclusion. The progress of the passion does not seem to have been that\nof diminishing or removing the terror by coming in contact with the\nobject, but of carrying this terror to its height from an intense and\nirresistible impulse, overcoming every other feeling.\n\nIt is a well-known fact that few persons can stand safely on the edge of\na precipice, or walk along the parapet wall of a house, without being in\ndanger of throwing themselves down; not we presume from a principle of\nself-preservation; but in consequence of a strong idea having taken\npossession of the mind, from which it cannot well escape, which absorbs\nevery other consideration, and confounds and overrules all self-regards.\nThe impulse cannot in this case be resolved into a desire to remove the\nuneasiness of fear, for the only danger arises from the fear. We have\nbeen told by a person, not at all given to exaggeration, that he once\nfelt a strong propensity to throw himself into a cauldron of boiling\nlead, into which he was looking. These are what Shakespear calls \u2018the\ntoys of desperation.\u2019 People sometimes marry, and even fall in love on\nthis principle\u2014that is, through mere apprehension, or what is called a\nfatality. In like manner, we find instances of persons who are as it\nwere naturally delighted with whatever is disagreeable,\u2014who catch all\nsorts of unbecoming tones and gestures,\u2014who always say what they should\nnot, and what they do not mean to say,\u2014in whom intemperance of\nimagination and incontinence of tongue are a disease, and who are\ngoverned by an almost infallible instinct of absurdity.\n\nThe love of imitation has the same general source. We dispute for ever\nabout Hogarth, and the question can never be decided according to the\ncommon ideas on the subject of taste. His pictures appeal to the love of\ntruth, not to the sense of beauty; but the one is as much an essential\nprinciple of our nature as the other. They fill up the void of the mind;\nthey present an everlasting succession and variety of ideas. There is a\nfine observation somewhere made by Aristotle, that the mind has a\nnatural appetite of curiosity or desire to know; and \u2018most of that\nknowledge which comes in by the eye, for this presents us with the\ngreatest variety of differences.\u2019 Hogarth is relished only by persons of\na certain strength of mind and penetration into character; for the\nsubjects in themselves are not pleasing, and this objection is only\nredeemed by the exercise and activity which they give to the\nunderstanding. The great difference between what is meant by a severe\nand an effeminate taste or style, depends on the distinction here made.\n\nOur teasing ourselves to recollect the names of places or persons we\nhave forgotten, the love of riddles and of abstruse philosophy, are all\nillustrations of the same general principle of curiosity, or the love of\nintellectual excitement. Again, our impatience to be delivered of a\nsecret that we know; the necessity which lovers have for confidants,\nauricular confession, and the declarations so commonly made by criminals\nof their guilt, are effects of the involuntary power exerted by the\nimagination over the feelings. Nothing can be more untrue, than that the\nwhole course of our ideas, passions, and pursuits, is regulated by a\nregard to self-interest. Our attachment to certain objects is much\noftener in proportion to the strength of the impression they make on us,\nto their power of rivetting and fixing the attention, than to the\ngratification we derive from them. We are perhaps more apt to dwell upon\ncircumstances that excite disgust and shock our feelings, than on those\nof an agreeable nature. This, at least, is the case where this\ndisposition is particularly strong, as in people of nervous feelings and\nmorbid habits of thinking. Thus the mind is often haunted with painful\nimages and recollections, from the hold they have taken of the\nimagination. We cannot shake them off, though we strive to do it: nay,\nwe even court their company; we will not part with them out of our\npresence; we strain our aching sight after them; we anxiously recal\nevery feature, and contemplate them in all their aggravated colours.\nThere are a thousand passions and fancies that thwart our purposes and\ndisturb our repose. Grief and fear are almost as welcome inmates of the\nbreast as hope or joy, and more obstinately cherished. We return to the\nobjects which have excited them, we brood over them, they become almost\ninseparable from the mind, necessary to it; they assimilate all objects\nto the gloom of our own thoughts, and make the will a party against\nitself. This is one chief source of most of the passions that prey like\nvultures on the heart, and embitter human life. We hear moralists and\ndivines perpetually exclaiming, with mingled indignation and surprise,\nat the folly of mankind in obstinately persisting in these tormenting\nand violent passions, such as envy, revenge, sullenness, despair, &c.\nThis is to them a mystery; and it will always remain an inexplicable\none, while the love of happiness is considered as the only spring of\nhuman conduct and desires.\n\nWe shall resume this subject in a future paper.[30]\n\n\n\n\n THE LOVE OF POWER OR ACTION AS MAIN A PRINCIPLE IN THE HUMAN MIND AS\n SENSIBILITY TO PLEASURE OR PAIN\n\n\n _The Examiner._] [_April 9, 1815._\n\nThe love of power or action is another independent principle of the\nhuman mind, in the different degrees in which it exists, and which are\nnot by any means in exact proportion to its physical sensibility. It\nseems evidently absurd to suppose that sensibility to pleasure or pain\nis the only principle of action. It is almost too obvious to remark,\nthat sensibility alone, without an active principle in the mind, could\nnever produce action. The soul might lie dissolved in pleasure, or be\nagonised with woe; but the impulses of feeling, in order to excite\npassion, desire, or will, must be first communicated to some other\nfaculty. There must be a principle, a fund of activity somewhere, by and\nthrough which our sensibility operates; and that this active principle\nowes all its force, its precise degree and direction, to the sensitive\nfaculty, is neither self-evident nor true. Strength of will is not\nalways nor generally in proportion to strength of feeling. There are\ndifferent degrees of activity as of sensibility in the mind; and our\npassions, characters, and pursuits, often depend no less upon the one\nthan on the other. We continually make a distinction in common discourse\nbetween sensibility and irritability, between passion and feeling,\nbetween the nerves and muscles; and we find that the most voluptuous\npeople are in general the most indolent. Every one who has looked\nclosely into human nature must have observed persons who are naturally\nand habitually restless in the extreme, but without any extraordinary\nsusceptibility to pleasure or pain, always making or finding excuses to\ndo something,\u2014whose actions constantly outrun the occasion, and who are\neager in the pursuit of the greatest trifles,\u2014whose impatience of the\nsmallest repose keeps them always employed about nothing,\u2014and whose\nwhole lives are a continued work of supererogation. There are others\nagain who seem born to act from a spirit of contradiction only, that is,\nwho are ready to act not only without a reason, but against it,\u2014who are\never at cross-purposes with themselves and others,\u2014who are not satisfied\nunless they are doing two opposite things at a time,\u2014who contradict what\nyou say, and if you assent to them, contradict what they have said,\u2014who\nregularly leave the pursuit in which they are successful to engage in\nsome other in which they have no chance of success,\u2014who make a point of\nencountering difficulties and aiming at impossibilities, that there may\nbe no end of their exhaustless task: while there is a third class whose\n_vis inerti\u00e6_ scarcely any motives can overcome,\u2014who are devoured by\ntheir feelings, and the slaves of their passions, but who can take no\npains and use no means to gratify them,\u2014who, if roused to action by any\nunforeseen accident, require a continued stimulus to urge them on,\u2014who\nfluctuate between desire and want of resolution,\u2014whose brightest\nprojects burst like a bubble as soon as formed,\u2014who yield to every\nobstacle,\u2014who almost sink under the weight of the atmosphere,\u2014who cannot\nbrush aside a cobweb in their path, and are stopped by an insect\u2019s wing.\nIndolence is want of will\u2014the absence or defect of the active\nprinciple\u2014a repugnance to motion; and whoever has been much tormented\nwith this passion, must, we are sure, have felt that the inclination to\nindulge it is something very distinct from the love of pleasure or\nactual enjoyment. Ambition is the reverse of indolence, and is the love\nof power or action in great things. Avarice, also, as it relates to the\nacquisition of riches, is, in a great measure, an active and\nenterprising feeling; nor does the hoarding of wealth, after it is\nacquired, seem to have much connection with the love of pleasure. What\nis called niggardliness, very often, we are convinced from particular\ninstances that we have known, arises less from a selfish principle than\nfrom a love of contrivance, from the study of economy as an art, for\nwant of a better, from a pride in making the most of a little, and in\nnot exceeding a certain expense previously determined upon; all which is\nwilfulness, and is perfectly consistent, as it is frequently found\nunited, with the most lavish expenditure and the utmost disregard for\nmoney on other occasions. A miser may in general be looked upon as a\nparticular species of _virtuoso_. The constant desire in the rich to\nleave wealth in large masses, by aggrandising some branch of their\nfamilies, or sometimes in such a manner as to accumulate for centuries,\nshews that the imagination has a considerable share in this passion.\nIntemperance, debauchery, gluttony, and other vices of that kind, may be\nattributed to an excess of sensuality or gross sensibility; though even\nhere, we think it evident that habits of intoxication are produced quite\nas much by the strength as by the agreeableness of the excitement; and\nwith respect to some other vicious habits, curiosity makes many more\nvotaries than inclination. The love of truth, when it predominates,\nproduces inquisitive characters, the whole tribe of gossips,\ntale-bearers, harmless busy bodies, your blunt honest creatures, who\nnever conceal what they think, and who are the more sure to tell it you\nthe less you want to hear it,\u2014and now and then a philosopher.\n\nOur passions in general are to be traced more immediately to the active\npart of our nature, to the love of power, or to strength of will. Such\nare all those which arise out of the difficulty of accomplishment, which\nbecome more intense from the efforts made to attain the object, and\nwhich derive their strength from opposition. Mr. Hobbes says well on\nthis subject:\n\n\u2018But for an utmost end, in which the ancient philosophers placed\nfelicity, and disputed much concerning the way thereto, there is no such\nthing in this world nor way to it, than to Utopia; for while we live, we\nhave desires, and desire presupposeth a further end. Seeing all delight\nis appetite, and desire of something further, there can be no\ncontentment but in proceeding, and therefore we are not to marvel, when\nwe see that as men attain to more riches, honour, or other power, so\ntheir appetite continually groweth more and more; and when they are come\nto the utmost degree of some kind of power, they pursue some other, as\nlong as in any kind they think themselves behind any other. Of those\ntherefore that have attained the highest degree of honour and riches,\nsome have affected mastery in some art, as Nero in music and poetry,\nCommodus in the art of a gladiator; and such as affect not some such\nthing, must find diversion and recreation of their thoughts in the\ncontention either of play or business, and men justly complain as of a\ngreat grief that they know not what to do. Felicity, therefore, by which\nwe mean continual delight, consists not in having prospered, but in\nprospering.\u2019\n\nThis account of human nature, true as it is, would be a mere romance, if\nphysical sensibility were the only faculty essential to man, that is, if\nwe were the slaves of voluptuous indolence. But our desires are kindled\nby their own heat, the will is urged on by a restless impulse, and,\nwithout action, enjoyment becomes insipid. The passions of men are not\nin proportion only to their sensibility, or to the desirableness of the\nobject, but to the violence and irritability of their tempers, and the\nobstacles to their success. Thus an object, to which we were almost\nindifferent while we thought it in our power, often excites the most\nardent pursuit or the most painful regret, as soon as it is placed out\nof our reach. How eloquently is the contradiction between our desires\nand our success described in Don Quixote where it is said of the lover,\nthat \u2018he courted a statue, hunted the wind, cried aloud to the desert!\u2019\n\nThe necessity of action to the mind, and the keen edge it gives to our\ndesires, is shewn in the different value we set on past and future\nobjects. It is commonly and we might almost say universally supposed,\nthat there is an essential difference in the two cases. In this\ninstance, however, the strength of our passions has converted an evident\nabsurdity into one of the most inveterate prejudices of the human mind.\nThat the future is really or in itself of more consequence than the\npast, is what we can neither assent to nor even conceive. It is true,\nthe past has ceased to be and is no longer any thing, except to the\nmind; but the future is still to come, and has an existence in the mind\nonly. The one is at an end, the other has not even had a beginning; both\nare purely ideal: so that this argument would prove that the present\nonly is of any real value, and that both past and future objects are\nequally indifferent, alike nothing. Indeed, the future is, if possible,\nmore imaginary than the past; for the past may in some sense be said to\nexist in its consequences; it acts still; it is present to us in its\neffects; the mouldering ruins and broken fragments still remain; but of\nthe future there is no trace. What a blank does the history of the world\nfor the next six thousand years, present to the mind, compared with that\nof the last! All that strikes the imagination, or excites any interest\nin the mighty scene, is _what has been_. Neither in reality, then, nor\nas a subject of general contemplation, has the future any advantage over\nthe past; but with respect to our own passions and pursuits it has. We\nregret the pleasures we have enjoyed, and eagerly anticipate those which\nare to come; we dwell with satisfaction on the evils from which we have\nescaped, and dread future pain. The good that is past is like money that\nis spent, which is of no use, and about which we give ourselves no\nfarther concern. The good we expect is like a store yet untouched, in\nthe enjoyment of which we promise ourselves infinite gratification. What\nhas happened to us we think of no consequence,\u2014what is to happen to us,\nof the greatest. Why so? Because the one is in our power, and the other\nnot; because the efforts of the will to bring an object to pass or to\navert it strengthen our attachment to or our aversion from that object;\nbecause the habitual pursuit of any purpose redoubles the ardour of our\npursuit, and converts the speculative and indolent interest we should\notherwise take in it into real passion. Our regrets, anxiety, and\nwishes, are thrown away upon the past, but we encourage our disposition\nto exaggerate the importance of the future, as of the utmost use in\naiding our resolutions and stimulating our exertions.\n\nIt in some measure confirms this theory, that men attach more or less\nimportance to past and future events, according as they are more or less\nengaged in action and the busy scenes of life. Those who have a fortune\nto make, or are in pursuit of rank and power, are regardless of the\npast, for it does not contribute to their views: those who have nothing\nto do but to think, take nearly the same interest in the past as in the\nfuture. The contemplation of the one is as delightful and real as of the\nother. The season of hope comes to an end, but the remembrance of it is\nleft. The past still lives in the memory of those who have leisure to\nlook back upon the way that they have trod, and can from it \u2018catch\nglimpses that may make them less forlorn.\u2019 The turbulence of action and\nuneasiness of desire _must_ dwell upon the future; it is only amidst the\ninnocence of shepherds, in the simplicity of the pastoral ages, that a\ntomb was found with this inscription\u2014\u2018I ALSO WAS AN ARCADIAN!\u2019\n\nWe feel that some apology is necessary for having thus plunged our\nreaders all at once into the middle of metaphysics. If it should be\nasked what use such studies are of, we might answer with Hume, _perhaps\nof none, except that there are certain persons who find more\nentertainment in them than in any other_. An account of this matter,\nwith which we were amused ourselves, and which may therefore amuse\nothers, we met with some time ago in a metaphysical allegory, which\nbegins in this manner:\u2014\n\n\u2018In the depth of a forest, in the kingdom of Indostan, lived a monkey,\nwho, before his last step of transmigration, had occupied a human\ntenement. He had been a Bramin, skilful in theology, and in all abstruse\nlearning. He was wont to hold in admiration the ways of Nature, and\ndelighted to penetrate the mysteries in which she was enrobed; but in\npursuing the footsteps of philosophy, he wandered too far from the abode\nof the social Virtues. In order to pursue his studies, he had retired to\na cave on the banks of the Jumna. There he forgot society, and neglected\nablution; and therefore his soul was degraded to a condition below\nhumanity. So inveterate were the habits which he had contracted in his\nhuman state, that his spirit was still influenced by his passion for\nabstruse study. He sojourned in this wood from youth to age, regardless\nof everything, _save cocoa-nuts and metaphysics_.\u2019 For our own part, we\nshould be content to pass our time much in the same way as this learned\nsavage, if we could only find a substitute for his cocoa-nuts! We do not\nhowever wish to recommend the same pursuit to others, nor to dissuade\nthem from it. It has its pleasures and its pains\u2014its successes and its\ndisappointments. It is neither quite so sublime nor quite so\nuninteresting as it is sometimes represented. The worst is, that much\nthought on difficult subjects tends, after a certain time, to destroy\nthe natural gaiety and dancing of the spirits; it deadens the elastic\nforce of the mind, weighs upon the heart, and makes us insensible to the\ncommon enjoyments and pursuits of life.\n\n \u2018Sithence no fairy lights, no quick\u2019ning ray,\n Nor stir of pulse, nor objects to entice\n Abroad the spirits; but the cloyster\u2019d heart\n Sits squat at home, like pagod in a niche\n Obscure.\u2019\n\nMetaphysical reasoning is also one branch of the tree of the knowledge\nof good and evil. The study of man, however, does, perhaps, less harm\nthan a knowledge of the world, though it must be owned that the\npractical knowledge of vice and misery makes a stronger impression on\nthe mind, when it has imbibed a habit of abstract reasoning. Evil thus\nbecomes embodied in a general principle, and shews its harpy form in all\nthings. It is a fatal, inevitable necessity hanging over us. It follows\nus wherever we go: if we fly into the uttermost parts of the earth, it\nis there: whether we turn to the right or the left, we cannot escape\nfrom it. This, it is true, is the disease of philosophy; but it is one\nto which it is liable in minds of a certain cast, after the first order\nof expectation has been disabused by experience, and the finer feelings\nhave received an irrecoverable shock from the jarring of the world.\n\nHappy are they who live in the dream of their own existence, and see all\nthings in the light of their own minds; who walk by faith and hope; to\nwhom the guiding star of their youth still shines from afar, and into\nwhom the spirit of the world has not entered! They have not been \u2018hurt\nby the archers,\u2019 nor has the iron entered their souls. They live in the\nmidst of arrows and of death, unconscious of harm. The evil things come\nnot nigh them. The shafts of ridicule pass unheeded by, and malice loses\nits sting. The example of vice does not rankle in their breasts, like\nthe poisoned shirt of Nessus. Evil impressions fall off from them like\ndrops of water. The yoke of life is to them light and supportable. The\nworld has no hold on them. They are in it, not of it; and a dream and a\nglory is ever around them!\n\n\n\n\n ESSAY ON MANNERS\n\n\n _The Examiner._] [_September 3, 1815._\n\nNothing can frequently be more striking than the difference of style or\nmanner, where the _matter_ remains the same, as in paraphrases and\ntranslations. The most remarkable example which occurs to us is in the\nbeginning of the _Flower and Leaf_ by Chaucer, and in the modernisation\nof the same passage by Dryden. We shall give an extract from both, that\nthe reader may judge for himself. The original runs thus:\u2014\n\n \u2018And I that all this pleasaunt sight see,\n Thought sodainly I felte so sweet an aire\n Of the elgentere, that certainely\n There is no herte I deme, in such dispaire,\n Ne with thoughts froward and contraire\n So overlaid, but it should soone have bote,\n If it had ones felt this savour sote.\n\n And as I stood and cast aside mine eie,\n I was of ware the fairest medler tree,\n That ever yet in all my life I see,\n As full of blossomes as it might be,\n Therein a goldfinch leaping pretile\n Fro bough to bough, and as him list he eet,\n Here and there of buds and floures sweet.\n\n And to the herber side was joyning\n This faire tree of which I have you told;\n And at the last the bird began to sing,\n When he had eaten what he eat wold,\n So passing sweetly, that by manifold\n It was more pleasaunt than I could devise;\n And when his song was ended in this wise,\n\n The nightingale with so mery a note\n Answered him, that all the wood rang\n So sodainly, that as it were a sote,\n I stood astonied, so was I with the sang\n Thorow ravished, that till late and lang,\n I ne wist in what place I was, ne where,\n And aye me thought she sang even by mine ear.\n\n Wherefore I waited about busily\n On every side, if I her might see,\n And at the last I gan full well espie\n Where she sat in a fresh green laurer tree,\n On the further side even right by me,\n That gave so passing a delicious smell,\n According to the eglentere full well.\n\n Whereof I had so inly great pleasure;\n That as me thought I surely ravished was\n Into Paradise, where my desire\n Was for to be and no further to passe,\n As for that day, and on the sote grasse\n I sat me downe, for as for mine intent,\n The birdes song was more convenient,\n\n And more pleasaunt to me by manifold,\n Than meat or drinke, or any other thing,\n Thereto the herber was so fresh and cold,\n The wholesome savours eke so comforting,\n That as I deemed, sith the beginning\n Of the world was never seene or then\n So pleasaunt a ground of none earthly man.\n\n And as I sat, the birdes harkening thus,\n Me thought that I heard voices sodainly,\n The most sweetest and most delicious\n That ever any wight I trow truly\n Heard in their life; for the harmony\n And sweet accord was in so good musike,\n That the voices to angels most was like.\u2019\n\nIn this passage the poet has let loose the very soul of pleasure. There\nis a spirit of enjoyment in it, of which there seems no end. It is the\nintense delight which accompanies the description of every object, the\nfund of natural sensibility it displays, which constitutes its whole\nessence and beauty. Now this is shewn chiefly in the manner in which the\ndifferent objects are anticipated, and the eager welcome which is given\nto them; in his repeating and varying the circumstances with a restless\ndelight; in his quitting the subject for a moment, and then returning to\nit again, as if he could never have his fill of enjoyment. There is\nlittle of this in Dryden\u2019s paraphrase. The same ideas are introduced,\nbut not in the same manner, nor with the same spirit. The imagination of\nthe poet is not borne along with the tide of pleasure\u2014the verse is not\npoured out, like the natural strains it describes, from pure delight,\nbut according to rule and measure. Instead of being absorbed in his\nsubject, he is dissatisfied with it, tries to give an air of dignity to\nit by factitious ornaments, to amuse the reader by ingenious allusions,\nand divert his attention from the progress of the story by the artifices\nof the style.\n\n \u2018The painted birds, companions of the spring,\n Hopping from spray to spray, were heard to sing;\n Both eyes and ears received a like delight,\n Enchanting music, and a charming sight:\n On Philomel I fixed my whole desire,\n And listen\u2019d for the queen of all the quire:\n Fain would I hear her heavenly voice to sing,\n And wanted yet an omen to the spring.\n Thus as I mus\u2019d, I cast aside my eye\n And saw a medlar tree was planted nigh:\n The spreading branches made a goodly show,\n And full of opening blooms was every bough:\n A goldfinch there I saw with gaudy pride\n Of painted plumes, that hopp\u2019d from side to side,\n Still pecking as she pass\u2019d; and still she drew\n The sweets from every flow\u2019r, and suck\u2019d the dew;\n Suffic\u2019d at length, she warbled in her throat,\n And tun\u2019d her voice to many a merry note,\n But indistinct, and neither sweet nor clear,\n Yet such as sooth\u2019d my soul, and pleas\u2019d my ear.\n Her short performance was no sooner tried,\n When she I sought, the nightingale, replied:\n So sweet, so shrill, so variously she sung,\n That the grove echo\u2019d, and the vallies rung:\n And I so ravish\u2019d with her heavenly note,\n I stood entranc\u2019d, and had no room for thought;\n But all o\u2019erpower\u2019d with ecstasy of bliss,\n Was in a pleasing dream of paradise:\n At length I wak\u2019d; and looking round the bower,\n Search\u2019d every tree, and pry\u2019d on every flower,\n If any where by chance I might espy\n The rural poet of the melody:\n For still methought she sung not far away;\n At last I found her on a laurel spray.\n Close by my side she sat, and fair in sight,\n Full in a line, against her opposite;\n Where stood with eglantine the laurel twin\u2019d;\n And both their native sweets were well conjoin\u2019d.\n On the green bank I sat, and listen\u2019d long;\n (Sitting was more convenient for the song)\n Nor till her lay was ended could I move,\n But wish\u2019d to dwell for ever in the grove.\n Only methought the time too swiftly pass\u2019d,\n And every note I fear\u2019d would be the last.\n My sight, and smell, and hearing were employ\u2019d,\n And all three senses in full gust enjoy\u2019d.\n And what alone did all the rest surpass\n The sweet possession of the fairy place;\n Single, and conscious to myself alone\n Of pleasures to th\u2019 excluded world unknown:\n Pleasures which no where else were to be found,\n And all Elysium in a spot of ground.\n Thus while I sat intent to see and hear,\n And drew perfumes of more than vital air,\n All suddenly I heard the approaching sound\n Of vocal music, on th\u2019 enchanted ground:\n An host of saints it seem\u2019d, so full the quire,\n As if the blest above did all conspire\n To join their voices, and neglect the lyre.\u2019\n\nCompared with Chaucer, Dryden and the rest of that school were merely\n_verbal poets_. They had a great deal of wit, sense and fancy; they only\nwanted truth and depth of feeling. But we shall have to say more on this\nsubject, when we come to consider the old question which we have got\nmarked down in our list, whether Pope was a poet?\n\nTo return to the subject of our last Number, Lord Chesterfield\u2019s\ncharacter of the Duke of Marlborough is a good illustration of his\ngeneral theory. He says:\u2014\u2018Of all the men I ever knew in my life (and I\nknew him extremely well) the late Duke of Marlborough possessed the\ngraces in the highest degree, not to say engrossed them; for I will\nventure (contrary to the custom of profound historians, who always\nassign deep causes for great events) to ascribe the better half of the\nDuke of Marlborough\u2019s greatness and riches to those graces. He was\neminently illiterate: wrote bad English, and spelt it worse. He had no\nshare of what is commonly called parts; that is, no brightness, nothing\nshining in his genius. He had most undoubtedly an excellent good plain\nunderstanding with sound judgment. But these alone would probably have\nraised him but something higher than they found him, which was page to\nKing James II.\u2019s Queen. There the graces protected and promoted him; for\nwhile he was Ensign of the Guards, the Duchess of Cleveland, then\nfavourite mistress of Charles II., struck by these very graces, gave him\nfive thousand pounds; with which he immediately bought an annuity of\nfive hundred pounds a year, which was the foundation of his subsequent\nfortune. His figure was beautiful, but his manner was irresistible by\neither man or woman. It was by this engaging, graceful manner, that he\nwas enabled during all his wars to connect the various and jarring\npowers of the grand alliance, and to carry them on to the main object of\nthe war, notwithstanding their private and separate views, jealousies,\nand wrong headedness. Whatever court he went to (and he was often\nobliged to go himself to some resty and refractory ones) he as\nconstantly prevailed, and brought them into his measures.\u2019[31]\n\nGrace in woman has often more effect than beauty. We sometimes see a\ncertain fine self-possession, an habitual voluptuousness of character,\nwhich reposes on its own sensations, and derives pleasure from all\naround it, that is more irresistible than any other attraction. There is\nan air of languid enjoyment in such persons, \u2018in their eyes, in their\narms, and their hands, and their face,\u2019 which robs us of ourselves, and\ndraws us by a secret sympathy towards them. Their minds are a shrine\nwhere pleasure reposes. Their smile diffuses a sensation like the breath\nof spring. Petrarch\u2019s description of Laura answers exactly to this\ncharacter, which is indeed the Italian character. Titian\u2019s pictures are\nfull of it: they seem sustained by sentiment, or as if the persons whom\nhe painted sat to music. There is one in the Louvre (or there was) which\nhad the most of this expression, we ever remember. It did not look\ndownward; \u2018it looked forward, beyond this world.\u2019 It was a look that\nnever passed away, but remained unalterable as the deep sentiment which\ngave birth to it. It is the same constitutional character (together with\ninfinite activity of mind) which has enabled the greatest man in modern\nhistory to bear his reverses of fortune with gay magnanimity, and to\nsubmit to the loss of the empire of the world with as little\ndiscomposure as if he had been playing a game at chess.\n\nAfter all, we would not be understood to say that manner is every\nthing.[32] Nor would we put Euclid or Sir Isaac Newton on a level with\nthe first _petit-ma\u00eetre_ we might happen to meet. We consider _\u00c6sop\u2019s\nFables_ to have been a greater work of genius than Fontaine\u2019s\ntranslation of them; though we are not sure that we should not prefer\nFontaine for his style only, to Gay, who has shewn a great deal of\noriginal invention. The elegant manners of people of fashion have been\nobjected to us to shew the frivolity of external accomplishments, and\nthe facility with which they are acquired. As to the last point, we\ndemur. There are no class of people who lead so laborious a life, or who\ntake more pains to cultivate their minds as well as persons, than people\nof fashion. A young lady of quality who has to devote so many hours a\nday to music, so many to dancing, so many to drawing, so many to French,\nItalian, &c., certainly does not pass her time in idleness; and these\naccomplishments are afterwards called into action by every kind of\nexternal or mental stimulus, by the excitements of pleasure, vanity and\ninterest. A Ministerial or Opposition Lord goes through more drudgery\nthan half a dozen literary hacks; nor does a reviewer by profession read\nhalf the same number of publications as a modern fine lady is obliged to\nlabour through. We confess, however, we are not competent judges of the\ndegree of elegance or refinement implied in the general tone of\nfashionable manners. The successful experiment made by _Peregrine\nPickle_, in introducing his strolling mistress into genteel company,\ndoes not redound greatly to their credit. In point of elegance of\nexternal appearance, we see no difference between women of fashion and\nwomen of a different character, who dress in the same style.\n\n\n\n\n KEAN\u2019S BAJAZET AND \u2018THE COUNTRY GIRL\u2019\n\n\n _The Examiner._] [_November 12, 1815._\n\nThe lovers of the drama have had a very rich theatrical treat this week,\nMr. Kean\u2019s first appearance in _Bajazet_, two new _Miss Peggys_ in the\n_Country Girl_, and last, though not least, Miss Stephens\u2019s reappearance\nin _Polly_. Of Mr. Kean\u2019s _Bajazet_ we have not much to say, without\nrepeating what we have said before. The character itself is merely\ncalculated for the display of physical passion and external energy. It\nis violent, fierce, turbulent, noisy, and blasphemous, \u2018full of sound\nand fury, signifying nothing.\u2019 Mr. Kean did justice to his author, or\nwent the whole length of the text. A viper does not dart with more\nfierceness and rapidity on the person who has just trod upon it than he\nturns upon _Tamerlane_ in the height of his fury. An unslaked thirst of\nvengeance and blood has taken possession of every faculty, like the\nsavage rage of a hyaena, assailed by the hunters. His eyeballs glare,\nhis teeth gnash together, his hands are clenched. In describing his\ndefeat, his voice is choked with passion; he curses, and the blood\ncurdles in his veins. Never was the fiery soul of barbarous revenge,\nstung to madness by repeated shame and disappointment, so completely\ndisplayed. This truth of nature and passion in Mr. Kean\u2019s acting carries\nevery thing before it. He was the only person on the stage who seemed\nalive. The mighty _Tamerlane_ appeared no better than a stuffed figure\ndressed in ermine, _Arpasia_ moaned in vain, and _Moneses_ roared out\nhis wrongs unregarded, like the hoarse sounds of distant thunder.\nNothing can withstand the real tide of passion once let loose; and yet\nit is pretended, that the great art of the tragic actor is in damming it\nup, or cutting out smooth canals and circular basons for it to flow\ninto, so that it may do no harm in its course. It is the giving way to\nnatural and strong impulses of the imagination that floats Mr. Kean down\nthe stream of public favour with all his faults\u2014\u2018a load to sink a navy.\u2019\nThe only wonder was to see this furious character suffered to go about\nand take the whole range of the palace of _Tamerlane_, without the least\nlet or impediment. It shewed a degree of magnanimity in Mr. Pope, which\nis without any parallel, even in modern times. It is understood that the\nplay was originally written by the whig poet Rowe, and regularly acted\non the anniversary of our whig revolution, as a compliment to King\nWilliam, and a satire on Louis XIV. For any thing we know, the\nresemblance of _Tamerlane_ to King William may be sufficiently strong,\nthere the historian and the poet may agree tolerably well; but what\ntraits the Tartar Chieftain and the French Monarch had in common, it\nwould be difficult to find out. If any more recent allusion was intended\nin its revival, it fell still wider of the mark. The play of _Tamerlane_\nmay be divided into two heads\u2014cant and rant. _Tamerlane_ takes the first\npart, and _Bajazet_ the second. This last hurls defiance at both gods\nand men. He is utterly regardless of consequences, and rushes upon his\ndestruction like a wild beast into the toils. He utters but one striking\nsentiment, when he defends ambition as the hunger of noble minds.\n_Bajazet\u2019s_ character is energy without greatness. He is blind to every\nthing but the present moment, and insensible to every thing but the\npresent impulse. True greatness is the reverse of this. It shews all the\nenergy of courage, but none of the impatience of despair. It struggles\nwith difficulty, but yields to necessity. It does every thing, and\nsuffers nothing. It sees events with the eye of history, and makes Time\nthe Judge of Fortune. Courage with calmness constitutes the perfection\nof the heroic character, as the effeminate and sentimental unite the\nextremes of activity and irritability. We never saw Mr. Kean look\nbetter. His costume and his colour had a very picturesque effect. The\nyellow brown tinge of the Tartar becomes him much better than the tawny\nbrick-dust complexion of the Moor in _Othello_.\n\nNow for our two Country Girls. We have seen both without any great\neffort of our patience: to confess a truth, we had rather see the\n_Country Girl_ two nights running than _Tamerlane_; as we would rather\nhave been Wycherley than Rowe. The comedy of the _Country Girl_ is taken\nfrom Moliere\u2019s _School for Wives_. It is however a perfectly free\nimitation, or rather an original work, founded on the same general plot,\nwith additional characters, and in a style wholly different. Scarcely a\nline is the same. The long, speechifying dialogues in the French comedy\nare cut down into a succession of smart conversations and lively scenes:\nthere is indeed a certain pastoral sweetness or sentimental naivete in\nthe character of _Agnes_, which is lost in _Miss Peggy_, who is however\nthe more natural and mischievous little rustic of the two. The incident\nof her running up against her guardian as she is running off with her\ngallant in the park, and the contrivance of the second letter which she\nimposes on her jealous fool as _Alithea\u2019s_, are Wycherley\u2019s. The\ncharacters of _Alithea_, _Harcourt_, and of the fop _Sparkish_, who\nappears to us so exquisite, and to others so insipid, are additional\nportraits from the reign and court of Charles II. Those who object to\nthe scenes between this gentleman and his mistress as unnatural, can\nnever have read the _Memoirs of the Count de Grammont_,\u2014an authentic\npiece of English history, in which we trace the origin of so many noble\nfamilies. What an age of wit and folly, of coxcombs and coquets, when\nthe world of fashion led purely ornamental lives, and their only object\nwas to make themselves or others ridiculous. Happy age, when the utmost\nstretch of a morning\u2019s study went no further than the choice of a sword\nknot, or the adjustment of a side curl; when the soul spoke out in all\nthe persuasive eloquence of dress; when beaux and belles, enamoured of\nthemselves in one another\u2019s follies, fluttered like gilded butterflies\nin giddy mazes through the walks of St. James\u2019s Park! The perfection of\nthis gala out-of-door comedy is in Etherege, the gay Sir George! Then\ncomes Wycherley, and then Congreve, who hands them into the\ndrawing-room. Congreve is supposed to have been the inventor of the\nepigrammatic, clenched style of comic dialogue; but there is a great\ndeal of this both in Wycherley and Etherege, with more of a _janty_ tone\nof flippant gaiety in the latter, and more incident, character, and\nsituation in the former. The _Country Girl_ holds unimpaired possession\nof the stage to this day, by its wit, vivacity, nature, and ingenuity.\nNothing can be worse acted, and yet it goes down, for it supplies the\nimagination with all that the actors want. Mr. Bartley had some merit as\n_Moody_, Mr. Fawcet none. Barrymore, at Covent Garden played _Harcourt_\nwell. We have seen him in better company, and he reminded us of it. He\nwas much of the gentleman, and as much at home on the stage (from long\npractice) as if he had been in his own apartments. As to the two _Miss\nPeggys_, we hardly know how to settle their pretensions. If Mrs. Mardyn\noveracts her part to that degree that she seems only to want a\nskipping-rope to make it complete, Mrs. Alsop is so stiff and queer that\nshe seems to have only just escaped from a back-board and steel monitor.\nIf Mrs. Alsop has the clearest voice, Mrs. Mardyn has the brightest\neyes. Mrs. Alsop has most art, Mrs. Mardyn has most nature. If Mrs.\nMardyn is too profuse of natural graces, too young and buoyant and\nexuberant in all her movements, the same fault cannot be found with Mrs.\nAlsop, whose smiles give no pleasure, and whose frowns give unmingled\npain. Mrs. Alsop\u2019s _Peggy_ is a clever recitation of the character,\nwithout being the thing; and Mrs. Mardyn\u2019s is a very full development of\nher own person, which is the thing itself. Mrs. Alsop is the best\nactress, though not worth a pin, and Mrs. Mardyn is the most desirable\nwoman, which is always worth something. We may apply to these two ladies\nwhat Suckling said of one of his mistresses\u2014\n\n \u2018I take her body, you her mind,\u2014\n Which has the better bargain.\u2019\n\n\n\n\n DOCTRINE OF PHILOSOPHICAL NECESSITY\n\n\n _The Examiner._] [_December 10, 1815_\n\n \u2014\u2014\u2018For I had learnt a sense sublime\n Of something far more deeply interfused,\n Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns,\n And the round ocean and the living air\n And the blue sky, and in the mind of man,\n A motion and a spirit that impels\n All thinking things, all objects of all thought,\n And rolls through all things.\u2019\n\nPerhaps, the doctrine of what has been called philosophical necessity\nwas never more finely expressed than in these lines of a poet, who, if\nhe had written only half of what he has done, would have deserved to be\nimmortal. There can be no doubt that all that exists, exists by\nnecessity; that the vast fabric of the universe is held together in one\nmighty chain, reaching to the \u2018threshold of Jove\u2019s throne\u2019; that\nwhatever has a beginning, must have a cause; that there is no object, no\nfeeling, no action, which, other things being the same, could have been\notherwise; that thought follows thought, like wave following wave; that\nchance or accident has no share in any thing that comes to pass in the\nmoral or the physical world; that whatever is, must be; that whatever\nhas been, must have been; that whatever is to be will be necessarily.\n\nI never could doubt for a moment of the truth of this general principle,\nand I never could comprehend the inferences which have commonly been\ndrawn from it, both by friends and foes. All the moral consequences\nwhich have been attributed to it appear to me mere idle prejudices\nagainst it on one side, and equally gratuitous concessions on the other.\nThe doctrine of necessity leaves morality just where it found it. It\ndoes not destroy goodness of disposition or energy of character, any\nmore than it destroys beauty or strength of person. It does not take\naway the powers of the mind any more than the use of the limbs. That\nevery thing is by necessity, no more proves that there is no such thing\nas good and evil, virtue and vice, right and wrong, in the moral world,\nthan it proves that there is no such thing as day or night, heat or\ncold, sweet or sour, food or poison, in the physical. Merit and demerit,\nthat is to say, praise and blame, reward and punishment, have no place\nin the physical world, but that is because they have no effect there;\nand for the same reason they have a place in the moral, because they\nhave an effect there. All the practical conclusions which have been\nascribed to the difference between liberty and necessity, may be equally\naccounted for (as they really had their rise) from the difference\nbetween moral and physical necessity.\n\nMan acts from a cause; and so far he resembles a stone; but he does not\nact from the same cause, and herein he differs from it. There is a print\nwhich I have seen from a picture by Ludovico Caracci, in which a female\nfigure, with a lion by her side, is represented striking a flame of fire\nat her feet with a drawn sword. I do not very well understand the\nallegory, but it appears to me to furnish a very tolerable illustration\nof the difference between moral and physical necessity: for whether this\nfigure strikes the flame with the flat or the sharp side of the sword,\nit divides and rises again equally; it is incapable of punishment for it\nhas no sense of pain, nor does it apprehend a repetition of the blow. Is\nit the same with the human mind? No; for it has both the sense of pain\nand the sense of consequences, which render it liable to punishment, by\nmaking that punishment one effectual and necessary means of influencing\nits conduct. A man differs from a stone in that he has feeling and\nunderstanding; and it is this difference that makes him a moral and\nresponsible agent in the true meaning of the terms, by connecting his\npresent impulses with their future consequences. It may be said that\nanimals have feeling, and a certain degree of understanding: and so far\nthey are liable to correction and punishment. A dog or a horse is\nterrified at the whip or the spur as well as encouraged by kindness. We\nvery properly, therefore, threaten them with the one and allure them\nwith the other, though we neither preach to them of heaven nor hell,\nbecause they have no notion about either. As far as they have\nunderstanding, they have free-will, for these two words mean one and the\nsame thing. Man is the only religious animal, because he alone (from a\ngreater power of imagination) extends his views of consequences into\nanother state of being.\u2014The application of praise or blame, as well as\nof reward and punishment, is proper, wherever it is likely to have an\neffect. We do not talk to the deaf: we do not shew pictures to the\nblind; we do not reason with a wild beast; we do not quarrel with a\nstone. Because it would be useless. But we _do_ talk to those who can\nhear; we shew pictures to those who can see; we reason with prejudice;\nwe quarrel with ill-nature. The human mind differs from an inanimate\nsubstance or an automaton, inasmuch as it is actuated by sympathy as\nwell as by necessity. We indeed praise a flower, a statue, or a\nbeautiful face, because they give us pleasure: we praise a virtuous\naction, as an additional incentive to virtue. \u2018Praise and blame, reward\nand punishment\u2019 (says Mr. Hobbes) \u2018are just and proper, because they\nfashion the will to justice.\u2019\n\nMerit, in the scholastic sense, means something self-caused, and\nindependent of motives. This sense of the term is flat nonsense, for\nthere is nothing without a cause\u2014nothing which is not owing to some\nother thing. The whole theory of merit may be said to turn upon the\ncapacity of any person or thing to mould itself according to the opinion\nentertained of it. A stone has not this capacity; and therefore there is\nno merit in a stone. If you tell a country girl that she is handsome or\nwell made, her answer generally will be, that \u2018She is as God made her.\u2019\nThis however does not prove that she is not well made. It is only meant\nto shew, that as she has had no hand in her own shape, and can do\nnothing to mend it, the merit is so far none of hers. But if you praise\nthe neatness of her dress, she has not the same evasion left, but thinks\nthe flattery well bestowed, for she is conscious that this depends upon\nherself; that she can stay a longer or a shorter time at her glass as\nshe pleases; and that the pains she has taken have been with a view to\nthe good opinion you express of her. The difference between natural and\nacquired graces is an obvious dictate of common sense; unless we adopt\nthe opinion of the Clown, that \u2018a good favour is the effect of study,\nbut reading and writing come by nature.\u2019 It is a piece of brutality and\nill-nature to point at a hump-backed man, and call him My Lord: but\nthere is no great harm in laughing at a person with an aukward slovenly\ngait, for the ridicule may remedy the defect. A person has it in his\npower to turn his toes out instead of in, whenever he chuses: he cannot\nget rid of a natural deformity by any effort of will. Beauty and power\nof every kind excite our love and admiration, whether in nature, in\nmorals, or in art; but still with a difference. St. Paul\u2019s is a much\nnobler as well as larger building than St. Dunstan\u2019s. We accordingly\nadmire the one much more than the other; but we allow no more merit to\nthe one than the other. All the difference of merit we ascribe to the\narchitect, and not to the building. Why so? Because all the vanity\nbelongs to the architect, and not to the building.\u2014St. Paul\u2019s stands\nwhere it does; it lifts its majestic dome to the skies, whether it is\nseen or not, whether it is admired or not. It has (familiarly speaking)\ndone nothing to deserve our good opinion, for it has done nothing with a\nview to it. Now for the same reason that the building has not, the\nbuilder _has_ merited our good opinion, for he did what he has done with\nthat very view; was sensible to that good opinion, and stimulated to\nexertion by it. It is evident that the admiration we bestow on any work\nof art, as an actual object, is involuntary; it makes no difference in\nthe object whether we bestow it or not; we therefore do not make a point\nof bestowing it: the praise we give to the artist is voluntary, and\nmerited in this farther sense, that we are bound to bestow it as a means\nto an end: we indulge it not merely as a sentiment naturally excited by\nthe contemplation of excellence, but the expression of which is a reward\ndue to the pains taken by the artist, and to the encouragement of\ngenius. Disapprobation and punishment on the other hand necessarily give\npain to the person who is the object of them, but it is to produce a\nremote good. However, it equally follows in either case, that our love\nand hatred of what is amiable or odious in conscious agents must be\ndifferent from our feeling towards unconscious ones, from the sense of\nthe difference of the consequences. The lever, the screw, and the wedge,\nare the great instruments of the mechanical world: opinion, sympathy,\npraise and blame, reward and punishment, are the lever, the screw, and\nthe wedge, of the moral world. A house is built of stones; human\ncharacter depends on motives. Is there therefore no difference between\none character and another? As well might it be said that there is no\ndifference between one building and another. If merit means something in\ncharacter, independent of motives and of all other things, then there\ncan be no such thing as merit: but if by merit we mean something which\nexcites our approbation of one character more than another, and which\nsomething is still farther entitled to our approbation, because it\ndepends upon it for its motive and encouragement, then undoubtedly this\nword has a rational meaning in it. To deny praise or blame, reward or\npunishment, to actions, because they are produced by motives, is to take\naway the prop from a house, because it supports it.\u2014Necessity only\nsupersedes merit by superseding the operation of motives. It is\npretended, that if any action is not perfectly gratuitous, if it can be\ntraced to any other cause, the merit must be transferred to that other\ncause, and so on without end. This infinite series may be cut short by\nobserving, that any action is entitled to our good opinion which is\naffected by it. If our opinion had no influence on the actions of\nothers, there would so far be no merit. If any one going up Holborn-hill\nis pushed by a stronger man against a window and breaks it, who is the\nresponsible person? The one who pushed the other, and not the one who\nbroke the glass. Because punishment or correcting the moral sense will\nnot prevent a weak man from being pushed against a window by a strong\none, but it will prevent the strong man from pushing him against it. It\nmakes no difference that this person did not act at first without a\nmotive; the point is, that here is another motive which will counteract\nthe former one. The true cause of any thing in the practical and moral\nsense, is that, by removing which the effect ceases. A man is a moral\nagent only in so far as he can do what he will: for motives can only\noperate on the will. A man in chains or held by force is not accountable\nfor what he does, for blame or praise him ever so much, and he will do,\nnot what you wish him, but what others force him to do. You may\nreasonably exhort a man not to throw himself over Westminster Bridge,\nbut it is in vain, after he has thrown himself over, to call out to him\nto stop. Morality means that we have the power to do certain things, _if\nwe will_, or help them, _if we please_.\n\nMerit is moral energy. It is the sense of merit which is the great\nstimulus of exertion. One thing is more difficult, requires a greater\neffort than another. The sense of merit is in proportion to the sense of\ndifficulty. The highest praise is given to the highest exertions, the\ngreatest rewards are due where the greatest sacrifices have been made.\nThe degree of merit depends then on the degree of voluntary power\nexerted: for exertion deserves every kind of encouragement and\nassistance as it becomes difficult. We give a boy sixpence for going a\nmile; a shilling for going two. We need not offer rewards and largesses\nto vice and indolence; for all the sanctions of religion and morality\nare not sufficient to correct them. The admiration with which the story\nof Marvell and his leg of mutton is read has not prevented the facility\nof some modern patriots in commencing courtiers; but if it should only\nsave us from a single birthday ode, it will be something. The phlegmatic\nDutchman, in playing at skittles, follows his bowl with his eye, writhes\nhis body to make it turn right, and cheers it with his voice. If the\nbowl had sympathy so as to bend with his body, and to be encouraged to\ngo a little farther by his praising it, there would be some sense in his\ndoing so. Amphion is said to have raised the walls of Thebes with the\nsound of his lyre: in one sense the fable might be true, for he might\nhave drawn together and civilized his followers by the power of song.\nThe words which Madame de Sta\u00ebl some time ago addressed to the Germans,\n_Allemagne, tu es une nation, et tu pleurs_, were not without their\neffect. Neither perhaps would the same words be so now, addressed to her\nown country\u2014_France, tu es une nation, et tu pleurs!_\n\nWe have been led to these remarks by receiving an epistle from an\nelderly maiden lady, who complains that she has spent her whole life in\ncensuring and back-biting her neighbours, and that by what we let fall\nsome time ago, about there being no such thing as merit and demerit, we\nhad debarred her of the only use of her tongue and pleasure of her life.\nWe are sorry to have interrupted her, and hope she will now proceed. We\nhave a good deal left to say on the subject:\u2014\n\n \u2018But there is matter for a second rhyme,\n And we to this must add another tale.\u2019\n\n\n\n\n PARALLEL PASSAGES IN VARIOUS POETS\n\n\n _The Examiner._] [_December 24, 1815._\n\nBeing very busy or very indolent this week (it is no matter which), we\nhave had recourse to our common-place book (the first or last resource\nof authors), and there find the following instances of parallel\npassages, which are at the service of the critics. The conclusion of\nVoltaire\u2019s tragedy of _Zaire_ is the speech of _Orosman_, who has killed\nhis mistress, to her brother, _Nerestan_:\u2014\n\n [\u2018Et toi, guerrier infortun\u00e9,\u2019 &c. to\n \u2018Dis que je l\u2019adorais, et que l\u2019ai veng\u00e9.\u2019]\n\nThis will probably remind our readers, as it did us, of _Othello\u2019s_\nfarewell speech:\u2014\n\n [\u2018Soft you; a word or two before you go,\u2019 &c.]\n\nAfter transcribing the above passage, we were looking about for the\ntraces of the former one, which had \u2018vanished into thin air,\u2019 and were\nbeginning to suspect that our parallel had totally failed, till in\nlooking into the lucubrations of Mr. William Wade, who has tried to pick\na hole in Shakespear, we learnt that the French translator of our poet\nhad _bona fide_ translated the passage into legitimate French verse, and\nthat Voltaire had in consequence, with singular modesty, complained that\nDucis had improved upon the original and stolen the whole turn of the\npassage from him. To be sure, there is a wide difference in the two\npassages. There is nothing in the French poet of the \u2018No more of that,\u2019\nthat fine natural interruption to the gasconade which his distress had\njust extorted from him; there is nothing of \u2018One that loved not wisely,\nbut too well,\u2019 there is nothing of Indian pearls or Arabian gums, nor is\nthere any allusion to Aleppo, nor description of \u2018a malignant and a\nturbaned Turk\u2019; nor any thing like that fine return upon himself, and\ntransition from the depth of a dejected spirit to the recollection of\nformer acts of daring defiance, while in his despair he inflicts on\nhimself the blow with which he formerly chastised an insolent foe. These\ncircumstances are given \u2018as over-measure\u2019 in Shakespear, and would be\nconsidered as superfluous and extravagant by the French critics; yet\nthey are exactly the circumstances which the Moor _Othello_ must have\nbeen best acquainted with, and which, as some of the most striking\ncircumstances of his past life, would be forcibly recalled to his memory\nin parting with it. Voltaire has not invented any thing of the same sort\nfor his dying hero; his speech (though a very good one of its kind) is,\nas Susannah says to Trim, \u2018as flat as the palm of one\u2019s hand;\u2019 it has\nnothing objectionable in it; it is just such a speech as any crowned\nhead might make in any of the four quarters of the globe.\u2014May we be\nallowed to add (in passing), that Mr. Kean does not act this scene well?\nHe gnashes his teeth, and strikes the dagger into his bosom, as if he\nhad taken some particular enmity against his own flesh. But this is not\nso in Shakespear. The feeling of _Othello_ is a lofty absence of mind,\nin which he throws himself back from the present into the past; the\nimage he recalls furnishes not only the precedent but the consolation of\nhis present act; and the pang which he inflicts on himself is relieved,\nand unconsciously confounded with the recollection of former acts of\ngrandeur, and elevation of soul. But to proceed.\u2014\n\nIn the _Agamemnon_ of \u00c6schylus, is a very beautiful description of the\nsignal fires that were to announce the destruction of Troy, thus\ntranslated by Potter:\u2014\n\n [\u2018What speed could be the herald of this news,\u2019 &c. to\n \u2018Giv\u2019n by my Lord t\u2019announce the fall of Troy.\u2019]\n\nIn Drayton\u2019s _Polyolbion_ (Song 30) this idea is finely varied:\u2014\n\n [\u2018Which Copland scarce had spoke, but quickly every hill,\u2019 &c. to\n \u2018Did mightly commend old Copland for her song.\u2019]\n\nAgain, in a poem of Mr. Wordsworth we find the following lines:\u2014\n\n [\u2018When I had gazed perhaps two minutes\u2019 space,\u2019 &c. to\n \u2018That there was a loud uproar in the hills.\u2019]\n\nWe have been urged several times to take up the subject of Mr.\nWordsworth\u2019s Poems, in order to do them justice. In doing this, we\nshould satisfy neither his admirers nor his censurers. We have once\nalready attempted the thankless office, and it did not succeed. Indeed\nwe think all comment on them superseded by those lines of Withers, which\nare a complete anticipation of Mr. Wordsworth\u2019s style, where, speaking\nof poetry, he says,\u2014\n\n \u2018In my former days of bliss\n Her divine skill taught me this,\n That from every thing I saw\n I could some invention draw;\n And raise pleasure to her height\n Through the meanest object\u2019s sight;\u2014\n By the murmur of a spring,\n Or the least bough\u2019s rustling,\n By a daisy whose leaves spread\n Shut when Titan goes to bed;\n Or a shady bush or tree,\n She could more infuse in me\n Than all Nature\u2019s beauties can\n In some other wiser man.\u2019\n\n\n\n\n MR. LOCKE A GREAT PLAGIARIST\n\n\n _The Examiner._] [_February 25, 1816._\n\nMr. Locke has at this day all over Europe the character of one of the\nmost profound and original thinkers that ever lived, and he is perhaps,\nwithout any exception, the most barefaced, deliberate, and bungling\nplagiarist, that ever appeared in philosophy. The reputation which he\nhas acquired, as the founder of the new system in philosophy, or of any\npart of that system, is a pure imposition. Hobbes was the undoubted\nfounder of the system; and he not only laid the foundation, but he\ncompleted the building. Every one of the principles of the modern,\nmaterial philosophy of the mind, is to be found in his works, perfect\nand entire, as it is in the latest commentators of the French school. He\nnot only took for his basis the principle that there is no other\noriginal faculty in the mind but sensation: he also pushed this\nprinciple into all its consequences, with a severe, masterly, and honest\nlogic, of which there is scarcely any other example. By thus shewing the\nfull extent of his system, \u2018the very head and front of his offending,\u2019\nwithout any disguise, he only got himself an ill name, and his system\nwas consigned to infamy or oblivion. Mr. Locke adopted the first\nprinciple, with a clumsy addition to it, but so as to secure himself the\nreputation of an original thinker; and at the same time, by not\nfollowing it in a bold and decided manner into any one of its necessary\nconsequences, he avoided giving the alarm to popular apprehension, and\nmade a temporary compromise with the common sense and prejudices of his\nreaders. The door being however opened to the introduction of this\nphilosophy, by the admission of the general principle, all the rest by\ndegrees followed as a matter of course; and it has been the business of\nthe ablest metaphysicians ever since to clear what has been considered\nas the philosophy of Locke, from the inconsistences and imperfections\nwhich he had suffered to creep into it: all which improvements on\nLocke\u2019s Essay are only a recurrence to the principles laid down by\nHobbes, in the most explicit and unequivocal manner. To shew how little\nthis last writer has been read, even by professed metaphysicians, Hume\nattributes the doctrine, that there are no abstract ideas, to Berkeley\nas an original discovery, though the arguments used by Berkeley are\nalmost word for word taken from those used by Hobbes on the same\nsubject. Yet Locke, in order we suppose to prevent inquiry into the\noriginality of his own claims, calls Hobbes \u2018a justly exploded author.\u2019\nThis question is curious (philosophy apart) as a branch of literary\nhistory. It is, we know, dangerous to tamper with established\nreputation; nor should we perhaps have ventured to hazard the accusation\nwe have here made, if we had not been supported by the authority of so\nwell informed, candid, and respectable a writer as Dugald Stewart, whose\ntestimony is of the more value, as he does not seem to be aware of the\ngeneral propensity of Mr. Locke to appropriate the ideas of others to\nhis own use, without disguise or acknowledgement. To any one who takes\nthe trouble to peruse Professor Stewart\u2019s very elegant Dissertation just\npublished, on the rise and progress of modern Metaphysics, it will be\nevident that every one of those original discoveries, to which the\nauthor of the Essay on Human Understanding owes his celebrity, and on\nwhich he particularly plumed himself, is taken in substance and almost\nin words from writers of whom he does not once make mention; for\nexample, his proposed division of the sciences, brought forward with\ngreat parade and formality, into Physics, Ethics, and Logic, which is\nthe old division of the Greek philosophy; his definition of words which\nare definable or not definable, which is taken expressly from Descartes;\nhis account of the origin of our ideas, that of association, of the\nsocial compact, etc. which are borrowed from Hobbes; his distinction of\nthe properties of matter into primary and secondary, and his theory of\nconsciousness or reflection as a distinct source of ideas, which belong\nto Descartes; his hypothesis about animal spirits, as the medium of\nassociation of ideas, adopted from Malbranche; his account of judgment\nand wit, which is to be found in Hobbes, &c. &c. If it be asked, whether\nMr. Locke has not had the merit of combining the materials thus derived\nfrom other sources into a complete and masterly system, the answer would\nbe, that his work is one of the most confused, undigested, and\ncontradictory, that has been published on the subject. There is no one\nto whom those lines of the poet were ever more applicable.\n\n \u2018Fame is no plant that grows on mortal soil,\n Nor in the glistering foil\n Set off to the world, nor in broad rumour lies,\n But lives and spreads aloft by those pure eyes,\n And perfect witness of all-judging Jove.\u2019\n\nWe should hope that Mr. Stewart will examine into and state his\nconviction on this question fully and clearly in the account of Mr.\nLocke\u2019s Essay, which he has promised in the continuation of his work. If\nhe would lend the sanction of his name to shew the real foundation on\nwhich Mr. Locke\u2019s reputation rests, it would not be the least service he\nhas rendered to philosophy. \u2018To trace an error to its source is often\nthe only way to refute it.\u2019 The task is no doubt an invidious, but it is\na necessary one. The name of Locke is in a manner dear to every lover of\ntruth; but truth itself should be still dearer.\n\nIt will perhaps be amusing to the reader (though not initiated in such\nstudies) to see the manner in which an idea is bandied about, in these\nspeculations, from author to author, to no sort of purpose. \u2018In one of\nMr. Locke\u2019s most noted remarks,\u2019 (says the learned Professor) \u2018he has\nbeen anticipated by Malbranche, on whose clear yet concise statement he\ndoes not seem to have thrown much new light by his very diffuse and\nwordy commentary.\u2019\u2014\u2018If in having our ideas in the memory ready at hand,\nconsists quickness of parts; in this of having them unconfused, and\nbeing able nicely to distinguish one thing from another, where there is\nbut the least difference, consists, in a great measure, the exactness of\njudgment and clearness of reason; which is to be observed in one man\nabove another. And hence perhaps may be given some reason of that common\nobservation, that men who have a great deal of wit and prompt memories,\nhave not always the clearest judgment or deepest reason. For Wit, lying\nmost in the assemblage of ideas, and putting those together with\nquickness and variety, wherein can be found any resemblance or\ncongruity, thereby to make up pleasant pictures and agreeable visions in\nthe fancy: Judgment on the contrary, lies quite on the other side, in\nseparating carefully one from another, ideas wherein can be found the\nleast difference, thereby to avoid being misled by similitude and by\naffinity to take one thing for another.\u2019\u2014_Essay_, _etc._ B. ii. c. xi. \u00a7\n2.\n\n\u2018Il y a donc des esprits de deux sortes. Les uns remarquent ais\u00e9ment les\ndiff\u00e9rences des choses, et ce sont les bons esprits. Les autres\nimaginent et supposent de la ressemblance entr\u2019elles, et ce sont les\nesprits superficielles.\u2019\u2014_Recherche de la V\u00e9rit\u00e9._\n\n\u2018At an earlier period, Bacon had pointed out the same cardinal\ndistinction in the intellectual characters of individuals.\n\n\u201cThe greatest and as it were radical distinction of geniuses, in respect\nof philosophy and science, is this; that some are more able and apt at\nnoting the differences of things; others at noting their similitudes.\nFor steady and acute minds can fix their contemplations, and remain and\ndwell on every subtlety of distinction; whereas more lofty and\ndiscursive imaginations recognize and compound even the slightest and\ncommonest resemblances of things.\u201d\n\n\u2018_That strain I heard was of a higher mood!_\u2014It is evident that Bacon\nhas here seized, in its most general form, the very important truth\nperceived by his two ingenious successors in particular cases. _Wit_,\nwhich Locke contrasts with _Judgment_, is only one of the various\ntalents connected with what Bacon calls the _discursive genius_; and\nindeed a talent very subordinate in dignity to most of the\nothers.\u2019\u2014_Note to the Dissertation_, p. 116.\n\nMr. Locke, by Wit, in the passage here referred to, evidently means\ningenuity or fancy generally speaking; for in the last hundred years,\nthe use of this term has undergone a great alteration. He however\nborrowed his definition immediately from \u2018that exploded author,\u2019 Hobbes,\nwho says in the _Leviathan_, p. 32,\u2014\u2018Whereas, in the succession of\nthoughts, there is nothing to observe in the things we think on, but\neither in what they be like one another, or in what they be\nunlike;\u2014those that observe their similitudes, in case they be such as\nare but rarely observed by others, are said to have a good wit, by which\nis meant on this occasion a good fancy. But they that observe their\ndifferences and dissimilitudes, which is called distinguishing and\ndiscerning and judging between thing and thing, in case such discerning\nbe not easy, are said to have a good judgment; and particularly in\nmatters of conversation and business, wherein times, places, and\npersons, are to be discerned, this virtue is called Discretion.\u2019\n\nWhat is most remarkable in this traditional definition of wit and\njudgment, is, that it is altogether unfounded; for as Harris, the author\nof _Hermes_, has very well observed, the finding out the equality of the\nthree angles of a triangle to two right ones, would, upon the principles\nhere stated, be a sally of wit, instead of an act of the understanding,\nand Euclid\u2019s Elements a collection of _bon mots_.\n\nIt may be said in explanation, that wit discovers false resemblances\nonly. But neither is this true. Wit consists in an illustration of an\nidea by some lucky coincidence or contrast, which idea may be either\nfalse or true, as it happens. But the best wit is always the truest.\nWhen the French punsters the other day changed the title of some loyal\norder from _Compagnons du Lys_ into _Compagnons d\u2019Ulysse_, the wit lost\nnone of its efficacy, because there was a lurking suspicion in the mind\nthat the insinuation was true. When Mr. Grattan, some years ago, said,\nthat the only resources of Ministers were \u2018the guinea or the gallows,\u2019\nthe alliteration proved nothing, but neither did it disprove any thing.\nWhen the late ingenious Professor Porson, in reply to some enthusiast of\nthe modern school of poetry, who was exclaiming \u2018that some contemporary\nbards would be admired when Homer and Virgil were forgotten,\u2019 made\nanswer,\u2014\u2018And not till then,\u2019\u2014he shewed more wit, and perhaps not less\njudgment, than his antagonist. Besides, the wit here consisted in the\ndistinction.\n\nWe shall shortly go more into this subject in three papers, which we\npropose to write, on Imagination, Wit, and Judgment, when we shall\nendeavour to shew that these faculties, though not the same, nor always\nfound together, are not so incompatible as dullness on the one hand, and\nfolly on the other, would lead the world to suppose. The most sensible\nman of our acquaintance is also the wittiest; and the most extravagant\nblockhead the dullest matter-of-fact man. The greatest poet that ever\nlived, had the most understanding of human nature and affairs. Martinus\nScriblerus contains the best commentary on the Categories; and we\nshrewdly suspect that Voltaire and Moliere were two as wise men, that\nis, knew as many things that were true and useful, as Malbranche and\nDescartes. It would have been hard to persuade either of those laughing\nphilosophers that they saw all things in God, or that animals were\nmachines. These are \u2018the laborious fooleries\u2019 of the understanding.\n\nMr. Stewart has interspersed his history of the progress of opinions\nwith some interesting biographical sketches. Of Anthony Arnaud, the\nauthor of the _Port Royal Logic_, we learn, that \u2018he lived to the age of\neighty-three, continuing to write against Malbranche\u2019s opinions\nconcerning _Nature and Grace_, to his last hour.\u2019 He died, says his\nbiographer, in an obscure retreat at Brussels, in 1692, without fortune,\nand even without the comfort of a servant; he, whose nephew had been a\nminister of state, and who might himself have been a cardinal. The\npleasure of being able to publish his sentiments was to him a sufficient\nrecompense. Nicole, his friend and companion in arms, worn out at length\nwith these incessant disputes, expressed a wish to retire from the\nfield, and to enjoy repose. \u2018_Repose!_\u2019 replied Arnaud; \u2018won\u2019t you have\nthe whole of eternity to repose in?\u2019\u2014An anecdote which is told of his\ninfancy, when considered in connection with his subsequent life, affords\na good illustration of the force of impressions received in the first\ndawn of reason. He was amusing himself one day with some childish sport,\nin the library of the Cardinal du Perron, when he requested of the\nCardinal to give him a pen:\u2014And for what purpose? said the Cardinal.\u2014To\nwrite books, like you, against the Huguenots. The Cardinal, it is added,\nwho was old and infirm, could not conceal his joy at the prospect of so\nhopeful a successor: and, as he was putting the pen into his hand, said,\n\u2018I give it to you as the dying shepherd Damaetas bequeathed his pipe to\nthe little Corydon.\u2019 Of the celebrated metaphysician Descartes, it\nappears that he was \u2018a bold campaigner\u2019 in his youth; that he served in\nHolland under Prince Maurice of Nassau; in Germany, under Maximilian of\nBavaria, in the thirty years\u2019 war; in Hungary, and at the siege of\nRochelle, as a volunteer against the English. He passed his life in\ncamps till the age of five-and-twenty, when he retired to spend the\nremainder of it\u2014in proving his own existence! What then, it may be asked\nafter all, is the use of such studies and pursuits? Of the same use as\npursuing gilded butterflies, or any other toy that amuses the mind. Mr.\nHume fixed his residence, while composing his Treatise of _Human\nNature_, at the village of La Fl\u00e8che, where Descartes was brought up.\nThis is an interesting trait in the life of a philosopher, who was by no\nmeans of the romantic cast. We do not very well understand the lenity or\nrather the respect with which the memory of Mr. Hume is always treated\nby our author, who is so hard upon Hobbes and others. There is also too\nmuch notice taken of Adam Smith, who, whatever might be his merits as a\npolitical economist, was of a very subordinate class as a philosopher\u2014\n\n \u2018The tenth transmitter of a foolish creed.\u2019\n\nMay we add, that the distinctions of Metaphysics and Geography have\nnothing in common, nor is truth of any particular country.\n\nThe learned Professor makes too little account of the German philosopher\nKant, whose maxim that \u2018the mind alone is formative,\u2019 is the only lever\nby which the modern philosophy can be overturned. He has indeed overlaid\nthis simple principle by his logical technicalities, his categories and\nstuff, as Locke has confounded all common sense with his ideas of\nsensation and ideas of reflection. Nothing can be done towards a true\ntheory of the mind, till philosophers are convinced that all ideas are\nideas of the understanding; and that it requires all the same faculties\nto have the _idea_ of the stud of a brass nail in an old arm-chair, that\nis, the perception of connection, limits, form, difference, aye, and of\nabstraction, in this simple object, as in the highest speculations of\ntheological or metaphysical science. The modern philosophers contend\nthat the mind has no idea of any thing but sensible images: the way to\nturn the tables upon them is then to prove, that in the idea of every\none of these sensible objects, there is necessarily involved the\nexercise of all those faculties, of which they deny the existence, and\nwhich are exerted, only in a different degree, in the most simple or the\nmost refined operations of the understanding.\n\n\n\n\n SHAKESPEAR\u2019S FEMALE CHARACTERS\n\n\n _The Examiner._] [_July 28, 1816._\n\nShakespear\u2019s women (we mean those who were his favourites, and whom he\nintended to be the favourites of the reader) exist almost entirely in\nthe relations and charities of domestic life. They are nothing in\nthemselves, but every thing in their attachment to others. We think as\nlittle of their persons as they do themselves, because we are let into\nthe secrets of their hearts, which are more important. We are too much\ninterested in their affairs to stop to look at their faces, except by\nstealth and at intervals. We catch their beauties only sideways as in a\nglass, but we everywhere meet their hearts coming at us,\u2014_full butt_, as\n_Miss Peggy_ meets her husband in the Park. No one ever hit the true\nperfection of the female character, the sense of weakness leaning on the\nstrength of its affections for support, so well as Shakespear\u2014no one\never so well painted natural tenderness free from all affectation and\ndisguise, that\n\n \u2018Calls true love acted simple modesty\u2019\u2014\n\nno one else ever so well shewed how delicacy and timidity, urged to an\nextremity, grow romantic and extravagant, for the romance of his\nheroines (in which they abound) is only an excess of the common\nprejudices of their sex, scrupulous of being false to their vows, truant\nto their affections, and taught by the force of their feelings when to\nforego the forms of propriety for the essence of it. His women are in\nthis respect exquisite logicians, for they argue from what they feel,\nand that is a sure game, when the stake is deep. They know their own\nminds exactly. High imagination springs from deep habit; and\nShakespear\u2019s women only followed up the idea of what they liked, of what\nthey had sworn to with their tongues, and what was engraven on their\nhearts, into its untoward consequences. They were the prettiest little\nset of martyrs and confessors on record.\n\nWe have almost as great an affection for _Imogen_ as she had for\n_Posthumus_; and she deserves it rather better. Of all Shakespear\u2019s\nwomen she is perhaps the most touching, the most tender, and the most\ntrue. As to _Desdemona_, who was alone a match for her in good faith and\nheroic self-devotion, she had her faults, and she suffered for them.\n_Imogen\u2019s_ incredulity as to her husband\u2019s infidelity is much the same\nas _Desdemona\u2019s_ backwardness to believe Othello\u2019s jealousy. Her answer\nto the most distressing part of the picture is only, \u2018my Lord, I fear,\nhas forgot Britain.\u2019 Her readiness to pardon _Iachimo\u2019s_ falsehoods, and\nhis designs upon her virtue, is a good lesson to prudes; and shews (as\nperhaps Shakespear intended it, or nature for him) that where there is a\nstrong attachment to virtue, it has no need to bolster itself up with an\noutrageous or affected antipathy to vice. The morality of Shakespear in\nthis way is great; but it is not to be found in the four last lines of\nhis plays, in the form of extreme unction. The scene in which _Pisanio_\ngives _Imogen_ her husband\u2019s letter accusing her of incontinency, is as\nfine as anything could be:\u2014\n\n \u2018_Pisanio._ What cheer, Madam?\n\n _Imogen._ False to his bed! What is it to be false?\n To lie in watch there, and to think on him?\n To weep \u2019twixt clock and clock! If sleep charge nature,\n To break it with a fearful dream of him,\n And cry myself awake? That\u2019s false to \u2019s bed, is it?\n\n _Pisanio._ Alas, good lady!\n\n _Imogen._ I false? thy conscience witness, Iachimo,\n Thou didst accuse him of incontinency,\n Thou then look\u2019dst like a Villain: Now methinks,\n Thy favour\u2019s good enough. Some Jay of Italy,\n Whose mother was her painting, hath betrayed him:\n Poor I am stale, a garment out of fashion,\n And for I am richer than to hang by th\u2019 walls,\n I must be ript; to pieces with me. Oh,\n Men\u2019s vows are women\u2019s traitors. All good seeming\n By thy revolt, oh Husband, shall be thought\n Put on for villainy: not born where \u2018t grows,\n But worn a bait for Ladies.\n\n _Pisanio._ Good Madam, hear me\u2014\n\n _Imogen._ Talk thy tongue weary, speak:\n I have heard I am a strumpet, and mine ear,\n Therein false struck, can take no greater wound,\n Nor tent to bottom that.\u2019\u2014\u2014\n\nWhen _Pisanio_, who had been charged to kill his mistress, puts her in a\nway to live, she says\u2014\n\n \u2018Why, good fellow,\n What shall I do the while? Where bide? How live?\n Or in my life what comfort, when I am\n Dead to my Husband?\u2019\n\nYet when he advises her to disguise herself in boy\u2019s clothes, and\nsuggests \u2018a course pretty and full in view,\u2019 by which she may \u2018happily\nbe near the residence of _Posthumus_,\u2019 she exclaims\u2014\n\n \u2018Oh, for such means,\n Though peril to my modesty, not death on \u2018t,\n I would adventure.\u2019\n\nAnd when _Pisanio_, enlarging on the consequences, tells her she must\nchange\u2014\n\n \u2014\u2014\u2018Fear and niceness,\n The handmaids of all women, or more truly,\n Woman its pretty self, into a waggish courage,\n Ready in gibes, quick answer\u2019d, saucy, and\n As quarellous as the weazel\u2019\u2014\n\nShe interrupts him hastily:\u2014\n\n \u2018Nay, be brief:\n I see unto thy end, and am almost\n A man already.\u2019\n\nIn her journey thus disguised to Milford-Haven, she loses her guide and\nher way; and unbosoming her complaints, says beautifully,\u2014\n\n \u2014\u2014\u2018My dear Lord,\n Thou art one of the false ones: now I think on thee,\n My hunger\u2019s gone; but even before, I was\n At point to sink for food.\u2019\n\nShe afterwards finds, as she thinks, the dead body of _Posthumus_, and\nengages herself as a foot-boy to serve a Roman Officer, when she has\ndone all due obsequies to him whom she calls her former master:\n\n \u2014\u2014\u2018And when\n With wild wood-leaves and weeds I ha\u2019 strewed his grave,\n And on it said a century of pray\u2019rs,\n Such as I can, twice o\u2019er, I\u2019ll weep and sigh,\n And leaving so his service, follow you,\n So please you entertain me.\u2019\n\nNow this is the very religion of love. Is it not? All this, which is the\nessence of the character, is free from every thing like personal\nflattery or laboured description. She relies little on her personal\ncharms, which she fears may have been eclipsed by some painted jay of\nItaly; she relies only on her merit, and her merit is in the depth of\nher love, her truth and constancy. Our admiration of her beauty is\nexcited as it were with as little consciousness as possible on her part.\nThere are two delicious descriptions given of her, one when she is\nasleep, and one when she is supposed dead. _Arviragus_ thus addresses\nher:\n\n \u2014\u2014\u2018With fairest flowers,\n While summer lasts, and I live here, Fidele,\n I\u2019ll sweeten thy sad grave; thou shalt not lack\n The flow\u2019r that\u2019s like thy face, pale primrose, nor\n The azure\u2019d hare-bell, like thy veins, no, nor\n The leaf of eglantine, which not to slander,\n Out-sweeten\u2019d not thy breath.\u2019\n\nThe yellow _Iachimo_ gives another thus, when he steals into her\nbed-chamber:\n\n \u2014\u2014\u2018Cytherea,\n How bravely thou becom\u2019st thy bed! Fresh lily,\n And whiter than the sheets! That I might touch\u2014\n But kiss, one kiss\u2014\u2019Tis her breathing that\n Perfumes the chamber thus: the flame o\u2019 th\u2019 taper\n Bows toward her, and would under-peep her lids\n To see th\u2019 enclosed lights now canopied\n Under the windows, white and azure, laced\n With blue of Heav\u2019n\u2019s own tinct\u2014on her left breast\n A mole cinque-spotted, like the crimson drops\n I\u2019 th\u2019 bottom of a cowslip.\u2019\n\nThere is a moral sense in the proud beauty of this last image, a rich\nsurfeit of the fancy,\u2014as that well-known passage beginning, \u2018Me of my\nlawful pleasure she restrained, and prayed me oft forbearance,\u2019 sets a\nkeener edge upon it by the inimitable picture of modesty and\nself-denial. _Desdemona_ is another instance (almost to a proverb) of\nthe devotedness of the sex to a favourite object. She is \u2018subdued even\nto the very quality of her lord,\u2019 and to _Othello\u2019s_ \u2018honours and his\nvaliant parts her soul and fortunes consecrates.\u2019 The lady protests as\nmuch herself, and she is as good as her word. There is not a set\ndescription of her in any part of the play; and the only thing that\ntends that way is the equivocal and somewhat luscious dialogue that\ntakes place between _Iago_ and _Cassio_ as an accompaniment to the\nceremonies of the wedding-night. We see her visage in her mind: her\ncharacter every where predominates over her person:\n\n \u2018A maiden, never bold;\n Of spirit so still and quiet, that her motion\n Blush\u2019d at itself.\u2019\n\nShe is not a painted idol, carved out of the poet\u2019s brain, but is\nherself a worshipper at the shrine of duty. As Milton dashes the\nluxurious effect of his descriptions by a moral, Shakespear qualifies it\nby the interest of the story, as in the scene where _Othello_ takes\n_Desdemona_ by the hand. The truth of conception, with which timidity\nand boldness are united in the same character, is marvellous. The\nextravagance of her actions, the pertinacity of her affections, in a\nmanner arises out of the gentleness of her nature. It is an unreserved\nreliance on the purity of her intentions, a surrender of her fears to\nher love, a knitting of herself (heart and soul) to the fate of another.\nBating the commencement of her passion, which is a little fantastical\nand self-willed (though that may be accounted for in the same way from\nan inability to resist a rising inclination) her whole character\nconsists in having no will of her own, no prompter but her obedience.\nHer romantic turn is only a consequence of the domestic and practical\npart of her disposition; and instead of following _Othello_ to Cyprus,\nshe would rather have remained at home, \u2018a moth of peace,\u2019 if her\nhusband could have staid with her. Her resignation and angelic sweetness\nof nature do not desert her at the last. The scenes in which she laments\nand tries to account for _Othello\u2019s_ harsh usage of her are exquisitely\nmanaged. After he has struck her and called her names, she says:\n\n \u2014\u2014\u2018Alas, Iago,\n What shall I do to win my lord again?\n Good friend, go to him; for by this light of Heaven,\n I know not how I lost him. Here I kneel;\n If e\u2019er my will did trespass \u2019gainst his love,\n Either in discourse, or thought, or actual deed,\n Or that mine eyes, mine ears, or any sense\n Delighted them on any other form;\n Or that I do not, and ever did,\n And ever will, though he do shake me off\n To beggarly divorcement, love him dearly,\n Comfort forswear me. Unkindness may do much,\n And his unkindness may defeat my life,\n But never taint my love....\n\n _Iago._ I pray you be content: \u2019tis but his humour.\n The business of the state does him offence.\n\n _Desdemona._ If \u2019twere no other.\u2019\u2014\u2014\n\nThe scene which follows with her maid and the song of the Willow are\nequally beautiful, and shew Shakespear\u2019s extreme power of varying the\nexpression of passion, in all its moods and in all circumstances.\n\nOne of the finest passages in Mr. Wordsworth\u2019s poems is that where he\nhas given us his opinion of _Desdemona_:\n\n \u2018Books, dreams, are each a world; and books, we know,\n Are a substantial world, both pure and good,\n Round which, with tendrils strong as flesh and blood,\n Our pastime and our happiness may grow;\n\n \u00b7 \u00b7 \u00b7 \u00b7 \u00b7\n\n Matter wherein right voluble I am,\n Two let me mention dearer than the rest,\n The gentle lady wedded to the Moor,\n And heavenly Una with her milk-white lamb.\u2019\n\nWe have said enough to explain our idea of the general turn of\nShakespear\u2019s female characters. We need not mention _Ophelia_ or\n_Cordelia_, both of which admit of little external decoration, and which\nit would seem impossible to treat in any other way than as Shakespear\nhas represented them, abstracted from every thing but their\nheart-breaking ties to others, if Tate had not adorned the person of\n_Cordelia_ with a number of beauties, and finished her story with a\nlover. _Cleopatra_, who has certainly a personal identity of her own,\nand who is described in all the glowing pomp of eastern luxury, is not\nan exception to what we have said, for she is not intended as a model of\nher sex. What we best recollect of _Cressida_, is _Pandarus\u2019s_\ndescription of her after bringing her to the tent, where he says,\u2014\u2018And\nher heart beats like a new-ta\u2019en sparrow\u2019\u2014which must be allowed to be\nquite Shakesperian. _Miranda_ appears to be the most conscious of her\ncharms of any of his favourites (perhaps from the very solitude in which\nshe had lived), a sort of miracle of her father\u2019s island, and the\ngoddess of her new-found lover\u2019s idolatry. _Perdita_ is a very pretty\nlow-born lass, the Queen of curds and cream\u2014but she makes us think of\nother things more than of her face. There is one passage in which the\npoet has, we suspect, very artfully rallied the indifference of the sex\nto abstract reasoning:\n\n \u2018_Perdita._ Sir, the fairest flowers o\u2019 th\u2019 season\n Are our carnations, and streak\u2019d gilly-flowers,\n Which some call Nature\u2019s bastards: of that kind\n Our rustic garden\u2019s barren, and I care not\n To get slips of them.\n\n _Polixenes._ Wherefore, gentle maiden,\n Do you neglect them?\n\n _Perdita._ For I have heard it said,\n There is an art which, in their piedness shares\n With great creating nature.\n\n _Polixenes._ Say, there be,\n Yet nature is made better by no mean,\n But nature makes that mean; so o\u2019er that art\n Which you say adds to nature, is an art\n That nature makes: you see, sweet maid, we marry\n A gentler scyon to the wildest stock,\n And make conceive a bark of baser kind\n By bud of nobler race. This is an art\n Which does mend nature, change it rather; but\n The art itself is nature.\n\n _Perdita._ So it is.\n\n _Polixenes._ Then make your garden rich in gilly-flowers,\n And do not call them bastards.\n\n _Perdita._ _I\u2019ll not put\n The dibble in earth, to set one slip of them_,\u2019 etc.\n\nHere the lady gives up the argument, but keeps her opinion. We had\nforgot one charming instance to our purpose, which is the character of\n_Helen_ in _All\u2019s Well that Ends Well_; and this also puts us in mind\nthat Shakespear probably borrowed his female characters from the Italian\nnovelists, and not from English women.\n\n\n\n\n MISS O\u2019NEILL\u2019S WIDOW CHEERLY\n\n\n _The Examiner._] [_January 12, 1817._\n\nWe have few idols, and those few we do not like to lose. But the warmth\nof our idolatry of Miss O\u2019Neill will be brought to a much lower\ntemperature if she goes on playing comedy at this rate. We cannot form\nany compromise in our imagination between _Belvidera_ and the _Widow\nCheerly_. To speak our minds plainly, Miss O\u2019Neill is by far the best\ntragic actress we ever saw, with one great exception, and she is the\nworst comic actress we remember, without any exception at all. Her\ncomedy is cast in lead, and sad _doleful dumps_ she makes of it. It is\ntragedy in low-heeled shoes. Her spirit is boisterousness; her\nplayfulness languid affectation; her familiarity oppressive; her gaiety\nlamentable. There never was such labour in vain. A smile trickles down\nher cheek like a tear, and her voice whines through a repartee in as\nmany winding bouts of mawkish insinuation as through the most pathetic\naddress. We cannot bear all this evident condescension; it overpowers\nus. In one scene she was very much applauded: it is that in which the\n_Widow Cheerly_ gives a characteristic description of her former\nhusband\u2019s introduction of her to his bottle-companions: \u2018This is _my_\nwife,\u2019 etc. Now it cannot be denied that she mimicked the airs and\nmanner of the fox-hunting squire very well, and her voice fairly gave\nthe house a box on the ear. But we do not wish to see Miss O\u2019Neill in\nthe part of _Squire Western_. We conceive that this delightful actress\ncannot descend lower than the soldier\u2019s daughter, except by playing the\nsailor\u2019s daughter, and giving the word of command in a striped blue\njacket and trowsers instead of a striped green gown. In these tom-boy\nhectoring heroines Mrs. Charles Kemble, whom, to the best of our belief,\nshe imitates, beats her out and out; and Mrs. Mardyn, besides being\ntaller and handsomer, has really more of the _vis comica_. But we will\nhave done with this ungrateful subject. The comedy itself, of _The\nSoldier\u2019s Daughter_, is the _beau ideal_ of modern comedy. It contains\nthe whole theory and practice of sentimentality, of which a bank-note\noffered and declined is the circulating medium, and a white cambric\npocket-handkerchief, that catches the crystal tear in the eye of\nsensibility ere it falls, the visible emblem. _Mr._ and _Mrs. Melford_\nare an amiable young couple in lodgings and in great distress, but you\ndo not learn how they got into one any more than the other. They utter\ntheir complaints, but are too delicate to touch upon the cause, and you\nsympathise with their sorrows, not with their misfortunes. They have a\nlittle girl, who has a little doll, which she christens \u2018Miss Good\nGentleman,\u2019 after a person whose name she does not know. This is a very\npalpable hit, and tells amazingly. The unknown benefactor of these\nunfortunates _incognito_ is a young _Mr. Heartall_, a wild, giddy\ncharacter, that is, in the modern sense, a person who never stands still\non the stage\u2014who is always running into scrapes, which he walks out of\nwithout leaving any apology or account behind him. Then there is the\n_Widow Cheerly_, in the same house with the _Melfords_, whose heart and\nwhose _ridicule_ are ever open to the distressed, and who makes a match\nwith _Young Heartall_, because he makes her an offer, it not being\nconsistent with the gallantry of a soldier\u2019s daughter to decline a\nchallenge of that sort. Then there is _Old Heartall_, uncle to _Young\nHeartall_, and an East Indian Governor, who says one thing and does\nanother; calls his nephew a scoundrel, and throws his arms round his\nneck. He is not a character, but a contradiction. Then there is a Mr.\nFerret, who commits all sorts of unaccountable villainies through the\npiece, without any ostensible motives, and at the end of it you find\nthat he has acted upon an abstract principle of avarice.\n\n\u2018If,\u2019 he says, \u2018there had been no such thing as avarice, I had not been\na villain.\u2019 This is a very edifying confession of faith; and so not\nfinding this principle answer, he repents upon an abstract principle of\nrepentance, and also at the instigation of his old benefactor, (just\narrived from the East and accordingly a great moralist), who reads him a\ngreat moral lecture, and advises him to give up his ill-gotten gains. As\n_Mr. Ferret_ submits to his advice backed by the law, _Old Heartall_ is\nprevailed on to forgive his designs upon the lives, characters, and\nfortunes of his acquaintance, from an amiable weakness of heart, and\nbecause the _Widow Cheerly_, who intercedes for him, \u2018has roguish eyes.\u2019\nMr. Liston plays a foolish servant in the _Heartall_ family, whose name\nis _Timothy_. The name of _Timothy_ is one of the jokes of this part:\nMr. Liston\u2019s face is the other, and the best of the two.\n\nThe whole tone of this play reminded us strongly of a very excellent\ncriticism which we had read a short time before on the _cant_ of Modern\nComedy, in one of the notes to Mr. Lamb\u2019s Specimens of Early Dramatic\nPoetry:\u2014\n\n\u2018The insipid levelling morality to which the modern stage is tied down\nwould not admit of such admirable passions as these scenes are filled\nwith. A puritanical obtuseness of sentiment, a stupid infantile\ngoodness, is creeping among us, instead of the vigorous passions, and\nvirtues clad in flesh and blood, with which the old dramatists present\nus. Those noble and liberal casuists could discern in the differences,\nthe quarrels, the animosities of men, a beauty and truth of moral\nfeeling, no less than in the iteratively inculcated duties of\nforgiveness and atonement. With us, all is hypocritical meekness. A\nreconciliation scene (let the occasion be never so absurd and unnatural)\nis always sure of applause. Our audiences come to the theatre to be\ncomplimented on their goodness. They compare notes with the amiable\ncharacters in the play, and find a wonderful similarity of disposition\nbetween them. We have a common stock of dramatic morality, out of which\na writer may be supplied, without the trouble of copying it from\noriginals within his own breast. To know the boundaries of honour\u2014to be\njudiciously valiant\u2014to have a temperance which shall beget a smoothness\nin the angry swellings of youth\u2014to esteem life as nothing when the\nsacred reputation of a parent is to be defended, yet to shake and\ntremble under a pious cowardice when that ark of an honest confidence is\nfound to be frail and tottering\u2014to feel the true blows of a real\ndisgrace blunting that sword which the imaginary strokes of a supposed\nfalse imputation had put so keen an edge upon but lately\u2014to do, or to\nimagine this done in a feigned story, asks something more of a moral\nsense, somewhat a greater delicacy of perception in questions of right\nand wrong, than goes to the writing of two or three hackneyed sentences\nabout the laws of honour as opposed to the laws of the land or a\ncommon-place against duelling. Yet such things would stand a writer now\na days in far better stead than Captain Ager and his conscientious\nhonour; and he would be considered as a far better teacher of morality\nthan old Rowley or Middleton, if they were living.\u2019\n\n\n\n\n PENELOPE AND THE DANSOMANIE.\n\n\n _The Examiner._] [_January 19, 1817._\n\n KING\u2019S THEATRE.\n\nThis theatre was opened for the present season under very favourable\nauspices; and we congratulate the public on the prospect of the\ncontinuance of this addition to the stock of elegant amusement. Though\nthe opera is not among the ordinary resources of the lovers of the\ndrama, it is a splendid object in the _vista_ of a winter\u2019s evening, and\nwe should be sorry to see it mouldering into decay, its graceful columns\nand Corinthian capitals fallen, and its glory buried in Chancery. We\nrejoice when the Muses escape out of the fangs of the law, nor do we\nlike to see the Graces arrested\u2014in a _pas de trois_. We do not \u2018like to\nsee the unmerited fall of what has long flourished in splendour; any\nvoid produced in the imagination; any ruin on the face of Art.\u2019 At\npresent we hope better things from the known tastes and talents of the\ngentleman who is understood to have undertaken the management of the\nprincipal department, and from what we have seen of the performances\nwith which the company have commenced their career. The pieces on\nSaturday and Tuesday were the Opera of _Penelope_ by Cimarosa, and the\ninimitable comic Ballet, _The Dansomanie_. The first is, what it\nprofesses to be, a Grand Serious Opera: but it is somewhat heavy and\nmonotonous. It introduced to the English Stage several actors of\nconsiderable eminence abroad. The principal were Mad. Camporese as\n_Penelope_, Madame Pasta as _Telemachus_, and Signor Crivelli as\n_Ulysses_. The last of these appears to be as good an actor as a singer.\nHis gestures have considerable appropriateness and expression, besides\nhaving that sustained dignity and studied grace, which are essential to\nthe harmony of the Opera; and his tones in singing are full, clear, and\nso articulate, that any one at all imbued with the Italian language can\nfollow the words with ease. Madame Camporese performed _Penelope_, and\ndrew down the frequent plaudits of the house by the sweetness of her\nvoice, and the flexibility of execution which she manifested in some of\nthe most difficult and impassioned passages. If we were to express our\nopinion honestly, we should say that we received most pleasure from\nMadame Pasta\u2019s _Telemachus_. There is a natural eloquence about her\nsinging which we feel, and therefore understand. Her dress and figure\nalso answered to the classical idea we have of the youthful\n_Telemachus_. Her voice is good, her action is good: she has a handsome\nface, and _very_ handsome legs. The ladies, we know, think otherwise:\nthis is the only subject on which we think ourselves better judges than\nthey.\u2014Of the _Dansomanie_ we will say nothing, lest we should be\nsupposed to have caught the madness which it ridicules so sportively and\ngracefully. The whole is excellent, but the Minuet de la Cour is\nsublime: and the Gavot which succeeds it, is as good. Madame Leon was\nexquisite, and she had a partner worthy of her.\n\n \u2018Such were the joys of our dancing days.\u2019\n\nReally when we see these dances, and hear the music, which our old\nfantastical dancing master used to scrape upon his kit, played in full\norchestra, we do not know what to make of it; we wish we were old\ndancing-masters, or learning to dance; or that we had lived in the time\nof Henry IV. The tears do not come in our eyes; that source is dry: but\nwe exclaim with the Son of Fingal,\n\n \u2018Roll on, ye dark-brown years! ye bring no joy on your wing to Ossian.\u2019\n\n\n\n\n OROONOKO.\n\n\n _The Examiner._] [_January 26, 1817._\n\n DRURY-LANE.\n\nSouthern\u2019s tragedy of _Oroonoko_, which has not been acted, we believe,\nfor some years, has been brought forward here to introduce Mr. Kean as\nthe Royal Slave. It was well thought of. We consider it as one of his\nbest parts. It is also a proof to us of what we have always been\ndisposed to think, that Mr. Kean, when he fully gives up his mind to it,\nis as great in pure pathos as in energy of action or discrimination of\ncharacter. In general, he inclines to the violent and muscular\nexpression of passion, rather than to that of its deep, involuntary,\nheart-felt workings. If he does this upon any theory of the former style\nof expression being more striking and calculated to produce an immediate\neffect, we think the success of his _Richard II._ and of this play alone\n(not to mention innumerable fine passages in his other performances),\nmight convince him of the perfect safety with which he may trust himself\nin the hands of the audience, whenever he chuses to indulge in \u2018the\nmelting mood.\u2019 We conceive that the range of his powers is greater in\nthis respect than he has yet ventured to display, and that if the taste\nof the town is not yet ripe for the change, he has genius enough to lead\nit, wherever truth and nature point the way. His performance of\n_Oroonoko_ was for the most part decidedly of a mild and sustained\ncharacter; yet it was highly impressive throughout, and most so, where\nit partook least of violence or effort. The strokes of passion which\ncame unlooked for and seemed to take the actor by surprise, were those\nthat took the audience by surprise, and only found relief in tears. Of\nthis kind was the passage in which, after having been harrowed up to the\nlast degree of agony and apprehension at the supposed dishonourable\ntreatment of his wife, and being re-assured on that point, he falls upon\nher neck with sobs of joy and broken laughter, saying, \u2018I knew they\ncould not,\u2019 or words to that effect. The first meeting between him and\n_Imoinda_ was also very affecting; and the transition to tenderness and\nlove in it was even finer than the expression of breathless eagerness\nand surprise. There were many other passages in which the feelings,\nconveyed by the actor, seemed to gush from his heart, as if its inmost\nveins had been laid open. In a word, Mr. Kean gave to the part that\nglowing and impetuous, and at the same time deep and full expression,\nwhich belongs to the character of that burning zone, which ripens the\nsouls of men, as well as the fruits of the earth! The most striking part\nin the whole performance was in the uttering of a single word.\n_Oroonoko_, in consequence of his gentle treatment, and the flattering\npromises that are held out to him of safe conduct to his own country, of\nthe restoration of his liberty and his beloved _Imoinda_, thinks well of\nthe persons into whose hands he has fallen; and it is in vain that\n_Aboam_ (Mr. Rae) tries to work him up to suspicion and revenge by\ngeneral descriptions of the sufferings of his countrymen, or of the\ncruelty and treachery of their white masters: but at the suggestion of\nthe thought, that if they remain where they are, _Imoinda_ will become\nthe mother, and himself, a prince and a hero, the father of a race of\nslaves, he starts and the manner in which he utters the ejaculation\n\u2018Hah!\u2019 at the world of thought which is thus shewn to him, like a\nprecipice at his feet, resembles the first sound that breaks from a\nthunder-cloud, or the hollow roar of a wild beast, roused from its lair\nby hunger and the scent of blood. It is a pity that the catastrophe does\nnot answer to the grandeur of the menace; and that this gallant\nvindicator of himself and his countrymen fails in his enterprise,\nthrough the treachery and cowardice of those whom he attempts to set\nfree, but \u2018who were by nature slaves!\u2019 The story of this _servile war_\nis not without a parallel elsewhere: it reads \u2018a great moral lesson\u2019 to\nEurope, only changing _black_ into _white_; and the manner in which\n_Oroonoko_ is prevailed on to give up his sword, and his treatment\nafterwards, by a man in British uniform, seems to have been the model of\nthe Convention of Paris. It only required one thing to have made it\ncomplete, that the Governor, who is expected in the island, should have\narrived in time to break the agreement, and save the credit of his\nsubaltern. The political allusions throughout, that is, the appeals to\ncommon justice and humanity, against the most intolerable cruelty and\nwrong, are so strong and palpable, that we wonder the piece is not\nprohibited. There is that black renegade _Othman_, who betrays his\ncountry in the hopes of promotion, and the favour of his betters: how\nlike he is to many a white-faced loon, but that \u2018the devil has not\ndamned them black!\u2019 Politics apart\u2014_Oroonoko_ is a very interesting\nmoral play. It is a little tedious sometimes, and a little common-place\nat all times, but it has feeling and nature to supply what it wants in\nother respects. The negroes in it (we could wish them out of it, but\nthen there would be no play) are very _ugly customers_ upon the stage.\nOne blackamoor in a picture is an ornament, but a whole cargo of them is\nmore than enough. This play puts us out of conceit with both colours,\ntheirs and our own; the sooty slave\u2019s, and his cold, sleek, smooth-faced\nmaster\u2019s.\u2014Miss Somerville was a great relief to the natural and moral\ndeformity of the scene. She looked like the _idea_ of the poet\u2019s mind.\nHer resigned, pensive, unconscious look and attitude, at the moment she\nis about to be restored to the rapturous embrace of her lover, was a\nbeautiful dramatic picture. She is an acquisition to the milder parts of\ntragedy. She interests on the stage, for she is interesting in herself.\nShe cannot help being a heroine, if she but shews herself. She was as\nelegantly dressed in _Imoinda_, for an Indian maid, in light, flowered\ndrapery, as she was in _Imogine_, for a lady of old romance, in trains\nof lead-coloured satin. Her voice is sweet, but lost in its own\nsweetness; and we who hear her at some distance, can only catch \u2018the\nmusic of her honey-vows,\u2019 like the indistinct murmur of a hive of bees.\nMr. Bengough does not improve upon us by acquaintance. All that we have\nof late discovered in him is that he has grey eyes. Little Smith made an\nexcellent representative of the coasting Guinea captain. John Bull could\nnot desire to have better justice done to his mind or his\nbody.\u2014Southern, the author of _Oroonoko_, was also the author of\n_Isabella, or the Fatal Marriage_, in both of which \u2018he often has\nbeguiled us of our tears.\u2019 He died at the age of eighty-six, in 1746.\nGray, the poet, speaks thus of him in a letter, dated from Burnham, in\nBuckinghamshire, 1737. \u2018We have here old Mr. Southern, at a gentleman\u2019s\nhouse a little way off: he is now seventy-seven years old, and has\nalmost wholly lost his memory: but is as agreeable as an old man can be:\nat least I persuade myself so, when I look at him, and think of\n_Isabella_ and _Oroonoko_.\u2019\n\n\n\n\n \u2018THE PANNEL\u2019 AND \u2018THE RAVENS\u2019\n\n\n _The Examiner._] [_February 2, 1817._\n\nThere has been little new this week. A new after-piece or melo-drame has\nbeen brought forward at Covent-garden, and the old farce of the _Pannel_\nrevived at Drury-Lane. We can say but little in praise of the former,\nexcept the excellence of the acting and the manner in which it is got\nup. The strength of the house is mustered in a second-rate production,\nand from the list of names in the play-bills, the public go to see the\nperformers, if not the performance, and come away at least half\nsatisfied. They manage these things differently at Drury-lane, and not\nso well. We deny that the comic strength of the two houses is so unequal\nas is sometimes supposed. For instance, at Drury-lane, they have Munden,\nDowton, Oxberry, and Knight; Harley is droll too; and in women, they\nbeat them out and out, for they have Miss Kelly. To be sure, they have\nnot Liston; so they must kick the beam. Mr. Liston is the greatest comic\ngenius of the age. If we were very dull and sad indeed, we should avoid\ngoing to any farce or comedy in which he did not appear, as only\ntantalising to our feelings, and promising relief without affording it:\nbut we must be dull indeed, if we did not bite at the bait of Mr.\nListon\u2019s _Lubin Log_. His comic humour is a sort of oil or \u2018balsam of\nfierabras\u2019 for all imaginary wounds that are not a foot deep. His laugh\nmight tickle royalty itself after the howling of the rabble, or make one\nof the wax figures at Mrs. Salmon\u2019s relax from the inflexibility of its\nstate. Then there is Miss Stephens at Covent-garden, and there are the\nthree Miss Dennets\u2014like \u2018Circe and the Sirens three.\u2019 We always see the\nMiss Dennets at the theatre, and they sometimes glide before our\nimagination at other times; but we seldom hear Miss Stephens now. We\nwant to see her again in _Mandane_, in which we have seen her eight\ntimes already, and to hear her sing _If o\u2019er the cruel tyrant Love_,\nwhich we could hear her sing for ever. We want to see her in _Polly_ for\nthe seventh time, and in _Rosetta_ for the fifth, we believe it will be,\nwhen we see her in it again, which will be when she next plays in it.\nPray how long will it be first, Mr. Fawcett? We suppose not till Miss\nO\u2019Neill is tired of tiring the audience in _Mrs. Oakley_, or \u2018the ravens\nare hoarse that croak over Mr. Emery\u2019s head\u2019 in the Pangs of Conscience.\n_Something new, always something new._ That is the taste of Covent\nGarden, and the town. It is not our\u2019s. We are for something old.\n_Toujours perdrix._ We like to read the same books, and to see the same\nplays, and the same faces over again\u2014_always provided_ we liked them at\nfirst. Now there is one face which we never liked, and never shall like,\nwhich is the face of Tyranny, and the older it gets, the uglier it gets\nin our eyes, and in this, as a matter of taste, we differ entirely with\nMr. Canning, though he has been declared by a classical authority to be\n\u2018the most elegant mind since Virgil.\u2019 We differ with him\nnotwithstanding.\u2014_The Ravens, or the Pangs of Conscience_, is a\nmelo-drame taken from the French, of the same breed, but an inferior\nspecimen, as the _Maid and Magpie_, and the _Family of Anglade_. It is a\nkind of renewal of the age of augury adapted to the modern theories of\nprobability, by being reduced within the limits of natural history.\nThese pieces take for their text the lines,\n\n \u2018And choughs and magpies shall bring forth\n The secret\u2019st man of blood.\u2019\n\nIn the _Pangs of Conscience_, as in the _Maid of Palisseau_, there is a\nrobbery, a trial of persons innocently suspected of it, and a discovery\nof the real perpetrators, just at the critical moment, by the\nintervention of two of the feathered creation. Just as sentence has been\npronounced on the supposed criminals (Terry and Blanchard) by the Judge,\n(Barrymore, who really performed this character admirably) two Ravens\nfly in upon the stage, the same who had hovered over the scene of the\nmurder and robbery in the adjacent forest, and by their silent but\ndreadful appeal to the conscience of _Jacques du Noir_ (Emery), who is\nnot like his cousin _Bruno du Noir_ (poor Farley) a hardened, but a\nconscientious villain, reveal the mystery of the whole transaction, by\nwhich the guilty are punished, and the innocent miraculously\nescape.\u2014There was some fine and powerful acting by Emery in the part of\nthe repentant assassin. _Bruno_ in vain endeavours to appease and quiet\nhim, but he still roars out lustily to give vent both to the pangs of\nhis conscience and the \u2018grief of a wound\u2019 which he has got in the\nencounter from an old rusty fowling-piece of Fawcett\u2019s, whom they\nplunder and kill. The greatest part of this romantic fiction is tedious,\nand the whole of it improbable, but from the goodness of the acting, and\nsome strokes of interest in the situations, it went off with applause.\nOf the _Pannel_, we have only room to add that we think _Beatrice_, who\nis the subordinate heroine of the piece, the best specimen of Mrs.\nAlsop\u2019s acting. We saw it from a remote part of the house, and her\n_voice and manner_ at this distance sometimes reminded us of her\nmother\u2019s.\n\n\n\n\n JOHN GILPIN\n\n\n _The Examiner._] [_May 4, 1817._\n\n DRURY-LANE.\n\nWhen Mr. Dowton advertised for his benefit that he was to appear in the\nafter-piece as _John Gilpin_, and to ride for that night only, we\nimmediately felt tempted to go as the self-appointed executors and\nresiduary legatees of the original author of the story, who concludes\nhis account with these two lines\u2014\n\n \u2018And when he next does ride abroad,\n May we be there to see.\u2019\n\nSo we took upon us to fulfil Cowper\u2019s wish, and went to see, not _John\nGilpin_, nor, as we are credibly informed, even Mr. Dowton, but\nsomething very laughable, and still more absurd, which had however a\ncertain charm about it, from the very name of the hero of the piece. We\nhave an interest in _John Gilpin_; aye, almost as great an interest as\nwe have in ourselves; for we remember him almost as long. We remember\nthe prints of him and his travels hung round a little parlour where we\nused to visit when we were children\u2014just about the time of the beginning\nof the French Revolution. While the old ladies were playing at whist,\nand the young ones at forfeits, we crept about the sides of the room and\ntracked _John Gilpin_ from his counter to his horse, from his own door\nto the turnpike, and far beyond the turnpike gate and the bell at\nEdmonton, with loss of wig and hat, but with an increasing _impetus_ and\nreputation, the farther he went from home.\n\n \u2018The turnpike men their gates wide open threw,\n He carries weight, he rides a race,\n \u2019Tis for a thousand pounds.\u2019\n\nWhat an impression was here made, never to be effaced! What a thing it\nis to be an author, and how much better a thing it is to be a reader,\nwith all the pleasure and without any of the trouble\u2014but without any of\nthe fame, you will say. That is not worth two-pence. And yet true fame\nis something, the fame, for instance, of Cowper or of Thomson\u2014not to\nlive in the mouths of pedants, and coxcombs, and professional men, but\nin the heart and soul of every living being, to mingle with every\nthought, to beat in every pulse, to be hailed with transport by those\nwho are young, and to be remembered with regret by those who are old, to\nbe \u2018first, last, and midst\u2019 in the minds of others. True fame is like a\nLapland sun, that never goes down; it rises with us in the morning, and\nrolls round and round till our night of life. Why, look here, what a\nthing it is to be an author! _John Gilpin_ delighted us when we were\nchildren, and were we to die to-morrow, the name of _John Gilpin_ would\nexcite a momentary sense of pleasure. The same feeling of delight, with\nwhich at ten years old we read the story, makes us thirty years after\ngo, laughing, to see the play. In all that time, the remembrance has\nbeen cherished at the heart, like the pulse that sustains our life.\n\u2018That ligament, fine as it was, was never broken!\u2019 and yet it was nearly\nbroken the other night, in the after-piece of this name, and would have\nbeen quite so for the evening, if it had not been for Mr. Munden, who,\nas a subordinate agent, prevented Mr. Dowton from breaking his neck in\nthe principal character. We differed from the audience on this occasion,\nwho did not much relish Mr. Munden in his part of a cockney: we relished\nhim altogether and mightily. His speech, his countenance, and his dress,\nwere in high costume and keeping. There was a greatness of gusto about\n_Timothy Brittle_, _Mrs. Gilpin\u2019s_ favourite but unfortunate son-in-law.\nIt might be said of Mr. Munden in this character, that not only did his\ndress appear to have come fresh from the shop-board, his coat, his\npantaloons, his waistcoat\u2014but his speech was clipped and snipped as with\na pair of sheers, and his face looked just as if the tailor\u2019s goose had\ngone over it. It was a fine and inimitable piece of acting, but it was\ndamned.\u2014Dowton, in _The Rivals_, played _Mrs. Malaprop_, and Mrs. Sparks\nplayed _Sir Anthony Absolute_. We cannot say much of these\ntransformations, for the performers themselves remained just the same,\nbreeches and petticoats out of the question; nothing was transformed or\nridiculous but their dress. Dowton was as blunt and bluff, and Mrs.\nSparks was as keen, querulous, and scolding, as in any of their usual\ncharacters. The effect was flat after the first _entr\u00e9e_, and the whole\nplay was, in other respects, very poorly got up;\u2014quite in the comic\n_neglig\u00e9_ of _Drury-lane_.\u2014We ought to say something of Mrs. Hill, who\ncame out on Tuesday evening as _Lady Macbeth_. She is neither a good nor\na bad actress. She has, however, a sentimental drawl in her voice and\nmanner which is very little to our taste, and not at all in character as\n_Lady Macbeth_. The King never dies. Why should Mrs. Siddons ever die?\nWhy, because Kings are fictions in law: Mrs. Siddons was one of nature\u2019s\ngreatest works.\n\n\n\n\n DON GIOVANNI AND KEAN\u2019S EUSTACE DE ST. PIERRE\n\n\n _The Examiner._] [_May 18, 1817._\n\nThe last time we saw the Opera of _Don Giovanni_ was from a distant part\nof the house: we saw it the other evening near; and as the impression\nwas somewhat different, we wish to correct one or two things in our\nformer statement. Madame Fodor sings and acts the part of _Zerlina_ as\ncharmingly as ever, but she does not _look_ it so well near as at a\ngreater distance. She has too much _em bon point_, is too broad-set for\nthe idea of a young and beautiful country girl: her mouth is laughing\nand good-natured, but does not answer to Spenser\u2019s description of\n_Belphebe_,\u2014and it cannot be concealed that _Zerlina_, the delightful\nZerlina, has a cast in her eyes. Her singing, however, made us forget\nall these defects, and after the second line of _La ci darem_, we had\nquite recovered from our disappointment. On the whole, we at present\nprefer the air of _Vedrai Carino_, which she sings to _Masetto_ to\ncomfort him, even to the duet with _Don Giovanni_. There was some\nuncertainty about _encoring_ her in this song,\u2014not, we apprehend,\nbecause the audience were afraid of tiring the actress, but because they\nwere tired themselves. Madame Fodor was _encored_ in all her songs\nthroughout the piece.\u2014This might be thought hard upon her; we dare say\nshe would have thought it harder if she had not. Signor Ambrogetti\u2019s\nacting as _Don Giovanni_ improves upon a nearer acquaintance. There is a\nsoftness approaching to effeminacy in the expression of his face, which\naccords well with the character, and an insinuating archness in his eye,\nwhich takes off from the violent effect of his action. The serenade of\n_Don Giovanni_ was omitted. As to Naldi, he is in too confirmed\npossession of the stage to be corrigible to advice. He is one of those\nold birds that are not to be caught with chaff. The sly rogue,\n_Leporello_, seems to have grown grey in the service of iniquity, and\nhangs his nose over the stage with a formidable _bravura_ aspect, as if\nhe could suspend the orchestra from it. Angrisani is an admirable, and\nwe might say, first-rate comic actor. He has fine features; a manly,\nrustic voice; and we never saw disdain, impatience, the resentment and\nrelenting of the jealous lover, better expressed than in the scene\nbetween him and Madame Fodor, where she makes that affecting appeal to\nhis forgiveness in the song of _Batte, Batte, Masetto_. It was\ninimitably acted on both sides.\n\n\n DRURY-LANE.\n\nMr. Kean has appeared in _Eustace de St. Pierre_ in the _Surrender of\nCalais_. He has little to do in it; and he might as well not have\nappeared in the character, for he does not look well in it. He was badly\ndressed in a doublet of green baize, and in villainous yellow hose. It\nwas like the player\u2019s description of Hecuba\u2014\n\n \u2018A clout upon that head\n Where late the diadem stood: and for a robe\n A blanket, in the alarm of fear caught up.\u2019\n\nBut we shall not, \u2018though we have seen this, with tongue in venom\nsteep\u2019d, pronounce treason against fortune\u2019s state,\u2019 or against the\nManagers of Drury-lane. Mr. Kean shewed his usual talents in this part;\nbut it afforded less scope and fewer opportunities for them than any\npart in which we have ever seen him. We are not sorry, however, that he\nhas got into the part, as a kind of truce with tragedy. Why should he\nnot, like other actors, sometimes have a part to walk through? Must we\nfor ever be expecting from him, as if he were a little _Jupiter tonans_,\n\u2018thunder, nothing but thunder?\u2019 It is too much for any mortal to play\n_Othello_ and _Sir Giles_ in the same week\u2014we mean, as Mr. Kean plays\nthem. He is, we understand, to appear in a new character, and sing a new\nsong, for his benefit to-morrow week.\n\n\n\n\n CHARACTER OF THE COUNTRY PEOPLE\n\n\n _The Examiner._] [_July 18, 1819._\n\n \u2018Here be truths.\u2019\u2014_Dogberry._\n\nFirst, there is an old woman in the neighbouring village, fifty-six\nyears old, with a wooden leg, who never saw a leg of mutton roasted, or\na piece of beef put into the pot; and who regards any person who has not\nlived all his life on rusty bacon as a non-descript or \u2018mountain\nforeigner.\u2019 Yet this venerable matron, who now officiates as cook to a\nlady \u2018retired from public haunts\u2019 into a remote part of the country,\nkept her father\u2019s house, who was a little farmer, for twenty years; so\nthat she ranks, in the scale of rural existence, above her neighbours.\nWhat then must the notions of most of them be of the _savoir vivre_? Is\nthis the sum and substance of all our boasts of the roast-beef of old\nEngland?\u2014The truth is, that the people in this part of the country (I do\nnot know how it is in others) have neither food nor cloathing wherewith\nto be content; nor are they content without them, nor with those that\nhave them. Any one dressed in a plain broad-cloth coat is in their eyes\na sophisticated character, as outlandish a figure as my _Lord\nFoppington_. A smock-frock, and shoes with hob-nails in them, are an\nindispensable part of country etiquette; and they hoot at or pelt any\none, who is presumptuous enough to depart from this appropriate costume.\nThis, if we may believe a philosophical poet of the present day, is the\nmeaning of the phrase in Shakespear, \u2018pelting villages,\u2019 he having been\nonce set upon in this manner by \u2018a crew of patches, rude mechanicals,\u2019\nwho disliked him for the fantastic strangeness of his appearance. Even\ntheir tailors (of whom you might expect better things) hate decency, and\nwill spoil you a suit of clothes, rather than follow your directions.\nOne of them, the little hunch-backed tailor of P\u2014tt\u2014n, with the handsome\ndaughter, whose husband ran away from her and went to sea, was ordered\nto make a pair of brown or snuff-coloured breeches for my friend C\u2014\u2014\nL\u2014\u2014;\u2014instead of which the pragmatical old gentleman (having an opinion\nof his own) brought him home a pair of \u2018lively Lincoln-green,\u2019 in which\nI remember he rode in triumph in Johnny Tremain\u2019s cross-country caravan\nthrough Newberry, and entered Oxford, \u2018fearing no colours,\u2019 the abstract\nidea of the jest of the thing prevailing in his mind (as it always does)\nover the sense of personal dignity.\n\nIf a stranger comes to live among country people, they have a bad\nopinion of him at first; and all he can do to overcome their dislike,\nonly confirms them in it. It is in vain to attempt to conciliate them:\nthe more you strive to persuade them that you mean them no harm, the\nmore they are determined not to be convinced. They attribute any\ncivility or kindness you shew them to a design to cajole them. They are\nnot to be taken in by appearances. They are _fer\u00e6 natur\u00e6_, and not to be\ntamed by art. In proportion as you give them no cause of offence, they\nsummon their whole stock of prejudice, impudence, and cunning, to aid\ntheir tottering opinion; and hate you the more for the injustice they\nseem to do you. They had rather you did them an injury that they might\nkeep their original opinion of you. If there is the smallest\ncircumstance or insinuation to your prejudice, their rancour against\nyou, and self-complacency in their own sagacity, eagerly seizes hold of\nit; fans their suspicions into a flame, and breaks out into open insult\nand all the triumph of brutal derision. On the contrary, if they find\nyou, after all, a quiet, inoffensive person, they think you a fool, and\nso have you that way. Used to contempt, they have not much respect to\nspare for other people. Finding themselves none the better for them,\nthey have not much faith in your demonstrations of good-will towards\nthem. Prepared for repulses and hard treatment, the expression of their\ngratitude is not very spontaneous or sincere.\u2014An aged Sybil of this\nplace, having gone to a lady, who had just settled here, with a doleful\ntale of distress, and an empty bottle, received a shilling instead of\nhaving her bottle replenished with liquor; when being met on her return\nby one of her gossips coming on the same errand, and being asked her\nsuccess, she held up her empty bottle in sign of scorn, saying, \u2018Look\nhere!\u2019 Such is the _beau ideal_ of unsophisticated human nature in her\nobscure retreats, about which there have been so many \u2018songs of delight\nand rustical roundelays.\u2019\n\nIs it strange that these people who know nothing, hate all that they do\nnot understand? Their rudeness, intolerance, and conceit, are in exact\nproportion to their ignorance: for as they never saw or scarcely heard\nof any thing out of their own village, every thing else appears to them\nodd and unaccountable, and they cannot suspect that their own notions\nare wrong, when they are totally unacquainted with any others. We\nnaturally despise whatever baffles our comprehension, and dislike what\ncontradicts our prejudices, till we are taught better by a liberal\ncourse of study; but these people are no better taught than fed. It is a\nrule which they act upon as self-evident, and from which you will not\nget them to flinch in a hurry\u2014to scout every proceeding which differs\nfrom their own, and to consider every person, of whose birth, parentage,\nand education, they do not know the several particulars, as a suspicious\ncharacter. They have no knowledge of literature or the fine arts; which,\nif once banished from the city and the court, would soon \u2018be trampled in\nthe mire under the hoofs of a swinish multitude.\u2019 A mischievous wag of\nthe present day undertook to read some pastoral and lyrical effusions,\n(remarkable for their simplicity) to a collection of Cumberland\npeasants, to see if they would recognise the sentiments put into their\nmouths; and they only (which was what he expected) laughed at him for\nhis pains. \u2018The spinsters and the knitters in the sun, and the free\nmaids that weave their thread with bones,\u2019 may indeed relieve the\nwelcome pedlar of his wares, his laces, his true love-knots, or\npenny-Ballads, but they will have nothing to say to the Lyrical ballads,\nnor will the united counties of Westmorland, Cumberland, and Durham,\nsubscribe to lighten the London warehouses of a single copy of the\n_Excursion_. The hewers of wood and drawers of water know nothing of\npoetry, and they hate the very look of a poet. They like a painter as\nlittle. An artist who was making a sketch of a fine old yew tree in a\nromantic situation, was asked by a _knowing hand_, if he could tell how\nmany foot of timber it contained? _Falstaff_ asks as a question not to\nbe answered\u2014\u2018May I not take mine ease at mine inn?\u2019 But this was in\nEast-Cheap. I cannot do so in the country; for while I am writing this,\nI hear a fellow disputing in the kitchen, whether a person ought to live\n(as he expresses it) by pen and ink; and the landlord the other day (in\norder, I suppose, the better to prepare himself for such controversies)\nasked me if I had any object in reading through all those books which I\nhad brought with me, meaning a few odd volumes of old plays and novels.\nThe people born here cannot tell how an author gets his living or passes\nhis time; and would fain hunt him out of the place as they do a strange\ndog, or as they formerly did a conjuror or a witch. Ask the first\ncountry clown you meet, if he ever heard of Shakespear or Newton, and he\nwill stare in your face: and I remember our laughing a good deal at\nW\u2014\u2014\u2019s old Molly, who had never heard of the French Revolution, ten years\nafter it happened. Oh worse than Gothic ignorance!\n\nThey have no books, nor ever feel the want of them. How indeed should\nthey?[33] They have no works of poetry or fiction, to \u2018fleet the golden\ntime carelessly;\u2019 but they do not therefore want for fabulous resources.\nNecessity is the mother of invention; and their talent for lying and\nscandal is nourished by the very lack of materials.[34] They live not by\nbread alone, but by every word that proceedeth out of their mouths. They\nare employed, like the Athenians of old, in hearing or telling some new\nthing. The draw-well is the source from which they pump up idle rumours,\nand the blacksmith\u2019s shop is the place at which they forge the proofs,\nand turn them to shape, \u2018giving to airy nothing a local habitation and a\nname.\u2019 They lie like devils through thick and thin. They tell and\nbelieve all incredible things; and the greater the improbability, the\nmore readily and greedily is it swallowed, for it imposes more on the\nimagination. _To elevate and surprise_ is the great rule for producing a\ntheatrical or pastoral effect. People in a state of nature believe any\nthing for want of something to divert the mind, as they plot mischief\nfor want of better employment. Credulity and imposture are two of the\nstrongest propensities of the human mind. Men are as prone to deceive\nthemselves as others, without any other temptation than the exercise it\naffords to the imagination. It is a false test of historical evidence,\nthat it is necessary to assign a motive why men should consent to be\ndupes or undertake to be cheats. Curiosity is the source of\nsuperstition; for we must have objects to occupy the attention, and fill\nup the craving void of knowledge; and in the absence of truth, falsehood\nis called in to supply its place, and with the gross and ignorant,\nsupplies it much better. To ask why the untutored savage believes every\nmarvellous story that is told him, in the dearth of all real knowledge,\nis to ask why he slakes his thirst at the first fountain that he meets,\nor devours the prey he has just taken. With all their tendency to\nbigotry and superstition, country people have scarcely any idea of\nreligion. They have as little divine as human learning. The Bible is the\nonly book they have, but that they do not read, except with spectacles,\nwhen they grow old and half-blind. They are to a man and woman of _Mrs.\nQuickly\u2019s_ opinion\u2014\u2018But I told him a\u2019 should not think of God yet.\u2019 They\ngo to church, to be sure, as a matter of course, and from not knowing\nwhat else to do with themselves on Sundays; but they never think of what\nthey hear, from one week\u2019s end to another. Heaven and Hell are\nout-of-the-way places, not accessible to the apprehensions of those\nwhose ideas cannot get beyond the parish where they were born; and their\njoys or sorrows indifferent to an imagination, taken up with the wants\nof the belly. An old woman, who lived in a cottage by herself, on\nhearing the account of the Crucifixion, said it was a sad thing, but she\nhoped it was not true, as it happened so far off and such a long time\nago. A servant girl, hearing a Sermon read in which there was a striking\naccount of the Resurrection and the Day of Judgment, was very much\nalarmed, and said she hoped it would not be in her time. The Decalogue\nhas no terrors, and the Book of Revelations no charms for them. They\nwill be damned, but they will steal and lie, and bear false witness\nagainst each other; or if they do not, it is the fear of being hanged,\nor whipped, or summoned before the Justice of the Peace, and not of\nbeing called to account in another world, that prevents them. They are\nof the earth, earthy. They take thought only for the morrow; or rather,\nconform to the text\u2014\u2018Sufficient to the day is the evil thereof.\u2019 There\nis not a greater mistake, or a more wilful fallacy, than the common\nobservation, that the lower orders are kept in order (and can only be\nso) by their faith in religion. They have no more belief in it\npractically than most of their betters, who propose to keep them in\norder by it, have speculatively. The ignorant and destitute are\nrestrained from certain things by the fear of the law, or of what will\nbe said of them by their neighbours; and as to other things which are\ndenounced by Scripture, but to which no penalty attaches here, they\nthink if they have a mind to do them, and chuse to go to hell for it,\nthey have a right to do so. That is their phrase. It is nobody\u2019s\nbusiness but their own. It is (generally speaking) the absence of\ntemptation or opportunity, and not an excess of religious apprehension,\nthat keeps them within the pale of salvation. Their self-will balances\ntheir fear of the Devil, and when it comes to the push, the present\nmotive turns the scale, and the flesh proves too hard for the spirit.\nBurns\u2019s old man in the _Cottar\u2019s Saturday Night_ must pass for a very\npoetical character, at least in this part of the country. We see\nconstant accounts in the papers, in the case of malefactors that have\ncome to an untimely end, that it was owing in the first instance to the\nwant of religion, to the habit of swearing and Sabbath-breach. The same\naccount would hold equally true of those who are not hanged: for if all\nbut the godly and sober among the lower classes came to the gallows, the\npopulation would soon be thinned to a surprising degree.\n\n \u2018\u2019Twould thin the land\n Such numbers to string on Tyburn tree.\u2019\n\nAs to the regular church-going peasantry, there can be no great\ndifference as to religious light and feelings between them and their\nforefathers in the time of Popery, when the service was performed in\nLatin, as it is at present in most foreign countries. The only religious\npeople (except as a matter of outward shew and ceremony) are sectaries;\nfor the instant religion becomes a subject for serious thought and\nprivate reflection, it produces differences of opinion, which branch out\ninto as many speculative fancies and forms of worship, as there are\ndifferences of temper or accidents of education.[35] This, however, is\nthe exception, not the rule, in the present state of things\u2014now that\nzeal is no longer kindled at the fires of persecution, and that Acts of\nUniformity no longer throw the whole country into a ferment of\nopposition. The missionaries and fanatics sometimes indeed set up a\nmethodist chapel, where the staid inhabitants go in an evening to spite\nthe parson of the parish, or to while away an hour or so; or perhaps a\nmelancholy mechanic has a serious call and holds forth, or a pining\nspinster, moved by the spirit to listen to him\u2014\n\n \u2018Anon as patient as the female dove,\n The whilst her golden couplets are disclos\u2019d,\n Awhile sits drooping:\u2019\n\nbut the younger and healthier sort make a sport of it as of any other\nfantastical innovation; throw owls and skeletons of kites and carrion\ncrows into the place of worship; and make a violent noise all the time\nthe parson is preaching, to drown the nasal twang of evangelical\nglad-tidings, and the comfortable groans of the faithful.\u2014All this while\nthere is no end of the bastard-getting and swearing: and a girl, after\nhaving had three or four children by the same man, or by different men\n(as it happens), and who is as big as she can tumble again, is at length\nasked in church, without much scandal or offence to the community. It is\na new topic for the village, and is excused on that account. It is,\nbesides, an evidence quashed; and whatever others may take it into their\nheads to do, she need not talk. Liberality flourishes; a good example is\nset; and the species is propagated with as little trouble and formality\nas possible. The parson gets something by the christening, and the\napothecary has a finger in the pie. This is a state of things which\nought to be reformed\u2014but how or when?\n\n\n\n\n MR. MACREADY\u2019S MACBETH.\n\n\n _The Examiner._] [_June 25, 1820._\n\nMr. Macready\u2019s _Macbeth_, which he had for his benefit, and which he has\nplayed once or twice since, is a judicious and spirited performance. But\nwe are not in the number of those who think it his finest character.\nSensibility, not imagination, is his _forte_. Natural expression, human\nfeeling, seems to woo him like a bride; but the _ideal_ and\npreternatural beckon him only at a distance and mock his embraces. He\nsees no dim, portentous visions in his mind\u2019s eye; his acting has no\nshadowy landscape back-ground to surround it; he is not waited on by\nspirits of the deep or of the air; neither fate nor metaphysical aid are\nin league with him; he is prompter to himself, and treads within the\ncircle of the human heart. The machinery in _Macbeth_ is so far lost\nupon him: there is no secret correspondence between him and the Weird\nSisters. The poet has put a fruitless sceptre in his hand,\u2014a curtain is\nbetween him and the \u2018air-drawn dagger with its gouts of blood\u2019; he does\nnot cower under the traditions of the age, or startle at \u2018thick-coming\nfancies.\u2019 He is more like a man debating the reality, or questioning the\npower of the grotesque and unimaginable forms that hover round him, than\none hurried away by his credulous hopes, or shrinking from intolerable\nfears. There is not a weight of superstitious terror loading the\natmosphere and hanging over the stage when Mr. Macready plays the part.\nHe has cast the cumbrous slough of Gothic tragedy, and comes out a mere\nmodern, agitated by common means and intelligible motives. The\npreternatural agency is no more than an accompaniment, the pretended\noccasion, not the indispensable and all-powerful cause. It appears to us\nthen, that this excellent and able actor, _struck short_ of the higher\nand imaginative part of the character, and consequently was deficient in\nthe human passion, which is the mighty appendage to it. We thought Mr.\nMacready in a manner conscious of this want of entire possession of the\ncharacter. He was looking out for new readings, transposing attitudes\nand stage effects, trying substitutes and experiments, studying passages\ninstead of reciting them, rehearsing _Macbeth_, not _being_ it. His\nperformance of it was critical and fastidious: you would say that he was\nconsidering how he should act the part, so as to avoid certain errors or\nproduce certain effects\u2014not that he ever flung himself into the subject,\nand swam to shore, safe from carping objection, and above the reach of\nall praise. Mr. Macready does not often imitate other actors, but he\nendeavours not to imitate them, and that\u2019s almost as bad. He should\nthink of nothing but his part, and rely on nothing but his own powers.\nSingularity is not excellence. If to follow in the track of others shews\na servile genius and pitiful ambition, neither is it right to go out of\nthe strait road merely because others travel in it\u2014\u2018but still to follow\nnature is the rule\u2019\u2014John Kemble was the best _Macbeth_ (upon the whole)\nthat we have seen. There was a stiff, horror-stricken stateliness in his\nperson and manner, like a man bearing up against supernal influences;\nand a bewildered distraction, a perplexity and at the same time a\nrigidity of purpose, like one who had been stunned by a blow from fate.\nMr. Kean is great only in one scene, that after the murder of _Duncan_;\nhis acting also consists only in the direct embodying of human passion,\nand is entirely \u2018docked and curtailed\u2019 of the sweeping train of poetical\nimagination. On the evening we saw Mr. Macready\u2019s _Macbeth_ Mrs. Faucit\nplayed _Lady Macbeth_, and acted up to that arduous part with great\nspirit and self-possession; and Mr. Terry was the representative of\n_Macduff_. The only fault of this gentleman\u2019s acting is its slowness.\nThe words fall from his lips, like pendent drops from icicles. A speech,\nas he gives it, is equal to \u2018twa lang Scotch miles.\u2019 This not only\ncauses a stagnation and heaviness in the sentiments, but often cuts the\nsense in two. Thus in the exclamation which _Macduff_ utters on hearing\nof the slaughter of his children, \u2018Oh Hell-Kite, all?\u2019 Mr. Terry paused\nat the hyphen, as if to take time to think, and by this means made it\nlike an apostrophe to \u2018Hell,\u2019 adding the other syllable of the word,\nwhich determined the meaning and direction of his thoughts, afterwards.\nMr. Egerton as usual played _Banquo_, and makes as solid a Ghost as we\nwould wish to encounter of a winter\u2019s eve.\n\nDavid Rizzio we have not been able to get a peep at: but a friend\nwhispered us that it was poor, and we see it is praised in the _New\nTimes_!\n\nOn Friday Miss Stephens had a bumper for her benefit. The entertainments\nwere the _Lord of the Manor_, a Concert, and the _Libertine_. In the\nfirst, Mr. Duruset from indisposition, and after making one feeble\neffort, omitted the songs, by the indulgence of the audience; after\nthat, we do not see why he should be required to go through the rest of\nthe part, for he has not \u2018a speaking face.\u2019 Jones\u2019s _Mr. Contrast_ is a\nstriking, fulsome fop. But he makes foppery not only an object of\nlaughter, but of disgust; and perhaps this is going beyond the mark\nintended. We would recommend to our readers to go and see Mr. Liston\u2019s\n_Moll Flagon_ by all means. It is irresistible. We may say of it with\nthe poet\u2014\n\n \u2018Let those laugh now who never laugh\u2019d before,\n And those who still have laugh\u2019d now laugh the more.\u2019\n\nMrs. Salmon\u2019s singing in the Concert was \u2018d\u2019une path\u00e9tique \u00e0 faire\nfendre les rochers,\u2019\u2014and Miss Stephens\u2019s Echo song seemed sung by a\nSpirit or an enchantress. We were glad to hear it, for we have an\nattachment to Miss Stephens on account of \u2018auld lang syne\u2019 (we like old\nfriendships better than new), and do not wish that little murmuring\nsyren Miss Tree to wean us from our old and artless favourite.\u2014Those\nwere happy days when first Miss Stephens began to sing! When she came\nout in _Mandane_, in _Polly_, and in _Rosetta_ in _Love in a Village_!\nShe came upon us by surprise, but it was to delight and charm us. There\nwas a new sound in the air, like the voice of Spring; it was as if Music\nhad become young again, and was resolved to try the power of her\nsoftest, simplest, sweetest notes. Love and Hope listened, as her clear,\nliquid throat poured its delicious warblings on the ear, and at the\nclose of every strain, still called on Echo to prolong the sound. They\nwere the sweetest notes we ever heard, and almost the last we ever heard\nwith pleasure! For since then, other events not to be named lightly\nhere, but \u2018thoughts of which can never from the heart\u2019\u2014\u2018with other notes\nthan to the Orphean lyre,\u2019 have stopped our ears to the voice of the\ncharmer. But since the voice of Liberty has risen once more in Spain,\nits grave and its birth place, and like a babbling hound has wakened the\nechos in Galicia, in the Asturias, in Castile and Leon, and Estremadura,\nwhy, we feel as if we \u2018had three ears again\u2019 and the heart to use them,\nand as if we could once more write with the same feelings (the tightness\nremoved from the breast, and the pains smoothed from the brow) as we did\nwhen we gave the account of Miss Stephens\u2019s first appearance in the\n_Beggar\u2019s Opera_. Life might then indeed \u2018know the return of\nspring,\u2019\u2014and end, as it began, with faith in human kind!\u2014\n\n\n\n\n GUY FAUX\n\n\n _The Examiner._] [_November 11, 1821._\n\nGuy Faux is made into the figure of a scare-crow, a fifth of November\nbugbear, in our history. Now that Mr. Hogg\u2019s _Jacobite Relics_ have\ndissipated the remains of an undue horror at Popery, it may seem the\ntime to undertake the defence of so illustrious a character, who has\nhitherto been the victim of party-prejudice and national spite. Guy Faux\nwas a Popish Priest in the reign of James I., and for his unsuccessful\nattempt to set fire to the House of Lords, and blow up the English\nMonarchy, the Protestant Religion, and himself, at one stroke, has had\nthe honour to be annually paraded through the streets, and burnt in\neffigy in every town and village in England from that time to this\u2014that\nis, for the space of two hundred years and upwards. It is sometimes\ndoubtful, indeed, from the coincidence of dates and other circumstances,\nwhether this annual ceremony, accompanied as it is with the ringing of\nbells, the firing of guns, and the preaching of sermons, is intended\nmore to revive the formidable memory of \u2018poor Guy,\u2019 or in celebration of\nthe glorious landing of William III., who came to deliver us from Popery\nand Slavery a hundred years afterwards\u2014two things which Mr. Hogg treats\nas mere _bagatelles_ in his _Jacobite Relics_, though they do not appear\nso in the History of England; and to which the same writer assures us,\nas an agreeable piece of court-news that the present Family are by no\nmeans averse in their hearts!\n\nGuy Faux was a fanatic, but he was no hypocrite. He ranks among _good\nhaters_. He was cruel, bloody-minded, reckless of all considerations but\nthose of an infuriated and bigotted faith; but he was a true son of the\nCatholic Church, a martyr and a confessor, for all that. He who can\nprevail upon himself to devote his life for a cause, however we may\ncondemn his opinions or abhor his actions, vouches at least for the\nhonesty of his principles and the disinterestedness of his motives. He\nmay be guilty of the worst practices, but he is capable of the greatest.\nHe is no longer a slave, but free. The contempt of death is the\nbeginning of virtue. The hero of the Gun-Powder Plot was, if you will, a\nfool, a madman, an assassin; call him what names you please: still he\nwas neither knave nor coward. He did not propose to blow up the\nParliament and come off, scot-free, himself: he shewed that he valued\nhis own life no more than theirs in such a cause\u2014where the integrity of\nthe Catholic faith and the salvation of perhaps millions of souls was at\nstake. He did not call it a murder, but a sacrifice which he was about\nto achieve: he was armed with the Holy Spirit and with fire: he was the\nChurch\u2019s chosen servant and her blessed martyr. He comforted himself as\n\u2018the best of cut-throats.\u2019 How many wretches are there that would have\nundertaken to do what he intended for a sum of money, if they could have\ngot off with impunity! How few are there who would have put themselves\nin Guy Faux\u2019s situation to save the universe! Yet in the latter case we\naffect to be thrown into greater consternation than at the most\nunredeemed acts of villany, as if the absolute disinterestedness of the\nmotive doubled the horror of the deed! The cowardice and selfishness of\nmankind are in fact shocked at the consequences to themselves (if such\nexamples are held up for imitation,) and they make a fearful outcry\nagainst the violation of every principle of morality, lest they too\nshould be called on for any such tremendous sacrifices\u2014lest they in\ntheir turn should have to go on the forlorn hope of extra-official duty.\n_Charity begins at home_, is a maxim that prevails as well in the courts\nof conscience as in those of prudence. We would be thought to shudder at\nthe consequences of crime to others, while we tremble for them to\nourselves. We talk of the dark and cowardly assassin; and this is well,\nwhen an individual shrinks from the face of an enemy, and purchases his\nown safety by striking a blow in the dark: but how the charge of\ncowardly can be applied to the public assassin, who, in the very act of\ndestroying another, lays down his life as a pledge and forfeit of his\nsincerity and boldness, I am at a loss to devise. There may be barbarous\nprejudice, rooted hatred, unprincipled treachery, in such an act; but he\nwho resolves to take all the danger and odium upon himself, can no more\nbe branded with cowardice, than Regulus devoting himself for his\ncountry, or Codrus leaping into the fiery gulf. A wily Father\nInquisitor, coolly and with plenary authority condemning hundreds of\nhelpless and unoffending victims to the flames or to the horrors of a\nliving tomb, while he himself would not suffer a hair of his head to be\nhurt, is to me a character without any qualifying trait in it. Again;\nthe Spanish conqueror and hero, the favourite of his monarch, who\nenticed thirty thousand poor Mexicans into a large open building, under\npromise of strict faith and cordial good-will, and then set fire to it,\nmaking sport of the cries and agonies of these deluded creatures, is an\ninstance of uniting the most hardened cruelty with the most heartless\nselfishness. His plea was keeping no faith with heretics: this was Guy\nFaux\u2019s too; but I am sure at least that the latter kept faith with\nhimself: he was in earnest in his professions. _His_ was not gay,\nwanton, unfeeling depravity; he did not murder in sport; it was serious\nwork that he had taken in hand. To see this arch-bigot, this heart-whole\ntraitor, this pale miner in the infernal regions, skulking in his\nretreat with his cloak and dark lanthorn, moving cautiously about among\nhis barrels of gunpowder, loaded with death, but not yet ripe for\ndestruction, regardless of the lives of others, and more than\nindifferent to his own, presents a picture of the strange infatuation of\nthe human understanding, but not of the depravity of the human will,\nwithout an equal. There were thousands of pious Papists privy to and\nready to applaud the deed when done:\u2014there was no one but our old\nfifth-of-November friend, who still flutters in rags and straw on the\noccasion, that had the courage to attempt it. In him stern duty and\nunshaken faith prevailed over natural frailty. A man to undertake and\ncontemplate with gloomy delight this desperate task, could not certainly\nin the first instance, be a man of tender sensibility, or over-liable to\n\u2018the compunctious visitings of nature\u2019; but he would so far only be on a\nlevel with many others, and he would be distinguished from them by a\nhigh principle of enthusiasm, and a disinterested zeal for truth.\nGreater love than this has no one, that he shall give up his life for\nthe truth. We have no Guy Fauxes now:\u2014not that we have not numbers in\nwhom \u2018the spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.\u2019 We talk indeed of\nflinging the keys of the House of Commons into the Thames, by way of a\nlittle unmeaning splutter, and a little courting of popularity and\npersecution; but to fling ourselves into the gap, and blow up the system\nand our own bodies to atoms at once, upon an abstract principle of\nright, does not suit the _radical_ scepticism of the age!\n\nI like the spirit of martyrdom, I confess: I envy an age that had virtue\nenough in it to produce the mischievous fanaticism of a Guy Faux. A\nman\u2019s marching up to a masked-battery for the sake of company, is\nnothing: but a man\u2019s going resolutely to the stake rather than surrender\nhis opinion, is a serious matter. It shews that in the public mind and\nfeeling there is something better than life; that there is a belief of\nsomething in the universe and the order of nature, to which it is worth\nwhile to sacrifice this poor brief span of existence. To have an object\nalways in view dearer to one than one\u2019s-self, to cling to a principle in\ncontempt of danger, of interest, of the opinion of the world,\u2014this is\nthe true _ideal_, the high and heroic state of man. It is in fact to\nhave a standard of absolute and implicit faith in the mind, that admits\nneither of compromise, degree, nor exception. The path of duty is one,\nthe grounds of encouragement are fixed and invariable. Perhaps it is\nhardly possible to have such a standard, but where the certain prospect\nof another world absolves us from a miserly compact with this, and the\ncontemplation of infinity forms an habitual counterpoise to the\nillusions of time and sense. An object of the highest conceivable\ngreatness leads to unmingled devotion: the belief in eternal truth\nembodies itself on practical principles of strict rectitude, or of\nobstinate, but noble-minded error.\n\nThere was an instance that happened a little before the time of Guy\nFaux, which, in a different way, has something of the same character,\nwith a more pleasing conclusion. I mean the story of Margaret Lambrun;\nand as it is but little known, I shall here relate it as I find it:\u2014\n\n\u2018Margaret Lambrun was a Scotchwoman, and one of the retinue of Mary\nQueen of Scots; as was also her husband, who dying of grief for the\ntragical end of that princess, his wife took up a resolution of\nrevenging the death of both upon Queen Elizabeth. For that purpose she\nput on a man\u2019s habit; and assuming the name of Anthony Sparke,\nrepaired to the Court of the Queen of England, always carrying with\nher a brace of pistols, one to kill Elizabeth, and the other to shoot\nherself, in order to avoid the hands of justice; but her design\nhappened to miscarry by an accident, which saved the Queen\u2019s life. One\nday, as she was pushing through the crowd to come up to her Majesty,\nwho was then walking in her garden, she chanced to drop one of the\npistols. This being seen by the guards, she was seized in order to be\nsent immediately to prison; but the Queen, not suspecting her to be\none of her own sex, had a mind first to examine her. Accordingly,\ndemanding her name, country, and quality, Margaret replied with an\nunmoved steadiness,\u2014\u201cMadam, though I appear in this habit, I am a\nwoman; my name is Margaret Lambrun; I was several years in the service\nof Queen Mary, my mistress, whom you have so unjustly put to death;\nand by her death you have also caused that of my husband, who died of\ngrief to see so innocent a queen perish so iniquitously. Now, as I had\nthe greatest love and affection for both these persons, I resolved at\nthe peril of my life to revenge their death by killing you, who are\nthe cause of both.\u201d\u2014The Queen pardoned her, and granted her a safe\nconduct till she should be set upon the coast of France.\u2019\n\nFanaticism expires with philosophy, and heroism with refinement. There\ncan be no mixture of scepticism in the one, nor any distraction of\ninterest in the other. That blind attachment to individuals or to\nprinciples, which is necessary to make us stake our all upon a single\ndie, wears out with the progress of society. Sandt\u2014(the last of that\nschool)\u2014was a religious fanatic\u2014a reader of the book of Maccabees, a\nrepeater of the story of Jael and Sisera, a chaunter of the song of\nDeborah. What lighted up the dungeon-gloom in which Guy Faux buried\nhimself alive? The face of Heaven open to receive him. What cheered his\nundivided solitude? The full assembly of Just Men made perfect, the\nGlorious Company of Apostles, the Noble Army of Martyrs, the expecting\nConclave of Sainted Popes, of Canonized Priests and Cardinals. What\nnerved his steady hand, and prepared it, with temperate, even pulse, to\napply the fatal spark? The Hand of the Most High stretched out to meet\nhim and to welcome him into the abodes of the blest\u2014\u2018Well done, thou\ngood and faithful servant, enter thou into the joy of thy Lord!\u2019 In his\nface we see an anticipated triumph that \u2018no dim doubts alloy\u2019; he hears\nwith no mortal ears the recording angels \u2018quiring to the young-eyed\ncherubim\u2019; a light flashes round him, a beatific vision, from the wings\nof the Shining Ones: he sits, wreathed and radiant, in the real\npresence! What need he fear what men can do unto him? To a hope like\nhis, swallowed up in fruition, the shock that is soon to shatter his\nmortal frame plays harmless as the summer-lightning: the flames that\nthreaten to envelope him are the wedding-garment of the Spouse. \u2018This\nnight thou shalt sup with me in Paradise\u2019\u2014rings in his sleepless ears.\nOn this rock he builds his faith, and the gates of Hell shall not\nprevail against it!\u2014Guy Faux (poor wretch!) was as sure within himself\nof the reward of his crime in the eternal salvation of his soul, as of\nhis intention to commit it: he no more doubted of another world than he\ndoubted of his own existence. A question whether his whole creed might\nnot be a delusion had never once crossed his mind. How should it? He had\nnever once heard it called in question. He believed in it as he believed\nin all he had ever seen or heard, or thought or felt, or been told by\nothers\u2014he believed in a future state as he believed in this, with his\nsenses and his understanding, and with all his heart. Poor Guy\u2014that\nmiserable fifth-of-November scare-crow, that stuffed straw figure,\nflaunting its own periodical disgrace\u2014never once dreamt (oh! glorious\ninheritance!) that he should die like a dog. Otherwise, James and his\nparliament would have been in no jeopardy from him. He was not a person\nof that refinement. He thought for certain that he would go to Heaven or\nHell; and he played a bold, but (as he fancied) a sure game, for the\nformer. With such objects at stake, and with his own blinded reason, and\na stifled conscience, and implicit faith, and vowed obedience, and holy\nMother Church on his side, and a fixed hatred of heresy and of all that\nbelonged to it, as of a strange birth in nature, that made his flesh\ncreep and his brain reel, and a disregard of his own person, as \u2018dross\ncompared to the glory hereafter to be revealed,\u2019 he acted up to his\nbelief: the man was what he preached to others to be\u2014no better, no\nworse. Without this belief supporting him, what would he have been? Like\nthe wretched straw figure, the automaton we see representing him,\n\u2018disembowelled of his natural entrails, without a real heart of flesh\nand blood beating in his bosom,\u2019 a modern time-server, an unimpassioned\nslave, a canting Jesuit, a petty, cautious, meddling priest, a safe,\nunderhand persecutor, an anonymous slanderer, a cringing sycophant,\npromoting his own interest by taking the bread out of honest mouths, a\nmercenary malignant coward, a Clerical Magistrate, a Quarterly Reviewer,\na Member of the Constitutional Association, the concealed Editor of\n_Blackwood\u2019s Magazine_!\n\n\n\n\n THE SAME SUBJECT CONTINUED\n\n\n _The Examiner._] [_November 18, 1821._\n\nThe diffusion of knowledge, of inquiry, of doubt (or what Lord Bacon\ncalls \u2018the infinite agitation of wit\u2019) puts an end to \u2018the soul of\ngoodness\u2019 that there is in bigotry and superstition, and should to its\nevil spirit at the same time. There is nothing so intolerable as the\nunion (which we see so common in modern times) of religious hypocrisy\nwith literary scepticism. The real bigot is a respectable as well as\nenviable character. Not so the affected one. Downright, rooted,\nrancorous prejudices are honest, hearty, wholesome things. They keep the\nmind _in breath_. Not so the whining, hollow, designing cant, which\nechoes without feeling them. The barbarous cruelties of savage tribes\nare partly atoned for by the keen appetite for revenge in which they\noriginate: but we do not extend the same excuse to those who poison for\nhire. The fires of Smithfield were kindled by a zeal that burnt as\nbright and fierce as they. Our contemporaries who are in the habit of\nthrowing firebrands and death, do it without malice; and laugh at those\nwho do not understand the jest. The multiplication of sects dissipates\nand tames down the rage of martyrdom. The first grand defection indeed\nfrom an established and universal faith, creates a shock and is assailed\nwith a violence proportioned to the firmness with which the\nparent-belief has been rooted in the public mind: but the subsequent\nramification of different schisms and modes of faith from the first\nenormous heresy, tires out and neutralises the spirit of both\npersecution and fanaticism. Religious controversy is a war of words, and\nno longer a war of extermination. There may be the same heart-burnings,\nthe same jealousies of difference of opinion; but they do not lead to\nthe same fatal catastrophes or the same heroic sacrifices. We cannot\nburn or hang one another for differing from the Catholic faith as a\ncrime of the most dreadful import, when hardly any two men can be found\nto agree in the interpretation of the same text. All opinions, by\nconstant collision and attrition, become, if not equally probable,\nequally familiar. Men\u2019s minds are slowly weaned from blind idolatrous\nbigotry and intolerant zeal, by the continually increasing number of\npoints of controversy and the frequency of dispute. Then comes the\ngeneral question as to the grounds and reasonableness of the doctrines\nof religion itself; and a sceptical, dispassionate, Epicurean work, like\n_Bayle\u2019s Dictionary_ or _Hume\u2019s Essays_, gives the finishing blow to\nwhat little remains of dogmatical faith in established systems. After\nthat, a zealot is another name for an imposter. The reasons for belief\nmay be as good or stronger than ever; but the belief itself, as it is\nmore rational, is less gross and headstrong. The closest deductions of\nthe understanding do not act like an instinct, or warrant a mortal\nantipathy; and let the philosophical believer\u2019s convictions be what they\nwill, he cannot affect an ignorance that it is possible for others to\ndiffer with him. A violent and overstrained affectation of Orthodoxy is,\nafter a certain time, a sure sign of insincerity: the only zeal that can\nclaim to be \u2018according to knowledge,\u2019 is refined, calm, and considerate.\nI do not speak of this sort of mitigated, sceptical, liberalised,\nenlightened belief, as \u2018a consummation devoutly to be wished:\u2019 (in my\nown particular, I would rather have held opinion with Guy Faux, and have\ngone or sent others to the Devil for that opinion)\u2014I speak of the common\ncourse of human affairs. I remember once observing to Wilkie, the\ncelebrated artist, that Dr. Chalmers (his old friend and schoolfellow)\nhad started an objection to the Christian religion, in order to have the\ncredit of answering it. The Scottish Teniers said, that if the answer\nwas a good one, he thought him right in bringing forward the objection.\nI did not think this remark savoured of the acuteness one would expect\nfrom such a man as Wilkie, and only said, I apprehended those opinions\nwere the strongest which had been never called in question. _Reasoning\nis not believing_\u2014whatever _seeing_ may be, according to the proverb.\n\nA devoted and incorrigible attachment to individuals, as well as to\ndoctrines, is weakened by the progress of knowledge and civilization. A\nspirit of scepticism, of inquiry, of comparison, is introduced there\ntoo, by the course of reading, observation, and reflection, which\nstrikes at the root of our disproportionate idolatry. Margaret Lambrun\ndid not think there was such another woman in the world as her mistress,\nQueen Mary; nor could she, after her death, see any thing in it worth\nliving for. Had she had access to a modern circulating library, she\nwould have read of a hundred such heroines, all peerless alike; and\nwould have consoled herself for the death of them all, one after\nanother, pretty much in the same manner. Margaret was not one of those\nwho argue, according to Mr. Burke\u2019s improved political catechism, that\n\u2018a king is but a king; a queen is but a woman; a woman is but an animal;\nand that not an animal of the highest order.\u2019 She had more respect of\npersons than this. The truth is, she had never seen such another woman\nas her mistress, and she had no means, by books or otherwise, of forming\nan idea of any thing but what she saw. In that isolated state of\nsociety, people grew together like trees, and clung round the strongest\nfor support, \u2018as the vine curls its tendrils.\u2019 They became devoted to\nothers with the same violence of attachment as they were to themselves.\nNovels, plays, magazines, treatises of philosophy, Monthly Museums, and\n_Belles Assembl\u00e9es_, did not fly in numbers about the country and\n\u2018through the airy region stream so bright,\u2019 as to blot out the\nimpression of all real forms. The effects of habit, of sense, of\nservice, of affection, did not find an ideal level in general literature\nand artificial models. The heart made its election once, and was fixed\ntill death: the eyes doated on fancied perfection, and were divorced\nfrom every other object afterwards. There was not the same communication\nof ideas; there was not the same change of place or acquaintance. The\nprejudices of rank, of custom, strengthened the bias of individual\nadmiration; and it is no wonder, where all these circumstances were\ncombined, that the presence of a person, whom we had loved and served,\nbecame a feeling, an appetite, and a passion in the mind, almost\nnecessary to existence. The taking our idol away (and by cruel and\ntreacherous means) would be taking away the prop that sustained life,\nand on which all the pride of the affections leant. Its loss would be\nthe loss of another self; and a double loss of this kind (as in the\ninstance alluded to) could seek for no solace but in the death of her\nwho had caused it. Where the mind had become rivetted to a certain\nobject, where it had embarked its all in the sacred cause of friendship\nand inviolable fidelity, it would be in vain to offer the consolations\nof philosophy when the heart owned none. Other scenes, new friends,\nfresh engagements, might be proper for others; but Margaret Lambrun\u2019s\nwounded spirit could find no relief but in looking forward to a full\nrevenge for a murdered mistress and husband. You might as well think of\nwedding the soul to another body, as of inspiring her with other hopes\nand thoughts than those which she had lost for ever:\u2014she could not live\nwithout those whom she had loved so well and long, and she was ready to\ndie for them. Life becomes indifferent to a mind haunted by a passion of\nthis sort. Death is not then a choice, but rather a necessity. We cannot\nlive, and have the desire nearest to our souls. To play the hero, it is\nonly necessary to be wound up to such an unavoidable interest in any\nthing, as reflection, prudence, natural instinct, have no power over. To\nbe a hero, is, in other words, to lose the sense of our personal\nidentity in some object dearer to us than ourselves. He may purchase any\nthing he pleases, who is ready to part with his life for it. Wherever\nthere is a passion or belief strong enough to blind us to consequences,\nthere the mind is capable of any sacrifice and of any undertaking.\n\nThe heroical is the fanaticism of common life: it is the contempt of\ndanger, of pain, of death, in the pursuit of a favourite idea. The rule\nof honour, as of conscience, is to contemplate things in the abstract,\nand never as affecting or reacting upon yourself; the hero is an\ninstrument in the hands of fate, as is himself impassive to its blows. A\nman in a passion, or who is worked up to a certain pitch of enthusiasm,\nminds nothing else. The fear of death, the love of self, is but an idea\nor motive with a certain habitual strength. Raise any other idea or\nfeeling to a greater habitual or momentary height, and it will supplant\nor overrule the first. Courage is sometimes the effect of despair.\nWomen, in a fit of romance, or on some sudden emergency, have been known\nto perform feats of heroic daring, from which men of the stoutest nerves\nmight shrink with dismay. Maternal tenderness is heroic. Affection of\nany kind, that doats upon a particular object, and absorbs every other\nconsideration in that, is in its nature heroic.[36] Passion is the great\ningredient in heroism. He who stops to reflect, to balance one thing\nagainst another, is a coward. The better part of valour is indiscretion.\nAll passion is a short-lived madness, or state of intoxication, in which\nsome present impulse or prevailing idea gets uncontrouled possession of\nthe mind, and lords it there at will. A man may be (almost literally)\ndrunk with choler, with love, with jealousy, with revenge, as he may\nwith wine or strong drink. Any of these will overpower his reason and\nsenses, and put him beyond himself. The master-feeling will prevail,\nwhatever it is, and when it once gets the upper hand, will rage the more\nviolently in proportion to the obstacles it has to encounter. Women who\nassociate with robbers are cruel, as soon as they get over their first\nrepugnance: some of the bravest officers have been the greatest\nMartinets. A man who is afraid of a blow, or tender of his person, will\nyet, on being struck, feel nothing but the mortification of the affront,\nand the fear of discomfiture. The pain that is inflicted, after his\nblood is once up, will only aggravate his resentment, and be diverted\nfrom the channels of fear into those of rage and shame. He whose will is\nroused and holds out in this way, whose tenaciousness of purpose and\ninflammability of spirit are proof against the extremity of pain, of\nfatigue, and disaster, is said to have _pluck_. So a man may not be able\nto reason himself into coolness at the commencement of a battle; but a\nball whizzing near him does it, by abstracting his imagination from a\nthousand idle fears, and fixing it on his immediate situation and duty.\nThe novice in an engagement, that before was motionless with\napprehension or trembling like a leaf, after being hit, loses the sense\nof possible contingencies in the grief of his wound, and fights like a\ndevil incarnate. He is thenceforward too busy to think of himself. He\nrushes fearlessly on danger and on death. A man in a battle is indeed\nemphatically _beside himself_. He \u2018bears a charmed life,\u2019 that in fancy\ndisarms cannon-balls and bullets of their power to hurt. They are mere\nnames and apparitions from which astonishment and necessity have taken\nout the sting: the sense of feeling is seared and dead for the time to\n\u2018all mortal consequences.\u2019 The mind is sublimated to a disregard of\nwhatever can happen, and tempted to rush without provocation on its\nfate, purely out of bravado, and as the triumph of its paramount\nfeeling, an exasperation of its temporary insanity. Courage is in many\nsuch cases only a violent effort to shake off fear, a determination of\nthe imagination to seize on any object that may divert its present\ndread. A soldier is a perfect hero but that he is a mere machine. He is\ndrilled into disinterestedness, and beaten into courage. He is a very\npatriotic and romantic automaton. He has lost all regard for himself and\nconcern for others. His life, his limbs, his soul and body, are obedient\nonly to the word of command. \u2018Set duty in one eye and death in the\nother, and he can look on death indifferently.\u2019\n\n \u2018Set but a Scotsman on a hill,\n Say such is royal George\u2019s will,\n And there\u2019s the foe:\n His only thought is how to kill\n Twa\u2019 at a blow.\u2019\u2014_Burns._\n\nThey then go at it with bayonets fixed, eyes inflamed, and tongues\nlolling out with heat and rage, like wild beasts or mad dogs panting for\nblood, and from the madman to Mr. Wordsworth\u2019s \u2018happy warrior\u2019 there is\nbut one step.\u2014The true hero devotes himself in the same way, but he does\nit of his own accord, and from an inward sentiment. The service on which\nhe is bound is perfect freedom. He is not a machine, but a free agent.\nHe knows his cue without a prompter. Not servile duty\u2014\n\n \u2018Within his bosom reigns another lord,\n Honour, sole judge and umpire of itself.\u2019\n\n\n\n\n THE SAME SUBJECT CONCLUDED\n\n\n _The Examiner_] [_November 25, 1821._\n\nThus a knight-errant going on adventures, and following out the fine\nidea of love and gallantry in his own mind, without once thinking of\nhimself but as a vessel dedicated to virtue and honour, is one of the\nmost enviable fictions in the whole world. Don Quixote, in the midst of\nits comic irony, is the finest serious developement to be found of this\ncharacter. The account of the Cid, the famous Spanish hero, of which Mr.\nSouthey has given an admirable prose-translation where scarcely a word\ncould be changed or transposed without injuring the force and clear\nsimplicity of the antique style he has adopted, abounds with instances\nto the same purpose. His taking back the lion to its den, his bringing\nhis father \u2018the herb that would cure him,\u2019 his enemy\u2019s head, and his\nmanner of reclaiming a recreant knight from his cowardice by heaping the\nrewards and distinctions of courage upon him, are some of those that I\nremember as the most striking. Perhaps the reader may not have the book\nby him; yet they are worth turning to, both for the sentiment and the\nexpression. The first then in order is the following:\u2014\n\n\u2018At this time it came to pass that there was strife between Count Don\nGomez the Lord of Gormaz, and Diego Laynez the father of Rodrigo (the\nCid); and the Count insulted Diego and gave him a blow. Now Diego was\na man in years, and his strength had passed from him, so that he could\nnot take vengeance, and he retired to his home to dwell there in\nsolitude and lament over his dishonour. And he took no pleasure in his\nfood, neither could he sleep by night, nor would he lift up his eyes\nfrom the ground, nor stir out of his house, nor commune with his\nfriends, but turned from them in silence as if the breath of his shame\nwould taint them. Rodrigo was yet but a youth, and the Count was a\nmighty man in arms, one who gave his voice first in the Cortez, and\nwas held to be the best in the war, and so powerful, that he had a\nthousand friends among the mountains. Howbeit, all these things\nappeared as nothing to Rodrigo, when he thought of the wrong done to\nhis father, the first which had ever been offered to the blood of Layn\nCalvo. He asked nothing but justice of Heaven, and of man he asked\nonly a fair field; and his father seeing of how good heart he was,\ngave him his sword and his blessing. The sword had been the Sword of\nMudarra in former times, and when Rodrigo held its cross in its hand,\nhe thought within himself that his arm was not weaker than Mudarra\u2019s.\nAnd he went out and defied the Count and slew him, and smote off his\nhead, and carried it home to his father. The old man was sitting at\ntable, the food lying before him untasted, when Rodrigo returned, and\npointing to the head which hung from the horse\u2019s collar, dropping\nblood, he bade him look up, for there was the herb which would restore\nto him his appetite; the tongue, quoth he, which insulted[37] you, is\nno longer a tongue, and the hand which wronged you is no longer a\nhand. And the old man arose and embraced his son and placed him above\nhim at the table; saying that he who brought home that head should be\nthe head of the house of Layn Calvo.\u2019\u2014_Chronicle of the Cid_, _p. 4_.\n\nThe next is of Martin Pelaez, whom the Cid made of a notable coward a\nredoubtable hero:\u2014\n\n\u2018Here the history relates, that at this time Martin Pelaez the Asturian\ncame with a convoy of laden beasts, carrying provision to the hosts of\nthe Cid; and as he passed near the town, the Moors sallied out in great\nnumbers against him; but he, though he had few with him, defended the\nconvoy right well, and did great hurt to the Moors, slaying many of\nthem, and drove them into the town. This Martin Pelaez, who is here\nspoken of, did the Cid make a right good knight of a coward, as ye shall\nhear. When the Cid first began to lay siege to the City of Valencia,\nthis Martin Pelaez came unto him: he was a knight, a native of\nSantillance in Asturias, a hidalgo, great of body and strong of limb, a\nwell-made man and of goodly semblance, but withal a right coward at\nheart, which he had shown in many places where he was among feats of\narms. And the Cid was sorry when he came unto him, though he would not\nlet him perceive this; for he knew he was not fit to be of his company.\nHowbeit, he thought that since he was come, he would make him brave\nwhether he would or not. And when the Cid began to war upon the town,\nand sent parties against it twice and thrice a day, as ye have heard,\nfor the Cid was always upon the alert, there was fighting and tourneying\nevery day. One day it fell out that the Cid and his kinsmen and friends\nand vassals were engaged in a great encounter, and this Martin Pelaez\nwas well armed; and when he saw that the Moors and Christians were at\nit, he fled and betook himself to his lodging, and there hid himself\ntill the Cid returned to dinner. And the Cid saw what Martin Pelaez did,\nand when he had conquered the Moors, he returned to his lodging to\ndinner. Now it was the custom of the Cid to eat at a high table, seated\non his bench at the head. And Don Alvar Fannez and Pero Bermudez and\nother precious knights ate in another part, at high tables full\nhonourably, and none other knights whatsoever dared to take their seats\nwith them, unless they were such as deserved to be there; and the others\nwho were not so approved in arms ate upon _estradas_, at tables with\ncushions. This was the order in the house of the Cid, and every one knew\nthe place where he was to sit at meat, and every one strove all he could\nto gain the honour of sitting to eat at the table of Don Alvar Fannez\nand his companions, by strenuously behaving himself in all feats of\narms; and thus the honour of the Cid was advanced. This Martin Pelaez,\nthinking that none had seen his badness, washed his hands in turn with\nthe other knights, and would have taken his place among them. And the\nCid went unto him and took him by the hand and said, You are not such a\none as deserves to sit with these, for they are worth more than you or\nthan me, but I will have you with me; and he seated him with himself at\ntable. And he, for lack of understanding, thought that the Cid did this\nto honour him above all the others. On the morrow the Cid and his\ncompany rode towards Valencia, and the Moors came out to the tourney;\nand Martin Pelaez went out well armed, and was among the foremost who\ncharged the Moors, and when he was in among them he turned the reins,\nand went back to his lodging; and the Cid took heed to all that he did,\nand saw that though he had done badly, he had done better than the first\nday. And when the Cid had driven the Moors into the town, he returned to\nhis lodging, and as he sate down to meat, he took this Martin Pelaez by\nthe hand, and seated him with himself, and bade him eat with him in the\nsame dish, for he had deserved more that day than he had the first. And\nthe knight gave heed to that saying, and was abashed; howbeit, he did as\nthe Cid commanded him: and after he had dined, he went to his lodging\nand began to think upon what the Cid had said unto him, and perceived\nthat he had seen all the baseness which he had done; and then he\nunderstood that for this cause he would not let him sit at board with\nthe other knights who were precious in arms, but had seated him with\nhimself, more to affront him than to do him honour, for there were other\nknights there better than he, and he did not show them that honour. Then\nresolved he in his heart to do better than he had done hitherto. Another\nday the Cid and his company and Martin Pelaez rode towards Valencia, and\nthe Moors came out to the tourney full resolutely, and Martin Pelaez was\namong the first, and charged them right boldly; and he smote down and\nslew presently a good knight, and he lost there all the bad fear which\nhe had had, and was that day one of the best knights there: and as long\nas the tourney lasted, there he remained fighting and slaying and\noverthrowing the Moors, till they were driven within the gates, in such\nmanner that the Moors marvelled at him, and asked where that Devil came\nfrom, for they had never seen him before. And the Cid was in a place\nwhere he could see all that was going on, and he gave good heed to him,\nand had great pleasure in beholding him, to see how well he had\nforgotten the great fear which he was wont to have. And when the Moors\nwere shut up within the town, the Cid and all his people returned to\ntheir lodging, and Martin Pelaez full leisurely and quietly went to his\nlodging also, like a good knight. And when it was the hour of eating,\nthe Cid waited for Martin Pelaez, and when he came and they had washed,\nthe Cid took him by the hand, and said, My friend, you are not such a\none as deserves to sit with me henceforth, but sit you here with Don\nAlvar Fannez, and with these other good knights, for the good feats\nwhich you have done this day have made you a companion for them; and\nfrom the day forward he was placed in the company of the good.\u2019\u2014p. 199.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\u2018There was a lion in the house of the Cid, who had grown a large one,\nand strong, and was full nimble; three men had the keeping of this lion,\nand they kept him in a den which was in a courtyard, high up in the\npalace; and when they cleansed the court, they were wont to shut him up\nin his den, and afterwards to open the door that he might come out and\neat: the Cid kept him for his pastime, that he might take pleasure with\nhim when he was minded so to do. Now it was the custom of the Cid to\ndine every day with his company, and after he had dined, he was wont to\nsleep awhile upon his seat. And one day when he had dined, there came a\nman and told him that a great fleet was arrived in the port of Valencia,\nwherein there was a great power of the Moors, whom King Bucar had\nbrought over, the sons of the Miramamolin of Morocco. And when the Cid\nheard this, his heart rejoiced and he was glad, for it was nigh three\nyears since he had had a battle with the Moors. Incontinently he ordered\na signal to be made, that all the honourable men who were in the city\nshould assemble together. And when they were all assembled in the\nAlcazar, and his sons-in-law with them, the Cid told them the news, and\ntook counsel with them in what manner they should go out against this\ngreat power of the Moors. And when they had taken counsel, the Cid went\nto sleep upon his seat, and the Infantes and the others sate playing at\ntables and chess. Now at this time the men who were keepers of the lion\nwere cleaning out the court, and when they heard the cry that the Moors\nwere coming, they opened the den, and came down into the palace where\nthe Cid was, and left the door of the court open. And when the lion had\nate his meat, and saw that the door was open, he went out of the court\nand came down into the palace even into the hall where they all were:\nand when they who were there saw him, there was a great stir among them:\nbut the Infantes of Carrion showed greater cowardice than all the rest.\nFerrando Gonzalez having no shame, neither for the Cid nor for the\nothers who were present, crept under the seat whereon the Cid was\nsleeping, and in his haste he burst his mantle and his doublet also at\nthe shoulders. And Diego Gonzalez, the other, ran to a postern door,\ncrying, I shall never see Carrion again! This door opened upon a\ncourtyard, where there was a wine-press, and he jumped out, and by\nreason of the great height could not keep his feet, but fell among the\nlees and defiled himself therewith. And all the others who were in the\nhall wrapt their cloaks around their arms, and stood round about the\nseat whereon the Cid was sleeping, that they might defend him. The noise\nwhich they made awakened the Cid, and he saw the lion coming towards\nhim, and he lifted up his hand and said, What is this!... and the lion\nhearing his voice stood still: and he rose up and took him by the mane,\nas if he had been a gentle mastiff, and led him back to the court where\nhe was before, and ordered his keepers to look better to him for the\ntime to come. And when he had done this, he returned to the hall and\ntook his seat again; and all they who beheld it were greatly\nastonished.\u2019\u2014p. 251.\n\nThe presence of mind, the manly confidence, the faith in virtue, the\nlofty bearing and picturesque circumstances in all these stories, are as\nfine as any thing can well be imagined.\u2014The last of them puts me in\nmind, that that heroic little gentleman, Mr. Kean, who is a Cid too in\nhis way, keeps a lion \u2018for his pastime, that he may take pleasure with\nhim when he is minded so to do.\u2019 It is, to be sure, an American lion, a\npuma, a sort of a great dog. But still it shews the nature of the man,\nand the spirited turn of his genius. Courage is the great secret of his\nsuccess. His acting is, if not classical, heroical. To dare and to do\nare with him the same thing. \u2018Masterless passion sways him to the mood\nof what it likes or loaths.\u2019 He may be sometimes wrong, but he is\ndecidedly wrong, and does not betray himself by paltry doubts and fears.\nHe takes the lion by the mane. He gains all by hazarding all. He throws\nhimself into the breach, and fights his way through as well as he can.\nHe leaves all to his feelings, and goes where they lead him; and he\nfinds his account in this method, and brings rich ventures home.\n\nIn reading the foregoing accounts of the Spanish author, it seems that\nin those times killing was no murder. Slaughter was the order of the\nday. The blood of Moors and Christians flows through the page as so much\nwater. The proverb uppermost in their minds was, that a man could die\nbut once, and the inference seemed to be, the sooner the better. In\nthese more secure and civilized times (individually and as far as it\ndepends upon ourselves) we are more chary of our lives. We are\n(ordinarily) placed out of the reach of \u2018the shot of accident and dart\nof chance\u2019; and grow indolent, tender, and effeminate in our notions and\nhabits. Books do not make men valiant,\u2014not even the reading the\nchronicle of the Cid. The police look after all breaches of the peace\nand resorts of suspicious characters, so that we need not buckle on our\narmour to go to the succour of distressed damsels, or to give battle to\ngiants and enchanters. Instead of killing some fourteen before\nbreakfast, like _Hotspur_, we are contented to read of these things in\nthe newspapers, or to see them performed on the stage. We enjoy all the\ndramatic interest of such scenes, without the tragic results. Regnault\nde St. Jean Angely rode like a madman through the streets of Paris, when\nfrom the barricades he saw the Prussians advancing. We love, fight, and\nare slain by proxy\u2014live over the adventures of a hundred heroes and die\ntheir deaths\u2014and the next day are as well as ever, and ready to begin\nagain. This is a gaining concern, and an improvement on the\nold-fashioned way of risking life and limb in good earnest, as a cure\nfor _ennui_. It is a bad speculation to come to an untimely end by way\nof killing time. Now, like the heroic personages in _Tom Thumb_, we\nspread a white pocket-handkerchief to prepare our final catastrophe, and\nact the _sentiment_ of death with all the impunity to be desired. Men,\nthe more they cultivate their intellect, become more careful of their\npersons. They would like to think, to read, to dream on for ever,\nwithout being liable to any worldly annoyance. \u2018Be mine to read eternal\nnew romances, of Marivaux and Crebillon,\u2019 cries the insatiable adept in\nthis school. Art is long, and they think it hard that life should be so\nshort. Their existence has been chiefly theatrical, ideal, a tragedy\nrehearsed in print\u2014why should it receive its _denouement_ in their\nproper persons, in _corpore vili_?\u2014In another point of view, sedentary,\nstudious people live in a world of thought\u2014in a world out of\nthemselves\u2014and are not very well prepared to scuffle in this. They lose\nthe sense of personal honour on questions of more general interest, and\nare not inclined to individual sacrifices that can be of no service to\nthe cause of letters. They do not see how any speculative truth can be\nproved by their being run through the body; nor does your giving them\nthe lie alter the state of any one of the great leading questions in\npolicy, morals, or criticism. Philosophers might claim the privileges of\ndivines for many good reasons; among these, according to Spenser,\nexemption from worldly care and peril was not the least in monkish lore:\n\n \u2018From worldly care himself he did esloine,\n And greatly shunned manly exercise:\n For every work he challenged essoine,\n For contemplation-sake.\u2019\n\nMental courage is the only courage I pretend to. I dare venture an\nopinion where few else would, particularly if I think it right. I have\nretracted few of my positions. Whether this arises from obstinacy or\nstrength, or indifference to the opinions of others, I know not. In\nlittle else I have the spirit of martyrdom: but I would give up any\nthing sooner than an abstract proposition.\n\n\n\n\n CHARACTER OF MR. CANNING\n\n\n _The Examiner._] [_July 11, 1824._\n\nMr. Canning was the cleverest boy at Eton: he is, perhaps, the cleverest\nman in the House of Commons. It is, however, in the sense in which,\naccording to Mr. Wordsworth, \u2018the child is father to the man.\u2019 He has\ngrown up entirely out of what he then was. He has merely ingrafted a set\nof Parliamentary phrases and the technicalities of debate on the themes\nand school-exercises he was set to compose when a boy. Nor has he ever\nescaped from the trammels imposed on youthful genius: he has never\nassumed a manly independence of mind. He has been all his life in the\nhabit of getting up a speech at the nod of a Minister, as he used to get\nup a thesis under the direction of his school-master. The _matter_ is\nnothing; the only question is, how he shall express himself. The\nconsequence has been as might be expected. Not being at liberty to chuse\nhis own side of the question, nor to look abroad into the world for\noriginal (but perhaps unwelcome) observations, nor to follow up a strict\nchain of reasoning into its unavoidable consequences, the whole force of\nhis mind has been exhausted in an attention to the ornaments of style\nand to an agreeable and imposing selection of topics. It is his business\nand his inclination to embellish what is trite, to gloss over what is\ntrue, to vamp up some feeble sophism, to spread the colours of a\nmeretricious fancy over the unexpected exposure of some dark intrigue,\nsome glaring iniquity\u2014\n\n \u2018Like as the sun-burnt Indians do array\n Their tawny bodies in their proudest plight\n With painted plumes in goodly order dight:\n\n \u00b7 \u00b7 \u00b7 \u00b7 \u00b7\n\n As those same plumes, so seemed he vain and light,\n That by his gait might easily appear;\n For still he fared as dancing in delight,\n And in his hands a windy fan did bear,\n That in the idle air he moved still here and there.\u2019\n SPENSER.\n\nHis reasoning is a tissue of glittering sophistry; his language is a\n_cento_ of florid common-places. The smooth monotony of his style is\nindeed as much borrowed, is as little his own, as the courtly and often\nfulsome strain of his sentiments. He has no steady principles, no strong\npassions, nothing original, masculine, or striking in thought or\nexpression. There is a feeble, diffuse, showy, Asiatic redundancy in all\nhis speeches\u2014something vapid, something second-hand in the whole cast of\nhis mind. The light that proceeds from it gleams from the mouldering\nmaterials of corruption: the flowers that are seen there, gay and\nflaunting, bloom over the grave of humanity!\u2014Mr. Canning never, by any\nchance, reminds one of the poet or the philosopher, of the admirer of\nnature, or even the man of the world\u2014he is a mere House-of-Commons man,\nor, since he was transferred there from College, appears never to have\nseen or thought of any other place. He may be said to have passed his\nlife in making and learning to make speeches. All other objects and\npursuits seem to have been quite lost upon him. He has overlooked the\nordinary objects of nature, the familiar interests of human life, as\nbeneath his notice.[38] There is no allusion in any of his speeches to\nanything passing out of the House, or not to be found in the classics.\nTheir tone is quite Parliamentary\u2014his is the Delphin edition of Nature.\nNot an image has struck his eye, not an incident has touched his heart,\nany farther than it could be got up for rhetorical and stage effect.\nThis has an ill effect upon his speeches:\u2014it gives them that shining and\nbloated appearance which is the result of the confined and heated\natmosphere of the House. They have the look of exotics, of artificial,\nhot-house plants. Their glossiness, their luxuriance, and gorgeousness\nof colour are greater than their strength or _stamina_: they are forced,\nnot lasting, nor will they bear transplanting from the rank and noxious\nsoil in which they grow. Or rather, perhaps, they bear the same relation\nto eloquence that artificial flowers do to real ones\u2014alike, yet not the\nsame, without vital heat or the power of reproduction, printed,\npassionless, specious mockeries. They are, in fact, not the growth of\ntruth, of nature, and feeling, but of state policy, of art, and\npractice. To deny that Mr. Canning has arrived to a great perfection\n(perhaps the greatest) in the manufacture of these sort of\n_common-places_, elegant, but somewhat tarnished, imposing, but not\nsolid, would, we think, show a want of candour: to affirm that he has\never done anything more (in his serious attempts) would, we think, show\nan equal want of taste and understanding.[39]\n\nThe way in which Mr. Canning gets up the staple-commodity of his\nspeeches appears to be this. He hears an observation on the excellence\nof the English Constitution, or on the dangers of Reform and the\nfickleness and headstrong humours of the people, dropped by some Member\nof the House, or he meets with it in an old Debate in the time of Sir\nRobert Walpole, or in Paley\u2019s Moral and Political Philosophy, which our\naccomplished scholar read, of course, as the established text-book at\nthe University. He turns it in his mind: by dint of memory and ingenuity\nhe illustrates it by the application of some well-known and\nwell-authenticated simile at hand, such as \u2018the vessel of the state,\u2019\n\u2018the torrent of popular fury,\u2019 \u2018the precipice of reform,\u2019 \u2018the\nthunderbolt of war,\u2019 \u2018the smile of peace,\u2019 &c. He improves the hint by\nthe help of a little play upon words and upon an idle fancy into an\nallegory, he hooks this on to a verbal inference, which takes you by\nsurprise, equally from the novelty of the premises and the flatness of\nthe conclusion, refers to a passage in Cicero in support of his\nargument, quotes his authority, relieves exhausted attention by a\nsounding passage from Virgil, \u2018like the morn risen on mid-noon,\u2019 and\nlaunches the whole freight of wisdom, wit, learning, and fancy, on the\nfloor of St. Stephen\u2019s Chapel, where it floats and glitters amidst the\nmingled curiosity and admiration of both sides of the House\u2014\n\n \u2018Scylla heard,\n And fell Charybdis murmur\u2019d soft applause.\u2019\n\nBeneath the broad and gilded chandelier that throws its light upon \u2018the\nnation\u2019s Great Divan,\u2019 Mr. Canning piles the lofty harangue, high\nover-arched with metaphor, dazzling with epithets, sparkling with\njests\u2014take it out of doors, or examine it by the light of common sense,\nand it is no more than a paltry string of sophisms, of trite truisms,\nand sorry buffooneries. There is also a House-of-Commons jargon as well\nas a scholastic pedantry in this gentleman\u2019s style of oratory, which is\nvery displeasing to all but professional ears. \u2018The Honourable and\nLearned Gentleman,\u2019 and \u2018his Honourable and Gallant Friend,\u2019 are trolled\nover the tongue of the Honourable Speaker, \u2018loud as a trumpet with a\nsilver sound,\u2019 and fill up the pauses of the sense or the gaps in the\nlogic with a degree of burlesque self-complacency and pompous inanity.\nMr. Canning speaks by rote; and if the words he utters become the mouth\nand round a period well, he cares little how cheaply he comes by them,\nor how dear they cost the country! Such mechanic helps to style and\ntechnical flourishes and trappings of upstart self-importance are,\nhowever, unworthy of the meanest underling of office.\n\nThere is, notwithstanding, a facility, a brilliancy, and an elegance in\nMr. Canning\u2019s general style, always graceful, never abrupt, never\nmeagre, never dry, copious without confusion, dignified without\nstiffness, perspicuous yet remote from common life, that must excite\nsurprise in an _extempore_ speaker. Mr. Canning, we apprehend, is _not_\nan _extempore_ speaker. He only makes set speeches on set occasions. He\nindeed hooks them in as answers to some one that has gone before him in\nthe debate, by taking up and commenting on a single sentence or so, but\nhe immediately recurs to some old and favourite topic, launches into the\nmiddle of the stream, or mounts upon the _high horse_, and rides it to\nthe end of the chapter. He never (that we are aware of) grappled with a\npowerful antagonist, overthrew him on the spot, or contested the point\nwith him foot to foot. Mr. Canning\u2019s replies are _evasions_. He indeed\nmade a capital and very deservedly admired reply to Sir John Coxe\nHippesley; but Sir John had given notice of all his motions a month\nbeforehand, and Mr. Canning had only to lie in ambush for him with a\nwhole magazine of facts, arguments, alliterations, quotations, jests,\nand squibs, prepared ready to explode and blow him up into the air in an\ninstant. In this manner he contrives to slip into the debate and speak\nto the question, as if he had lately entered the House and heard the\narguments on the other side stated for the first time in his life. He\nhas conned his speeches over for a week or a month previously, but he\ngives these premeditated effusions the effect of witty impromptus\u2014the\nspontaneous ebullitions of the laughter or indignation or lofty\nenthusiasm of the moment. His manner tells this. It is that of a person\ntrying to recollect a speech, and reciting it from beginning to end with\nstudied gesture, and in an emphatic but monotonous and somewhat affected\ntone of voice, rather than of a person uttering words and thoughts that\nhave occurred to him for the first time, and hurried away by an\ninvoluntary impulse, speaking with more or less hesitation, faster or\nslower, and with more or less passion, according as the occasion\nrequires.\n\nMr. Canning is a _conventional_ speaker; he is an _optional_ politician.\nHe has a ready and splendid assortment of arguments upon all ordinary\nquestions: he takes that side or view of a question that is dictated by\nhis vanity, his interest, or his habits, and endeavours to make the best\nhe can of it. Truth, liberty, justice, humanity, war or peace,\ncivilization or barbarism, are things of little consequence, except for\nhim to make speeches upon them. He thinks \u2018the worse the better reason,\u2019\nif he can only make it appear so to others; and in the attempt to\nconfound and mislead, he is greatly assisted by really perceiving no\ndifference himself. It is not what a thing is, but what he can say about\nit, that is ever uppermost in his mind; and why should he be squeamish\nor have any particular choice, since his words are all equally fine, and\ndelivered with equal volubility of tongue! His balanced periods are the\nscale \u2018that makes these odds all even.\u2019 Our Orator does not confine\nhimself to any one view of a subject. He does not blind himself by any\ndull prejudice: he does not tie himself down to any pedantic rules or\nabstract principle. He does not listen implicitly to common sense, nor\ndoes he follow the independent dictates of his own judgment. No, he\npicks and chuses among all these, as best suits his purpose. He plucks\nout the grey hairs of a question, and then again the black. He shifts\nhis position; it is a _ride-and-tie_ system with him. He mounts\nsometimes behind prejudice, and sometimes behind reason. He is now with\nthe wise, and then again with the vulgar. He drivels, or he raves. He is\nnow wedded to antiquity, anon there is no innovation too startling for\nhim. At one time he is literal, at another visionary and romantic. At\none time the honour of the country sways him, at another its interest.\nOne moment he is all for liberty, and the next for slavery. First we are\nto hold the balance of Europe, and to dictate and domineer over the\nwhole world; and then we are to creep into our shells and draw in our\nhorns; one moment resembling Don Quixote, and the next playing the part\nof Sancho Panza! And why not? All these are topics, are _cues_ used in\nthe game of politics, are colours in the changeable coat of party, are\ndilemmas in casuistry, are pretexts in diplomacy; and Mr. Canning has\nthem all at his fingers\u2019 ends. What is there then to prevent his using\nany of them as he pleases? Nothing in the world but feeling or\nprinciple; and as Mr. Canning is not withheld by these from running his\nheedless career, the application of his ingenuity and eloquence in all\nsuch cases is perfectly arbitrary, \u2018quite _optional_,\u2019 as Mr. Liston\nexpresses it. A wise man would have some settled opinion, a good man\nwould wish well to some cause, a modest man would be afraid to act\nwithout feeling sure of his ground, or to show an utter disregard of\nright or wrong. Mr. Canning has the luckless ambition to play off the\ntricks of a political rope-dancer, and he chuses to do it on the nerves\nof humanity! He has called out for war during thirty years without\nceasing, \u2018like importunate Guinea fowls, one note day and night;\u2019 he has\nmade the House and the country ring with his vain clamour, and now for\nthe first time he is silent, \u2018quite chopfallen.\u2019 Like _Bottom_ in the\nplay, \u2018he aggravates his voice like a sucking-dove;\u2019 \u2018he roars you an\n\u2019twere any nightingale!\u2019 After the failure of Buonaparte\u2019s Russian\nexpedition, Mr. Canning exclaimed exultingly, and with a daring\nenthusiasm that seemed to come from the heart, that \u2018he rejoiced that\nbarbarism had been the first to resist invasion, since it showed that\nthe love of national independence was an instinctive principle in every\ncountry, superior even to the love of liberty.\u2019 This plea served its\nturn at the time, and we heard no more of it last year when the French\ninvaded Spain. In the war to restore Ferdinand, Mr. Canning echoed with\nlungs of brass the roar of \u2018the universal Spanish nation,\u2019 and the words\nLiberty and Humanity hung like music on his tongue; but when the feeble\nMonarch was restored, and trod upon the necks of those who had restored\nhim, and threw down the mock-scaffold of the Constitution that had\nraised him once more to the throne, we heard no more of \u2018the universal\nSpanish nation,\u2019 of Liberty and Humanity. When the speeches of Mr.\nCanning and the Manifestos of his friends had raised the power of France\nto a gigantic height that hung like a precipice over our heads, we were\nto go on, and fight out the battle of liberty and independence, though\n\u2018we buried ourselves under the ruins of the civilized world.\u2019 When a\nmonstrous claim that threatens the liberty and existence of the\ncivilized world is openly set up and acted upon, and a word from Mr.\nCanning would arrest its progress in the direction in which it is moving\nwith obscene, ghastly, bloodstained strides, he courteously and with\ngreat condescension reminds his hearers of \u2018the inimitable satire of\nCervantes,\u2019 that there is a proverbial expression borrowed from it, and\nthat the epithet _Quixotic_ would be eminently applicable to the conduct\nof Great Britain if she interfered in the affairs of the continent at\nthe present juncture. And yet there are persons who persist in believing\nthat Mr. Canning is any thing more than a pivot on whose oily hinges\nstate policy turns easily at this moment, unheard, unseen, and that he\nhas views and feelings of his own that are a pledge for his integrity.\nIf all this were fickleness, caprice, forgetfulness, accident, folly, it\nwould be well or would not much signify; we should stand a chance of\nsometimes being right, sometimes wrong; or if the ostensible motives\nwere the real ones, they would balance one another. At one time we\nshould be giving a _lift_ to liberty, at another we should be advancing\nour own interests: now we should be generous to others, then we should\nbe just to ourselves, but always we should be doing something or other\nfit to be done and to be named, and acting up to one or other of Mr.\nCanning\u2019s fine pleas of religion, morality, or social order. Is that the\ncase? Nothing was said for twenty years about the restoration of the\nBourbons as the object of the war. Who doubts it now? This cause skulked\nbehind the throne, and was not let out in any of Mr. Canning\u2019s speeches.\nThe cloven foot was concealed by so much flaunting oratory, by so many\ndifferent facings and piebald patch-work liveries of ruinous policy or\nperfidious principle, as not to be suspected. This is what makes such\npersons as Mr. Canning dangerous. Clever men are the tools with which\nbad men work. The march of sophistry is devious: the march of power is\none. Its means, its tools, its pretexts are various, and borrowed like\nthe hues of the camelion from any object that happens to be at hand: its\nobject is ever the same, and deadly as the serpent\u2019s fang. It moves on\nto its end with crested majesty, erect, silent, with eyes sunk and\nfixed, undiverted by fear, unabashed by shame, and puny orators and\npatriot mountebanks play tricks before it to amuse the crowd, till it\ncrushes the world in its monstrous folds. There is one word about which\nnothing has been said all this while in accounting for Mr. Canning\u2019s\nversatility of mind and vast resources in reasoning\u2014it is the word,\n_Legitimacy_. It is the key with which you \u2018pluck out the heart of his\nmystery.\u2019 It is the touchstone by which all his other eloquence is to be\ntried, and made good or found wanting. It is the casting-weight in the\nscale of sound policy, or that makes humanity and liberty kick the beam.\nIt is the secret of the Ayes and Noes: it accounts for the Majorities\nand Minorities. It weighs down all other considerations, hides all\nflaws, makes up for all deficiencies, removes all obstacles, is the\ncrown of success, and makes defeat glorious. It has all the power of the\nCrown on its side, and all the madness of the people. All Mr. Canning\u2019s\nspeeches are but so many different _periphrases_ for this one\nword\u2014_Legitimacy_. It is the foundation of his magnanimity and the\nsource of his pusillanimity. It is the watch-word equally of his oratory\nor his silence. It is the principle of his interference and of his\nforbearance. It makes him move forward, or retreat, or stand still. With\nthis word rounded closely in his ear, and with fifty evasions for it in\nhis mouth, he advances boldly to \u2018the deliverance of mankind\u2019\u2014into the\nhands of legitimate kings, but can do nothing to deliver them out of\ntheir power. When the liberty and independence of mankind can be\nconstrued to mean the cause of kings and the doctrine of divine right,\nMr. Canning is a virago on the side of humanity\u2014when they mean the cause\nof the people and the reducing of arbitrary power within the limits of\nconstitutional law, his patriotism and humanity flag, and he is\n\n \u2018Of his port as meek as is a maid!\u2019\n\nThis word makes his tropes and figures expand and blaze out like\nphosphorus, or \u2018freezes his spirits up like fish in a pond.\u2019 It smites\nwith its petrific mace, it deadens with its torpedo touch, the Minister,\nthe Parliament, the people, and makes this vast, free, enlightened, and\nenterprising country a body without a soul, an inert mass, like the\nhulks of our men of war, which Mr. Canning saw and described so well at\nPlymouth. It is the same word, that announcing the profanation of \u2018the\ngolden round that binds the hollow temples of a king\u2019 by unhallowed\nhands, would fill their sails, and hurl their thunders on rebel shores.\nIt denounces war, it whispers peace. It is echoed by the groans of the\nnations, is sanctified by their blood, bought with their treasure. It is\nthis that fills the time-rent towers of the Inquisition with tears and\npiercing cries; and owing to this, Manzotti shrieks in Italian dungeons,\nwhile Mr. Canning soothes the House of Commons with the soft accents of\nliberty and peace! In fine, Mr. Canning\u2019s success as an orator, and the\nspace he occupies in the public mind, are strong indications of the\nGenius of the Age, in which words have obtained a mastery over things,\n\u2018and to call evil good and good evil,\u2019 is thought the mark of a superior\nand happy spirit. An accomplished statesman in our day is one who extols\nthe Constitution and violates it\u2014who talks about religion and social\norder, and means slavery and superstition. The Whigs are always\nreminding the reigning family of _the principles that raised them to the\nthrone_\u2014the Tories labour as hard to substitute those _that will keep\nthem there_. There is a dilemma here, which is not easily got over; and\nto solve the difficulty and reconcile the contradiction, was the great\nproblem of the late King\u2019s reign. The doubtful lubricity of Mr.\nCanning\u2019s style was one of the rollers by which the transition was\neffected, and Legitimacy shown to be a middle term between _divine\nright_ and _the choice of the people_, compatible with both, and\nconvertible into either, at the discretion of the Crown, or pleasure of\nthe speaker. Mr. Canning does not disgrace his pretensions on other\nquestions. He is a sophist by profession, a palliator of every powerful\nand profitable abuse. His shuffling, trifling speeches on Reform are\nwell-known. He sometimes adds the petulance of the school-boy to his\nstock of worn-out invention; though his unfeeling taunt on the \u2018revered\nand ruptured Ogden,\u2019 met with a reception which will make him cautious\nhow he tampers again with human infirmity and individual suffering, as\nthe subject of ribald jests and profligate alliteration.\n\nThe thing in which Mr. Canning excels most is wit; and his wit is\nconfined to parody. The _Rejected Addresses_ have been much and\ndeservedly admired; but we do not think the parodies in them, however\ningenious or ludicrous, are to be compared with those in the \u2018_Poetry of\nthe Anti-Jacobin_,\u2019 and some of the very best of these are by Mr.\nCanning. Among others are, we believe, the _German Play_, and the\nimitation of Mr. Southey\u2019s _Sapphics_. Much as we admire, we do not\nwonder at Mr. Canning\u2019s excellence in this department. Real, original\nwit, he has none; for that implies sense and feeling, and an insight\ninto the real differences of things; but from a want of sympathy with\nanything but forms and _common-places_, he can easily let down the sense\nof others so as to make _nonsense_ of it. He has no enthusiasm or\nsensibility to make him overlook the meanness of a subject, or a little\nirregularity in the treatment of it, from the interest it excites: to a\nmind like his, the serious and affecting is a kind of natural burlesque.\nIt is a matter of course for him to be struck with the absurdity of the\nromantic or singular in any way, to whom every thing out of the beaten\ntrack is absurd; and \u2018to turn what is serious into farce\u2019 by\ntransferring the same expressions to perfectly indifferent and therefore\ncontemptible subjects. To make any description or sentiment ludicrous,\nit is only necessary to take away all feeling from it: the ludicrous is\nready-made to Mr. Canning\u2019s hands. The poetry, the heart-felt interest\nof every thing escapes through his apprehension, like a snake out of its\nskin, and leaves the slough of parody behind it. Any thing more light or\nworthless cannot well be imagined.[40]\n\n\n\n\n THE DANDY SCHOOL.\n\n\n _The Examiner._] [_November 18, 1827._\n\nVivian Grey is dedicated to the Best and Greatest of men, as if the\nIllustrious Person who will take this compliment to himself approved of\nthe sentiments contained in it. Are ushers odious to the Best and\nGreatest of men? Does he hate the great mass of his subjects, and scorn\nall those beyond Temple-bar? Is he King only of the Dandies, and Monarch\nof the West? We scarcely believe it. This volume with its impertinent\ndedication is no more expressive of the sentiments of his heart than the\n_Austrian Catechism_, dedicated in like manner, would be characteristic\nof the principles of his reign. Oh! Mr. Grey, you should have been more\nhumble\u2014you should have inscribed your work to the best-dressed Man in\nhis Majesty\u2019s dominions\u2014or to Jack Ketch.\n\nIt was formerly understood to be the business of literature to enlarge\nthe bounds of knowledge and feeling; to direct the mind\u2019s eye beyond\nthe present moment and the present object; to plunge us in the world\nof romance, to connect different languages, manners, times together;\nto wean us from the grossness of sense, the illusions of self-love;\u2014by\nthe aid of imagination, to place us in the situations of others and\nenable us to feel an interest in all that strikes them; and to make\nbooks the faithful witnesses and interpreters of nature and the human\nheart. Of late, instead of this liberal and useful tendency, it has\ntaken a narrower and more superficial tone. All that we learn from it\nis the servility, egotism, and upstart pretensions of the writers.\nInstead of transporting you to faery-land or into the _middle ages_,\nyou take a turn down Bond Street or go through the mazes of the dance\nat Almack\u2019s. You have no new inlet to thought or feeling opened to\nyou; but the passing object, the topic of the day (however insipid or\nrepulsive) is served up to you with a self-sufficient air, as if you\nhad not already had enough of it. You dip into an Essay or a Novel,\nand may fancy yourself reading a collection of quack or fashionable\nadvertisements:\u2014Macassar Oil, Eau de Cologne, Hock and Seltzer Water,\nOtto of Roses, _Pomade Divine_ glance through the page in inextricable\nconfusion, and make your head giddy. Far from extending your\nsympathies, they are narrowed to a single point, the admiration of the\nfolly, caprice, insolence, and affectation of a certain class;\u2014so that\nwith the exception of people who ride in their carriages, you are\ntaught to look down upon the rest of the species with indifference,\nabhorrence, or contempt. A school-master in a black coat is a\nmonster\u2014a tradesman and his wife who eat cold mutton and pickled\ncabbage are wretches to be hunted out of society. That is the end and\nmoral of it: it is part and parcel of a system. The _Dandy School_\ngive the finishing touch to the principles of paternal government.\nFirst comes the political sycophant, and makes the people over to\ntheir rulers as a property in perpetuity; but then they are to be\nhandled tenderly, and need not complain, since the sovereign is the\nfather of his people, and we are to be all one family of love. So says\nthe _Austrian Catechism_. Then comes the literary sycophant to finish\nwhat the other had begun; and the poor fools of people having been\ncaught in the trap of plausible professions, he takes off the mask of\n_paternity_, treats them as of a different species instead of members\nof the same family, loads them with obloquy and insult, and laughs at\nthe very idea of any fellow feeling with or consideration towards\nthem, as the height of bad taste, weakness, and vulgarity. So say Mr.\nTheodore Hook and the author of _Vivian Grey_. So says not Sir Walter.\nEver while you live, go to a man of genius in preference to a dunce;\nfor let his prejudices or his party be what they may, there is still a\nsaving grace about him, for he himself has something else to trust to\nbesides his subserviency to greatness to raise him from\ninsignificance. He takes you and places you in a cottage or a cavern,\nand makes you feel the deepest interest in it, for you feel all that\nits inmates feel. The _Dandy School_ tell you all that a dandy would\nfeel in such circumstances, viz. that he was not in a drawing-room or\nat Long\u2019s. Or if he does forfeit his character for a moment, he at\nmost brings himself to patronise humanity, condescends to the\naccidents of common life, touches the pathetic with his pen as if it\nwere with a pair of tongs, and while he just deigns to notice the\nexistence or endure the infirmities of his fellow-creatures,\nindemnifies his vanity by snatching a conscious glance at his own\nperson and perfections. Whatever is going on, he himself is the hero\nof the scene; the distress (however excruciating) derives its chief\nclaim to attention from the singular circumstance of his being\npresent; and he manages the whole like a piece of private theatricals\nwith an air of the most absolute _nonchalance_ and decorum. The WHOLE\nDUTY OF MAN is turned into a butt and bye-word, or like Mr. Martin\u2019s\nbill for humanity to animals, is a pure voluntary, a caprice of\neffeminate sensibility: the great business of life is a kind of\nmasquerade or melo-drame got up for effect and by particular desire of\nthe Great. We soon grow tired of nature so treated, and are glad to\nturn to the follies and fopperies of high life, into which the writer\nenters with more relish, and where he finds himself more at home. So\nMr. Croker (in his place in the House of Commons) does not know where\nBloomsbury Square is: thus affecting to level all the houses in the\nmetropolis that are not at the court-end, and leaving them tenantless\nby a paltry sneer, as if a plague had visited them. It is no wonder\nthat his _prot\u00e9g\u00e9s_ and understrappers out of doors should echo this\nofficial impertinence\u2014draw the line still closer between the East and\nWest-end\u2014arrest a stray sentiment at the corner of a street, relegate\nelegance to a fashionable square\u2014annihilate all other enjoyments, all\nother pretensions but those of their employers\u2014reduce the bulk of\nmankind to a cypher, and make all but a few pampered favourites of\nfortune dissatisfied with themselves and contemptible to one another.\nThe reader\u2019s mind is so varnished over with affectation that not an\navenue to truth or feeling is left open, and it is stifled for want of\nbreath. Send these people across the Channel who make such a fuss\nabout the East and West-end, and no one can find out the\ndifference.[41] The English are not a nation of _dandies_; nor can\nJohn Bull afford (whatever the panders to fashion and admirers of\ncourtly graces may say to the contrary) to rest all his pretensions\nupon that. He must descend to a broader and more manly level to keep\nhis ground at all. Those who would persuade him to build up his fame\non frogged coats or on the embellishments of a snuff-box, he should\nscatter with one loud roar of indignation and trample into the earth\nlike grasshoppers, as making not only a beast but an ass of him.\n\nA writer of this accomplished stamp, comes forward to tell you, not how\nhis hero feels on any occasion, for he is above that, but how he was\ndressed, and makes him a mere lay-figure of fashion with a few pert,\ncurrent phrases in his mouth. The Sir Sedley Clarendels and Meadowses of\na former age are become the real fine gentlemen of this. Then he gives\nyou the address of his heroine\u2019s milliner, lest any shocking surmise\nshould arise in your mind of the possibility of her dealing with a\nperson of less approved taste, and also informs you that the quality eat\nfish with silver forks. This is all he knows about the matter: is this\nall they feel? The fact is new to him: it is old to them. It is so new\nto him and he is so delighted with it, that provided a few select\npersons eat fish with silver forks, he considers it a circumstance of no\nconsequence if a whole country starves: but these privileged persons are\nnot surely thinking all the time and every day of their lives of that\nwhich Mr. Theodore Hook has never forgotten since he first witnessed it,\nviz. that _they eat their fish with a silver fork_. What then are they\nthinking of in their intervals of leisure\u2014what are their feelings that\n_we_ can be supposed to know nothing of? Will Mr. Theodore Hook, who is\n\u2018comforted with their bright radiance, though not in their sphere,\u2019\ncondescend to give us a glimpse of these, that we may admire their real\nelegance and refinement as much as he does a frogged coat or silver\nfork? It is cruel in him not to do so. \u2018The _court_, as well as we, may\nchide him for it.\u2019 He once criticised a city feast with great minuteness\nand bitterness, in which (as it appears) the side-board is ill-arranged,\nthe footman makes a blunder, the cook has sent up a dish too little or\ntoo highly seasoned. Something is wanting, as Mr. Hook insinuates is\nnecessarily the case whenever people in the neighbourhood of Russell\nsquare give dinners. But that something is not the manners or\nconversation of gentlemen\u2014this never enters his head\u2014but something that\nthe butler, the cook or the valet of people of fashion could have\nremedied quite as well (to say the least) as their masters. It is here\nthe cloven foot, the under-bred tone, the undue admiration of external\ncircumstances breaks out and betrays the writer. Mr. Hook has a\nfellow-feeling with low life or rather with vulgarity aping gentility,\nbut he has never got beyond the outside of what he calls _good society_.\nHe can lay the cloth or play the buffoon after dinner\u2014but that is the\nutmost he can pretend to. We have in _Sayings and Doings_ and in _Vivian\nGrey_ abundance of Lady Marys and Lady Dorothys, but they are titles\nwithout characters, or the blank is filled up with the most trite\nimpertinence. So a young linen-draper or attorney\u2019s clerk from the\ncountry, who had gained a thirty thousand pound prize in the lottery and\nwished to set up for a fine gentleman, might learn from these Novels\nwhat hotel to put up at, what watering place to go to, what hatter,\nhosier, tailor, shoemaker, _friseur_ to employ, what part of the town he\nshould be seen in, what theatre he might frequent; but how to behave,\nspeak, look, feel and think in his new and more aspiring character he\nwould not find the most distant hint in the gross caricatures or flimsy\nsketches of the most mechanical and shallow of all schools. It is really\nas if, in lieu of our royal and fashionable \u2018Society of Authors,\u2019 a\ndeputation of tailors, cooks, lacqueys, had taken possession of\nParnassus, and had appointed some Abigail out of place perpetual\nSecretary. The Congreves, Wycherleys, and Vanbrughs of former days gave\nus some taste of gentility and courtly refinement in their plays:\nenchanted us with their _Millamants_, or made us bow with respect to\ntheir _Lord Townleys_. It would seem that the race of these is over, or\nthat our modern scribes have not had access to them on a proper\nfooting\u2014that is, not for their talents or conversation, but as\nmountebanks or political drudges.\n\nAt first it appears strange that persons of so low a station in life\nshould be seized with such a rage to inveigh against themselves, and\nmake us despise all but a few arrogant people, who pay them ill for what\nthey do. But this is the natural process of servility, and we see all\nvalets and hangers-on of the Great do the same thing. The powdered\nfootman looks down on the rabble that dog his master\u2019s coach as beneath\nhis notice. He feels the one little above him, and the other (by\nconsequence) infinitely below him. Authors at present would be thought\ngentlemen, as gentlemen have a fancy to turn authors. The first thing a\n_dandy scribbler_ does is to let us know he is dressed in the height of\nthe fashion (otherwise we might imagine him some miserable garretteer,\ndistinguished only by his poverty and learning)\u2014and the next thing he\ndoes is to make a supercilious allusion to some one who is not so well\ndressed as himself. He then proceeds to give us a sparkling account of\nhis Champagne and of his box at the Opera. A newspaper hack of this\ndescription also takes care to inform us that the people at the Opera in\ngeneral, the Mr. Smiths and the Mr. Browns, are not good enough for him,\nand that he shall wait to begin his critical lucubrations, till the\nstars of fashion meet there in crowds and constellations! At present, it\nshould seem that a seat on Parnassus conveys a title to a box at the\nOpera, and that Helicon no longer runs water but champagne. Literature,\nso far from supplying us with intellectual resources to counterbalance\nimmediate privations, is made an instrument to add to our impatience and\nirritability under them, and to nourish our feverish, childish\nadmiration of external show and grandeur. This rage for fashion and for\nfashionable writing seems becoming universal, and some stop must be put\nto it, unless it cures itself by its own excessive folly and insipidity.\n\nIt is well that the Editor of the _John Bull_ wrote the _Sayings and\nDoings_. It solves the problem with how small a quantity of wit a person\nwithout character or principle may set up for a political mouthpiece.\nNothing but the dullness of the one could account for the impudence and\nthe effect of the other. No one who could write a line of wit or sense\ncould bring himself from any inducement to repeat the same nickname, the\nsame stale jest, for weeks and months together. If the Editor of the\n_John Bull_ had any resources in himself beyond the most vulgar _slang_\nand hackneyed abuse, if he had any sense of shame at resorting to the\nsame wretched pun or more wretched calumny, week after week, as he is\npaid for it, he would be unfit for his task: he would no longer be the\ncomplete and unequivocal organ of the dulness, prejudices, malice, and\ncallous insensibility of his party. No argument tells with a minister of\nState like calling a man a Jacobin and a Reformer for the fortieth time:\nthe sleek Divine chuckles at a dirty allusion for the fortieth time with\nunabated glee. Mr. Hook, among wits, might be called _the parson\u2019s\nnose_: or perhaps the title of Mr. Vivacity Dull would suit him as well.\nWhat a dearth of invention, what a want of interest, what a fuss about\nnothing, what a dreary monotony, what a pert _slipslop_ jargon runs\nthrough the whole series of the author\u2019s tales! But what a persevering,\nunabashed confidence, what a broad-shouldered self-complacency, what\nrobust health, what unrelenting nerves he must possess to inflict them\non his readers! Not one ray, not one line\u2014but all the refuse of the\n_Green-room_, the locomotions of a booth at a fair, the humours of a\nMargate hoy, the grimace of a jack-pudding, the sentimentalities and\nhashed-up scandal of a lady\u2019s maid, the noise and hurry of a chaise and\nfour, the _ennui_ and vacancy of a return post-chaise! The smart\n_improvisatori_ turns out the most wearisome of interminable writers. At\na moment\u2019s warning he can supply something that is worth nothing, and in\nten times the space he can spin out ten times the quantity of the same\npoor trash. Would the public read _Sayings and Doings_? Would Mr.\nColburn print them? No, but they are known to be the work of the Editor\nof the _John Bull_, of that great and anonymous abstract of wit, taste,\nand patriotism, who, like a Ministerial trull, calls after you in the\nstreet, dubs Mr. Waithman Lord Waithman, cries _Humbug_ whenever\nhumanity is mentioned; invades the peace of private life, out of regard\nto religion and social order; cuts a throat out of good-nature, and\nlaughs at it; and claps his Majesty familiarly on the shoulder, as the\nbest of Kings! Do you wonder at the face, the gravity, the impenetrable\nassurance required to do all this, and to do it not once, but once a\nweek? Read _Sayings and Doings_, and the wonder ceases; you see it is\nbecause he can do nothing else! He will feel obliged to us for this\ncharacter: his patrons were beginning to forget his qualifications.\n\n\n\n\n ACTORS AND THE PUBLIC\n\n\n _The Examiner._] [_March 16, 1828._\n\nWe once happened to be present, and indeed to assist in the following\nconversation between a young lady and an elderly gentleman pretty much\nof our own standing in such matters. \u2018I believe, papa, grand-papa did\nnot think so highly of Mr. Garrick as most people did?\u2019 \u2018Why, my dear,\nyour grand-papa was not one of those who liked to differ very openly\nwith the world; but he had an opinion of his own, which he imparted only\nto a few particular friends. He really thought Mr. Garrick was a quack,\na better sort of Barthelemy-fair actor. He used to say (for he was a man\nthat knew the world) \u2018that the real secret of Mr. Garrick\u2019s success was,\nthat his friend Bate Dudley had puffed him into notice, as he afterwards\ndid the Prince of Wales.\u2019 We on this observed, in our individual\ncapacity, that at least the dispenser of popularity had been more\nsuccessful in the one case than in the other. \u2018I believe, papa, you\nyourself were never a great admirer of Mrs. Siddons?\u2019 \u2018Why no, my dear,\none does not like to say those things, but she always appeared to me one\nof the great impositions on the world. There was nothing in her, a mere\ntragedy-queen.\u2019\u2014\u2018Pray, ma\u2019am, have you read Sir Walter\u2019s last\nnovel?\u2019\u2014\u2018Why no, I really cannot say I have. I have tried to get through\none or two, but I find them so dry I have given up the attempt. I like\n\u201cSayings and Doings\u201d much better. Pray, sir, can you tell me the name of\nthe author?\u2019 \u2018Mr. Theodore Hook.\u2019\u2014\u2018Bless me, what a pretty name; I wish\npapa would invite him to dinner.\u2019\u2014Here we have the genealogy of modern\ntaste. \u2019Fore gad, they were all in a story\u2014three generations in\nsuccession thinking nothing of Garrick, Mrs. Siddons, and the author of\n\u2018Waverley,\u2019 and preferring Mr. Theodore Hook before the quintessence of\ntruth and nature. And such is the opinion of nine-tenths of the world,\nif we could get at their real thoughts. The vulgar in their inmost souls\nadmire nothing but the vulgar; the common-place admire nothing but the\ncommon-place; the superficial nothing but the superficial. How should it\nbe otherwise? The rest is cant and affectation: and as to those who know\nbetter and have pretensions themselves, they are actuated by envy and\nmalice, or some preconceived theory of their own. Instead of a great\nactor, for instance, they are looking for a hat and feather, are\ndisappointed at not finding what they fondly expect, and more\ndisappointed still at coming in collision with a power that shocks all\ntheir previous sympathies, rules, and definitions. Let a great man \u2018fall\ninto misfortune\u2019 (like _Captain Macheath_) and then you discover the\nreal dispositions of the reading, seeing, believing, loving public\ntowards their pretended idol. See how they set upon him the moment he is\ndown, how they watch for the smallest slip, the first pretext to pick a\nquarrel with him, how slow they are to acknowledge worth, how they never\nforgive an error, how they trample upon and tear \u2018to tatters, to very\nrags,\u2019 the common frailties, how they overlook and malign the\ntranscendant excellence which they can neither reach nor find a\nsubstitute for! Who has praised Sir Walter, who has not had a _fling_ at\nhim, since he lost all that he was worth? Oh! if he would but write the\n\u2018Life of George IV.!\u2019 Who that had felt Kean\u2019s immeasurable superiority\nin _Othello_, was not glad to see him brought to the ordinary level in a\nvulgar _crim. con_? No: a man of true genius and common observation,\ninstead of being disappointed at not carrying the prize by acclamation,\nand exciting gratitude equal to the pleasure he gives, ought to be\nthankful that he is not hooted from the stage, and torn in pieces by the\nrabble, as soon as he quits his lair of solitary obscurity. Every man of\nthat sort is assuredly looked upon by the vulgar as having dealings with\nthe devil, because they do not see \u2018the spells, the mighty magic he hath\nused\u2019 and they would make an _auto-da-f\u00e9_ of him if they durst, as they\nformerly burnt a witch! They contrive to torture him enough, as it is.\nWhat was it made men burn astrologers and alchemists in former times,\nbut the sense of power and knowledge which the illiterate hind did not\npossess? Are the _reading_ different from the _unreading_ public?\nBelieve it not. But this power was supposed to be exercised for evil\npurposes, whereas genius has a beneficial influence. _That_ doubles the\nobligation, and fixes the ingratitude. The critical public view the\nappearance of an original mind with the sidelong glances and the _doux\nyeux_ with which the animals at Exeter-\u2019Change regard the strange\nvisitants; but if any one trusting to the amiable looks and playful\ngambols of the one or the other opens the door of his own folly to let\nthem out, he will soon see how it will fare with him. There are a\nmillion of people in this single metropolis, each of whom would\nwillingly stand on the pedestal which you occupy. Will they forgive you\nfor thrusting them from their place, or not triumph if they see you\ntotter? Beware how you climb the slippery ascent; do not neglect your\nfooting when you are there. Such is the natural feeling; and then comes\nthe philosophical critic, and tells you with a face of lead and brass\nthat \u2018no more indulgence is to be shewn to the indiscretions of a man of\ngenius than to any other!\u2019 What! you make him drunk and mad with\napplause and then blame him for not being sober, you lift him to a\npinnacle, and then say he is not to be giddy, you own he is to be a\ncreature of impulse, and yet you would regulate him like a machine, you\nexpect him to be all fire and air, to wing the empyrean, and to take you\nwith him, and yet you would have him a muck-worm crawling the earth! But\nit is a Scotch critic who says this\u2014let us pass on. If an actor is\nindeed six feet high, with a face like a pasteboard mask, he may pass in\nthe crowd and will have the mob on his side; but if he can only boast\n\n \u2018The fiery soul, that working out its way,\n Fretted the pigmy body to decay,\n And o\u2019er informed the tenement of clay\u2019\u2014\n\nhe stands in equal peril of the unthinking many, and the fastidious few.\nOr, if an actress is a foreigner, she may escape \u2018the envy of less\nhappier lands,\u2019 and be encouraged as a luxury for the great\u2014be wafted to\nus on a name, and take back with her our sighs and tears. Yet how frail\nis the tenure of fashion! Where is Madame Catalani now? Where does the\nsiren\u2019s voice flutter in the sunshine of her smiles?\u2014\n\nIt was some time since we had seen Mr. Kean\u2019s _Shylock_. Fourteen years\nago we were desired to go and see a young actor from the country attempt\nthe part at Drury-lane; and, as was expected, add another to the list of\nfailures. When we got there, there were about fifty people in the pit,\nand there was that sense of previous damnation which a thin house\ninspires. When the new candidate came on, there was a lightness in his\nstep, an airy buoyancy and self-possession different from the sullen,\ndogged, _gaol-delivery_ look of the traditional _Shylocks_ of the stage.\nA vague expectation was excited, and all went on well; but it was not\ntill he came to the part, when leaning on his staff, he tells the tale\nof Jacob and his flock with the garrulous ease of old age and an\nanimation of spirit, that seems borne back to the olden time, and to the\nprivileged example in which he exults, that it was plain that a man of\ngenius had lighted on the stage. To those who had the spirit and candour\nto hail the lucky omen, the recollection of that moment of startling,\nyet welcome surprise, will always be a proud and satisfactory one. We\nwished to see after a lapse of time and other changes, whether this\nfirst impression would still keep \u2018true touch,\u2019 and we find no\ndifference. Besides the excellence of the impassioned parts of Mr.\nKean\u2019s acting, there is a flexibility and indefiniteness of outline\nabout it, like a figure with a landscape back-ground\u2014he is in Venice\nwith his money-bags, his daughter and his injuries, but his thoughts\ntake wing to the East, his voice swells and deepens at the mention of\nhis sacred tribe and ancient law, and he dwells delighted on any\ndigression to distant times and places, as a relief to his vindictive\nand rooted purposes. Of all Mr. Kean\u2019s performances, we think this the\nmost faultless and least _mannered_, always excepting his _Othello_,\nwhich is equally perfect and twenty times more powerful. Mr. Kean\nsucceeded so well in this part in which he came out, that with the\ndiffidence of the abilities of others so natural to us, it was concluded\nby the managers he could do nothing else, and he was kept in it so long\nthat he had nearly failed in _Richard_, till the dying scene bore down\nall opposition by a withering spell, and as if a preternatural being had\nvisibly taken possession of his form, and made the enthusiasm the\ngreater from the uncertainty that had before prevailed. The _Sir Giles\nOverreach_ stamped him with the players and the town, and _Othello_ with\nthe critics. He who has done a single thing that others never forget,\nand feel ennobled whenever they think of, need not regret his having\nbeen, and may throw aside this fleshly coil, like any other worn-out\npart, grateful and contented!\n\n\n\n\n FRENCH PLAYS\n\n\n _The Examiner._] [_March 23, 1828._\n\nMonsieur Perlet is certainly a pearl of an actor. He does every part\nwell, and every part varied from another. He is, however, a jewel set in\nlead: the rest of the company to which he belongs are but indifferent.\nHe is exactly what a London _star_, engaged for a few nights to gratify\nthe \u2018upturned eyes of wondering audiences,\u2019 is in a tattered troop of\ncountry-actors. Those who fancy that they see here a thorough sample of\nFrench acting, the _elite_ of the capital of civilised society, are\nmistaken; and we perhaps should not undeceive them, but that we can\nassure them that they have a pleasure to come, something to look forward\nto, and something to look back upon, and which (we believe) can be found\nonly at Paris. Oh! Paris, thou hast the Louvre, the garden of the\nThuilleries, and the _Th\u00eaatre Fran\u00e7ais_; Madame Pasta we share by turns\nwith you, as the sun sheds its light on either world\u2014the rest is\nbarbarous and common. A friend of ours once received a letter from a\nfriend of his, dated ROME, with three marks of admiration after it,\nwhich he answered by writing LONDON, with four marks of admiration after\nit: \u2018and why shouldn\u2019t he, since we had St. Paul\u2019s, the Cartoons, the\nElgin Marbles, and the Bridges?\u2019 As to the three first, they were not\nours; and as to the fourth, the reasoning puts me a little in mind of\nSir William Curtis\u2019s, who remarked that \u2018it was very good of God, that\nwherever there was a great city, he had made a river by the side of it!\u2019\nThere was another proud distinction, which our patriotic friend did not\nenumerate, though it was a thumping make-weight in the scale, and might\nhave claimed a fifth mark of admiration, which was, that he himself was\nthere. This is the triumphant argument in every Englishman\u2019s\nimagination,\u2014wherever he is, is the centre of gravity; whatever he calls\nhis own, is the standard of excellence. It is our desire to shake off\nthis feeling as much as possible that makes us frequent the theatre at\nthe English Opera-house, and try (all we can) to \u2018leave our country and\nourselves\u2019 at the door. Why in truth should an English Nobleman be\nconvinced in himself and speak upon that conviction in his place in\nParliament, that because he keeps a French cook, the French have no\ngenius for anything but cookery? Or why, my dear Madam, should you have\ntaken it in your head, that because you wear a French bonnet, there is\nnothing in Paris but milliners\u2019 girls who are no better than they should\nbe? Nay, that is what you really imagine, however you may deny it\u2014but be\nassured, good, gentle, honest, reflecting reader of either sex, who feel\nyour own existence so solid that every thing else is a fable to it, or\nyour own virtue so clear that everything else is a spot to it, that\nthere are things out of England besides what are imported into it\u2014that\nFrench women not only make caps and bonnets, but wear them with a\npeculiar grace; that they have eyes glancing from under them full of\nfire and discretion; that they do not make a false step at every turn,\nthough they do not walk like Englishwomen, that is, as if their limbs\nwere an incumbrance to them; that the Chamber of Deputies think your\nLordship\u2019s speeches dry and tasteless, for want of a little French\nseasoning; that there are cities not built of bricks, faces not made of\ndough, a language that has a meaning though it is not ours, and virtue\nthat is neither a statue nor a mask! For instance, we think good-manners\nis one part of ethics, and we do wish _en passant_ that our fine\ngentlemen at the play would not loll on their seats, whistle, and thrust\ntheir sticks nearly in your face to show their superiority to the\nvulgar; and that those of the other sex, who are admitted on their good\nbehaviour could be prevailed on not to talk and laugh so loud, not to\nnod or wink, not to slap their acquaintance on the back, or shut the\ndoors with such violence after them, to attract admirers and shew an\nindependent spirit. Strange that the English notion of independence\nconsists in giving offence to and displaying your contempt for others!\nThey order these things better in France, where they consult decency of\nappearance at least, and Venus is a prude in public\u2014not a hoyden or a\nbully!\n\n \u2018Our Cupid is a blackguard boy,\n That thrusts his link in every face.\u2019\n\nThis brings us back to the French Theatre. As we do not approve every\nthing foreign or French, we are more bound to acknowledge and do justice\nto what we do like. _Imprimis_, we abhor French pictures. In the second\nplace, we tolerate French tragedy. Thirdly, we adore French comedy. The\ncharacteristic of this in its best state, and as compared with our\nutmost efforts in the same line, is, that it is equally perfect\nthroughout; and as that great philosopher of idleness (Mr. Coleridge)\nonce wisely and wittily observed, \u2018there is something in the idea of\nperfection exceedingly satisfactory to the mind of man.\u2019 It is not as\nwith us at present (it was not always so\u2014or is it the haze of time, the\ntints of youth that made the difference?) where the most we can expect\nis one or two actors of disproportioned excellence, and all the others\nmerely to fill the stage; but there all are in their place, and all are\nfirst-rate. Oh! it is a fine thing to see one of Moliere\u2019s comedies\nacted (as they should be) at the _Th\u00eaatre Fran\u00e7ais_, with the sense of\nevery pregnant line fully understood and developed, with the passion and\ncharacter delineated to the life, every situation painted, and every\nshade and difference of absurdity hit off and realised; and not only\nthis, but the whole so managed, with such studious attention to the\npublic and respect to the art, that not the least bit of costume is out\nof place, and (what is more important) that every part is filled by an\nactor or actress not only who comprehends and enters into the spirit of\nit, but who seems made for it in person, gesture and features, as if\nthey had been cast in a dramatic mould, or kept in a glass-case for that\npurpose from the first representation to the present day. Thus the long,\nnasal speeches are delivered by an actor with the prominent, pasteboard\nnose and arched eyebrows of the Oratory, and whose unusual height and\nshambling figure serve him as it were for a rostrum; the poetical\ndedicator in the _Misanthrope_ has sparkling eyes and teeth, smiling\ndelighted on his patron and himself; the confidante of _Celimene_, in\nthe same piece, is slender, fragile, timid in appearance, a contrast to\nthe firm precision and maturer _enbon-point_ of Mademoiselle Mars; Orgon\nhas a little, round, dimpled, credulous face, and easy contented\ncorpulence; the _Tartuffe_ has the sneaking sanctity of a monk and the\ngrin of a monkey. Thus you have not only the poet\u2019s verse exactly\nexpressed and recited; but you have, in addition, the natural history of\nthe part, the drapery, the grouping. The age of Louis XIV. revives again\nin all its masqued splendour; the folding-doors are thrown open, and you\nsee men and women playing the fool deliciously, \u2018new manners and the\npomp of elder days,\u2019 court-airs, court-dresses, the strut, the shrug,\nthe bow, the curtsey, the paint, the powder, the patches, the perfume,\nthe laced ruffles, the diamond buckle, the hoop-petticoat. Happy time!\nEnviable time to think of! When vanity and folly expanded in full bloom,\nand were spread out ostentatiously like the figures in a gaudy tapestry,\ninstead of being folded up and thrust into a corner by the hand of a\ncynic and austere philosophy; when personal appearance and amorous\nintrigue were all in all; when a marquis stalked the God of his own\nidolatry, and _Madame la Marquise_ was held for something divine by\n_Monsieur Jourdain_; when the whole creation was supposed to be\nconcentred in the fantastic circle of lords and ladies, and the\nuniversal, the abstract, and the critical were held in the utter\ncontempt which they deserve\u2014and which they receive at the hands both of\nthe ignorant and the adept! Nothing that we know of is a specific for\nconjuring up this shadow of the past, and making you (if you are in the\nmood) feel like a great booby school-boy, with a large _bouquet_ at your\nbreast, or an antiquated fop with a bag-wig and sword\u2014but sitting at the\n_Th\u00eaatre Fran\u00e7ais_ with Mademoiselle Mars and the whole _corps\ndramatique_ drawn up on the stage. Then you have the very thing before\nyou: it glitters in your eyes; it tingles in your ears, it sinks into\nthe heart, and makes warm tears roll down the cheek of those, who have\never felt either what the present or the past is! It is said to be an\nill wind that blows nobody good; and probably we owe it to the very\nexclusion of French players from general society, and their being\ncompelled in self-defence to devote themselves wholly to their\nprofession, that they keep up this sort of traditional copy of the\nmanners, peculiarities, and tone of another age, \u2018unmixed with baser\nmatter.\u2019 We could wish that a certain happy-spirited writer (who first\ngave the true _pine-apple_ flavour to theatrical criticism, making it a\npleasant mixture of sharp and sweet) would resume the subject of the age\nof Charles II. (our nearest approach to that of Louis XIV.) and as he\nhas shocked the upstart petulance of _Some of his Contemporaries_,\nrestore in his inimitable careless manner the wit and graces of a former\nperiod.\n\nWe expected to have seen Monsieur Perlet on Thursday evening in the\n_Bourgeois Gentilhomme_; and to make sure of the ground, had read three\nacts in the morning with great care and an anticipated relish of the\nacting. We were therefore disappointed; and the reader must accept of a\nrhapsody in lieu of a criticism. We think it bad policy to have many new\npieces; for the English part of the audience in general require to\nperuse the text beforehand in order to follow the performance. We like\nto know exactly what we are about; and it is both a pride and a pleasure\nto have an excuse for rubbing up our acquaintance with an old and\nesteemed author. The universality of the French language is not an\nunalloyed advantage to them: it saves the trouble of learning any other,\nbut the necessity of acquiring a new language is like the necessity of\nacquiring a new sense. It is an increase of knowledge and liberality. We\nare proud of understanding their authors. Why do they despise ours?\nBecause they are ignorant of them. If they had known what \u2018stuff\u2019 we are\nmade of, very likely we should not have beaten them. M. Perlet played\nthe part of a strolling comedian in the new piece of the _Landau_, and\neats and drinks in an admirable _bravura_ style at a gentleman\u2019s house\non the road, where he passes himself off as a great man, and with that\nlively absorption in the present enjoyment and disregard of the\nconsequences of his imposture, which are, we suspect, national traits.\nIn the _Landes_ which followed, he was equally happy in a poor,\nfrightened servant, and expressed the surprises of fear and the tricks\nand disjointed pantomime antics, to which it resorted to screen itself,\nwith admirable quaintness and drollery. The swagger and self-possession\nof the one character was totally opposed to the imbecility and\nhelplessness of the other. Madame Falcoz made her first appearance in\nthe _Tyran Domestique_ as _Madame Valmont_. She is an elegant woman and\nan interesting actress, though with too much appearance of _still-life_.\nThis is not the case with Madame Daudel. She has all the vivacity and\nbustle of a chambermaid. She ought always to come in with a broom in her\nhand; or rather, it is quite unnecessary.\n\n\n\n\n FRENCH PLAYS\u2014(_Continued_)\n\n\n _The Examiner._] [_March 30, 1828._\n\nWe exhausted that subject last week, and were complimented upon it,\nwhich we took ill. Probably advisable to be ill this week, to let our\nabsence be felt, or to make up with scraps and quotation. To transcribe\nfour different accounts of the _Tartuffe_, Sir Walter Scott\u2019s, Mr. Leigh\nHunt\u2019s, Monsieur Perlet\u2019s, and one of our own, and to make it understood\nthat the last is the best. To remark that Monsieur Perlet, \u2018that soul of\npleasure and that life of whim,\u2019 is a provoking actor\u2014for there is no\nfault to be found with him, and to give the reader an idea of his\npeculiar excellence is next to impossible. Whatever he does, his ease,\nself-possession, and spirit are the same. To make it a rule not to tell\nany one who asks me the plot of the _Ecole des Maris_, but to tell it\nmyself. Borrowers of plots are like borrowers of snuff:\u2014every one his\nown _box-keeper_. (_Ha, ha, ha!_) The laugh here comes from a friend of\nours to whom we read this, and who kept repeating the whole\nevening\u2014\u2018Every man his own box-keeper.\u2019 (_Ha, ha, ha!_) Very well\nindeed. _Sganarelle_ and _Ariste_ are two brothers, both of them in\nyears, who have two wards, _Isabelle_ and _Leonore_, whom they propose\nto marry. _Sganarelle_ is an old blockhead, who brings up his intended\nbride with the greatest severity, and will let her see no plays, go to\nno balls, receive no visits, lest it should corrupt her manners or\ndivert her affection from him. He is very angry at his brother _Ariste_,\nwho gives full liberty to his mistress _Leonore_, and contends that\nbars, bolts, female Arguses, and ill-humour are not the way to make\nwomen in love with virtue, or to prevent their inclination from\nwandering. _Sganarelle_ laughs at him, but he turns out a true prophet.\n_Isabelle_, not thinking the _disagreeable_ the most _agreeable_ thing\nin the world, meets with a lover (_Valere_) more to her mind than her\nguardian. And here begins the interest of the plot. Having no other mode\nof communication, she sends _Sganarelle_ to him, to let him know that\nshe is apprized of the state of his affections, and to beg him not to\npersecute her with his amorous thoughts, if he has any regard for her\nhonour or peace of mind. He understands the hint, and sends the supposed\nhusband away, delighted with his confusion and repulse, who has no\nsooner returned to his intended, than she desires him to go back with a\nletter, which _Ariste_ has just had the assurance to send her in his\nabsence, full of his absurd passion. This _Sganarelle_ consents to do,\nbut proposes to open the letter first, which she will not allow him to\ndo, saying it would betray curiosity to break the seal, and no woman of\nvirtue should feel even a wish to know the improper sentiments\nentertained towards her. Her guardian delivers the letter with an air of\ntriumph and pity for his rival, which _Valere_ reads, and finds it a\nfrank and passionate declaration of _Isabelle\u2019s_ attachment to him. Not\nsatisfied with this, she informs _Sganarelle_ that he has a design to\ncarry her off by force, who goes to reproach him with the baseness of\nhis conduct and the pretended terror and uneasiness of his ward.\n_Valere_ affirming that _Sganarelle_ has no authority to bring him these\ndisdainful messages from the lady, _Sganarelle_ brings them together in\nhis presence, when an admirable scene of _double-entendre_ follows:\n_Isabelle_ declaring that she sees two objects before her, one which she\nadores, the other which she abhors, _Sganarelle_ taking to himself the\npreference which is intended for _Valere_, and the latter rapturously\nkissing her hand behind his back, while her guardian affectionately\nembraces her. But in recompense for her fondness, he proposes to marry\nher the next day instead of at the end of eight days; and this driving\n_Isabelle_ to despair, she takes the resolution to quit the house in the\nmiddle of the night, but is met by her guardian, who asking the meaning\nof this nocturnal expedition, she tells him that her sister has come to\nher house, violently in love with _Valere_, whom she is going in search\nof, to console her; but _Sganarelle_ not being satisfied with this\nassignation, will not allow her to remain, and presently after turns his\nown bride out of doors, thinking it to be his brother\u2019s ward _Leonore_,\nand goes with great glee to inform _Ariste_ of the adventure, and to\nlecture him on the difference of their schemes of female education. In\nthe meantime _Leonore_ comes in from a ball, is scandalized at the story\nthat she hears told of her; and the Notary that _Sganarelle_ had sent\nfor to witness her elopement and the treachery of _Valere_, having\nmarried him to _Isabelle_, she comes out from his house, and explains\nthe whole mystery to the delight of every one but _Sganarelle_.\u2014The plot\nis charming, and the style is profuse of sense and wit; but there is\nthis remark to be made here, as on other of Moliere\u2019s plays, that\nhowever elegant, ingenious, or natural, the scene must be laid in\nFrance, that the whole passes under that empire of words, which is\nconfined to her airy limits, and that there is a credulous and\nunqualified assent to verbal professions necessary to carry on the plot,\nwhich can be found nowhere but in France. This comedy was correctly but\nsomewhat faintly represented. Mademoiselle Falcoz, who played\n_Isabelle_, was dressed as we have an idea servants were formerly\ndressed, with a full handkerchief and a black silk apron. Perhaps it was\nthe costume of young ladies at that period; but we suspect that this is\ncarrying literal correctness too far, where it shocks instead of\nassisting the imagination, and instructing us at the expense of our\namusement, which is against the law of dramatic propriety. If the play\nwas not done quite as it might be, it received a brilliant comment from\nthe looks of some of the audience: and as the stage is a mirror to\nnature, so these are a mirror to the stage itself. Bright eyes! Laughing\nlips! Tell-tale eyebrows! spare us or we retire incontinently from the\nFrench play,\u2014\u2018To the woods, to the waves, to the winds we\u2019ll complain\u2019\nof your inexorable cruelty and endless persecution!\n\n\n\n\n THE THEATRES AND PASSION-WEEK\n\n\n _The Examiner._] [_April 6, 1828._\n\nThis being _Passion-week_, there was no play. \u2018Because thou art\nvirtuous, shall we not have cakes and ale?\u2019 In truth, however, we have\nno objection to this alternation of festivity and mourning: it mimics\nthe order of the natural world. We require a truce with pleasure as well\nas pain, to enable us to endure the one or to enjoy the other: and we\nmust put a stop at some period or other to the whirl of dissipation,\nunless we would grow quite stupid or giddy. One week out of the\nfifty-two, in which the theatres shut their doors in your face, in which\nthe play-bills do not flaunt on either side of the way, and you are not\nfollowed through the streets while the letter-bell is ringing in your\nears, with the importunate repetition of \u2018A Bill for Covent Garden or\nDrury Lane,\u2019 is not amiss or out of reason; and the cry of \u2018Hot-cross\nbuns\u2019 fills up the vacancy, and dallies with the interval of suspense\nnot disagreeably. There is a large class of persons who only go to the\nplay during Easter: it is hard if we cannot stay away from it during\nPassion-week. Our expectations and satisfaction are enhanced by the\nshort restraint put upon them, and outward prevarication with our\nscruples. Without a little spice of hypocrisy or gravity the world would\nlose its savour: and by the periodical mark of reprobation thus set upon\nit, the play becomes a sort of pleasant sin all the rest of the year. As\nfor the holiday-folks, Passion-week is to them a kind of bleak desert,\nbeyond which they behold the land of promise,\u2014a _ha-ha_, or line of\ncircumvallation round the enchanted castle of Pleasure, over which they\nrush to storm the citadel with double eagerness and obstreperous glee,\nescaping from the formal gloom of Ash-Wednesday and Good-Friday, into\nthe bright radiance of Easter-Sunday, as from the grave to a bridal, and\n\u2018seizing their pleasures\n\n \u2018With rough strife,\n Thorough the iron gates of life.\u2019\n\nWe do not think the flutter of hope, the sparkle of joy, in the young or\nold adventurers, on these occasions of mirth and licence, would be\ncomplete, were it not for the sense of general restraint and privation\nwhich precedes them, and makes the release from the dead pause, the\ninvoluntary self-denial of the past week, a more precious achievement to\nall parties concerned. At least, this inference is pretty plainly\ndiscernible in the smiling looks and uneasy delight of the truant\nvisitors in the boxes, and the noise and uproar of the overflowing\ngalleries. To those who object to the disorderly interruptions of the\nlatter, and consider the being present at an Easter-play as vulgar on\nthat account, it may be proper to observe that there is no part of an\naudience so quiet and attentive as the galleries after the curtain once\ndraws up, if it is not the fault of the actors or the author, who do not\nmake themselves heard or understood so far; and again, we conceive it\nmight be of service to dramatic writers sometimes to hazard their\npersons or compromise their dignity in the gallery, to see what\nimpression their scenes make on hearts fresh from nature\u2019s mint, instead\nof stationing themselves in the dress-boxes, to overhear polite\nwhispers, or moulding their features in the glass of newspaper criticism\nthe next day. The tears shed in silence by these untutored spectators,\nthe breath held in, the convulsive sob, the eager gaze, the glance of\ndelight, would afford better hints and lessons how to revive the spirit\nand the pathos of the primitive stage, than any instructions derived\nfrom drivelling Jerdan or from ranting Croly\u2014nay, than from our own\ncolumns, the only ones, as modest Mr. Blackwood would say, worthy of the\nleast attention in such matters. As to the players themselves, we do not\nknow how Passion-week sits upon them. One would think it would be\nwelcome to them as a break in the routine of business, as a pause in the\nwear-and-tear of life: but there is no saying. For they are so\n\u2018stretched upon the rack of ecstasy,\u2019 that almost any respite from it\nmay be scarcely endurable. The public eye, the public voice, becomes a\npart of a man\u2019s self, which he can hardly do without, even for an\ninstant. The player out of his part is like the dram-drinker without his\ndram, the snuff-taker without his box. What organ is so sensitive as\nthat of vanity? What thirst so insatiable, so incessant, as that of\npraise? The meagre days of Lent, one would argue previously, would be\n\u2018gaudy-days\u2019 to his Majesty\u2019s servants, the drudges of public\nrecreation,\u2014snatched from the town, and given to retirement and\noblivion,\u2014brief interval to allay the feverish irritation of popular\napplause, to soothe the smart of mortification and disappointment. But\nno! the successful candidate thinks every moment lost in which he is\nrobbed of the need of admiration; the unsuccessful is impatient to\nretrieve some error, to convince the public of theirs:\u2014the hopeless\nperformer thinks it better to be hissed than not noticed at all. Even\nthe scene-shifters and candle-snuffers (to talk in the old style) fancy\nthemselves, in a full house and busy night, persons of importance; and\nwhen left to themselves, must feel like fish out of water:\u2014nothing else\nbut the want of the customary excitement could probably enable actors to\nrepeat their parts night after night: they stagger through them like\ndrunken men. Many of the most fortunate seem uneasy, listless, and\ndissatisfied, when off the stage, because they do not see a thousand\nfaces beaming with delight, because they do not hear at every step the\nshouts of Gods and men. Why do they not resort to Bartholomew-fair,\nwhere they may act every half-hour during the day, and not get a wink of\nsleep at night for the noise of cymbals and rattles? This is as if a man\ncould never be easy unless he saw his person reflected in a thousand\nmirrors, or heard every word he utters repeated by a hundred echoes.\nContempt, poverty, pain, want, and \u2018all the natural ills that flesh is\nheir to,\u2019 are preferable to this attainment of all that can be desired,\nand the craving after more. The lady in _Love\u2019s Labour Lost_ condemns\nher lover _Biron_, for his excess of levity, \u2018to jest a twelvemonth in\nan hospital.\u2019 For ourselves, we would impose it as a useful penance on\nthose who are spoiled by the admiration of friends, to take the stage to\nthe _Land\u2019s End_, and return by themselves, so as to breathe for a few\ndays out of the atmosphere of habitual adulation; and as to actors (who\nare anything more than _walking gentlemen_) we think they should be\nbound over never to sing a song, or tell a story in private. Their\ntheatrical pulse is already at a hundred, without shining in company.\nThose who have nothing to say but \u2018what is set down for them,\u2019 stand the\nbest chance for repose and moderation, and are also likely to make the\nbest actors. An actor has not to study his own part, but somebody\nelse\u2019s, as a painter should not be taken up with himself, but his\nsitters.\n\nThe account of the death of the late Mr. Conway, the actor, came this\nweek\u2014a week of dole. It was melancholy enough, and must have occasioned\nregret to some who had at any time commented freely on his acting. Yet\nthe original cause of it was not his fault, nor that of the critics\u2014but\nrather of those who pushed him forward to run the gauntlet of public\nopinion, and attract a little momentary wonder and curiosity, without\nhis being prepared to stand the trial, or meet the consequences. Popular\nfavourites are too much like the innocent victims of superstition, led\nout, garlanded with flowers, to slaughter and to sacrifice. This was, we\nthink, the case with Mr. Conway. He was a man of fine personal\nappearance, of modesty, and merit; but his more than usual height, and\nthe disproportion between the shewiness of his figure and his genius for\nthe drama (though he was by no means devoid of passion or talent) which\nat first made crowds of idle people run to look at and applaud him,\nafterwards subjected him to unavoidable, though in one sense (and such\nhe felt it) unjust satire. It cannot be denied that he played _Jaffier_,\nfor instance, with considerable force and feeling; and had he been of\nthe ordinary stature (which is as necessary on the stage as in a group\nof statuary) he would have been highly respectable in that and other\nparts requiring a certain mixture of tenderness and vehemence. As it\nwas, those who had at first extolled him to the skies, now swelled the\ncry against him; and the honey of adulation was naturally turned into\ngall and bitterness. Young, enthusiastic, and sincere, he attributed to\nmalice and rooted enmity what was owing to accident, and the caprice and\nlevity of the world, who keep up the sense of self-importance and\nexcitement, by loading their thoughtless favourite with caresses one\nmoment, and treating him with every mark of obloquy the next. Poor\nConway was not prepared for this; he thought their admiration of him\nlasting and invaluable, their desertion wounded him to the quick. He did\nnot know that the town was a hardened jilt, whose fondness or aversion\nare equally suspicious. He retired from the conflict, but bore with him\nthe sense of ill-treatment which he had not knowingly merited, of\ndisappointed hopes, which only the waters of oblivion could wash out,\nand which should deter others from encountering the same risk, who are\nnot sure of the victory, or are not armed with fortitude equally proof\nagainst the homage or insults of mankind. Mr. Conway in his manners was\nmild and unaffected, spirited in his conduct, and if not a scholar, was\ndistinguished by a love for reading and study.\n\n\n\n\n CHARLES KEAN\n\n\n _The Examiner._] [_April 13, 1828._\n\nWe went on Monday to see young Mr. Kean in _Lovers\u2019 Vows_, with the\nintention of expressing an opinion; but we have nothing to add in the\nway of criticism to what we have already said. We will however in so\ndelicate a matter venture on two general remarks for our own\nsatisfaction, and we should hope for that of others. The first is, it\nappears to us clear that Mr. Kean, _jun._, will never make so great an\nactor as his father; and if not, he had better rest contented with his\nfather\u2019s fame. The Marquis of Douro does not, we daresay, think of\nfighting the battle of Waterloo over again: why then should the son of\nMr. Kean wish to lay up any hard-earned and doubtful theatrical laurels\nof his own? The crammed pit of Covent-Garden is his Mount St. Jean: the\nthird act of _Othello_ should be his escutcheon and his hereditary\ncoat-of-arms. A pettifogging, cringing lawyer, a leader of a gang of\nruffians, is made a lord, and ennobles a race of ciphers: if this is\nright, then why should not a man of genius reflect some of his glory on\nthose next to him, and leave the dower of his great name to his\nimmediate posterity? Because the gratitude of the public is insincere,\nand nobility a mere state-trick. It is not sentiment, but servility,\nthat inclines us to pay respect to a long line of nobles or of princes.\nTake from the Marquis of Douro his estate of Strathfieldsay, and in a\nfew years he might be in the King\u2019s Bench, and the _Times_ newspaper\nwould not subscribe five pounds to help him out. If Mr. Kean had left a\nhundred thousand pounds behind him, his son might have sat for a close\nborough, or have made a \u2018vulgar\u2019 Minister of State. We _do_ think there\nshould be some distinctive mark, some ribbon of a Legion of Honour, with\nthe smallest possible reversion of independence, some Tyburn ticket of\nmerit, reserved for the sons of the Muses and the bastards of fortune,\nto exempt them alike from starving and the office of serving the public\n(which is much the same thing) for three generations. People talk of\nbirth as necessary to honour and to power: did not the popes, the sons\nof peasants or of nobody, set their feet upon the necks of monarchs?\nPeople talk of the upstart pretensions of authors and men of intellect\nin modern times: did not the priest (the learned men of their day) come\nin as the first estate between heaven and the nobles? Why then taunt the\nflame of genius with being earth-born? It is the dotage of a prejudice\nto do so. We repeat, the sons of celebrated men are hardly off: the\nexample of their parents (together with necessity) urges them to do\nsomething: that very example, from being too near, and almost seeming to\nsave them the trouble of exertion, precludes the possibility of success.\nEven where the genius might be the same, the imitation and also the\nhabitual idea of doing something extraordinary without knowing what, is\nprejudicial, if not fatal; and if they wish to turn out anything, they\nshould strike into a path the opposite of what is always before them.\nYoung Kean perhaps would shine as a University-wrangler, or a\nconveyancer under the bar; and the son of a philosopher should go to\ncourt! Again, Mr. Kean is said by his friends to be a promising young\nactor. We have nothing to say to that; but we will tell him one thing,\nthere is no such person as a promising actor. It is here, as in all\nsimilar pursuits, performance or nothing. We do not say no great actor\nimproves, but no actor becomes great by improvement. The sun is seen as\nsoon as it appears above the horizon: there is the same glory round its\nrising and its setting: so may it always be with the sun of genius,\nwhich is the lamp of the world! Garrick fell as it were from the clouds:\nMr. Kean\u2019s father rose at once from obscurity. The late Mr. Kemble was\nthe only actor that we remember to have attained to the first rank by\ngradual advances; and he was sustained in his progress by great\nstateliness of manner and advantages of person. In general, those who\nare always improving on themselves, are surpassed by others, and\ncomplain that, as they are about to seize the wreath of fame, it is\nsnatched from them by some bolder and more fortunate hand. We do not\npresume to sit on Mr. Kean\u2019s _quantum meruit_\u2014we will not\u2014but if he is\nnot likely to become a first-rate actor, his name forbids him to be\naught less. If he knows our tone in speaking when we are serious or\nmerely splenetic, he will know that these remarks are dictated by\nanything but a feeling hostile to him.\n\nA new melo-dramatic entertainment succeeded, called _The Dumb Savoyard\nand his Monkey_. The story is in few words, as follows: The _Count\nMaldecini_ having been condemned to die (we know not why\u2014for these\ninventions plunge us at once _in medias res_) his wife accompanied by\ntheir little child appears suddenly on the stage with a pardon for him.\nThe ferryman at Ober Wesel, however, refuses to carry her up the river,\nas the hour is too late; and she is in despair, when the Savoyard, with\nthe assistance of his monkey, undertakes to convey her to the place of\ndestination. They arrive safely at the Falls of the Grenfells, near the\nsalt-mine, in which her husband is confined, when they are attacked by a\nband of robbers who take a number of valuable ornaments from her, and\namong the rest the morocco-case, containing her husband\u2019s pardon; but\nthis, at her passionate and distracted entreaty, the chief restores in a\nfit of generosity, and with an appropriate speech for a German robber.\nMeantime, the monkey contrives to pick the pardon out of the case, and\nhide it in a crevice of the rock, on the top of which he sits grinning,\nthe demon of mischief and meddlesomeness. When the _Countess_ arrives at\nthe prison, she accordingly misses what she had built all her hopes\nupon, but she deceives the jailor and escapes with her husband, also by\nthe aid of the Savoyard and the dextrous _Marmozette_. They are pursued\nand overtaken just at the very spot where the precious document had been\nlost; and as the Count is about to be shot, in conformity to his\nsentence, which he reads and very sentimentally and loyally approves,\nthe monkey betrays the hiding-place of the pardon, which the frantic\n_Countess_ eagerly rescues from his grasp, and the whole ends happily.\nMrs. W. West played the heroine, and looked forlorn and interesting.\nMrs. Barrymore was _Pipino_, the Dumb Savoyard, and made a very pretty\nboy. As to the nimble _Marmozette_ (Master Wieland), if it depended on\nus, we would make him skip. Our old acquaintance _Jocko_ has left a\nnumerous progeny behind him, and we are afraid we shall never see the\nend of the breed. Why, in the midst of the beautiful and enchanting\nscenery on the banks of the Rhine (so admirably represented in this\npiece) must we have an artificial monster staring us in the face like an\nugly looking-glass the whole time. We have no patience on this point. We\nnever could bear to see that branch of the species on or off the stage,\nand would shoot them like the man in Candide, even at a risk of similar\nconsequences. We have no need of a menagerie in a play-house; the money\ntaken at the door on such occasions should be a deodand to the\nproprietors of Exeter-\u2019Change. We wish the _Times_, in its gravity,\nwould take up the subject, and with its leaden mace drive these _lusus\nnatur\u00e6_ and nauseous _double-entendres_ from the scene.\u2014We did not\nrecover our equanimity till Miss Foote, as _Meggy Macgilpin_, and her\npretty Highland dress, put us into good humour; and O\u2019Keefe\u2019s song of\n_Twang twang darillo_, between Gatty and Russell, scattered every\nparticle of bile in a roar of laughter.\n\n\n COVENT-GARDEN.\n\nThe holiday attraction of the week has been a melodrama called\n_Tuckitomba_, said to be founded on a fact which happened in Jamaica\nfifty years ago. The interest turns on a black sorceress who steals her\nmaster\u2019s child out of revenge, on an old pirate (_Tuckitomba_) who runs\naway with a mulatto-girl for love, and on the blowing up of the vessel\nin which they set sail for Africa, by the carelessness of a tailor on\nboard (Blanchard) who sets fire to the powder-magazine with the contents\nof his tobacco-pipe. There was a great deal of bustle, and a want of\ninterest in this piece. The prominent trait was the acting of Keeley,\nwho is called \u2018for shortness\u2019 Goliah. This gentleman really answers to\n_Falstaff\u2019s_ description of \u2018a man made after supper of a\ncheese-paring.\u2019 He is a shred of comedy; a pocket-Liston. He is great in\nlittle parts, and makes an amusing approach to a nonentity.\u2014The Minor\nTheatres have each had their novelties during the week, and been\ntolerably successful. The critics are divided on the temper and\nbehaviour of John Bull at this season. Some say he was lumpish and\nleaden at Drury-Lane on Monday, others, that he was in all his glory at\nCovent-Garden on the same evening. It is from seeing the confusion and\nuncertainty that prevail in the most authentic reports that we propose\nshortly to publish two _Examiners_ a week, to set the town right in\nthese and such-like particulars, and to save them the trouble of\nconsulting the daily papers altogether. As to John\u2019s behaviour, pleased\nor sulky, drunk or sober, we never could see any difference in it. Where\nwe were, a man stood up on a bench in the pit, and another insisting on\nhis getting down, and on his refusal threatening to call him out the\nnext day, the first made answer\u2014\u2018Aye, if your master will let\nyou!\u2019\u2014\u2018Master! what do you mean by that? I have no master: I come and go\nwhere I please!\u2019 The women now interfered, and one of them clapped her\nhandkerchief to her husband\u2019s mouth to prevent further disagreeables.\nAll an Englishman\u2019s ideas are modifications of his will; and it is\nstrange that with all his boasted independence and equality, he thinks\nhe has a right to insult every one who is not a better man than himself.\nThe reason is, he has no respect for himself, nor consequently for\nothers, except for some external advantage of wealth or situation; and\nhis ill-humour can only be bribed to keep the peace by his\nself-interest. \u2018Vice to be hated needs but to be seen:\u2018\u2014we are sure that\nthis at least may be said of ill-manners.\n\nTurn we from them to the French play, where the object is to enjoy the\nscene, to be pleased with yourself, and not to insult your neighbours,\nor inquire which is master and which is man. There have been several\n_deb\u00fbts_, all very creditable and successful, Monsieur Berteche, Madame\nBeaufre, and Mademoiselle Irma. We saw the former (who is of the\nMademoiselle Mars school, and whose tongue runs faster than a\nrace-horse) in the _Ecole des Veillards_ with Monsieur Perlet, who plays\nthe jealous husband with great point and spirit: but shall we add, that\nin the passionate parts, he does not _let out_ enough, there is an\ninterdicted and internal manner, a fidgetty and confined air, which is\nprobably owing to the subordinate parts in which he usually acts. In\nthis comedy, a gentleman pulls off his coat on the stage, which is with\nus an indecorum, except in farce. We mention this to show the difference\nof feeling in such matters. We missed Perlet in the _Cheats of Scapin_:\nhe always contrives to _cheat_ us of our favourite Moliere. But we had a\nfull taste of him in the _Anglaises pour rire_. And these are our fair\ncountry-women\u2014so they sit, speak, walk, sing, and dance, in the eyes of\nforeigners! No, it is Monsieur Pelissie and Monsieur Perlet\u2014but very\nlike!\n\n\n\n\n SOME OF THE OLD ACTORS.\n\n\n _The Examiner._] [_April 27, 1828._\n\nThe last week or two has been rich in theatricals; Miss Stephens in\n_Love in a Village_, where the scene opens with those two young beauties\nsitting in a bower of roses like a flower stuck in the stomacher of\nbeauty, and where that unconscious siren \u2018warbles her native wood-notes\nwild\u2019 with such simplicity and sweetness; Charles Kemble in the\n_Inconstant_, who in one glorious scene plays tragedy and comedy to the\nlife, and in one short moment tastes the \u2018fierce extremes\u2019 of pleasure\nand agony, of life and death; and _Othello_, with bumpers and three\ntimes three; to say nothing of Madame Vestris in the _Invincibles_, and\nMr. John Reeve in the immortal _Major Sturgeon_. Why then did we take no\nnotice of them? Notice we have taken, but it has been with \u2018our mind\u2019s\neye,\u2019 in \u2018our heart\u2019s core.\u2019 Ill will it fare with us, when we do not\ncast a sidelong glance at those pregnant abridgments, the play-bills,\nand when their flaunting contents, that unfold to us the map of our\nlife, no longer excite a smile or a sigh. Any one who pleases may then\nwrite our epitaph, though it will not be worth writing. At such a\nseason, for instance, we saw Mrs. Siddons in such a part for the first\ntime; in such another, Kemble walked with regal air across the stage,\nand his stately brow needed no diadem to set it off; in such a character\nBannister was in all his glory; in that, Suett vented his resistless\nfolly; here, Munden went the whole length of his face; here, Lewis was\nall life and air; here, Jack Palmer was great indeed; here, King was\nbitter in _Touchstone_, and Miss Pope romantic in _Audrey_; then, Mrs.\nGoodall played the part of _Rosalind_, and tripped in becoming page\u2019s\nattire through the forest of Ardennes (days and years long past!); here,\nDignum warbled as _Amiens_ (before we had heard of the peace of Amiens);\nand here, Mrs. Jordan\u2019s laugh comes over the heart, and if it has grown\ndry and seared, fills it with the remembrance of joy and gladness once\nmore. Dodd and Parsons hover in the extreme verge of the horizon, but\ngay shadows, airy shapes. Then such a one took leave of the stage,\ndrawing a narrower circle within the natural circle of his being; then\nListon appeared in the _Finger-Post_, looking like a finger-post, with\nhis nose only pointing to fun; Elliston in _Wild Oats_ (will he never\nsow \u2019em?); Matthews in the _Bee-Hive_, as busy as a bee; Miss Kelly in\nchambermaids; Miss O\u2019Neill in heroines; last, not least, Mr. Kean, the\n\u2018bony prizer\u2019 of the stage, who has knocked all other reputations and\nhis own on the head. What a host of names and recollections is here! How\nmany more are omitted, names that have embodied famous poets\u2019 verse and\nbeen the \u2018fancy\u2019s midwife,\u2019 that have gladdened a nation and made life\nworth living for, that have made the world pass in review as a gaudy\npageant, and set before us in a waking dream the bodily shapes and\ncircumstances of all that is most precious in joy or in sorrow! And is\nit come to this, that the drama is accounted vulgar by the vulgar, and\nthat we are to cut our old acquaintances the players, those who have\nthrown a light upon the morning, noon, and evening of our day, \u2018gay\ncreatures of the element, that live \u2018i th\u2019 rainbow and play in the\nplighted clouds,\u2019 and who have taken us so many hundred times to sit and\nlaugh with them, or shed \u2018tears such as angels weep,\u2019 at a height where\nwe could look down at the sordid of the earth\u2014and at a universe of\nOperas, with their naked _figurantes_, and sense and soul muffled up in\nsound to suit the callous taste or ranker gust of ears polite! We may\nhave said all this before; and here lies the misfortune of our office. A\ntheatrical audience is supposed to vary every night: the _reading\npublic_ is assumed to be always the same body. We could praise Mr.\nCharles Kemble\u2019s acting in _Young Mirabel_ every time he does it, and\nare always glad to think he is going to play what does such credit to\nhis art and gives such pleasure to others; but we can say nothing about\nit, having once expressed our opinion to that effect. An actor repeats a\nfavourite part till farther notice; a singer may be _encored_ in an air\nas often as his friends please; thank God, we have stockpieces that\nnever wear out: but who ever ventured upon reviving a defunct criticism?\nIt might pass with the million, but some good-natured friend would\nbetray us. The writer\u2019s secret would be found out, and he would be had\nup as an imposter. Nevertheless, having meditated a new criticism (or\neulogy, for it is the same thing) on Mr. Kean\u2019s _Othello_, and the\noverflowing house having excluded us from the Free-List, we venture upon\nborrowing an old one; and if we were to try, we do not know that we\ncould _mend our draught_.\n\n\u2018Mr. Kean\u2019s _Othello_ is, we suppose, the finest piece of acting in the\nworld. It is impossible either to describe or praise it adequately. We\nhave never seen any actor so wrought upon\u2014so \u201cperplexed in the extreme.\u201d\nThe energy of passion, as it expresses itself in action, is not the most\nterrific part: it is the agony of his soul, shewing itself in looks and\ntones of voice. In one part, where he listens in dumb despair to the\nfiend-like insinuations of _Iago_, he presented the very face, the\nmarble aspect of Dante\u2019s _Count Ugolino_. On his fixed eyelids \u201chorror\nsat plumed.\u201d In another part, where a gleam of hope or of tenderness\nreturns to subdue the tumult of his passions, his voice broke in\nfaultering accents from his overcharged breast. His lips might be said\nless to utter words than to distil drops of blood gushing from his\nheart. An instance of this was in his pronunciation of the line\u2014\n\n \u201cOf one that loved not wisely, but too well.\u201d\n\nThe whole of this last speech was indeed given with exquisite force and\nbeauty. We only object to the virulence with which he delivers the last\nline, and with which he stabs himself\u2014a virulence which _Othello_ would\nneither feel against himself at the moment, nor against the \u201cturbaned\nTurk\u201d (whom he had slain) at such a distance of time. His exclamation on\nseeing his wife, \u201cI cannot think but _Desdemona\u2019s_ honest,\u201d was the\n\u201cglorious triumph of exceeding love,\u201d a thought flashing conviction on\nhis mind, and irradiating his countenance with joy, like sudden\nsunshine. In fact almost every scene or sentence in this extraordinary\nexhibition is a master-piece of natural passion. The convulsed motion of\nthe hands, and the involuntary swelling of the veins in the forehead, in\nsome of the most painful situations, should not only suggest topics of\ncritical panegyric, but might furnish studies to the painter or\nsculptor.\u2019\n\nAfter _Othello_ on Wednesday, _The Mayor of Garratt_ followed \u2018with\nkindliest change.\u2019 Mr. Reeve played _Major Sturgeon_, and Mr. Keeley,\n_Jerry Sneak_. Comparisons are odious: _therefore_ they are made. Mr.\nKeeley\u2019s _Jerry_ was not so good as Russell\u2019s formerly; nor Mr. Reeve\u2019s\n_Major Sturgeon_ equal to Dowton\u2019s. This is saying nothing, for both\nthose performances were of the very first water. Mr. Keeley\u2019s person is\ndiminutive, and he seems the natural butt of a virago: Russell was a\ngoodly man of his inches; it was his spirit only that was hen-pecked,\nand that submitted to buffets and blows. Dowton again was the model of a\ntrain-band Captain in his own esteem, and never doubted of the ineffable\nsuperiority of his own pretensions: Reeve, in the midst of his insolence\nand vapouring, has a look of _quizzing_ himself, and sees through the\nridicule of his own character. He however throws much humour and\nfantastic absurdity into the part, _\u00e0-la-Liston_; but his drollery is\nconscious and knowing, not vacant and absolutely spontaneous, like that\nof his unrivalled prototype. At the end of the farce, there was some\ndivision of opinion whether the piece was not low, as if that which had\nmainly driven such manners and characters almost from the knowledge of\nthe present generation was not a master-stroke of genius, and in fact an\nhistorical drama.\n\n\n\n\n THE COMPANY AT THE OPERA.\n\n\n _The Examiner._] [_May 4, 1828._\n\n COVENT-GARDEN.\n\nThere has been a new farce here (called, disagreeably enough, _The\nLittle Offsprings_). If Mr. Peake is one of the most amusing of our\nfarce writers, it is because he pretends to be nothing better. He\nprofesses to write a _farce_, not a _genteel_ comedy; and he generally\nsucceeds accordingly. Our complaint against his present novelty is, that\nunlike most of his previous ones, it is not quite _broad_ enough. He\nhimself will smile at this objection, because assuredly it is quite\nbroad enough where it _is_ broad. But it is not \u2018as _broad_ as it is\n_long_,\u2019 which is what all farces ought to be. Young ladies as well bred\nas they are well dressed, and young gentlemen \u2018to match,\u2019 are\ninterlopers in the region of farce. Let Mr. Peake eschew all such\namiable insipidities, and he will do well. In short, let him cultivate\nthe _gentilities_ of life not a step farther than they fall in with the\ncase (anything but genteel) of Mr. Wrench; and then he cannot go very\nfar wrong. Above all, let him have nothing to say to young ladies who\nare a whit more like _Lady Teazle_ than Miss Kelly is. They are ticklish\nhandling in all cases; and in his there is no answering for the mischief\nthey may do.\n\n \u2018Crabbed age and youth\n Cannot live together\u2019;\u2014\n\nand no more can the ultra-ridiculous and the flat common-place\u2014Mr.\nKeeley as a Savoyard organ-boy, and Miss Goward as a sensitive\nschool-girl. The contrast (so to speak) does not harmonize. _Au reste_,\nthe name of the new farce is the worst thing belonging to it. It\nincludes a fox-hunting Admiral, played, or rather worked, with great\neffect by Bartley;\u2014a bluff and blundering boatswain, which Fawcett acted\nto the life, that is to say, somewhat disagreeably;\u2014a person wearing a\nwhite hat and pea-green pantaloons, things always enough to make the\nsight of Mr. Wrench pleasant; a suppositious spinster (Mrs. Davenport),\nwho turns out to be the parent of one of the \u2018little offsprings,\u2019 her\nbrother the Admiral being similarly situated as to the other;\u2014and\nfinally, the \u2018offsprings\u2019 themselves, played (as aforesaid) by Miss\nGoward and Mr. Keeley, and about whom there is a good deal of ingenious\nequivoque which touches upon the extreme edge where such matters are,\nnow-a-days, so apt to fall over. They pretty nearly did so on the above\noccasion, which has, no doubt, induced Mr. Peake to make the proper\nsacrifices to the suspicious delicacy of \u2018some people\u2019s ears.\u2019\n\n\n KING\u2019S THEATRE.\n\n_Don Giovanni_ was played at this theatre on Thursday for the benefit of\nMadame Caradori, in which Mademoiselle Sontag sustained the part of\n_Donna Anna_ with great truth and effect.\n\nWe said something lately on the company at the holiday theatres: we have\nsomething to say on the company at the Opera. We have little hesitation\nin stating (we speak of the pit) that in its way it is quite as bad:\nfrom boisterous rudeness and familiarity it rises into distance and\nsuperciliousness. If for instance at the Surrey or the Coburg you see\ntwo fellows quarrelling which is the master and which is the man, at the\nKing\u2019s Theatre you hear an elegant discourse on \u2018the higher and the\nlower orders.\u2019 A critic at Covent-Garden or Drury-Lane thinks Sadler\u2019s\nWells or the East London _low_: a critic of the self-same stamp, but one\nof softer phrase, pronounces the condemnation of the drama in good set\nterms as altogether exploded in the fashionable circles, and as\nflourishing most in our manufacturing towns and the semi-barbarous\nstates of North America. You hear another take up the lamentable theme\nof an interval in the succession of regular Opera-singers, as if it were\na pause in nature; and when notwithstanding he has heard Braham sing\nvery well in \u2018_this house_,\u2019 repeating the words as if the atmosphere at\nthe Haymarket wafted other sounds than common air, and music were a\ngeographical distinction. Thus it is that an Englishman is always\npinning his faith on places and persons; and that he cannot arrive (for\nthe soul of him, let him be taught and trammelled how he will) at the\ncontemplation of an abstract idea: and yet the booby talks of\nrefinement. He has no conception of anything but from the situation\nwhere he finds it; or the figure it makes in the eyes of some one as\nwise as himself; or from its being a foil to some defect in others. You\nhear none of this gabble at the _Th\u00eaatre Fran\u00e7ais_, or the Italian Opera\nin Paris, about those exploded authors Racine and Moli\u00e8re, or the low\nbuffoonery of the _Theatre des Variet\u00e9s_, because they understand or\nrelish both: we, unfortunately, who understand and relish neither, are\nobliged to create an artificial admiration of what is exotic out of our\ncontempt for what is native, and pamper our pretensions to refinement by\nconstantly dwelling on the vulgarity of the lower orders. Delightful it\nis to hear the Frenchwomen speaking of \u2018the vulgar Englishwomen\u2019 in a\nlump, as these same Englishwomen speak of all the rest of their\ncountry-women! In France, to laugh and weep (at least with the comic or\nthe tragic Muse) is not held vulgar. All wit is not confined to a shake\nof the toe, nor all sense to the squall of an Opera-singer, though they\ndance and give concerts as well as we. But in England our object is not\nthe pursuit of pleasure, but to run away from the pleasures of others;\nand when a taste for the drama or anything else becomes a little common,\nwe grow sulky and insensible by way of being spiritual and refined. We\nsee no other refinement in the case, unless the getting rid of thought\nand feeling is a proof of refinement; and the _figurantes_ at the Opera\nare an intermediate link, a soft imperceptible gradation, between the\ngrossness of human passion and the absence of all human sympathy. Do the\nupper classes speak in recitative? Do they, in answer to a common\nquestion, vault into the air? Perhaps a Noble Duke might make one of his\nspeeches intelligible by singing it, or solve the difficulties of the\nCorn question by calling out the Lord Chancellor to dance a minuet with\nhim! We import Opera-singers, dancers, kings! Liberal land! That knows\nits own deficiencies in what is refined and elevated! Happy, that it\nfinds others so ready to oblige it! All that they get from us, is hard\nblows or hard cash: all that we get from them, is politeness and luxury!\nIn a word the question comes to this\u2014_Are the English an essentially\nvulgar people or not?_ If all that they have of their own is vulgar and\nunworthy of the notice of the upper classes, then the unavoidable\ninference is that the upper classes themselves are unworthy to see\nanything better, and are the most vulgar, fashionable audience in\nEurope. If we have the least possible capacity for the fine arts,\nnamely, dancing, music, painting, then we must be, in spite of\nletters-patent of nobility, or a box at the opera, or a _chapeau-bras_,\nor an opera-glass, the worst possible judges of them; and if we would be\nanything at all, must set up for something else. Indeed, the effects are\nplain enough. There is that little Brocard; she was at one time a model\nof voluptuous, languishing grace; but it was thrown away upon the higher\norders, and she now does nothing but walk on the tips of her toes. The\nlittle trifler, she that we have praised so often! We are after all in\nsuch matters a Bartlemy-fair audience\u2014or for a tumbler\u2019s show! Is Madame\nPasta a favourite with the great vulgar? Not in the least. They hear her\nfame, but not her. What piteous, vacant aspects in the fine gentleman in\nthe pit the first night of Mademoiselle Sontag\u2019s appearance! And what\nwould they not have given (before committing themselves beyond an\napplause which might be construed into a good-natured encouragement) to\nknow what the newspapers would say the next day! What then is the amount\nof this exclusive preference and fastidious superiority of fashionable\ntaste? Mere arrogance and affectation. Look at the men in the pit. Are\nthey in raptures with the ballet or the music? They are solely occupied\nin thinking how they themselves look, whether their coat is of the right\ncut, their cravat properly tied, and whether their next neighbour is\ngood enough for them to speak to. Each opera-beau ought to have a\nglass-case over him to keep him within a certain precise sphere of\n_dandy_ repulsiveness and self-importance. In an O. P. row you are in\ndanger of being knocked down: in the _still-life_ of the Opera-house,\nevery one seems in fear of touching his neighbour\u2019s elbow. The\ndisagreeable either in thought or action is inseparable from our fogs\nand sea-coal fires. Look at the women in the boxes. Are they at their\nease? Or do they not keep one fixed attitude, or else loll, and laugh,\nand stare without meaning? The great thing is not to seem to take an\ninterest; and this is not difficult, where none is felt. If to paint, to\ndress, to intrigue, and be insensible, is the height of refinement, then\nthe women in the lobbies are even more refined than they. Do we then\nsubscribe to this total disqualification of the English character? No:\nwe have hearts and heads for other things besides the mechanism of the\nsenses. We have books, which we send through the heart of all Europe;\nbut our people of fashion and our parade of gentility are the\nlaughing-stock of the world. One service which the work on _Lord Byron\nand his Contemporaries_ has done the public, one offence it has given to\nthe insolent few, is that it shews that even the strongest minds are not\nexempt from the shallowness and pedantry of this kind of jargon. The\nNoble Poet somewhere says that he and Tom Moore wrote well, because he\nhimself from birth, and Mr. Moore from circumstances (circumstances\nindeed!) moved in the fashionable world. If this were all, we should\nhave some thousands of fine geniuses come out every year, \u2018the mob of\ngentlemen who write with ease!\u2019 Why, instead of opening the casket to\nexamine the contents, are we to be always looking at the outside? Or\nwhy, having found a jewel in it, persist that the wrapper was coarse\nbrown paper? When we hear all the inhabitants of this great country\nwhose names are not inscribed in the Red Book, or who are not crammed\ninto the stifling, glittering atmosphere of the King\u2019s Theatre,\nstigmatised with the sweeping epithet of \u2018the lower orders,\u2019 our\npatience is a little out at elbows, and the answer, we fear, will not\ncome from the pen alone! What is it that my Lord-Duke brings with him\nfrom the Continent\u2014that he shews to his fellow-travellers as a precious\ncuriosity\u2014that he folds up and unfolds with such care? Is it a cameo, a\ndrawing by Raphael, a bit of Claude? It is a copy of the Great Tun of\nHeidelberg! When did the polite world think it allowable for the last\ntime to throng to the English theatre in crowds and with their\nexpectations excited to the utmost? To see young Mr. Kean, a boy just\ncome from Eton (classical reminiscence!) in the part of _Norval_! Or to\nsee the bottle-conjuror, or a thing born with a crown on its head, or\nany other rare and striking novelty! Spare us, man of fashion, in the\nname of refinement!\n\n\n\n\n THE BEGGARS\u2019 OPERA\n\n\n _The Examiner._] [_May 11, 1828._\n\n COVENT-GARDEN.\n\nOn Tuesday, the _Beggars\u2019 Opera_ was acted here; or rather, half the\n_Beggars\u2019 Opera_ to half a house. This is as it should be: if the\nManagers start and shrug up their shoulders at one half of a play, the\npublic will shrink from the other. It is always wrong to cry _stale\nfish_. We suspect some clerical critic, some _Jeremy Collier_ of the\n_Times_, has had a hand in this: what have these reverend divines to\ndo with profane stage-plays, any more than poets and novelists with\nwriting _lay-sermons_? Everything in our day is turned topsy-turvy:\nnothing prevails but \u2018vanity, chaotic vanity.\u2019 The consequence of this\nsort of slur and neglect thrown upon the piece is, that it is\nindifferently acted. There is not, in the expressive green-room\nphrase, \u2018a hand in the house\u2019: and without that, the performer has no\nheart to proceed. A player can no more act with spirit unless he sees\nthe reflection of his excellences in the looks and satisfaction of the\naudience, than a fine lady can dress without a looking-glass. He makes\na hit and it fails of effect; he is therefore thrown out, and the next\ntime he does wrong or he does nothing. _Filch_ (Meadows) picks a\npocket as if he was afraid of being detected by the pit: Miss Kelly is\nshocked at the part of _Lucy_, and flounces and elbows through it as\nif she wished to get out of it, putting a negative on an _encore_ that\nis likely to detain her five minutes longer in Newgate: Miss Stephens\n(the charming _Polly_) is frightened at the interest she _might_\ninspire, and is loth to \u2018waste her sweetness on a _blackguard_ air\u2019:\nthe _Captain_ (Mr. Wood) is the only person who stands fire on the\ntrying occasion. This gentleman is the best _Macheath_ we have seen\nfor a long time (for in criticism as in law we must have our statute\nof limitations)\u2014more of a gentleman than Incledon, a better singer\nthan Davies, less affected than Young, less finical than Sinclair, as\n\u2018pretty a fellow\u2019 as Madame Vestris\u2014good-looking, gallant, debonair,\nand vocal. Bartley is too \u2018splenetic and rash\u2019 for _Lockitt_, who\nshould be sullen and hardened as his prison-walls; Blanchard is not\nround and set enough for _Peachum_, his figure dangling and his voice\ncrackling like a lawyer\u2019s parchment; Mrs. Davenport alone remained in\nher original muslin apron, silk gown, and pinners (a Sybil, yet how\nunlike a prophetess!) to overlook and wonder at the desolation of the\nclassic scene. We are more and more convinced that there is a time for\neverything, and that good plays must give place to bad ones. It is not\npossible (with a mixed audience) to keep alive the ridicule of manners\nafter the manners themselves have ceased, nor to preserve them in the\nspirit of wit, or exhibit them even in mock-heroics. The stage is but\nthe counterpart of existing follies\u2014\n\n \u2018And when the date of Nock was out,\n Off fell the sympathetic snout.\u2019\n\nHowever, the _Beggars\u2019 Opera_ has run a century. That\u2019s pretty well. Oh\nGeorge Colman the Younger, Messrs. Reynolds and Morton, how will you\nrejoice, could you lift up your heads a hundred years hence, and see a\nfive-act play of yours cut down to a one-act farce! It is not that there\nare not plenty of rogues and pick pockets at present; but the Muse is\naverse to look that way; the imagination has taken a higher flight; wit\nand humour do not flow in that dirty channel, picking the grains of gold\nout of it. Instead of descending, we aspire; and the age has a sublime\nfront given to it to contemplate the heaven of drawing-rooms and the\nmilky-way of fashion. You are asked if you like Fielding, as if it were\na statuteable offence; and it was justly observed the other day in a\ncomparison between _De Vere_ and _Count Fathom_, that in a refined\nperiod like ours, a rogue aims at nothing short of being Prime-Minister!\nIn a word, the French Revolution has spoiled all, like a great stone\nthrown into a well \u2018with hollow and rueful rumble,\u2019 and left no two\nideas in the public mind but those of high and low. The jealousy of\ngentility, the horror of being thought vulgar, has put an end to the\nharmless _double-entendre_ of wit and humour; and the glancing lights\nand shades of life (nothing without each other) are sunk into the dull\nnight of insipidity and affectation. So be it, and so it will be! Yet\n\u2018we have heard the chimes at midnight\u2019 for all this, and passed over\nHounslow and Bagshot, not without a _twinge_ of the recollection of\nother times, as well as responsive to the names of Pope, of Gay, and\nQueensberry\u2019s Duchess! Nor is it so long since we have seen good company\nand full houses grace the representation of Tyburn tree: we remember old\nSir John Sylvester among others (with we believe his two daughters) who\nhad a keen relish for an execution, and stedfastly contemplated under\nblack bushy eyebrows that irrefragable order of ideas (as Mr. Hobbes\ncalls it) \u2018the thief, the judge, and the gallows;\u2019 and Mr. Vansittart,\nwho smiled with conscious simplicity at the satirical allusions to\nMinisters of State, might be supposed to be comparing the terseness and\npoint of Gay\u2019s style with his own \u2018wolds and sholds,\u2019 and seemed to\nthink that nothing but an _evangelical_ housebreaker was wanting to the\nperfection of the plot!\u2014We could not stay out _A Race for Dinner_,\nthough invited by Mr. Wrench,\u2014who has become as hungry as a hunter of\nlate,\u2014but made the best of our way to the other house (old Drury) in\nsearch of a criticism. We could almost fancy Covent Garden had got there\nbefore us, for there we found nearly the whole former strength of the\nrival house drawn up in battle-array before us\u2014\u2018and Birnamwood was come\nto Dunsinane\u2019\u2014through what bickerings, what strifes, what\nheart-burnings, what jealousies between actors, what quarrels with\nmanagers, what want of pay, and demands for more, is easy (though not\npleasant) to guess. They had also brought the _Poor Gentleman_ with\nthem; and both together brought a full house. Nothing could be better\nacted. Looking at them with \u2018eyes of youth\u2019 (which we always take with\nus to the theatre) we seemed as it were to witness something like a\n_turn-out_ of Chelsea pensioners on the boards; and the sentiments of\nthe play were of a piece with this patriotic and charitable impression.\nAbout thirty years ago, when John Bull took a particular fit of hatred\nagainst the French, he also fell in love with himself; and the dramatic\nwriters of that day undertook to shew John his own face, his virtues or\nvices \u2018to advantage dressed\u2019 in a succession of plays which were\nproperly _Dedications to the English nation_. We have the _Whole Duty of\nMan_ bound up in a coarse, unattractive exterior; the Virtues in the\nfront of the stage, though the Graces stand a little in the back-ground;\nand all the charities of private life clustering together on the stage,\nas they do round the domestic hearth. We have nothing but generous\nuncles, dry in their manner, but their heart and their purse overflowing\nwith liberality\u2014dutiful nephews, thoughtless but well-meaning, and\nfalling into scrapes and love at every turn\u2014reclaimed seducers\u2014exemplary\nyoung ladies\u2014old servants surly, but honest (the English character)\u2014a\nchattering apothecary, the butt of the village and a foil to our\nself-love\u2014an old soldier, a favourite in the family, and with us, for he\nhas been wounded in our defence\u2014a poor gentleman, in want of money which\nhe refuses by mistake from some munificent patron, in consequence of not\nbeing so shrewd as the audience, and who is in hourly danger of a\nprison, from which _we_ hope to escape. All this hits our delicate and\nimproved moral tastes much better than sneering at our vices or laughing\nat our follies. Live sentiment, perish satire! Then there is so much\ndistress, which it is so delightful to sympathize with\u2014so much money\ncirculating to relieve it (which it is so delightful to hear and to see;\nit is almost like attending a charity-sermon, or seeing Mr. Irving\nhimself pawn his watch out of an excess of missionary zeal)\u2014then there\nare so many tears starting into the eye, so many squeezes of the hand,\nso many friends and relations falling into one another\u2019s arms, as cannot\nbut move the most obdurate\u2014so many bailiffs in the wind, so many duels\nbroken off by the entrance of some antiquated spinster who is always\nprying into mischief, or of some charming young creature who is the\ncause of it. We hope the other actors and actresses who acquitted\nthemselves so admirably in their several parts,\u2014Mr. Dowton in _Sir R.\nBramble_, Mr. Mathews in _Ollapod_, Mr. Liston in _Corporal Foss_, Mr.\nCooper in _Lieutenant Worthington_, Mr. Jones in _Frederic_, Mrs.\nDavison in _Miss Mactab_,\u2014will excuse us if we pass them over on this\noccasion to pay our compliments to Miss Ellen Tree, who played _Emily\nWorthington_, and who certainly comes under the description of persons\nlast-mentioned. Without any appearance of art, she played so well that\nshe seemed the character itself, with the ease and simplicity of an\ninnocent school-girl. Her figure is very pleasing\u2014her voice is like her\nsister\u2019s\u2014and she has the handsomest mouth in the world. We will not\nattempt to describe it for two reasons: first, because we cannot;\nsecondly, because we _dare_ not. In Mr. Jones\u2019s _School for Gallantry_\nshe might have been called the _bon bouche_. Amidst the chopping and\nchanging of the theatres, we had forgotten Mr. Jones was at Drury Lane;\nand inquired after the success of his new piece at Covent Garden. We\nnaturally enough received an answer almost as cold as the moon which\nshines through the bars of his hero\u2019s prison-chamber. We were glad\nhowever to find that the wit and pleasantry diffused over it, if faint,\nhad much of the agreeable lustre of that mild planet. We should suppose\nthe plot borrowed from the country where the scene is laid. Cupid seems\nalways on garrison-duty in the Prussian monarchy, and the spirit of\nadventure and gallantry somewhat languishes and grows trifling when it\nis kept (as everything there is) under lock and key. After what we have\nsaid of Miss E. Tree, we will not forfeit our reputation for gallantry\nby saying anything less obliging of Miss Love, who plays a young hussar\nofficer in this piece, than that we like her best when she is drest most\nlike herself.\n\n\n\n\n THE TAMING OF THE SHREW AND L\u2019AVARE\n\n\n _The Examiner._] [_May 18, 1828._\n\n DRURY LANE.\n\nThe _Taming of the Shrew_ was revived here on Wednesday, with the\noriginal words and additional songs. We however missed _Christopher\nSly_, that supreme dramatic critic, who should have sat in lordly\njudgment on the piece, and given a drunken relief to it. This\nrepresenting of a play within a play (of which Shakspeare was fond)\nproduces an agreeable theatrical perspective\u2014it is like painting a\npicture in a picture\u2014and intimates pointedly enough that all are but\nshadows, the pageants of a dream. We also missed Mr. Liston in this\npart; for we understand he has some good quips and crotchets about it.\nUnless we saw him, we cannot pretend to say how he would do it; for we\nconsider Mr. Liston in the light of an author rather than of an actor,\nand he makes his best parts out of his own head or face, in a sort of\n_brown study_, with very little reference to the text. He has\nnevertheless more comic humour oozing out of his features and person\nthan any other actor in our remembrance, or than we have any positive\nevidence of since the time of Hogarth. No one is _stultified_, no one is\n_mystified_ like him\u2014no one is so deep in absurdity, no one so full of\nvacancy; no one puzzles so over a doubt, or goes the whole length of an\nextravagance like him\u2014no one chuckles so over his own conceit, or is so\ndismayed at finding his mistake:\u2014the genius of folly spreads its shining\ngloss over his face, tickles his nose, laughs in his eyes, makes his\nteeth chatter in his head, or draws up every muscle into a look of\nindescribable dulness, or freezes his whole person into a lump of ice\n(as in _Lubin Log_) or relaxes it into the very thaw and dissolution of\nall common sense (as in his _Lord Grizzle_). Munden\u2019s acting (which many\nprefer, and in this number may be included Mr. Liston himself) was\nexternal, overdone, and aimed at the galleries\u2014it was a sort of\nprodigious and inspired _face-making_\u2014Liston\u2019s humour bubbles up of\nitself, and runs over from the mere fulness of the conception. If he\ndoes not go out of himself, he looks into himself, and ruminates on the\nidea of the idle, the quaint, and the absurd, till it does his heart\ngood within him, and makes \u2018the lungs of others crow like chanticleer.\u2019\nMunden\u2019s expressions, if they could have been taken off on the spot,\nwould have made a capital set of grotesque masks: Liston\u2019s would make a\nsuccession of original comic sketches, as rich as they are true:\u2014Mr.\nWilkie failed in attempting one of them\u2014his pencil was not oily and\nunctuous enough. We have seen many better comedians, that is, better\nimitators of existing or supposed characters and manners\u2014such as Emery,\nLittle Simmons, Dowton, and others\u2014we know no other actor who has such a\nfund of drollery in himself, or that makes one laugh in the same hearty\nunrestrained manner, free from all care or controul, that we do with\n_Sancho Panza_ or _Parson Adams_. We have heard a story of Mr. Liston\nbeing prevented by some accident from attending his professional duties,\nand wrapping himself up in a flannel gown and heart\u2019s-content over a\nwinter fire, to read our good old English novelists for a fortnight\ntogether. What fine marginal notes his face would make! Which would he\nenjoy most, the blanket falling and discovering philosopher _Square_\nbehind it, or the drawing up of the curtain and the broad laugh of the\npit? We will answer that question for him. The meanest apprentice that\nsees a play for the first time from the gallery, has more pleasure than\nthe most admired actor that ever trod the stage: there is more\nsatisfaction in reading one page of a sterling author with good faith\nand good will, than the writer had in the composition or even the\nsuccess of all his works put together. The admiration we bestow on\nothers comes from the heart; but never returns back to it. Vanity closes\nup the avenues, or envy poisons it. This digression is too long: without\nsometimes going out of our way, we should hardly get to the end of our\ntask.\u2014The revival, on the whole, went off pleasantly, though the acting\nwas not remarkably good, nor the music by any means enlivening. Jaques\u2019s\nrecommendation to Amiens\u2014\u2018Warble, warble,\u2019\u2014seems to be the device of\nmost modern composers, who think that, if they string a set of unmeaning\nnotes together, it must be heavenly harmony. \u2019Tis pitiful. We are sick\nto death of this interpolated _sing-song_; nor do we think it much\nmended by proceeding from the mouth of Mr. Braham, who is in such cases\na piece of operatic fleecy hosiery. He is a walking woolsack:\u2014\u2018And when\nthe bag was opened, the voice began to sing,\u2019 &c. We may be wrong in\nthis matter, and speak under correction of better judges; but we confess\nthat the everlasting monotonous alternation of the thunder of the\nspheres and the softness of nightingales, of the notes of the trumpet\nand the lute, the forked lightning and gentle moon-beams, Mr. Braham\u2019s\nthick-set person, infantine gestures and dying cadences, all together\nthrow us into a fit of despondency. Miss Fanny Ayton\u2019s shrill voice and\nacute features did not serve to dispel our chagrin. The rest of the\npiece was tolerably cast. Wallack was the hero of it, who does not want\nfor spirit or confidence; and a man\u2019s good opinion of himself is always\nhalf-way towards deserving it, and obtaining that of others. Cooper did\nnot play his pretended master well: he is too grave and straight forward\nan actor for these sort of sudden shifts and doubtful subterfuges. The\nbest-done scene was the quarrel between Russell as the tailor, and\nHarley as _Petruchio\u2019s_ man, about the gown and cap. The quaint antique\nhumour was happily hit off, and studiously dallied with, so as not to\nslur it over, but to bring it out. Some fastidious critics may object to\nthe puerile conceit and tenuity of meaning that pleased our ancestors in\nsuch idle squabbles\u2014we think we could cite graver polemics to match it\nin shabby excuses and verbal trifling in the present day. The\nold-fashioned dresses recalled the image of former times; and the\nscenery that of places, which can never grow old. The last scene, in\nwhich the brides are sent for and brought in, had an excellent effect;\nand the second representation was announced with every sign of\nsatisfaction. It may not be improper to add here, that the _Taming of\nthe Shrew_ is one of the pieces that have been transplanted (not without\na good deal of pruning) to the French stage, and that Mademoiselle Mars\nplays the part of _Katharine_ with equal spirit and success.\n\n\n (_French Play._)\n\nM. Perlet took the _Avare_ for his benefit at this theatre last week. We\nare sorry we are about to lose this excellent actor, who has given us\nmuch pleasure and instruction. _Au revoir._ We saw him only in the\nlatter part of Moliere\u2019s _Miser_: his thinness, his dress, and the keys\nat his girdle fitted the character exactly. It was chiefly in the scenes\nwhere he runs mad at losing his casket of gold, or seizes on _Anselme_\nas the father of the supposed robber to demand restitution of him, that\nthe ruling passion and the greater actor broke out. In the first of\nthese scenes particularly, where he catches hold of his own arm,\nthinking to arrest the thief, he shews all the rage and phrensy of the\nmost tragic vehemence; and in throwing himself exhausted on the ground,\nbewailing his hard hap, and appealing to the pity of an imaginary\naudience, whom his despair conjures up, and then lashing himself up to\nimpatience and fury again, proves his entire acquaintance with the ebb\nand flow, the risings and sinkings of the human heart. These particular\npassages appeared to us, however, like patches or excrescences on the\ngeneral texture of the performance (perhaps they are so in the play\nitself, which is not one of Moliere\u2019s best). If we may hazard a\nconjecture on a subject on which we do not feel altogether _at home_, we\nshould say that M. Perlet\u2019s _Miser_ was in its ordinary aspect rather\nthe serving-man in a half-famished house, than a personification of the\ndemon of selfishness, fretfulness, and avarice. It was hard and\nindifferent\u2014not gloating enough, not morbid enough, not restless and\nharassed enough. Farther, we suspect there is this fault in his general\nacting and in French comedy: we grant it is not gross; is it not, on the\nother hand, too slight and evanescent? They charge us with over-doing;\nare they not then liable to under-do, and fall short of the mark? If\nthere is such a thing as caricature, there is also an antithesis to it,\nand not only a danger of loading a character to excess, but of giving a\nprofile or section of it for the whole, and not taking all the licence\nthat truth and nature gives. We are dreadfully afraid of being misled by\nnational prejudices; but (that being premised) we cannot but add our\nconviction that M. Perlet\u2019s acting, with all its purity, propriety, and\nspirit, wants something of richness and breadth.\u2014The little piece which\nfollowed the _Avare_, _Ninette \u00e0 la cour_, was delightful both in itself\nand as giving Mademoiselle Fanny Vertpres an opportunity to display her\n_mignon_ figure and provoking ways. There seem to be two styles of\nfemale coquetry in France, extreme flutter and vivacity, or perfect\ncalmness and self-possession. The one is set in motion by everything;\nthe other is put out of its way by nothing. Miss Fanny Vertpres is of\nthe latter class. With great presence of mind and ready wit, she joins\nto the symmetry the apparent coolness and indifference of a marble\nstatue. She takes everything in good part, and slides into a number of\nticklish adventures and situations with all the ease imaginable. She is\nonly troubled at being laughed at\u2014a misfortune against which no French\npatience is proof. The scenes behind the looking-glass and behind her\nfan with her rustic lover (Laporte), whom she beguiles in an enchanting\nfeigned voice (prettier even than her own) are quite delightful, and\ndispose one to believe that comedy has not yet exhausted all its\nprecious stores. Mademoiselle St. Ange played the _Countess_ with all\nher country\u2019s ease and grace. Monsieur Laporte strikes us as a\nconfirmation of the remarks we have made above on French comedy, by the\nvery circumstance of his being an exception to them. There is nothing\n_automatic_ in his manner. He not only utters a jest, but he enjoys it\ntoo\u2014not that he forces it upon us either, except by the gentle violence\nof sympathy. There is (so to speak) an atmosphere of humour about him,\nwhich reflects the immediate object with kindly warmth and lustre. His\nacting both in _Ma\u00eetre Jacques_ and in the after-piece evinced that easy\nplay of feeling, that transition from grave to gay, that mixture of wit\nand folly, those natural varieties of laughter and tears, which mark the\nmaster in his art and the genuine son of Momus.\n\nWe dropped in at Covent Garden to see Mr. Warde in the _Seraglio_ and\nCharles Kemble in _Charles the Second_, who seems really born for the\ncharacter, and whose fine person and accomplishments are thrown away in\nthese degenerate days. Mr. Power makes a very passable Irish\n_Rochester_: but the wit and the rake had defects enough of his own to\nanswer for, without having the _brogue_ added to them. The same fault\nmay be found with Mr. Warde, who would make a very respectable actor in\nthe middle walk of tragedy, could he but controul his voice within the\ncompass of the four seas.\n\n\n\n\n MRS. SIDDONS\n\n\n _The Examiner_] [_May 25, 1828._\n\nThere has been no novelty this week at any of our theatres, English or\nFrench, except that little Mademoiselle Jenny Vertpre has been\nmetamorphosed into a cat, and has been playing in the _Pie Voleuse_ at\nthe Lyceum. She played the first charmingly; the last prettily, though\nwe have seen it done better. There is a _calibre_, a weight of metal in\nMiss Kelly\u2019s pathos, which the French actress is without. Our lively\nneighbours are doubtless \u2018born to converse, to live, and _act_ with\nease\u2019\u2014all is set in motion like a feather, stopped like a feather.\nSmiles play upon the lips, tears start into their eyes and are dried up\nfor nothing; an exclamation and a sigh settle the account between life\nand death; all is a game at _make-believe_, thoughtless and innocent as\nchildhood, in the baby-house of their imagination\u2014but if you wish to see\nthe heart-strings crack, go and see Miss Kelly in the _Maid of\nPalisseau_; or if you would see the stately pillar of Tragedy itself\nfall and crush the subjected world, then you should have witnessed Mrs.\nSiddons formerly in some of her overwhelming parts. That was a flood of\ntears indeed\u2014a drinking of the brimming cup of human joys and woes to\nthe very last drop, the recollection of which may serve one all the rest\nof one\u2019s life. We understand that not long ago Sir Walter Scott and Mrs.\nSiddons met in the same room before Mr. Martin\u2019s picture of the _Fall of\nNineveh_\u2014two such spectators the world cannot match again, the one by\nthe common consent of mankind the foremost writer of his age, the other\nin the eyes of all who saw her prime or her maturity, the queen and\nmistress of the tragic scene. Forgive us, gentle, ever-living shade of\nJenny Deans, agonised soul of Balfour of Burley, heroic spirit of\nRebecca of York, immortal memory of Dumbie Dikes and of a thousand more,\nif we should have turned from you and from him who invented you, to bow\nthe knee and kiss the hem of the garment of her who represented to our\nyouthful gaze the Mourning Bride, Hermione, Belvidera, Beverley\u2019s wife,\nand was the Muse of Tragedy personified. We are sorry that Mrs. Siddons\nhas abridged _Paradise Lost_, and that Sir Walter has written a\ntriumphant peroration over \u2018the worst, the second fall of man.\u2019 We are\nperhaps runagates and Goths; but the smell of the links that used to ply\nbetween Covent garden and Drury lane prevails in our imagination over\nall the heather-bloom of Scotland, and we declare that Mrs. Siddons\nappears to us the more masculine spirit of the two. Sir Walter (when\nall\u2019s said and done) is an inspired butler, a \u2018Yes and No, my Lord\u2019\nfellow in a noble family\u2014Mrs. Siddons is like a cast from the antique,\nor rather like the original, divine or more than human, from which it\nwas taken. Yet close to each other, within narrow space, were placed two\nheads, on which glory sat plumed, beat two hearts over which had rolled\nthe volume of earth\u2019s bliss or woe, were interchanged glances that had\nreflected the brightness of the universe. Who would not rather see Sir\nWalter Scott\u2019s fringed eyelids and storied forehead than the vacant brow\nof prince or peer? When Mrs. Siddons used to sit in parties and at\ndrawing-rooms, the Lady Marys and the Lady Dorothys of the day came and\npeeped into the room to get a glance of her, with more awe and wonder\nthan if it had been a queen. This was honour, this was power. There was\nbut one person in the world who would have drawn the gaping gaze of\ncuriosity from these and from all the crowned heads in Europe; and Sir\nWalter exults that he perished like a felon in the grasp of a jailor. We\nmust indeed admire the talents, when we forgive the use of them: or is\nit that genius, with its lofty crest and variegated colours, seems\ndestined like the serpent to lick the dust, and crawl all its life with\nits belly on the ground? We can reckon up in our time three great tragic\nperformers; Mrs. Siddons, Mr. Kean, and Madame Pasta. (If there is a\nfourth instance, we either know not of it, or it is Miss Kelly: but that\nin a parenthesis, as our private opinion, or that of persons no wiser\nthan ourselves.) Of these three, Mrs. Siddons seemed to command every\nsource of terror and pity, and to rule over their wildest elements with\ninborn ease and dignity. Her person was made to contain her spirit; her\nsoul to fill and animate her person. Her eye answered to her voice. She\nwore a crown. She looked as if descended from a higher sphere, and\nwalked the earth in majesty and pride. She sounded the full diapason,\ntouched all chords of passion, they thrilled through her, and yet she\npreserved an elevation of thought and character above them, like the\ntall cliff round which the tempest roars, but its head reposes in the\nblue serene! Mrs. Siddons combined the utmost grandeur and force with\nevery variety of expression and excellence: her transitions were rapid\nand extreme, but were massed into unity and breadth\u2014there was nothing\nwarped or starting from its place\u2014she produced the most overpowering\neffects[42] without the slightest effort, by a look, a word, a gesture.\nMr. Kean, in the intellectual and impassioned part, is in our judgment\nequal to any one, but he produces his most striking effects by fits and\nstarts, without the same general tone and elevation of character, and,\nfor want of the instrumental advantages, with an appearance of effort\nand sometimes of extravagance. Madame Pasta, on the contrary, never goes\nout of her way, never aims at effect or startles by any one pointed\npassage, nor does she combine a variety of feelings together (as far as\nwe have seen) but she rises to the very summit of her art, and satisfies\nevery expectation by absolute and unbroken integrity of purpose, and by\nthe increasing and unconscious intensity of passion. She has neither Mr.\nKean\u2019s inequalities nor Mrs. Siddons\u2019s scope: she neither deviates from\nthe passion nor rises above it, but she commits herself wholly to its\nimpulse, borrows strength from its strength, ascends with it to heaven,\nor is buried in the abyss. In a word, she is the creature of truth and\nnature, and joins the utmost simplicity with the utmost force. This has\nlittle to do with Mademoiselle Jenny Vertpre: ah! she is charming too,\nand we hope to have a great deal to say in her praise\u2014twenty years\nhence. She counts her silver spoons inimitably, and when she is\nsuspected of stealing one of them says, \u2018_C\u2019est desagreable_,\u2019 in a\nvoice and manner that none but a Frenchwoman can. The _Misanthrope_ and\nthe _Bourgeois Gentilhomme_ have been repeated at this theatre; and M.\nPerlet has done equal justice to Moliere\u2019s sententious gravity in the\none, and to his delightful flighty farce and fanciful exaggeration of\nfolly in the other. Moliere is our Wycherley and O\u2019Keefe, both in one:\nor it might be said that he possessed the critical sense of Montaigne,\nwith the exuberant mirth and humour of Rabelais.\u2014We believe this little\ntheatre, with its lively company and excellent pieces, answers tolerably\nwell, as most French theatres do. We were thinking of this the other\nevening, and thought we had accounted for it. The French performances,\nwith a tenth of the audience, pay better than the English with ten times\nthe number and receipts. How so? It arises, on a critical inquiry, from\nthe unity of place, which is the fundamental law of the French drama.\nOne barbarism leads to another;\u2014a slight technical distinction involves\nmanager after manager in bankruptcy and ruin. Where there is no change\nof situation, the scenery is the same; and where this is the case, it is\nno object either of attraction or expense. Little more is required than\na drop-scene. Therefore, all you have to do is to get good plays, and a\ngood company to perform them: three or four hundred people in the house\nwill maintain a dozen or a score of comedians on the stage; and the\nexcellence of the performance and the taste of the town keep pace with\none another, and with the absence of show and extrinsic decoration. But\nwith us all this is reversed. The scene travels, and our scene-shifters,\nscene-painters, mechanists, and the whole theatrical _commissariat_ go\nalong with it. The variety, the gaudiness, the expense is endless: to\npay for the getting up such an immense apparatus, the houses must be\nenlarged to hold a proportionable rabble of \u2018barren spectators:\u2019 the\nfarther off they are thrown, the stronger must be the glare, the more\nastonishing the effect, and the play and the players (with all relish\nfor wit or nature) dwindle into insignificance, and are lost in the\nblaze of a huge chandelier or the grin of a baboon. We do not see the\nfeatures of the actors, but we admire (very justly) Mr. Stanfield\u2019s\nlandscape back-grounds, or a castle set on fire by Mr. Farley; we hear\nthe din and bray of the orchestra, not the honeyed words of the poet;\nand still we wonder that operas and melo-drames flourish, and that the\nlegitimate stage and good old English Comedy languishes. Poor old green\ncurtain! when thou wast withdrawn to make room for gas lights and\nshining marble pillars, the last relic of the heart-felt pageant faded;\nand the _Veluti in speculum_ flew after _Astr\u00e6a_ to the skies!\n\n\n\n\n THE THREE QUARTERS, &c.\n\n\n _The Examiner_] [_June 1, 1828._\n\n DRURY LANE.\n\nThe new comedy in three acts brought out at this theatre on Tuesday\nevening is, we apprehend, taken from a French piece, entitled _Les Trois\nQuartiers_. The Three Quarters of the town indicate the three sorts or\nstages of society, as they are to be met with in the _Rue St. Honor\u00e9_,\nthe _Rue Mont Blanc_, and the _Fauxbourg St. Germain_, which may be\nsupposed to answer (we speak under correction of the Secretary of the\nAdmiralty, skilled as he is in the transitions from low to high life) to\nour Fish-street-hill, Russell and Grosvenor square. It was thought a\nnice distinction in Miss Burney, forty years ago, to place the residence\nof the Harrells in Portman square, and to assign Grosvenor square to the\nDelville family; the one being considered as the resort of the upstart\nfashionables, the other of the old gentry. To know whether this\ncourt-geography holds good in the present year, see the files of the\n_John Bull_, or the _Last Series of Sayings and Doings_, where such\nmatters are noted and discussed with a becoming want of elegance and\ndecorum, which is made up for by the innate loftiness of the subject. In\nthe French piece, a rich adventurer from South America is introduced\ninto these different circles by an officious go-between, as a travelled\nprodigy, _un homme qui a vu_ Bolivar; and in each his perplexity and\nastonishment increases with the progress and refinement of manners in\nthe _Three Quarters_ of the town. There is some sense in that; and the\nFrench actors have the skill to make the line of demarcation\nintelligible. But here we vow that though we shift the scene, no\nprogress is made; or we are _at the top of the tree_ in the second\nstage. _Kitty Corderoy_ is sufficiently forward and vulgar, it is true;\n_Amelia Mammonton_ is naturally elegant and genteel; but we get no\nfarther; or rather _Lady Charlewood_ is a falling off, having neither\nnatural nor acquired grace; and the _Countess Dowager Delamere_ is\ndistinguished by nothing but a rude and harsh familiarity of manner. The\nBanker (Mr. Cooper) has evidently the advantage of the Lord (Mr.\nHooper); and _Jack Pointer_ (Mr. Jones) a busybody and toad-eater,\ncarries it hollow by dint of sheer impudence and impertinence. Mr.\nJones\u2019s Bond street slang\u2014\u2018She\u2019s a delicious creature\u2019\u2014is echoed every\nfive minutes by _Lady Delamere\u2019s_\u2014\u2018You\u2019ll excuse my freedom, _Lady\nCharlewood_;\u2019 the changes are rung upon a few and slender notes of\nfashion, while the author has the full range of the Cockney dialect, and\nsinks deep in the bathos of low life. _Mrs. Corderoy_, we observe, is\nplayed by a Mrs. C. Jones. Is Mr. Jones lately married? If so, we\ncongratulate him: she is an excellent cook. We could wish the\naccomplished author of _Killing no Murder_, he who dips his pen so\ncarelessly in poison or honey, the expert _improvisatori_ in fact or\nfiction, would turn his thoughts to this matter; give us a comedy or\ncriticism to show our actors or play-wrights what they ought to do in\nthese degenerate days; and from his ease of access to palaces or\nprinces, give us a taste of true refinement, the court-air, the\ndrawing-room grace, the after-dinner conversation, the mornings and the\nevenings of the great, instead of confining his abilities to teaching\nyoung gentlemen at Long\u2019s how to eat their fish with a silver fork: the\nwaiters might do that just as well. Or could not Mr. Croker, now that\nAugustus has given peace to sea and land, and who shakes epics and\nreviews from his brow \u2018like dew-drops from the lion\u2019s mane,\u2019 _smile_ a\ncomedy that should point the nice gradations from the city to the court\u2014\n\n \u2018Fine by degrees, and beautifully less,\u2019\n\nand make it for ever impossible for Cheapside to pass Temple-bar or\nRussell-square to step into the Regent\u2019s Park? We understand, indeed,\nthat Mr. Colburn has a plan in contemplation to remedy all this, and\nthat we may look forward to the dawn of a new era in literature, through\nthe happy idea which the little bookselling Buonaparte has conceived of\nestablishing an inviolable _Concordat_ between the world of genius and\nfashion. The proposal is to buy up the manuscripts of all authors by\nprofession, to lock them in a drawer, so as to put the whole corps of\nGarretteers and Grub street writers on the shelf, and leave the door\nopen to none but persons of quality and amateurs, lords, ladies, and\nhangers-on of the great. The scheme has in a great measure succeeded in\nthe periodical department, and only requires a little management to be\nextended to the stage. What an air already breathes from the New\nParnassus! What a light breaks over Drury-Lane and Covent-Garden! What\ndelicacy, what discrimination, what refinement of sentiment! What\nhalycon days! What peaceable productions! There will be no grossness, no\nviolence, no political allusions or party spite! The best understanding\nwill subsist between Government and men of letters, nor will there be\nany occasion for a Dramatic Censor, when Ministers of State furnish the\nplot, and Peeresses in their own right suggest the last corrections to\nthe dialogue. There is no doubt the taste for the drama will be revived\nby means of such an arrangement\u2014people of fashion will go to see what\npeople of fashion write\u2014the manners of high life will be reflected on\nthe stage as in the mirrors at each end of the dress circle\u2014\n\n \u2018They best can paint them who have known them most;\u2019\n\nthe hireling crew will withdraw to hide themselves in a garret or a\njail\u2014the pit will wonder\u2014the galleries be silent or shut up\u2014Lord\nPorchester\u2019s tragedy will be crowned with bays, Lord Morpeth\u2019s\ntransferred from the closet to the stage\u2014Mr. Moore, by particular desire\nof several persons of distinction, will try his hand at another\n_Blue-Stocking_ affair\u2014and the _Sphynx_, the _Athen\u00e6um_, the _Argus_ (a\nnew evening), and the _Aurora_ (a new morning paper), which Mr.\nBuckingham will by that time have set up on the same independent\nprinciples of voluntary contribution, will applaud to the skies the\nchange which Mr. Colburn\u2019s spirit and genius will have brought like a\nperfect paradise upon earth. It is whispered that a certain Duke has got\nthrough the first act of a piece, called \u2018The Deaf and Dumb Politician,\u2019\nbut dreads the vulgar composition of the public taste:\u2014nay, who knows\nbut the coast being cleared of plebeian scribblers and the rabble of\ncompetitors, Majesty itself might not take the field, the _Lady Godiva_\nof the scene, in a night-gown and slippers, with a grand romantic\ninterlude called \u2018The Prince and the Pretender, or the Year 1745\u2019\u2014with\nMr. O\u2014holding the glass-door in Burlington street for three days\ntogether in his hand, and Mr. C\u2014p\u2014b\u2014ll to officiate as _Peeping\nTom_\u2014\u2018Oh! dearest Ophelia, we are ill at these numbers:\u2019 but neither\n_Ups and Downs_ nor _Carron-Side_ suggested anything better. Mr. Liston\nin the first played a city fortune-hunter, who pays his addresses to,\nwho jilts, and is jilted by three mistresses in succession, to whom he\nis introduced by _Jack Pointer_ (Jones), his pretensions rising with his\nfortune, and with whom he is confronted and exposed without much effect\nin the last act. He at first aspires no higher than to _Kitty Corderoy_,\na tradesman\u2019s daughter; but having twenty thousand pounds left him, he\ncontrives to cut with her, to her great joy, she being secretly in love\nwith _Mr. Christopher Higgins_ (Russell), her father\u2019s apprentice, a\nperson by no means approved by her mother _Mrs. Corderoy_ (Mrs. C.\nJones), because he himself is \u2018a little sneaking chap,\u2019 and his father a\ntailor\u2014as if tailors were not in the order of nature or of civil\nsociety. Our hero, that is, _Mr. Felix Mudberry_, next offers himself,\nwith a large bunch of flowers and a suit of clothes picked up on the way\nat the _Readymade Dep\u00f4t_, to _Miss Amelia Mammonton_ (the charming Miss\nEllen Tree), a banker\u2019s sister, who is in love with _Earl Delamere_ (Mr.\nHooper), love and romantic sentiment, according to the situation or rank\nin which it is found, aiming at still greater and more airy heights. She\nlaughs at him and his \u2018delicate attentions\u2019 (as she well may)\u2014but being\nled to suppose that his uncle, _Mr. Stanley_, a Liverpool merchant, or\nas he used to call him \u2018_Black Boy Billy_,\u2019 is dead, and has left him a\nfortune of half a million, he begins to blubber out his sorrow for his\nuncle\u2019s death and his own \u2018good, he means, bad fortune,\u2019 stammers his\nexcuses for leaving the company of _Mr. Mammonton_ and his sister, and\nis wound up to a Countess by his mischievous prompter. _Lady Charlewood_\n(Miss I. Paton) is disgusted with the behaviour of her new and absurd\nadmirer; her mother, the _Countess Dowager Delamere_ (Mrs. Davison),\nadmires his fortune, and patronises the match according to the etiquette\nof rank and high life. His inconstancy and meanness are however exposed\nin the meantime by _Miss Kitty Corderoy_, who is intimate with both the\nyoung ladies, having been at the same school with them somewhere in the\nneighbourhood of London, and runs up and down \u2018the Ladder of Life\u2019 as\nshe pleases (in the French play the corresponding character is a\nmilliner, which is a little more in keeping)\u2014and _Mr. Felix Mudberry_,\nin his own emphatic phrase, is \u2018blown\u2019 by all the three at once;\u2014the\nbubble of his legacy also bursts, and _Jack Pointer_ turning short round\nupon him at this extremity, advises him to go abroad again, make another\nfortune, and on his return, promises to introduce him to a Princess! Mr.\nListon produced a good deal of laughter in the part, but perhaps from\nnot being near enough to see his face, the drollery fell flat upon us.\nIt was (to get within bow-shot of an Hibernicism) like hearing the\nreport of a pistol, before seeing the flash. Weepers and a round hat do\nnot move our risible muscles. We think Mr. Liston shines in the cockney,\nmore than in the cockney and dandy together. \u2018He knows his cue best\nwithout a prompter.\u2019 His affectation even must be unaffected. We will\nmatch his lead against anybody\u2019s, we will not answer for the tinsel. We\nhave a delicate request to make of him, that he would play _Madge_ for\nhis benefit and our satisfaction\u2014unless _Moll Flagon_ should complain of\nit as compromising her dignity. Is this piece Mr. Kenney\u2019s? It shivers\non the brink of nothing, and plunges over head and ears into nonsense.\nWe wish our authors and architects, if they must give us foreign models,\nwould give them entire, and not by bits and samples, altering only to\nspoil.\n\n\n COVENT-GARDEN.\n\n_Carron-Side, or the F\u00eate Champ\u00eatre_, a new Opera, the words by Mr.\nPlanche, the music by M. Liverati, was brought out here on Tuesday, and\nwas repeated on Thursday. The dialogue is tolerable; and so are the\nsongs. Miss Stephens was the chief attraction in it; though she does not\nmake much figure by Scottish stream or mountain. Mr. Sapio and Mr. Wood\npersonated, the one a military, the other a naval hero in it, and\nmaintained the superiority of their several professions in song and bold\ndefiance\u2014with equal loudness and skill. Miss Stephens (_Blanche Mackay_)\nthe supposed daughter of a peasant, is in love with _Captain Allan\nLindsay_ (Sapio), and he with her, though he is about to be married to\n_Grace Campbell_ (Miss Cawse), who likes another of her cousins, _Cornet\nHector Lindsay_ (Mr. Wood) quite as well or better, as far as we could\njudge by the event. When _Blanche_ has to present a _bouquet_ to the\nintended couple on the morning of their nuptials, and to sing a song of\ncongratulation, her voice falters and she faints away in the midst of\nit. She then, partly through shame and partly through vexation, escapes\nto the house of the miller (Little Keely) and his wife (Miss Goward),\nwhere she is kindly received, but supposed by her own friends to have\nrashly drowned herself. The anguish of _Captain Allan Lindsay_ is not to\nbe restrained on this occasion, and betrays his passion for the unhappy\ngirl, who is at the same time discovered not to be the real daughter of\nthe old trumpeter _Donald Mackay_ (Bartley), but the daughter of _Mrs.\nCampbell_, who had been supposed to be lost when an infant in the\nSpanish campaign. The mystery being cleared up, the secret of her birth\nis communicated to poor _Blanche_ amidst her smiles and tears. _Miss\nGrace Campbell_ under the circumstances, and from her previous\nindifference, declares for _Cornet Lindsay_, and _Blanche_ is united to\nthe Captain. Mr. Keely crept on and off the stage as usual; and Miss\nCawse danced and flourished round it as she sung, because Madame Vestris\ndoes so. We are quite satisfied with Madame Vestris, without wishing to\nsee her imitated.\n\n\n\n\n MR. KEAN\n\n\n _The Examiner._] [_June 15, 1828._\n\nWe do not wonder at Mr. Kean\u2019s want of success in Paris. As they do not\nlike or understand Shakespear, it is not to be supposed they should like\nor understand any one who goes near to represent him, or who gives\nanything more than a trite version or modernised paraphrase of him.\nVoltaire has borrowed largely from the English dramatist, and has taken\n_Othello\u2019s_ dying speech almost entire, as far as the prose-ground of\nit, but has contrived to leave out all the striking, picturesque points\nof it:\u2014so they would no doubt object to and cancel, by a sweeping\ncondemnation, all the unexpected and marked beauties of an impassioned\nrecitation of it. Whatever is not literal and conventional, is with them\nextravagant and grotesque: they have so long been accustomed (we are\nspeaking of serious matters) to consider affectation as nature, that\nthey consider nature when it comes across them as affectation and\nquaintness.\n\n \u2018The poet\u2019s eye, in a fine phrenzy rolling,\n Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven;\n And as imagination bodies forth\n The forms of things unknown, the poet\u2019s pen\n Turns them to shape, and gives to airy nothing\n A local habitation and a name.\u2019\n\nSo the actor\u2019s eye (if truly inspired) comprehends more than is set down\nfor him, starts at hidden fancies that only pale passion sees; and his\nvoice is the trembling echo and the broken instrument of thoughts and of\nan agony that lie too deep for mere words to express. This licence, that\nis, this truth of nature is, with our accomplished and more\nthorough-bred neighbours, entirely out of the question. Their art,\nwhether in poetry, acting, painting, is well-drilled regimental art:\u2014it\nis art in uniform and on parade. Thus tragic poetry cannot, in its dumb\ndespair, call on all nature to supply it with an appropriate language,\nthat places what it feels in palpable and lofty imagery before the\nreader: it must, on the contrary, have its rhetorical and didactic\nflourishes all ready for the occasion\u2014these may be as tedious, as\npompous, as bombastic as you please, but to pass or allude to anything\nbeyond them, is vile and Gothic indeed. The actor may mouth, rant, and\nwhine as much as he pleases, so that he does it in measured time, and\nseems in perfect health and spirits all the while; but if he is once\nthrown off his guard, and loses sight of himself and the audience in the\nsufferings of his hero, it is all over with him. Again, an actor\u2019s face\n\u2018should be as a book where one may read strange matters.\u2019 This would be\nan inexpiable offence in France, where there is nothing strange, and\nwhere all must appear upon the surface or be kept quite out of sight, on\nthe score of decency and good manners. As the poet must introduce no\nimage or sentiment for which there is not a prescribed _formula_, so the\ntragedian must give no shade or inflection of feeling which the entire\naudience were not prepared complacently to anticipate. The self-love of\nthe pit would rise in open rebellion if he did. In France it is a rule\nthat no person is wiser than another: you cannot be beforehand with\ntheir conceit and infinite superiority in impertinence. So they\nthemselves tell the story of a man who, hearing of the assassination of\nthe Duke of Berri, and not willing to allow that his informant had the\nstart of him on so interesting a topic, made answer\u2014\u2018Yes, I knew it!\u2019 We\nare not therefore surprised that the Parisians find fault with the only\nactor of much genius we possess: he must puzzle them almost as much as\nthe Hetman Platoff; and this assuredly they cannot forgive, as in the\npresent case their rank cowardice cannot get the better of their\nconsummate vanity. It is ludicrous too that they should charge us with\nextravagance and fustian\u2014they, who have their _Pensions de l\u2019Univers_\nand _Diligences de l\u2019Univers_[43] stuck on every pillar and post! As we\nknow what the most refined people in the universe do not like, we are\nalso happy in learning what they do like. For others to despise what we\nadmire, is always to assume an attitude of seeming superiority over us:\nto admire what we do not think much of, is to give us our revenge again.\nFastidiousness is here, as in many other cases, the effect not of an\nexcess of refinement, but of a want of conception. When Voltaire called\nShakespear a barbarian, we were a little staggered in our previous\nopinion, as we could not tell what lofty models of excellence he\ncontemplated in his own mind; but when he pronounced Addison\u2019s _Cato_ to\nbe a perfect tragedy, we knew what to think of him and ourselves. He\nmight as well have pronounced a marble slab to be a perfect statue. In\nlike manner, it might \u2018give us pause\u2019 that such competent critics are\ndissatisfied with Mr. Kean, if we did not learn in the same breath that\nthey are in raptures with Mr. C. Kemble, Mr. Macready, and Miss\nSmithson; not that we disapprove of the last, but that being our own\ncountry people, we beg leave to judge of their relative merits better\nthan foreigners. If they scouted our pretentions altogether, we might\ndespond; but as they _laud_ us in the wrong place, we may smile in our\nturn. The contradiction between us is not owing to an inferiority of\nnature, but to a difference of opinion. We can understand why, with\nreason, they admire Macready: he declaims well, and so far resembles\ngood French actors. Mr. C. Kemble is not only an excellent actor, but a\nvery good-looking man; and good looks are a letter of recommendation,\nwhether among the Laplanders or Hottentots, at Zenith or the Pole. Miss\nSmithson is tall; and the French admire tall women. All these come under\na class, and meet with obvious sympathy and approbation. Mr. Kean, on\nthe other hand, stands alone,\u2014is merely an original; and the French hate\noriginality: it seems to imply that there is some possible excellence or\ntalent that they are without! Beside it appears that they expected him\nto be a giant. _Mon Dieu qu\u2019il est petit!_\u2014as if this was an insuperable\nbar to his bestriding the theatric world like a Colossus. He is\ndiminutive, it is true: so was the _Little Corporal_: but since the\nlatter disappeared from the stage, they have ceased to be the _Great\nNation_. They stir up our bile by their arrogance and narrow-mindedness,\nand we cannot help its overflowing in some degree of ill-humour and\npetulance. We were heartily glad to find that Mr. Knowles\u2019s tragedy of\n_Virginius_ is well received in Paris\u2014(we would always rather agree\nwith, than differ from them, for we know their subtlety and double\nedge)\u2014but this is to be attributed to the inherent and classical\nexcellence of the composition. Its scenes present a series of elegant\nbas-reliefs, and are equally enchanting to the eye and to the ear.\n\nWe have received a letter from a Correspondent, praying us to put down\nthe large poke-bonnets which ladies at present take with them to the\ntheatre, and often persist in keeping on, as a female privilege. We\nconfess, we do not see the custom in that amiable light: it appears to\nus the privilege of annoying others without any object. He says, that on\napplying to a gentleman in the gallery of the King\u2019s Theatre, to know if\na lady with him would have any objection to take off her bonnet, which,\nwith her involuntary movements from side to side, prevented three\npersons behind her from seeing or enjoying the Opera, her friend\nanswered, \u2018You see she is in the same situation with yourself,\u2019 pointing\nto another lady just before her. So that the evil being doubled was an\nargument for it. At this rate, people might go to the play with\numbrellas, and hold them open the whole time,\u2014or ladies with their\nparasols, if we must have a more light and portable nuisance,\u2014and by\nthus setting up a screen to the performance, and making the absurdity\ntruly English and complete, put an end to it by common consent of those\nwho are only bent on incommoding others, when they think they are in\nsome degree singular in doing it. We expect some novelty (of which we\nhave had a dreary dearth of late) on the opening of the Haymarket\nTheatre next week, and a treat, which we greatly long for, in little\nBartolozzi. But we must not count upon our good fortune too soon.\n\n\n\n\n MUNDEN\u2019S SIR PETER TEAZLE\n\n\n _The Times._] [_September 8, 1817._\n\n DRURY-LANE THEATRE.\n\nThis theatre opened on Saturday with _The School for Scandal_ and _Past\nTen O\u2019clock_. The chief novelty in the former was Munden\u2019s _Sir Peter\nTeazle_. We cannot speak very favourably of it. He did not feel at home\nin the part, which is indeed quite out of his way. His lengthened visage\nand abrupt tones did not suit the character or sentiments of _Sir\nPeter_. _Sir Peter_ is a common every-day sort of character, a tetchy\namorous old bachelor, who has married a young wife, with an uneasy\nconsciousness of his own infirmities, and placed in situations to make\nthose infirmities more ridiculous. But still he is a classical\ncharacter, and not a grotesque; and, therefore, the actor\u2019s peculiar\ntalents were thrown away upon him, or rather were judiciously kept as\nmuch as possible in the back-ground, and hardly dared to show themselves\nonce the whole evening. Mr. Munden went through the part with laudable\ngravity and decorum, without _making any hole in his manners_; nor did\nhe purposely play the clown or _pantomime_ in any of the scenes. Yet the\nnegation of farce is not comedy. _Sir Peter_ was a knight newly dubbed\nas well as married, a gentleman on his good behaviour both with his\nmistress and the public. We missed the irresistible expansion of his\nbroad, shining face; and reckoned up a number of suppressed shrugs, and\nembryo grimaces, that shrunk from the glare of the new gas lights. His\neyebrows were not lifted up with wonder; his lips were not moistened\nwith jests as with marmalade; nor did his chin drop down once its whole\nlength as with a total dislocation of his ideas. In the scene of the\ndiscovery in the fourth act, where his wife as \u2018the little _French\nMilliner_\u2019 is concealed behind the screen, he took a greater license,\nbut from the mechanical restraint to which he had been subjected, there\nwas something even here dolorous and petrified in his manner. If,\nhowever, Mr. Munden did penance in _Sir Peter_, it was a holyday-time\nwith him, high carnival in _Old Nosy_ in the farce, where he made\nhimself and the audience amends for all the temptations he had resisted\nto indulge his natural genius, and let out his whole faculties of face,\nvoice, and gesture. In his character, as an old steward, he is\nreeling-ripe from the beginning to the end of the piece; and he produces\na dizziness in the heads of the audience as unavoidable, though more\npleasant than that which overtakes the passengers in a Margate hoy. The\n_School for Scandal_ was, in the other characters, cast much as usual,\nand as well as the strength of the company in genteel comedy would\npermit. Mrs. Davison\u2019s _Lady Teazle_, though not without spirit, is too\ncoarse and hoydening. Wallack\u2019s _Joseph Surface_ wanted dignity and\nplausibility. Not to compare him with old Jack Palmer, he does not hit\noff the officious condescending solemnity of the character so well as\nYoung. He seems sulky and reserved, instead of being self-complacent and\nostentatious; to shrink into a cautious contemplation of his own designs\nand villainy, instead of protecting others under the shadow of his\nassumed virtues, and covering their failings and defects with a veil of\npompous sentiment. It was said of Garrick, that he played the footman\ntoo like the fine gentleman; Mr. Wallack, on the other hand, plays the\nfine gentleman too much like the footman. When dressed to most\nadvantage, he puts us in mind of a valet out of livery. Mr. Rae\u2019s\n_Charles Surface_ was without any thing to recommend it, but the wit,\ngaiety, and magnanimity of the author. His mode of speaking is more\nharsh and untuneable in comedy than in regular declamation, which in\nsome measure hides its habitual defects. It is a brogue in full gallop\nsuddenly stopped short by the turnpike gate of criticism. Harley\u2019s _Sir\nBenjamin Backbite_ was inoffensive from its insipidity; and Knight as\nold _Crabtree_ had painted his eyebrows very naturally. The house was\nnot very crowded. The curtain drew up punctually at seven, without any\nprevious expression of impatience; and the play was over before ten: but\nthe rapidity with which the acts followed one another, and the almost\nimmediate interruption of the music between the acts as soon as it had\nstruck up, produced on us an unpleasant effect. It was like going a\njourney in the mail-coach, where they do not allow you time for your\nmeals. A good play, like a hearty dinner, requires some time for\ndigestion: the music in the orchestra acts upon the imagination, like\nwine upon the stomach; and habit makes it as ungrateful to us to be\ndisappointed of the one as to be deprived of the other.\n\n\n\n\n YOUNG\u2019S HAMLET\n\n\n _The Times._] [_September 9, 1817._\n\n COVENT-GARDEN THEATRE.\n\nThis theatre opened last night with _Hamlet_, and the _Miller and his\nMen_. The chief improvement in the house seems to us to be the large\nmirrors at each end of the first row of boxes, which reflect the company\nin a brilliant perspective, and have a very magical effect. The great\nchandelier suspended from the top of the theatre, we should admire more,\nif it did not put out our eyes in looking at it; nor do we think the\nglare it produces any addition to the general appearance of the company\nor the house. The only advantage resulting from it\u2014that of throwing the\nlight upon the countenances of the actors from above instead of from\nbelow (which last method inverts the natural shadows of the face, and\ndistorts the expression), is defeated by the gas lights which are still\nretained between the stage and the orchestra. Nor do we know how these\ncan well be dispensed with, as it is by raising or withdrawing them that\nthe stage is enlightened or darkened as the occasion requires it. The\nhouse was exceedingly full, and the play went off as well as could be\nexpected. Mr. Young\u2019s _Hamlet_ is not his most happy or successful\neffort. He in a great measure imitates Mr. Kemble, and Mr. Kemble is a\nbad model in this part; even where he is original he is not more what he\nought to be, not more like _Hamlet_. He declaims it very well, and rants\nit very well; but where is the expression of the feeling?\u2014where the\nthought beyond all ordinary means of expression, wrapped up in itself as\nin a dim cloud, shown most by being hid, that derives its energy from\nrest, not from action, and is as it were audible from its very silence?\nMr. Young, we allow, rehearsed several passages very well, as detached\npassages from a school-boy\u2019s exercise: but he wanted keeping\u2014the fine\ninflections, sudden or gradual, of the character\u2014the unthought-of\nswellings of the passion\u2014the involuntary ebbing and flowing of his idle\npurposes. This actor in fact executes his conception well: but then his\nconception is either common-place, or wrong. He has not always the\njudgment or the genius to pitch each passage in the right key, and in\nharmony with the rest. We will mention only two instances. In reciting\nthe description of man as the noblest of creatures, \u2018the paragon of\nanimals,\u2019 &c., Mr. Young was so vehement, that he seemed quite angry;\nand his sudden turning round to the players at the conclusion of the\nspeech was exactly as if they had given him some serious offence by\ntheir \u2018smiling.\u2019 Again, he spoke the soliloquy after the scene in which\nthe player gives the description of Pyrrhus, in a style not conveying\nthe idea of his own melancholy and weakness as contrasted with the\ntheatrical fury of the imaginary hero, but as if he had himself caught\nby mere physical infection the very fury which he describes himself to\nbe without. This was certainly not right, but (what is perhaps better)\nit was applauded. Mr. Bonnell Thornton was _Horatio_, and appeared not\nto have recovered all the evening from his fright at first seeing the\n_Ghost_. His pronunciation is thick, as if he spoke with pebbles in his\nmouth; nor is his emphasis judicious. Mr. Egerton\u2019s _Ghost_ is the most\nsubstantial we ever saw. He does not look like one that has \u2018peaked or\npined\u2019 long, and has by no means realized _Hamlet\u2019s_ wish\u2014\n\n \u2018Oh that this too, too solid flesh would melt,\n Thaw, and resolve itself into a dew.\u2019\n\nMiss Matthews played \u2018the pretty _Ophelia_\u2019 very pleasingly. She is as\ngood an _Ophelia_ as we have lately seen\u2014better, we think than Miss\nStephens, because she does not sing _quite_ so well. This character\nought not indeed to be in general given to a fine singer; for it has\nbeen well observed, that \u2018_Ophelia_ does not go mad because she can\nsing, but she sings because she has gone mad.\u2019\n\n\n\n\n DOWTON IN THE HYPOCRITE\n\n\n _The Times._] [_September 19, 1817._\n\n DRURY LANE THEATRE.\n\nThe excellent comedy of _The Hypocrite_ was acted here last night.\nDowton\u2019s _Dr. Cantwell_, is a very admirable and edifying performance.\nThe divine and human affections are \u2018very craftily qualified\u2019 in his\ncomposition, which is a mixture of the Methodist parson ingrafted on the\nold French pietist, and accomplished Abb\u00e9. The courtly air of Moliere\u2019s\n_Tartuffe_ has been considerably lowered down and vulgarised to fit the\ncharacter to the grossness of modern times and circumstances: only the\ngeneral features of the character, and the prominent incidents of the\nstory, have been retained by the English translator, and they seem to\nrequire the long speeches, the oratorical sentiments, and laboured\ncasuistry of the original author to render them probable or even\ncredible. It has been remarked, that the wonderful success of this piece\non the French stage is a lasting monument of the stress laid by that\ntalking and credulous nation on all verbal professions of virtue and\nsincerity, and of the little difference they make between words and\nthings. With all the pains that have been taken to bring it within the\nverge of verisimilitude by the aid of popular allusions and religious\nprejudices, it with difficulty _naturalizes_ on our own stage, and\nremains at last an incongruous, though a very striking and instructive\ncaricature. Dowton\u2019s jovial and hearty characters are his best; his\ndemure and hypocritical ones are only his second best. His _Dr.\nCantwell_ is not so good as his _Major Sturgeon_, or his _Sir Anthony\nAbsolute_, but still it is very good. Their excellence consists in\ngiving way to the ebullition of his feelings of social earnestness, or\nvainglorious ostentation; the excellence of _this_ in the systematic\nconcealment of his inmost thoughts and purposes. _Cantwell_ sighs out\nhis soul with the melancholy formality of a piece of clockwork, and\nexhibits the encroachments of amorous importunity under a mask of _still\nlife_. The locks of his hair are combed with appropriate sleekness and\nunpretending humility over his forehead and shoulders: his face looks\ngodly and greasy; his person and mind are well fortified in a decent\nsuit of plain broad cloth, and the calves of his legs look stout and\nsaint-like in stockings of dark pepper-and-salt fleecy hosiery. Bitter\nsmiles contend with falling tears; the whining tones of the conventicle\nwith the insolence of success, and the triumph of his unbridled rage in\nthe last act over his phlegmatic hypocrisy is complete. He was admirably\nsupported by Mrs. Sparks, as old _Lady Lambert_, and by Oxberry as\n_Mawworm_. This last character is as loose and dangling as the sails of\na windmill, and is puffed up and set in motion by one continuous blast\nof folly and fanaticism. The other characters in the piece were less\nhappily supported.\n\n\n\n\n MISS BRUNTON\u2019S ROSALIND\n\n\n _The Times._] [_September 20, 1817._\n\n COVENT-GARDEN THEATRE.\n\nAt this theatre last night Miss Brunton appeared in _Rosalind_, in _As\nyou Like it_. She certainly played the part very respectably and very\nagreeably, but not _exquisitely_; and if it is not played exquisitely,\nin our mind it is spoiled. \u2018But would Shakspeare\u2019s _Rosalind_ do so?\u2019 is\na question that, if put home as it ought to be, might deter many an\naccomplished young lady from attempting to give life to the careless,\ninimitable graces of this ideal creation of the poet\u2019s art. Miss Brunton\nrecited the different passages with considerable point, intelligence,\nand archness, like a lively and sensible school-girl, repeating it as an\nexercise; but she was not half giddy, fond, and rapturous enough for\n_Rosalind_. She spoke her sentences with \u2018good emphasis and discretion,\u2019\ninstead of running herself and the imaginations of the audience fairly\nout of breath with pleasure, love, wit, and playful gaiety. She has,\nhowever, white teeth and black eyes, a clear voice, a pleasing figure,\nwith youth on her side, and a very good understanding to boot. What more\ncan be required in a young actress, except by fastidious critics like\nus? She sung the _Cuckoo_ song very prettily, and was encored in it. The\nother parts were not very elaborately got up. We liked Mr. Duruset\u2019s two\nsongs as well as any thing else. Mr. Young\u2019s _Jaques_ was less spirited\nthan we have sometimes seen it: indeed, the character is in some measure\nspoiled to his hands by the prompt-book critics, who have put a great\ndeal of improper praise of himself into the mouth of the melancholy\n_Jaques_. It required some contrivance to make him or Shakspeare an\negotist! Mr. Fawcett\u2019s _Touchstone_ was amusing, but too rapid and\nslovenly. There are some parts of this character which the actor\nprobably thinks it becoming his Managerial dignity to hurry over as fast\nas possible. Mrs. Gibbs\u2019s _Audrey_ is almost too good. If \u2018the gods have\nnot made her poetical,\u2019 they have at least inspired her with the very\nspirit of folly, and with all its bliss. A Russian ballet, and _The\nLibertine_, closed the entertainments of the evening. The former of\nthese is a curious exhibition of Russian costume, but it does not\nexhibit the Miss Dennetts to any advantage. The play of _As you Like it_\nwas given out again for Monday, instead of _The Slave_.\n\n\n\n\n MAYWOOD\u2019S ZANGA\n\n\n _The Times._] [_October 3, 1817._\n\n DRURY-LANE THEATRE.\n\nMr. Maywood appeared here in _Zanga_ last night. It is not certainly\nfrom any wish to discourage, but we cannot speak so favourably of his\nperformance of this character as of his _Shylock_. Considerable\ndiffidence still appears in this actor\u2019s manner, and retards his\nprogress to reputation and excellence. He does not give sufficient scope\nand vehemence to the impassioned parts of the character, nor sufficient\ndecision and significance to its wily and malignant duplicity. _Zanga\u2019s_\nblood is on fire; it boils in his veins; it should dilate, and agitate\nhis whole frame with the fiercest rage and revenge: and again, the\nsuppression of his constitutional ardour, of the ungovernable passions\nthat torment and goad on his mind, ought to be marked with a\ncorrespondent degree of artful circumspection and studied hypocrisy. In\nboth extremes (for the character is in extremes throughout) we thought\nMr. Maywood failed. His rage and hatred, where it had opportunity to\nvent itself in a torrent of exclamations, was not strong or sustained\nenough, and appeared in the very tempest and whirlwind of the passion,\nto recoil affrighted \u2018from the sound itself had made.\u2019 In the\nconcealment of his purposes, and in the villainous insinuations with\nwhich he fills _Alonzo\u2019s_ mind, \u2018distilling them like a leprous poison\nin his ear,\u2019 he was \u2018too tame,\u2019 too servile and mechanical, and\nresembled more the busy, mercenary, credulous tale-bearer, than the\ndark, secret assassin of the peace, life, and honour, of his\nunsuspecting patron. The passage in which Mr. Maywood failed most, and\nin which the greatest symptoms of disapprobation manifested themselves,\nwas that in which the greatest effect is generally produced, and where\nconsequently the expectations are raised the highest: we mean, in the\nterrific and overpowering exclamation to _Alonzo_, \u2018\u2019Twas I that did\nit!\u2019 In the long and nasal emphasis which Mr. Maywood laid on the\nmonosyllable \u2018I\u2019 he shocked the ears and tired the patience of the\nauditors; less, we apprehend, from any thing wrong in his conception of\nthe part, than from the remains of a provincial accent hanging on his\npronunciation, and in passages of great vehemence and ardour, preventing\nhim from having the full command of his utterance. In the less violent\nexpression of passion, he was more successful; and gave one or two of\nthe short soliloquies which occur of a more thoughtful and reasoning\ncast, with considerable depth of tone and feeling. We are not without\nhopes, when Mr. Kean returns, and imparts some of his confidence and\nadmirable decision to his young rival or pupil, of seeing some very good\nacting _between_ them: we say so without meaning a double-entendre.\n\nThis play of _The Revenge_ is certainly a very indifferent piece of\nwork; and in the hero of the story, _Alonzo_, Mr. Rae _bolted_ some very\nranting speeches, blank verse and all, clean out of his mouth like shot\nfrom the mouth of a cannon, with a tone and emphasis that might have\nstartled ears less accustomed to the \u2018forced gait\u2019 and high clattering\nhoofs of his voice than ours. By stamping so hard, too, he raises not\nonly a shout in the upper-gallery, but a cloud of dust from the green\nbaize on the stage-floor.\n\n\n\n\n KEAN\u2019S RICHARD III.\n\n\n _The Times._] [_October 7, 1817._\n\n DRURY-LANE THEATRE.\n\nMr. Kean has returned to us again (after no very long absence), in the\ncharacter of _Richard the Third_. His performance of the part is so well\nknown to the public, and has been so often criticised, that it would be\nsuperfluous to enter into particulars again at present. We observe no\ngreat alteration in him. If any thing, his voice is deepened, and his\npauses are lengthened, which did not need to be. His habitual style of\nacting is apt to run into an excess of significance; and any studied\naddition to that excess necessarily tasks the attention to a painful\ndegree. Mr. Pope resumed his situation as _King Henry_, and was stabbed\nin the Tower, according to the rules of art. We were glad to see him in\nthe part, though we should have no objection to see the part itself\nomitted, to make room for the fine abrupt beginning of Shakspeare\u2019s\n_Richard the Third_, with the soliloquy, \u2018Now is the winter of our\ndiscontent,\u2019 &c. In our opinion, the _Richard the Third_ which was\nmanufactured by Cibber, and which has now obtained prescriptive\npossession of the stage, is a vile jumble; and we are convinced that a\nrestoration of the original play (as written by the original author)\nwould, with the omission of a few short scenes, be an advantage to the\nmanagers, and a gratification to the public. We understand, indeed, that\nsomething of this sort has been in agitation; and in order to contribute\nany little aid in our power to so laudable an attempt, we shall here\ngive a few of the passages which are omitted in the common stage\nrepresentation, but which appear to us particularly calculated for stage\neffect, and which would also fit Mr. Kean\u2019s peculiar style of acting, as\nthe glove fits the hand. One of these occurs almost immediately after\nthe first opening soliloquy, in the dialogue between _Glo\u2019ster_ and\n_Brackenbury_:\u2014\n\n _Glo\u2019ster._\u2014Even so! an\u2019 please your worship, Brackenbury,\n You may partake of any thing we say;\n We speak no treason, man:\u2014we say, the king\n Is wise and virtuous; and his noble queen\n Well strook in years: fair, and not jealous:\n We say that Shore\u2019s wife hath a pretty foot,\n A cherry lip, a bonny eye, a passing pleasing tongue:\n That the queen\u2019s kindred are made gentle folks:\n How say you, Sir? can you deny all this?\n\n _Brackenbury._\u2014With this, my lord, myself have nought to do.\n\n _Glo\u2019ster._\u2014What, naught to do with mistress Shore?\n I tell thee, fellow,\n He that doth naught with her, excepting one,\n Were best to do it secretly, alone,\n\n _Brackenbury._\u2014What one, my Lord?\n\n _Glo\u2019ster._\u2014Her husband, knave:\u2014Would\u2019st thou betray me?\n\nWe think, if any thing could give additional effect to the fine taunting\nirony of these lines, it would be Mr. Kean\u2019s mode of delivering them. He\nis almost the only actor who does not spoil Shakspeare.\n\nAgain, a very spirited scene of a different description, which is an\nastonishing mixture of violence and duplicity, occurs when _Glo\u2019ster_\nrushes into the apartment where the _Queen\u2019s_ friends are assembled, to\ncomplain of their taking advantage of his meekness and simplicity:\u2014\n\n _Glo\u2019ster._\u2014They do me wrong, and I will not endure it.\n Who are they that complain unto the king,\n That I, forsooth, am stern, and love them not?\n By holy Paul, they love his Grace but lightly,\n That fill his ears with such dissentious rumours!\n Because I cannot flatter, and speak fair,\n Smile in men\u2019s faces, smooth, deceive, and cog,\n Duck with French nods, and apish courtesy,\n I must be held a rancorous enemy.\n Cannot a plain man live, and think no harm,\n But thus his simple truth must be abus\u2019d\n By silken, sly, insinuating Jacks?\n\n _Grey._\u2014To whom in all this presence speaks your Grace?\n\n _Glo\u2019ster._\u2014To thee, that hast nor honesty, nor grace?\n When have I injured thee? When done thee wrong?\n Or thee? or thee? or any of your faction?\n A plague upon you all!\n\nThis is certainly an admirable conclusion to so modest an introduction.\nAny one who reads this passage, and who has seen Mr. Kean acquit himself\nin similar situations, must, we think, feel with us a desire to see him\nin this. We might multiply these instances of characteristic traits in\nthe adroit and high-spirited _Richard_. We shall give one more, which is\nso fine in its effect, and besides, conveys so striking a picture of the\noutward demeanour which an actor, to fulfil the poet\u2019s conception, ought\nto assume in the part, that we cannot resist giving it entire. It is the\nscene where he entraps the unsuspecting _Hastings_:\u2014\n\n _Hastings._\u2014His grace looks cheerfully and smooth this morning:\n There\u2019s some conceit or other likes him well,\n When he doth bid good-morrow with such spirit.\n I think, there\u2019s ne\u2019er a man in Christendom,\n Can lesser hide his love or hate than he;\n For by his face straight shall you know his heart.\n\n _Stanley._\u2014What of his heart perceive you in his face,\n By any likelihood he show\u2019d to-day?\n\n _Hastings._\u2014Marry, that with no man here he is offended;\n For, were he, he had shown it in his looks.\u2019\n\n Re-enter _Glo\u2019ster and Buckingham_.\n\n \u2018_Glo\u2019ster._\u2014I pray you all, tell me what they deserve\n That do conspire my death with devilish plots\n Of damned witchcraft; and that have prevail\u2019d\n Upon my body with their hellish charms?\n\n _Hastings._\u2014The tender love I bear your grace, my lord,\n Makes me most forward in this noble presence\n To doom the offenders: whosoe\u2019er they be,\n I say, my lord, they have deserved death.\n\n _Glo\u2019ster._\u2014Then be your eyes the witness of their evil;\n Look how I am bewitch\u2019d; behold, mine arm\n Is, like a blasted sapling, wither\u2019d up;\n And this is Edward\u2019s wife, that monstrous witch,\n Consorted with that harlot, strumpet Shore,\n That by their witchcraft thus have marked me.\n\n _Hastings._\u2014If they have done this deed, my noble lord\u2014\n\n _Glo\u2019ster._\u2014If? thou protector of this damn\u2019d strumpet,\n Talk\u2019st thou to me of _ifs_!\u2014Thou art a traitor:\u2014\n Off with his head! Now by St. Paul I swear,\n I will not dine until I see the same.\n Lovell and Catesby, look that it be done.\n The rest, that love me, rise and follow me.\n\nNow this is despatching business in the true dramatic style. Poets\ncannot take the same bold licenses, with their characters on the stage,\ntill kings are reinstated in their former plenitude of power. The\nincident which is here omitted in the acting play of _Richard III._ has\nbeen transferred to Rowe\u2019s _Jane Shore_. We should like to see it\nrestored to its original place, and justice done it by Mr. Kean\u2019s\ndistorted gestures, and smothered voice, suddenly bursting on the ear\nlike thunder.\n\n\n\n\n THE WONDER\n\n\n _The Times._] [_October 9, 1817._\n\n COVENT-GARDEN THEATRE.\n\n_The Wonder_, or _A Woman keeps a Secret_, was performed here last night\nwith admirable effect. Miss Brunton was the heroine of the piece, the\ncharming _Violante_. We cannot speak in rapturous terms of her\nperformance of the part. There is in the character itself an extreme\nspirit, and at the same time an extreme delicacy, which it is not easy\nto unite. Miss Brunton went through the different scenes, however, with\na considerable degree of grace, vivacity, and general propriety, never\nfalling below, and seldom rising above mediocrity. She does not\n\n \u2018Snatch a grace beyond the reach of art;\u2019\n\nnor, according to another line of the same poet, which seems to convey a\nperfect idea of female comic acting,\n\n \u2018Catch ere she falls the Cynthia of the minute.\u2019\n\nWe have already objected to this young lady\u2019s recitation, a certain\ndidactic, monotonous _twang_, and we cannot upon the present occasion\nrecant our criticism. Miss Foote was _Violante\u2019s_ friend, _Donna\nIsabella_, and looked and lisped the part very mincingly. Charles\nKemble\u2019s _Don Felix_ is one of his best parts. He raves, sighs, starts,\nfrets, grows jealous, and relents, with all the characteristic spirit of\nan amorous hero; and in the drunken scene with old _Don Lopez_, where he\nproduces his pistol as the marriage-contract, is particularly excellent\nand edifying. Fawcett played _Lissardo_ as he plays almost every thing:\nhe chattered like a magpie, and strutted like a crow in a gutter. But\nEmery\u2019s _Gibby_ was the thing: the genius of Scotland shone through his\nHighland plaid and broad bluff face: he seemed evidently afraid neither\nof having his voice heard, nor his face seen. In person he resembled the\nfigure of the Highlander which we see stuck up as a sign at\ntobacconists\u2019 windows. We never see nor wish to see better acting than\nthis. Emery\u2019s acting is indeed the most perfect imitation of common\nnature on the stage. Abbott was respectable as _Colonel Briton_. Mrs.\nGibbs\u2019s _Flora_ was what every waiting-woman ought to be.\n\n\n\n\n VENICE PRESERVED\n\n\n _The Times._] [_October 10, 1817._\n\n DRURY-LANE THEATRE.\n\nOtway\u2019s noble tragedy of _Venice Preserved_ was produced here last\nnight. The effect upon the whole was not satisfactory. The novelties of\nthe representation were Mr. H. Johnstone as _Pierre_, and Miss Campbell\n(from the Dublin Theatre) as _Belvidera_. Of Mr. Johnstone\u2019s _Pierre_,\nafter having seen Mr. Kemble in it, or even Mr. Young, we cannot speak\nin terms of applause. The character is not one of blunt energy, but of\ndeep art. It is more sarcastic than fierce, and even the fierceness is\nmore calculated to wound others than to shake or disturb himself. He is\na master-mind, that plays with the foibles and passions of others and\nwields their energies to his dangerous purposes with conscious careless\nindifference. Mr. Johnstone was boisterous in his declamation, coarse in\nhis irony, pompous and common-place in his action. Mr. Rae (as\n_Jaffier_), in the famous scene between these two characters, displayed\nsome strong touches of nature and pathos. Miss Campbell, as _Belvidera_,\ndid not altogether realize our idea of Otway\u2019s heroine; one of \u2018the most\nreplenished sweet works of art or nature.\u2019 Her face, though not\nhandsome, is not without expression; but its character is strength,\nrather than softness. In her person she is graceful, and has a mixture\nof dignity and ease in her general deportment. Her voice is powerful,\nbut in its higher tones it rises too much into a scream, and in its\ngentler ones subsides into a lisp, which is more infantine than\nfeminine. In her general style of acting she put us sometimes in mind of\nMrs Fawcit, sometimes of Miss Somerville, and more than once of Miss\nO\u2019Neill. Her delineation of the part, if not sufficiently tender or\ndelicate, was however forcible, impassioned, and affecting. We thought\nthe last scene, in which she goes mad, and digs for her murdered husband\nin the grave, the best. We should indeed give her the preference over\nMiss O\u2019Neill in this very trying scene. Her expression of the disordered\nwanderings of the imagination, and of the last desperate struggles of\npassion in her bosom, both by the intonations of her voice, and the\nvarying actions of her body, were more natural, and less repulsive than\nthe mere physical violence of Miss O\u2019Neill in the same passage. The play\nwas given out for repetition with some marks of disapprobation from a\npart of the audience.\n\n\n\n\n SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER\n\n\n _The Times._] [_October 15, 1817._\n\n COVENT-GARDEN THEATRE.\n\nGoldsmith\u2019s comedy of _She Stoops to Conquer_ was played at this theatre\nlast night: its reception was highly favourable. It bears the stamp of\nthe author\u2019s genius, which was an indefinable mixture of the original\nand imitative. His plot, characters, and incidents, are all new, and yet\nthey are all old, with little variation or disguise\u2014that is, the writer\nsedulously avoided common-place, and sought for singularity, but found\nit rather in the unhackneyed and out-of-the-way inventions of those who\nhad gone before him than in his own stores. His _Vicar of Wakefield_,\nwhich abounds more than any of his works in delightful and original\ntraits, is still very much borrowed from Fielding\u2019s _Joseph Andrews_.\nAgain, the characters and adventures of _Tony Lumpkin_ and his mother in\nthe present comedy are a counterpart, even to the incident of the theft\nof the jewels, of those of the _Widow Blackacre_ and her booby son in\nWycherley\u2019s _Plain Dealer_. The change of character and the rustic\ndisguise of _Miss Hardcastle_, by which she gains her lover, are also a\nfaint imitation of _Letitia Hardy_ in _The Belle\u2019s Stratagem_. This sort\nof plagiarism, which gives us a repetition of what are comparatively new\nand eccentric pictures of human life, is much to be preferred to the\ndull routine of trite, vapid, every-day common-places: but it is also\nmore dangerous, as the stealing of pictures or family plate, where the\ngoods are immediately identified, is surer of detection than the\nstealing of bank-notes or the current coin of the realm. Johnson\u2019s\nsarcasm against some writer that \u2018his singularity was not his\nexcellence,\u2019 cannot be applied to Goldsmith\u2019s works in general: but we\ndo not know whether it might not in severity be applied to _She Stoops\nto Conquer_. The incidents and characters are, some of them, exceedingly\namusing; but it is a little at the expense of probability and\n_bienseance_. _Tony Lumpkin_ is certainly a very essential, and\nunquestionably comic personage; and his absurdities or his humours were\nvery effectually portrayed by Liston. His impenetrability and\nunconscious confusion of mind and face in reading and spelling out the\nletter was admirable. Charles Kemble\u2019s bashful scene with his mistress\nwas irresistibly ludicrous, and excellently well played: but still it\ndid not quite overcome our incredulity as to the existence of such a\ncharacter in such circumstances. It is a highly amusing caricature, a\nridiculous fancy, but no more. One of the finest and most delicate\ntouches of real acting we ever witnessed was in the transition of this\nmodest gentleman\u2019s manner to the easy and agreeable tone of familiarity\nwith the supposed chambermaid, which was not total and abrupt, but\nexactly such in kind and degree as such a character of natural reserve\nand constitutional timidity would undergo from the change of\ncircumstances. Miss Brunton\u2019s _Miss Hardcastle_ was a very correct and\nagreeable piece of acting. Mrs. Davenport\u2019s _Mrs. Hardcastle_ was like\nher acting in all such characters, as good as it could possibly be.\n\n\n\n\n KEAN\u2019S MACBETH\n\n\n _The Times._] [_October 21, 1817._\n\n DRURY-LANE THEATRE.\n\nMacbeth (with Matthew Lock\u2019s music) was played here last night. Mr. Kean\nwas _Macbeth_, Miss Campbell _Lady Macbeth_. We never saw the former to\nsuch advantage in the part. Mr. Kean\u2019s _Macbeth_ did not use to be a\ngreat favourite with us, except in the murder scene: but he last night,\nwe thought, lifted the general character to almost an equality with this\nsingle scene. At least, he played the whole in a style of boldness and\ngrandeur which we have not seen before. He was \u2018proud and lion-hearted,\nand lacked fear.\u2019 A thousand hearts seemed swelling in his bosom. His\nvoice rolled from the bottom of his breast like thunder, and his eye\nflashed scorching flame. Instead of going back (as some cunning critics\nwho have been peeping out of their cells at him ever since he began his\ncareer, to watch for his first failure, and to fall upon him\nmagnanimously at a disadvantage, have been predicting), he advances even\nbeyond himself with manly steps and a heroic spirit. In the\nbanquet-scene he was particularly excellent; and called forth, with\ncomplete effect, those deep tones of nature and passion, recoiling upon\nand bursting with a convulsive movement from the heart, which are his\nvery best and surest resource, though he has as yet made the least use\nof them. Let him go on, and open all the sluices of passion in his\nbreast which are yet unlocked. He has done much: let him do as much\nmore, by giving as much depth of internal emotion (where it is required)\nas he has done of external vehemence, by adding stateliness and a\nmeasured march to infinite force and truth, that he may be the greatest\npoet, as he unquestionably is the greatest prose-actor of the stage.\nWhen we speak of him as deficient in these qualities, we only do so in\ncomparison with Mrs. Siddons: it would be a mockery both of him and the\npublic to compare him with any one else. But she had something of\n_divine_ about her which Mr. Kean has not; he in general only shows us\nthe utmost force of what is _human_. Of Miss Campbell\u2019s _Lady Macbeth_\nwe are almost afraid to speak, because we cannot speak favourably of it;\nyet a failure in this part is by no means decisive against the general\nmerits of an actress. But she was altogether too tame and drawling for\n_Lady Macbeth_; and some attempts at originality failed of effect from\nthe timidity with which they were executed.\n\n\n\n\n KEAN\u2019S OTHELLO\n\n\n _The Times._] [_October 27, 1817._\n\n DRURY-LANE THEATRE.\n\n_Othello_ was played here on Saturday to a crowded house. There were two\nnew appearances\u2014Mr. Maywood as _Iago_, and a young lady as _Desdemona_.\nThe name of this young _debutante_ is not announced; but her reception\nwas exceedingly flattering. Her face is handsome, her person elegant,\nher voice sweet, and her general deportment graceful and easy. There was\nalso a considerable portion of tenderness and delicacy of feeling in\nseveral of the passages; but perhaps less than the character would bear.\nThe only faults which we think it necessary to mention in her\nperformance were, a too continual movement of the hands up and down, and\nsometimes a monotonous cadence in the recitation of the blank verse. Mr.\nMaywood\u2019s _Iago_ had some of the faults which we have noticed in his\nformer characters; but in the most trying scenes in the third act with\n_Othello_, we thought him exceedingly happy and successful. His\nconception was just, and his execution effective. There was a cold\nstillness in his manner which was more frightful than the expression of\nthe most inveterate malignity. He seemed to crawl and watch for his prey\nlike the spider, instead of darting upon it like the serpent. In the\ncommencement of the part his timidity appeared to prevent him from doing\njustice to his intention, and once or twice his voice grew loud and\nunmanageable, so as to excite some marks of disapprobation. Mr. Kean\u2019s\n_Othello_ is, we suppose, the finest piece of acting in the world. It is\nimpossible either to describe or praise it adequately. We have never\nseen any actor so wrought upon, so \u2018perplexed in the extreme.\u2019 The\nenergy of passion, as it expresses itself in action, is not the most\nterrific part; it is agony of his soul, showing itself in looks and\ntones of voice. In one part, where he listens in dumb despair to the\nfiend-like insinuations of _Iago_, he presented the very face, the\nmarble aspect of Dante\u2019s _Count Ugolino_. On his fixed eyelids \u2018Horror\nsat plumed.\u2019 In another part, where a gleam of hope or of tenderness\nreturns to subdue the tumult of his passions, his voice broke in\nfaltering accents from his overcharged breast. His lips might be said\nless to utter words, than to bleed drops of blood gushing from his\nheart. An instance of this was in his pronunciation of the line \u2018Of one\nthat loved not wisely but too well.\u2019 The whole of this last speech was\nindeed given with exquisite force and beauty. We only object to the\nvirulence with which he delivers the last line, and with which he stabs\nhimself\u2014a virulence which _Othello_ would neither feel against himself\nat that moment, nor against the turbaned Turk (whom he had slain) at\nsuch a distance of time. His exclamation on seeing his wife, \u2018I cannot\nthink but _Desdemona\u2019s_ honest,\u2019 was \u2018the glorious triumph of exceeding\nlove;\u2019 a thought flashing conviction on his mind, and irradiating his\ncountenance with joy, like sudden sunshine. In fact, almost every scene\nor sentence in this extraordinary exhibition is a master-piece of\nnatural passion. The convulsed motion of the hands, and the involuntary\nswellings of the veins of the forehead in some of the most painful\nsituations, should not only suggest topics of critical panegyric, but\nmight furnish studies to the painter or anatomist.\n\n\n\n\n KEAN AND MISS O\u2019NEILL\n\n\n _The Times._] [_December 2, 1817._\n\n COVENT-GARDEN THEATRE.\n\nThe tragedy of _Venice Preserved_ was acted here last night to rather an\nempty house. Mr. Young\u2019s _Pierre_ is one of his very best and most\nspirited performances. Mr. C. Kemble did to the character of _Jaffier_\nall the justice it deserves. But the great attraction of this piece, as\nit is at present acted, is Miss O\u2019Neill\u2019s _Belvidera_. In this, however,\nwe think her less excellent than on her first appearance in it. Her\npathos is less simple, less touching, and her action more outrageous and\nviolent. Perhaps the reason of this change may be, that, acting in such\nparts from an impulse of real sympathy with the heroine, as she repeats\nthe character, her immediate interest in it becomes gradually\ndiminished, and she is compelled to make up for the want of genuine\nfeeling by the external vehemence of her manner. Be this as it may, she\nat present carries this violence of manner to the utmost pitch at which\nit can be borne. Her screams almost torture the ear, her looks almost\npetrify the sight. It is time that she should return to her first style\nof acting, which did not \u2018o\u2019erstep the modesty of nature.\u2019 We speak thus\nof her from a sense of justice, and of respect, not of contempt, for her\npowers: for we think she owes it to those powers _not to abuse them_. As\n_Belvidera_ is one of her most prominent characters, we shall take this\nopportunity to sum up in a few words our opinion of her general merit as\na tragic actress; and perhaps we shall be able to do this best by\npointing out the difference between her and another celebrated performer\nof the day.\n\nMr. Kean affects the audience from the force of passion rather than of\nsentiment, or subsides into the pathetic after the violence of action,\nbut seldom rises into it from the depth of natural feeling. In this\nrespect, he presents almost a direct contrast to Miss O\u2019Neill. Her\nenergy appears to rise out of her sensibility: distress takes possession\nof, and overwhelms, her faculties: she triumphs in her weakness, and\nvanquishes by yielding. Mr. Kean is chiefly great in the conflict of\npassions, and resistance to his fate\u2014in the opposition of his will to\ncircumstances\u2014in the keen excitement of his understanding. It is not\nwithout some reluctance, and after a good deal of reflection, that we\nshould say, that the finest parts of his acting are superior to the\nfinest parts of hers: for instance, to her parting with _Jaffier_ in\n_Belvidera_,\u2014to her terror and joy in meeting with _Biron_ in\n_Isabella_,\u2014to the death-scene in the same character,\u2014and to the scene\nin the prison with her husband as Mrs. Beverley. Her acting is more\ncorrect, equable, and faultless throughout than Mr. Kean\u2019s, and it is\nalso quite as overpowering at the time, in the most impassioned parts;\nbut it does not leave the same impression on the mind afterwards. It\nadds little to the stock of our ideas, or to our materials for\nreflection, but passes away with the momentary illusion of the scene.\nAnd this difference of effect perhaps arises from the difference of the\nparts they have to sustain on the stage. In the female characters which\nMiss O\u2019Neill plays, the distress is in a great measure physical and\ninvoluntary, or such as is common to every woman in similar\ncircumstances. She abandons herself to the impulses of grief or\ntenderness, and revels in the excess of an uncontrollable affliction.\nShe can call to her aid with perfect propriety and the greatest effect,\nall the weaknesses of her sex; tears, sighs, convulsive sobs, shrieks,\ndeath-like stupefaction, and laughter more terrible than all: but it is\nnot the same in the parts which Mr. Kean has to act. There must here be\na manly fortitude, as well as a natural sensibility. There must be a\nrestraint constantly put upon the feelings by the understanding and the\nwill. He must in part be \u2018as one in suffering all, who suffers nothing.\u2019\nHe cannot give way entirely to his situation or his feelings, but must\nendeavour to become master of them and of himself. This, in our\nconception, must make it more easy to give the utmost effect and\ninterest to female characters on the stage, by rendering the expression\nof the passion more simple, obvious, and natural; and must also make\nthem less rememberable afterwards, by leaving less scope for the\nexercise of intellect, and for the distinct and complicated reaction of\nthe character upon circumstances. At least, we can only account in some\nsuch way for the different impression which the acting of these two\nadmired performers makes on our minds, when we see or when we think of\nthem. As critics, we particularly feel this. Mr. Kean affords a\nnever-failing source of observation and discussion: we can only praise\nor blame Miss O\u2019Neill. The peculiarity and the strong hold of Mrs.\nSiddons\u2019s acting was, that she in a wonderful degree united both the\nextremes of excellence here spoken of, that is, the natural frailties of\npassion, or its inarticulate and involuntary expression, with a\ncommanding strength of intellect, and the loftiest flights of\nimagination. Her person could also endure more violence of action than\nMiss O\u2019Neill\u2019s; whose tender frame is hardly able to \u2018abide the beating\nof so strong a passion,\u2019 as she often has to assume, and whose fair face\nis injured by the least distortion.\n\n\n\n\n THE HONEY MOON\n\n\n _The Times._] [_December 3, 1817._\n\n DRURY-LANE THEATRE.\n\nThe favourite comedy of the _Honey Moon_ was performed here last night;\nthe part of the _Duke_ by Mr. H. Johnston. Upon the whole he acquitted\nhimself well in it, with spirit and effect. More than that the character\ndoes not require; and it would be hard if the critic required of the\nactor what the poet has not clearly and intelligibly exacted from him.\nWhen, indeed, an accomplished performer, who happens to be a man of\ngenius, lends additional graces to a character, and places it in a\nbrilliant light of his own, we are bound to thank him: when he merely\ngives \u2018what is set down for him\u2019 with force and fidelity, we are bound\nto be content. Mr. Johnston, we thought, sometimes too coarse, and\nsometimes too sarcastic; but in this sort of assumption of character, it\nis hard to say exactly how far the habitual manners and sentiments are\nto modify and appear through those which are put on to answer the\npurpose of the moment. In this species of the _mock-heroic_, which is a\nsort of equivocal mixture of comedy and tragedy, half pompous and half\nplayful, Elliston, who was the first _Duke Aranza_, excelled all those\nwho have succeeded him. \u2018Plautus was too light, Seneca was too heavy for\nhim.\u2019 He just aspired to something above comedy, he just fell short of\ntragedy; but _he hit the stage between wind and water_. Mr. H.\nJohnston\u2019s energy is more fierce, his irony more virulent: but still he\nmoved, and looked, and spoke, if not like a lord, like a very lordly\nhusband, and gave the essential interest to the part. He danced much at\nhis ease, and recited the speech in which the Duke describes his idea of\nwhat his wife\u2019s dress should be, with propriety and feeling. Knight\u2019s\ncountryman was admirable: his hysteric laughter at the dispute between\nhis host and hostess, and his sheepish confusion when discovered, were\nequally perfect. His wonder at the manner in which Johnston rates his\nwife was ecstatic:\n\n \u2018And near him sat ecstatic Wonder,\n Listening the hoarse applauding thunder.\u2019\n\nHis jaws relaxed to their utmost expansion, and his nose \u2018grew sharp as\na pen.\u2019 Miss Kelly was too pert and forward, and too much like my lady\u2019s\nchambermaid. Nor can we speak in praise of Mrs. Davison\u2019s _Juliana_. She\npouts, flounces, and lumbers about the stage strangely. Mr. Harley did\nthe _Mock Duke_ well; he seemed like Sancho Panza in his government. The\n_Honey Moon_ is a very pleasing drama: it is a cento of passages from\nold plays modernized; it is an ingenious plagiarism from beginning to\nend. The author was a most incorrigible pilferer, but so expert in his\nart, that we would say to other authors, \u2018Go thou and do likewise!\u2019\n\n\n\n\n MR. KEAN\n\n\n _The Times._] [_December 16, 1817._\n\n DRURY-LANE THEATRE.\n\n_Mr. Kean_, after an absence of nearly six weeks, owing to serious\nindisposition, last night resumed his professional duties at this\ntheatre, in the arduous character of _Richard the Third_. He was\nreceived on his appearance with all that warm greeting and enthusiastic\napplause, which are perhaps the highest meed of histrionic talent, and\nwhich are unfailingly called forth by this distinguished actor, after\nevery suspension, however short, of the exercise of his art. This\nexpression of good-will was increased, we think, in the present\ninstance, by the recollection that the privation was caused by illness,\nand that it was possible the stage might have been deprived of one of\nits greatest ornaments. The acclamations, the waving of hats and\nhandkerchiefs, continued for some minutes. Mr. Kean looks somewhat\nthinner than before his indisposition, but betrayed no deficiency of\npower; on the contrary, on account probably of our having for sometime\npast been doomed to witness very inferior performances, he appeared to\nsurpass himself. He exhibited all that energy and discrimination, that\nfaculty of identifying himself with the character he represents, which\nis to be ranked among the greatest efforts of human talents; he realized\nour conceptions of a being whose soul\n\n \u2018Not Fate itself could awe.\u2019\n\nThe fine passages of this piece of acting are well known to the public;\nto quote them would be to extract the whole play. The conclusion of his\ncareer was marked by nearly as much applause as the commencement. The\ntheatre was well filled, notwithstanding the extreme wetness of the\nevening.\n\n\n\n\n KING JOHN\n\n\n _The Times._] [_December 18, 1817._\n\n COVENT-GARDEN THEATRE.\n\nShakspeare\u2019s tragedy of _King John_ was acted last night at this\ntheatre. Miss O\u2019Neill performed the part of _Constance_; and though\neverything undertaken by this excellent actress must have a large\nproportion of good in it, we think that she is less successful in this\nthan in most of her other characters: for this, physical causes, her\nyouth for example, may be assigned; and her perfect delineation of\n_Constance_ is, perhaps, reserved to the maturity of her age and her\ntalents. She did not convey to us that warmth of temper, that\nsusceptibility to grief and anger, which mark this injured Princess. Her\nspeeches on the conclusion of the marriage with _Blanch_, which admit\ngreat variety of expression, were simple declamation, without passion\nand nearly in the same tone: but we would rather dwell on beauties than\ndefects. Two or three lines at the end of the scene just mentioned made\namends for all; when she says,\n\n \u2018To me, and to the state of my great grief,\n Let kings assemble.\u2019\n\nshe utters the passage with beautiful feeling, and leaves nothing to be\nwished. The burst of indignation when Austria endeavours to silence her,\nsubsiding instantly into a tone of the keenest contempt, was no less\nstriking. Her very best effort was on quitting the stage, when, having\nuttered those pathetic exclamations for the loss of her son, she goes\nout in all the wildness of despair, as if occupied by no other thought\nthan to seek him through the world. Young was a little too violent in\nsome parts of the character of _King John_; but, on the whole, it may be\nconsidered a fine piece of acting: the two scenes with _Hubert_, and his\n\u2018dying scene, were excellent. _Faulconbridge_, the bastard, is one of\nCharles Kemble\u2019s happiest hits; his manly figure, and martial\nappearance, well bear him out in his scoffs at the _Duke of Austria_; he\nis no sooner knighted, than he seems made for his rank, and leads out\n_Queen Elinor_ like a \u2018lordly gallant.\u2019 Some of the nobles of _John\u2019s_\ncourt did not convey the idea of much dignity either in their dress or\npersons: we wish that the managers, who have the power of issuing\npatents of nobility at pleasure, would consider whether the general\neffect might not be improved by a little more attention to this point.\n\n\n\n\n THE PRESS\u2014COLERIDGE, SOUTHEY, WORDSWORTH, AND BENTHAM\n\n\n _The Yellow Dwarf._] [_January 3, 1818._\n\nA debate has been lately going on, in the French House of Commons,\nrespecting the Liberty of the Press. M. Jollivet said, \u2018the Liberty of\nthe Press is less necessary in a Representative Government than in any\nother.\u2019 \u2018The press\u2019 he added, \u2018is represented as the only instrument by\nwhich truth can be made known; but the passions of men are too\nimpetuous, to permit the Press that liberty which some demand. _The real\nnational representation is in the King_;[44]\u2014the legitimate inheritance\nof his Crown, from whence all powers and honours are derived, fixes\nthere, with the destinies of the people. This is the primitive\nrepresentation, from which all others emanate. There is the sacred depot\nof sovereignty. The powers established by the Charter are only the means\nof that sovereignty, for the dispensation of order and justice. We must\nthen leave out of the question this pretended influence of the Liberty\nof the Press upon our representative Government, in favour of the branch\ncalled the Democratic. We must reject principles which can never return\nin France. By this course we may perhaps lose some commentaries upon the\nrights of man, but all classes of society will find their repose in it.\u2019\n\nSo says M. Jollivet; and so sings a modern bard:\u2014\n\n \u2018Kiuprili\u2014Had\u2019st thou believ\u2019d thine own tale, had\u2019st thou _fancied_\n Thyself the rightful successor of Andreas,\n Would\u2019st thou have pilfer\u2019d from our school-boys\u2019 themes\n These shallow sophisms of a _popular choice_?\n What people? How convened? or, if convened,\n Must not the magic power that charms together\n Millions of men in council, needs have power\n To win or wield them? Better, O far better\n Shout forth thy titles to yon circling mountains\n And with a thousand-fold reverberation\n Make the rocks flatter thee, and the volleying air,\n Unbribed, shout back to thee, King Emerick!\n By wholesome laws t\u2019imbank the sov\u2019reign power,\n To deepen by restraint, and by prevention\n Of lawless will t\u2019amass and guide the flood,\n In its majestic channel, is man\u2019s task\n And the true patriot\u2019s glory! _In all else\n Men safelier trust to Heaven, than to themselves_\n When least themselves in the mad whirl of crowds\n Where folly is contagious, and too oft\n Even wise men leave their better sense at home\n To chide and wonder at them when return\u2019d.\u2019\n _Coleridge\u2019s Zapolya._\n\nWhether M. Jollivet, the French speaker, was one of the Orators of the\nHuman Race in the time of Robespierre, we do not know; but this we know,\nthat Mr. Coleridge was at that time delivering _Conciones ad populum_ in\na tone of mob-sycophancy, the height and heat of which could, it seems,\nonly be qualified by the doctrines of Divine Right and Passive\nObedience. The above exquisite morceau of political logic, and dramatic\nrecantation of the author\u2019s popular harangues, was intended for\nrepresentation at Drury-Lane Theatre, and was one of the passages\npointed out, if we are to believe Mr. Coleridge, as a reason for the\nrejection of this spurious offspring of his loyal Muse.\n\nMr. Southey has not yet given us a poetical version of the true _Jus\nDivinum_. We should like to know what he says to this speech of M.\nJollivet\u2014Content or Not Content\u2014and whether this was the result he\nanticipated when he so sweetly and loudly, about three years ago,\ninvited France \u2018restored and shaking off her chain\u2019 to join in his (Mr.\nSouthey\u2019s) triumphal song,\u2014\n\n \u2018_Glory to God on high, Deliverance to Mankind._\u2019\n\nCan that laurel wreathe which adorns his brows (if it still adorns them)\nany longer hide or prevent those blushes, deep and lasting, which should\nsuffuse his once well-meaning face for having been the shameful dupe of\na cozenage so shameful?\n\nAs to Mr. Wordsworth, another of these heroic deliverers, he is \u2018a full\nsolemne man,\u2019 and you cannot get much out of him. But we should like to\nhear his opinion\u2014Aye or No\u2014of M. Jollivet\u2019s allied notions of liberty\nand the rights of man. Is this sort of legitimate clapping down under\nthe hatches the deliverance for which he mouthed out deep-toned Odes and\nSonnets? Is this repose, the repose of lasting slavery and avowed,\nbarefaced annihilation of the rights of human nature, the consummation\ndevoutly to be wished, which kindled in him so much disinterested zeal\nagainst all his old friends and feelings? If he were to say so, the very\nechoes of his favourite mountains, \u2018with thousand-fold reverberation,\u2019\nwould contradict him. But he says nothing. He is profoundly silent. He\nwill not answer Mum to our Budget. From the elevation of his former\nwell-timed enthusiasm against tyrants and conquerors, he slid into a\nplace: and he will never rise out of it by any ill-timed intemperance.\n_Snug\u2019s the word._ St. Peter is well at Rome; and Mr. Wordsworth is\nattached to the Excise. What is it to him, seated on Rydal Mount, what\nM. Jollivet, a prating Frenchman, says to that poor creature, Louis\nXVIII? It is enough for Mr. Wordsworth that he signs his stamped\nreceipts and distributes them:\u2014he is not bound, _by his office_, to\nsubscribe to M. Jollivet\u2019s doctrines, or to circulate them in this\ncountry. He is a customhouse officer, and no longer a citizen of the\nworld. He keeps himself quiet, like the philosopher of old, lest the\nhigher powers should hear him. If he were to mutter a syllable against\nany one act of legitimate despotism, he knows (in his sleeve) that not\nall his odes on Hoffer and Schill, and the Cortes, or even to the King,\nwould save him one hour. He is wise. After having endorsed the\naccommodation bills of the Allied Sovereigns on liberty and\nindependence, with a pen which ought to have been sacred to humanity, he\nnow leaves it to the people of France, Spain, Italy, to us, to the\nworld, to take up these dishonoured forgeries, and will not utter a word\nof resentment or indignation, or contempt, against those who have made\nhim a poor accomplice in a fraud upon mankind!\n\nThis sort of shuffling on the side of principle, and tenaciousness on\nthe side of power, seems to be the peculiar privilege of the race of\nmodern poets. The philosophers, if not much wiser, appear to be\nhonester. Some of these had been taken in, but they want to be let out.\nThey declare off in time to save at least their own characters, and will\nnot sign and seal \u2018a dateless bargain to all-engrossing despotism,\u2019 when\nshe unfolds the long dark scroll of her rotten parchment bonds to them,\nand they see it \u2018stretching out even to the crack of doom.\u2019 They had got\ninto a bad house, it is true, thinking, though the owners were the same,\nthey had changed their calling, in company with an old bawd masked, who\npretended to have just escaped being robbed and ravished, if not\nmurdered. They were proud of such an opportunity of shewing their\ngallantry. But as soon as the old lady pulled off her mask of\nLegitimacy, and shewed herself \u2018the same, that is, that was, and is to\nbe,\u2019 our philosophers went to the window, threw up the sash, and alarmed\nthe neighbourhood; while the poets, either charmed, with the paint and\npatches of the hag, or with her gold and trinkets, put a grave face upon\nthe matter, make it a point of conscience, a match for life\u2014_for better\nor worse_, stick to their filthy bargain, go to bed, and by lying quiet\nand keeping close, would fain persuade the people out of doors that all\nis well, while they are fumbling at the regeneration of mankind out of\nan old rotten carcase, and threatening us, as the legitimate consequence\nof their impotent and obscene attempts, with the spawn of Bible and\nMissionary Societies, Schools for All, and a little aiery of children,\nwith a whole brood of hornbooks and catechisms,\u2014a superfetation more\npreposterous than that of Mrs. Tofts, the rabbit-breeding lady in\nHogarth.\u2014Mr. Bentham was one of the philosophers who were so taken in by\nthe projects of the Holy Alliance, but who did not chuse to continue so\nwith his eyes open. He had lent an ear to the promises of kings. He\nthought tyrants had taken a sudden fancy to the abstract principles of\nsound legislation. With a little exuberance of philosophical vanity, and\na little want of philosophical penetration, he thought he could \u2018charm\nthese deaf adders wisely.\u2019 He thought absolute sovereigns, having\nsuffered persecution, had learnt mercy: that they were convinced, by\ntheir own experience, of the value of justice, truth, and liberty. He\ndid not suspect their appeal to humanity was the cry of the crocodile to\nallure and destroy: he, like many more, thought their tears were \u2018drops\nwhich sacred pity had engendered.\u2019 Not so. He soon found his mistake;\nand no sooner found, than he hastes to amend it. He does not try (half\nfool, half knave) to hush up the affair, to screen their villainy, or\nsalve his own idle vanity. Out the whole story comes, in a book which he\nhas just published,[45] containing an account of the papers, and\ncorrespondence which passed between himself and the Emperor Alexander.\nMr. Bentham sent the autocrat a plan of legislation, and the sovereign\nsent him a snuff-box in return. The Emperor however took no other notice\nof the plan, and the legislator returned the snuff-box. This was as it\nshould be. It is of course the favourite object of Alexander to be lord\nover millions of slaves: it must be Mr. Bentham\u2019s greatest ambition to\nbe a wise and honest man. He had committed his character for wisdom\nsufficiently in supposing that the lord of millions of slaves would, in\nthe pure coxcombry of his heart, and in the giddy round of gold\nsnuff-boxes, and in his delight in the infinite multiplication of his\nown pictures set in brilliants, set millions of slaves free! The Emperor\nwould as soon let Mr. Bentham cuckold him as resign his people to the\nPlatonic embraces of Mr. Bentham\u2019s legislative genius. But having gone\nthus far on a wrong calculation of the characters of rulers, Mr. Bentham\nwas too honest a man to try to repeat the imposition upon others of\nwhich he had been made the momentary dupe himself. He was not ambitious\nany longer to remain that tool\n\n \u2018Which knaves do work with, called a fool.\u2019\n\nHe would not be made a mild decoy of humanity, and go a dottrel-catching\nwith the Emperor Alexander in Finland, in Poland, or in South America.\nHe would not be made an amiable stalking-horse of liberty and equality\nfor royal sportsmen to catch their silly prey, the human race, and then\nto be turned loose, stripped of his netting and his ribbons, to graze\nwhere he could. He had a spirit above it. He could not brook this league\nwith detected hypocrisy and barefaced power. He had not the stomach to\nswallow a lie for truth. He could not bring himself to say, or by any\ntampering with his own mind to believe that a thing _was_ what he knew\n_it was not_. He was by habit a logician\u2014by nature, a plain, literal\nman. \u2018The Gods had not made him poetical.\u2019 That is, Mr. Bentham had not,\nlike Messrs. Coleridge, Wordsworth, and Southey, been playing at fast\nand loose with fiction, till he could like them believe whatever he\npleased of matter of fact, and stand to it stoutly too with \u2018a mingled\nair of cunning and of impudence,\u2019\u2014to the equal satisfaction of his\nunderstanding and his conscience!\n\n\n\n\n MR. COLERIDGE\u2019S LECTURES\n\n\n _The Yellow Dwarf._] [_February 21, 1818._\n\n\u2018On Friday evening Mr. Coleridge gave his first Lecture on Shakspeare to\na numerous and genteel audience. He stated the permanent objects\nShakspeare had in view in drawing his characters, and how obviously he\ndisregarded those that were of a transitory nature. The character of\n_Caliban_, as an original and caricature of Jacobinism, so fully\nillustrated at Paris during the French Revolution, he described in a\nvigorous and lively manner, exciting repeated bursts of applause. He\ncommenced an inquiry into the order of succession in which Shakspeare\nwrote his plays, and decided that _Love\u2019s Labour Lost_ must have been\nthe first, as there are so many allusions in it such as a youth would\nmake, few or none resulting from an experience of the world. That play\nand _The Tempest_ were the chief objects of his discourse, into which,\nhowever, he introduced a great variety of new and striking remarks, not\nconfined to any particular play. As for instance, he said, wherever\nShakspeare had drawn a character addicted to sneering, and contempt for\nthe merits of others, that character was sure to be a villain. Vanity,\nenvy, and malice, were its certain accompaniments: too prudent to praise\nitself, it fed its concentrated egotism by sarcasm and lowering others.\nThis is but a poor description of the very glowing language, ample\ndetail, and profound thought, Mr. Coleridge displayed on this topic,\nwhich produced a thunder of applause.\u2019\u2014_Courier_, Feb. 9.\n\nMr. Coleridge, in his prospectus, modestly observed, that the attending\nhis course of Lectures on Poetry, and \u2018those fair parts that there\nadjacent lie,\u2019 would enable any grown gentleman to talk on all subjects\nof polite conversation, except religion and politics. By the above\nextract, and from what we have heard, it should appear that Mr.\nColeridge has gone beyond his engagement, and given his grown gentleman\na slice of religion and politics in the same dish with his account of\nthe Dark Ages. Not like a lady who puts her mind into the postscript,\nMr. C. does that first which he promised last. Whatever may be the case\nwith his metaphysical hypercriticisms, his religious and political\nopinions seem pretty transparent. As he has sent a passage against\nJacobinism to his friend Mr. Stuart, of the _Courier_, we wonder that he\ncould not (as he still retains all his old sentiments, with only the\nadvantage of new light added to them) have vamped up a sly passage from\nhis _Conciones ad Populum_, in favour of the _so-called_ Jacobin\nprinciples he formerly professed, to have sent it to us. We should\ngladly do all in our power to assist Mr. Coleridge in publishing a\nharmony of his opinions, which are, we suspect, too liberal and\nmultifarious to be comprised, in all their speculative and practical\nbearings, in a shabby Evening Paper. As to this argument about\n_Caliban_, we suspect it must have been sadly curtailed and _scissarsed_\nby Mr. Stuart, in order to fit his cloth to his coat, and to bring Mr.\nColeridge\u2019s \u2018unhouselled free conditions into the circumscription and\nconfine\u2019 of the Editor\u2019s party politics. _Caliban_ is so far from being\na prototype of modern Jacobinism, that he is strictly the legitimate\nsovereign of the isle, and _Prospero_ and the rest are usurpers, who\nhave ousted him from his hereditary jurisdiction by superiority of\ntalent and knowledge. \u2018This island\u2019s mine, by _Sycorax_ my mother;\u2019 and\nhe complains bitterly of the artifices used by his new friends to cajole\nhim out of it. He is the Louis XVIII. of the enchanted island in _The\nTempest_: and Dr. Stoddart would be able to prove by the civil law, that\nhe had the same right to keep possession of it, \u2018independently of his\nconduct or merits, as Mr. Coke has to his estate at Holkham.\u2019 Even his\naffront to the daughter of that upstart philosopher _Prospero_, could\nnot be brought to bar his succession to the natural sovereignty of his\ndominions. His boast that \u2018he had peopled else this isle with\n_Calibans_,\u2019 is very proper and dignified in such a person; for it is\nevident that the right line would be supplanted in failure of his issue;\nand that the superior beauty and accomplishments of _Ferdinand_ and\n_Miranda_ could no more be opposed to the legitimate claims of this\ndeformed and loathsome monster, than the beauty and intellect of the\nBonaparte family can be opposed to the bloated and ricketty minds and\nbodies of the Bourbons, cast, as they are, in the true _Jus Divinum_\nmould! This is gross. Why does Mr. Coleridge provoke us to write as\ngreat nonsense as he talks? Why also does he not tell, in his general\n\u2018lunes and abstractions,\u2019 what to think of _Prospero\u2019s_ brother, the\nDuke, who usurped his crown, and drove him into banishment; or of those\nfinished Court-practitioners, _Sebastian_ and _Antonio_, who wanted to\nmurder the sleeping King? Were they Jacobins like _Caliban_, or\nlegitimate personages, like Mr. Coleridge? Did they belong to the new\nschool or the old? That is the question; but it is a question which our\nlay-preacher will take care not to answer. Shakespear, says Mr.\nColeridge, always spoke of mobs with contempt, but with kindness. Mr.\nColeridge does better: he speaks of mobs with contempt, and of Courts\nwith kindness. Again, says this critical discoverer of a meaning in a\nmillstone, _Caliban_ had that envy of superior genius and virtue, which\nwas a mark of the true Jacobins in the time of the French Revolution. We\nare sorry to hear, that on one occasion Mr. C. was interrupted in a\ntirade upon this favourite topic, on which he was led out of pure\ngenerosity, to enlighten the grown gentlemen who came to hear him, by a\nperson calling out in good broad Scotch, \u2018But you once praised that\nRevolution, Mr. Coleridge!\u2019 The worst is, that Mr. Coleridge praised\nthat Revolution when it was triumphant, going on \u2018conquering and to\nconquer,\u2019 as it was thought; and now that it is fallen, this man of\nmighty mind,\u2014of gigantic genius, and superiority to interested motives\nand mob-sycophancy, insults over it,\u2014tramples on the carcase,\u2014kicks it\nwith his asinine hoofs,\u2014and brays a long, loud, dreary, doleful bravura\nover it. Of what the Jacobins were in the year 1793, this person has a\nright to speak, both from experience and observation. The worst he can\nsay of them is, that he was once one of the set. He says that Jacobins\nare envious people,\u2014and that envious people, not being able to praise\nthemselves openly, take an indirect method of doing this, by\ndepreciating and secretly slandering others. Was it upon this principle\nthat the reformed Jacobin, Mr. Coleridge (what is bred in the bone will\nnever come out of the flesh) took such pains, two years ago, to praise\nhimself by depreciating and canting profound German mysticism against\nMr. Maturin\u2019s successful tragedy of _Bertram_, which he proved, being\nhimself in the secret, to be ultra-Jacobinism, and quite different in\nits philosophical and poetical tendency from his own sweet injured\n_Zapolya_,\u2014the harbinger of Legitimacy and the Bourbons, which was\noffered to Mr. Whitbread for his acceptance, as a piece of\nultra-Royalism, and accordingly rejected by that friend of\nconstitutional government and the people; but which any one may see\nrepresented to the life at the Royal Circus, accompanied with music, and\ncompressed into three acts, to make it \u2018tedious and brief.\u2019 Or was it\nfrom the remains of the Jacobin leaven in our philosophical poet, that\nin a public library at Bristol he endeavoured to advance his own\nreputation on the ruins of that of a friend, by that lofty panegyric\nwhich he pronounced on our laurel-honouring laureat:\u2014\u2018The man may indeed\nbe a reviewer, but God help him if he fancies himself a poet?\u2019 And is\nthis the man to talk about the envy of the people towards hereditary\nvirtue and wisdom, as the cause and root of Jacobinism? This\u2014\n\n \u2018Fie, Sir! O fie! \u2019tis fulsome,\n Sir, there\u2019s a soil for that rank weed flattery\n To trail its poisonous and obscene clusters:\n A poet\u2019s soul should bear a richer fruitage\u2014\n The aconite grew not in Eden. Thou,\n That thou, with lips tipt with the fire of Heaven,\n \u2019Th\u2019 excursive eye, that in its earth-wide range\n Drinks in the grandeur and the loveliness,\n That breathes along this high-wrought world of man,\n That hast within thee apprehensions strong\n Of all that\u2019s pure, and passionless, and heavenly\u2014\n That thou, a vapid and mawkish parasite,\n Should\u2019st pipe to that witch Fortune\u2019s favourites!\n \u2019Tis coarse\u2014\u2019tis sickly\u2014\u2019tis as though the eagle\n Should spread his sail-broad wings to flap a dunghill;\n As though a pale and withering pestilence\n Should ride the golden chariot of the sun;\n As one should use the language of the Gods\n To chatter loose and ribald brothelry.\u2019\u2014FAZIO.\n\nIt is well for the author of this tragedy that it has been praised in\nthe _Quarterly Review_,\u2014or we should not wonder to see Mr. Coleridge, as\nwell from these lines as from its being acted with universal applause at\nthe Theatre Royal Covent Garden, set about proving it to be a very\nultra-Jacobinical performance.\u2014But \u2018to leave this keen encounter of the\nwits, and fall to something of a slower method.\u2019 The reason\u2014(for Mr.\nColeridge knows, that if we have not \u2018reason as plenty as blackberries,\u2019\nyet what we have, we are ready \u2018to give to any man without\ncompulsion\u2019)\u2014the reason why Mr. Coleridge is not what he might be, is,\nthat he would be thought what he is not. His motto is, to be nothing or\nevery thing. His levity or his vanity is not satisfied with being\nadmired for what he is, but for all that he is capable of becoming, wise\nor foolish, knave or not. He is not contented to be \u2018the inconstant\nmoon,\u2019 unless he can be the halo round it. He would glitter in the\nsunshine of public favour, and yet he would cast no shadow. Please all\nand please none is his rule, he has succeeded. He thinks it a great\ndisparagement of his parts, a proof of a narrow and contracted mind, to\nbe thought to hold only the sentiments which he professes. His capacious\nmind has room for all opinions, both those which he believes and those\nwhich he does not. He thinks he shews the greatest magnanimity when he\nshews the greatest contempt for his own principles, past, present, and\nto come. He would be esteemed greatly superior, not only to the rest of\nthe world, but to himself. Would any one catch him in the trammels of a\nsect? Would any one make him swear to the dogmas of a party? Would any\none suppose that he has any prejudices in favour of his own notions?\nThat he is blindly wedded to one single view of a subject, as a man is\nwedded to one wife? He is shocked at any such imputation of intellectual\nuxoriousness. Would the Presbyterians try to hook him in?\u2014he knows\nbetter than Socinus or old John Knox. Would the Established Church\nreceive him at her wide portals?\u2014he carries too great a weight of the\nFathers and school divinity at his back. Would the Whigs patronise\nhim?\u2014he is too straitened in antiquated notions and traditional\nprejudices. Would the Tories take him in?\u2014he is too liberal,\nenlightened, and transcendental for them. Would principle bind him?\u2014he\nshuffles out of it, as a clog upon his freedom of thought, \u2018his large\ndiscourse of reason, looking before and after.\u2019 Would interest lay dirty\nhands upon him?\u2014he jockies her too by some fetch or conundrum, borrowed\nfrom the great clerks of the so-called Dark Ages. You can no more know\nwhere to have him than an otter. You might as well hedge the cuckoo. You\nsee him now squat like a toad at the ear of the _Courier_; and oh! that\nwe could rouse him up once more into an archangel\u2019s shape. But what is\nit to him what so poor a thing as he himself is, who is sublimely\nindifferent to all other things, and who may be looked upon as a\nterrible petrification of religion, genius, and the love of liberty. Yet\nit is too much to think that he who began his career with two Sonnets to\nLord Stanhope and Mary Wolstonecraft, in the _Morning Chronicle_, should\nend with slimy, drivelling abuse of Jacobinism and the French\nRevolution, in the _Courier_;\u2014that, like some devoted fanatic, he should\nseek the praise of martyrdom by mangling his own soul with a\nprostituted, unpaid-for pen, and let out his last breath as a pander to\nthat which would be a falsehood, but that it means nothing.\n\n\n\n\n CHILDE HAROLD\u2019S PILGRIMAGE (CANTO IV.)\n\n\n _The Yellow Dwarf._] [_May 2, 1818._\n\n \u2018I do perceive a fury in your words, but nothing wherefore.\u2019\n\nThe fourth and last canto of _Childe Harold_ has disappointed us. It is\na falling off from the three former ones. We have read it carefully\nthrough, but it has left only the same impression on our minds that a\ntroubled dream does,\u2014as disturbed, as confused, as disjointed, as\nharassing, and as unprofitable. It is an indigestion of the mind. It is\nthe lassitude or feverish tossing and tumbling of the imagination, after\nhaving taken a surfeit of pleasure, and fed upon the fumes of pride.\nChilde Harold is a spoiled child of the Muses\u2014and of Fortune. He looks\ndown upon human life, not more with the superiority of intellect than\nwith the arrogance of birth. The poet translates the lord into high\nsounding and supercilious verse. It is Agamemnon and Thersites in one\nperson. The common events and calamities of the world afford matter for\nthe effusions of his spleen, while they seem resented as affronts to his\npersonal dignity.\n\n \u2018And as the soldiers\u2019 bare dead bodies lay,\n He called them untaught knaves, unmannerly,\n To bring a slovenly, unhandsome corse\n Betwixt the wind and his nobility.\u2019\n\nSo when \u2018the very age and body of the time\u2019 comes between his Lordship\u2019s\nspeculative notions and hereditary prejudices, he stops the nose at it,\nand plays some very fantastic tricks before the public, who are\nlookers-on. In general, the idle wants, the naughty airs, the ill\nhumours and _ennui_, the contempt for others, and disgust at themselves,\ncommon to exalted birth and station, are suffered to corrupt and\nstagnate in the blood that inherits them;\u2014they are a disease in the\nflesh, an obstinate tumour in the mind, a cloud upon the brow, a venom\nthat vents itself in hateful looks and peevish words to those about\nthem; but in this poem and this author they have acquired \u2018an\nunderstanding and a tongue,\u2019\u2014are sublimed by imagination, systematised\nby sophistry\u2014mount the steps of the Capitol, fulmine over Greece, and\nare poured in torrents of abuse on the world. It is well if the world\nlike it\u2014we are tired of the monotony of his Lordship\u2019s griefs, of which\nwe can perceive neither beginning nor end. \u2018They are begot of nothing,\nborn of nothing.\u2019 He volunteers his own Pilgrimage,\u2014appoints his own\npenance,\u2014makes his own confession,\u2014and all\u2014for nothing. He is in\ndespair, because he has nothing to complain of\u2014miserable, because he is\nin want of nothing. \u2018He has tasted of all earth\u2019s bliss, both living and\nloving,\u2019 and therefore he describes himself as suffering the tortures of\nthe damned. He is in love with misery, because he has possessed every\nenjoyment; and because he has had his will in every thing, is\ninconsolable because he cannot have impossibilities. His Lordship, in\nfact, makes out his own hard case to be, that he has attained all those\nobjects that the rest of the world admire; that he has met with none of\nthose disasters which embitter their lives; and he calls upon us to\nsympathise with his griefs and his despair.\n\nThis will never do. It is more intolerable than even Mr. Wordsworth\u2019s\narbitrary egotism and pampered self-sufficiency. _He_ creates a\nfactitious interest out of nothing: Lord Byron would destroy our\ninterest in all that is. Mr. Wordsworth, to salve his own self-love,\nmakes the merest toy of his own mind,\u2014the most insignificant object he\ncan meet with,\u2014of as much importance as the universe: Lord Byron would\npersuade us that the universe itself is not worth his or our notice; and\nyet he would expect us to be occupied with him.\n\n \u2014\u2014\u2018The man whose eye\n Is ever on himself doth look on one,\n The least of Nature\u2019s works, one who might move\n The wise man to that scorn which wisdom holds\n Unlawful ever.\u2019\n\nThese lines, written by one of these two poets, might be addressed to\nboth of them with equal propriety.\n\nLord Byron, in this the fourth and last Canto of _Childe Harold\u2019s\nPilgrimage_, seems to have worn out the glowing fervour of his genius to\na _calx_, and to have exhausted the intense enthusiasm of his favourite\ntopics of invective. There is little about himself, historically\nspeaking\u2014there is no plot, no story, no interest excited, no\ncatastrophe. The general reflections are connected together merely by\nthe accidental occurrence of different objects\u2014the Venus of Medici, or\nthe statue of Pompey,\u2014the Capitol at Rome, or the Bridge of Sighs at\nVenice,\u2014Shakespear, and Mrs. Radcliffe,\u2014Bonaparte, and his Lordship in\nperson,\u2014are brought together as in a phantasmagoria, and with as little\nattention to keeping or perspective, as in Hogarth\u2019s famous print for\nreversing the laws of vision. The judgements pronounced are often more\ndogmatical than profound, and with all their extravagance of expression,\ncommon-place. His Lordship does not understand the Apollo Belvidere or\nthe Venus de Medicis, any more than Bonaparte. He cants about the one\nand against the other, and in doing the last, cuts his own throat. We\nare not without hopes that his friend Mr. Hobhouse will set this matter\nright in his \u2018Historical Illustrations\u2019; and shew that, however it may\nsuit his Noble Friend\u2019s poetical cross-purposes, politically and\npractically speaking, a house divided against itself cannot stand. He\nfirst, in his disdain of modern times, finds nothing to compare with the\ngrandeur of antiquity but Bonaparte; and then \u2018as \u2019twere in spite of\nscorn,\u2019 goes on to disdain this idol, which he had himself gratuitously\nset up, in a strain of effeminate and rancorous abuse worthy of Mr.\nWordsworth\u2019s pastoral, place-hunting Muse. Suppose what is here said of\n\u2018the child and champion of Jacobinism\u2019 to be true, are there not venal\ntongues and venal pens enough to echo it, without his Lordship\u2019s joining\nin the cry? Will \u2018the High Legitimates, the Holy Band\u2019 be displeased\nwith these captious efforts to level the object of their hate to the\ngroveling standard of royalty? Is there not a division of labour even on\nMount Parnassus? The other writers of prose and verse, who enter the\nTemple of Fame by Mr. Murray\u2019s door in Albemarle-street, have their\ncues. Mr. Southey, for instance, never sings or says, or dreams of\nsinging or saying, that the Prince Regent is not so great a man as\nJulius C\u00e6sar. Why then should Lord Byron force the comparison between\nthe modern and the ancient hero? It is because the slaves of power mind\nthe cause they have to serve, because their own interest is concerned;\nbut the friends of liberty always sacrifice their cause, which is _only_\nthe cause of humanity, to their own spleen, vanity, and self-opinion.\nThe league between tyrants and slaves is a chain of adamant; the bond\nbetween poets and the people is a rope of sand. Is this a truth, or is\nit not? If it is not, let Lord Byron write no more on this subject,\nwhich is beyond his height and his depth. Let him not trample on the\nmighty or the fallen! Bonaparte is not Beppo.\n\nThe versification and style of this poem are as perverse and capricious\nas the method or the sentiments. One stanza perpetually runs on into the\nnext, making the exception the rule, merely because it properly ends in\nitself; and there is a strange mixture of stately phraseology and\nfar-fetched metaphor, with the most affected and bald simplicity of\nexpression and uncouthness in the rhymes. It is well his Lordship is\nborn so high, or all Grub street would set him down as a plebeian for\nsuch lines as the following:\u2014\n\n [\u2018I lov\u2019d her[46] from my boyhood,\u2019 &c. (stanza 18 and part of 19)].\n\nWhat will the Critics of the Cockney School of Poetry say to this?\u2014Lie\non, and swear that it is high patrician poetry, and of very noble birth.\n\nThe introductory stanzas are on the same subject, Venice; and are\nbetter.\n\n [\u2018I stood in Venice, on the bridge of sighs,\u2019 &c. (stanzas 1, 2, and\n 3)].\n\nThe thought expressed in the last stanza, \u2018but nature doth not die,\u2019 is\nparticularly fine, and consolatory to the mind. We prefer the stanza\nrelating to the tomb of Petrarch, to any others in the poem:\u2014\n\n [\u2018There is a tomb in Arqua;\u2014rear\u2019d in air,\u2019 &c. (stanzas 30\u201333)].\n\nThe apostrophe to Tasso and to his patron is written with great force,\nbut in a different spirit:\u2014\n\n [\u2018Ferrara! in thy wide and grass-grown streets,\u2019 &c. (stanzas 35\u201338)].\n\nIn the same strain, and with an alternate mixture of enthusiasm and\nspleen, the author pays the tribute of acknowledgement to the artist of\n\u2018the statue that enchants the world,\u2019 to the shades of Michael Angelo,\nAlfieri, \u2018the starry Galileo,\u2019 Machiavel, and to the Bard of Prose, \u2018him\nof the Hundred Tales of Love\u2019\u2014Boccacio.\n\nFrom these recollections the poet proceeds to describe the fall of the\nVelino, \u2018a hell of waters.\u2019 We cannot say but that we think his powers\nbetter suited to express the human passions than to reflect the forms of\nnature. In the present instance, however, the poet has not invoked the\ngenius of the place in vain: it represents, in some measure, the\nworkings of his own spirit,\u2014disturbed, restless, labouring, foaming,\nsparkling, and now hid in labyrinths and plunging into the gloom of\nnight. The following description is obscure, tortuous, perplexed, and\nabortive; yet who can say that it is not beautiful, striking, and\nimpassioned?\u2014\n\n [\u2018How profound\n The gulf! and how the giant element,\u2019 &c. (stanzas 70\u201372)].\n\nWe\u2019ll look no more: such kind of writing is enough to turn the brain of\nthe reader or the author. The repetitions in the last stanza are like\ninterlineations in an imperfect manuscript, left for afterselection;\nsuch as, \u2018Hope upon a death-bed\u2019\u2014\u2018Love watching madness,\u2019\u2014\u2018Unworn its\nsteady dies\u2019\u2014\u2018Serene its brilliant hues,\u2019\u2014\u2018the distracted waters\u2019\u2014\u2018the\ntorture of the scene,\u2019 &c. There is here in every line an effort at\nbrilliancy, and a successful effort; and yet, in the next, as if nothing\nhad been done, the same thing is attempted to be expressed again with\nthe same labour as before, the same success, and with as little\nappearance of repose or satisfaction of mind.\n\nIt is in vain to attempt a regular account of the remainder of this\npoem, which is a mass of discordant things, incoherent, not gross, seen\n\u2018now in glimmer and now in gloom,\u2019 and \u2018moving wild laughter in the\nthroat of death.\u2019 The poem is like the place it describes:\u2014\n\n \u2018The double night of ages, and of her,\n Night\u2019s daughter, Ignorance, hath wrapt and wrap[47]\n All round us: we but feel our way to err:\n The ocean hath his chart, the stars their map,\n And Knowledge spreads them on her ample lap;\n But Rome is as the desart, where we steer\n Stumbling on recollections; now we clap\n Our hands, and cry \u201cEureka!\u201d it is clear\u2014\n When but some false mirage[48] of ruin rises near.\u2019\n\nThis is undoubtedly fine: but Rome was glorious, before she became a\nruin; stately, before she was laid low; was \u2018seen of all eyes,\u2019 before\nshe was confounded in oblivion. Lord Byron\u2019s poetry, in its irregular\nand gloomy magnificence, we fear, antedates its own doom; and is buried\nin a desolation of his own creating, where the mists of fancy cloud,\ninstead of lighting up the face of nature; and the fierceness of the\npassions, like the Sirocco of the Desart, withers and consumes the\nheart. We give this judgment against our wills; and shall be happy,\nshould we live to see it reversed by another generation. All our\nprejudices are in favour of the Noble Poet, and against his maligners.\n_Childe Harold\u2019s Pilgrimage_ is dedicated to Mr. Hobhouse, and there are\npassages both in the dedication and the poem which would bribe our\nopinions, were they to be bribed either by our admiration of genius or\nour love of liberty. Such are the following passages:\u2014\n\n [\u2018What from this barren being do we reap,\u2019 &c. (stanzas 93\u201395)].\n\nBut we must conclude; not, however, till we have made two extracts more.\nWe shall not give the passages relating to his separation from his wife,\nor the death of the Princess Charlotte: we see nothing remarkable in the\nevents, or in his Lordship\u2019s reflections on them. As to his vow of\nrevenge, which is to end in forgiveness, it is unconscious,\nconstitutional caprice and contradiction: it is self-will exerting\nitself in straining at a violent conclusion; and then, by another\nexertion, defeating itself by doing nothing. So also he expatiates on\nthe boundless anticipated glories of a female reign, which were never\nlikely, and are now impossible, only that he may rail at lady Fortune in\ngood set terms, and indulge a deeper disgust at all that is real or\npossible. We will give what is better than such cant,\u2014the description of\nthe dying Gladiator, and the conclusion of the poem:\u2014\n\n [\u2018I see before me the Gladiator lie,\u2019 &c. (stanzas 140 and 141)].\n\n_O si sic Omnia!_ All, however, is not so. The stanzas immediately\nfollowing, on the story of the Grecian Daughter and the Apollo\nBelvidere, are in as false and sophisticated a taste, as these are pure\nand sublime. But, at the close of the poem, in addressing the pathless\nocean,\u2014the self-willed, untamed mighty world of waters,\u2014his genius\nresumes its beauty and its power, and the Pilgrim sinks to rest in\nstrains as mild and placid as the breath of childhood, that frets itself\nasleep.\n\n [\u2018My task is done\u2014my song hath ceased\u2014my theme,\u2019 &c. (stanzas 185 and\n 186)].\n\n\n\n\n THE OPERA\n\n\n _The Yellow Dwarf._] [_May 23, 1818._\n\nThe Opera is a fine thing: the only question is, whether it is not too\nfine. It is the most fascinating, and at the same time the most\ntantalising of all places. It is not the _too little_, but the _too\nmuch_, that offends us. Every object is there collected, and displayed\nin ostentatious profusion, that can strike the senses or dazzle the\nimagination; music, dancing, painting, poetry, architecture, the blaze\nof beauty, \u2018the glass of fashion, and the mould of form;\u2019 and yet we are\nnot satisfied\u2014because the multitude and variety of objects distracts the\nattention, and by flattering us with a vain shew of the highest\ngratification of every faculty and wish, leaves us at last in a state of\nlistlessness, disappointment, and _ennui_. The powers of the mind are\nexhausted, without being invigorated; our expectations are excited, not\nsatisfied; and we are at some loss to distinguish an excess of\nirritation from the height of enjoyment. To sit at the Opera for a whole\nevening, is like undergoing the process of animal magnetism for the same\nlength of time. It is an illusion and a mockery, where the mind is made\n\u2018the fool of the senses,\u2019 and cheated of itself; where pleasure after\npleasure courts us, as in a fairy palace; where the Graces and the\nMuses, waving in a gay, fantastic round with one another, still turn\nfrom our pursuit; where art, like an enchantress with a thousand faces,\nstill allures our giddy admiration, shifts her mask, and again\ndisappoints us. The Opera, in short, proceeds upon a false estimate of\ntaste and morals; it supposes that the capacity for enjoyment may be\nmultiplied with the objects calculated to afford it. It is a species of\nintellectual prostitution; for we can no more receive pleasure from all\nour faculties at once than we can be in love with a number of mistresses\nat the same time. Though we have different senses, we have but one\nheart; and if we attempt to force it into the service of them all at\nonce, it must grow restive or torpid, hardened or enervated. The\nspectator may say to the sister-arts of Painting, Poetry, and Music, as\nthey advance to him in a _Pas de Trois_ at the Opera, \u2018How happy could I\nbe with either, were t\u2019other dear charmer away;\u2019 but while \u2018they all\ntease him together,\u2019 the heart gives a satisfactory answer to none of\nthem;\u2014is ashamed of its want of resources to supply the repeated calls\nupon its sensibility, seeks relief from the importunity of endless\nexcitement in fastidious apathy or affected levity; and in the midst of\nluxury, pomp, vanity, indolence, and dissipation, feels only the hollow,\naching void within, the irksome craving of unsatisfied desire, because\nmore pleasures are placed within its reach than it is capable of\nenjoying, and the interference of one object with another ends in a\ndouble disappointment. Such is the best account we can give of the\nnature of the Opera,\u2014of the contradiction between our expectations of\npleasure and our uneasiness there,\u2014of our very jealousy of the\nflattering appeals which are made to our senses, our passions, and our\nvanity, on all sides,\u2014of the little relish we acquire for it, and the\ndistaste it gives us for other things. Any one of the sources of\namusement to be found there would be enough to occupy and keep the\nattention alive; the _tout ensemble_ fatigues and oppresses it. One may\nbe stifled to death with roses. A head-ache may be produced by a\nprofusion of sweet smells or of sweet sounds: but we do not like the\nhead-ache the more on that account. Nor are we reconciled to it, even at\nthe Opera.\n\nWhat makes the difference between an opera of Mozart\u2019s, and the singing\nof a thrush confined in a wooden cage at the corner of the street? The\none is nature, and the other is art: the one is paid for, and the other\nis not. Madame Fodor sings the air of _Vedrai Carino_ in _Don Giovanni_\nso divinely, because she was hired to sing it; she sings it to please\nthe audience, not herself, and does not always like to be _encored_ in\nit; but the thrush that awakes at daybreak with its song, does not sing\nbecause it is paid to sing, or to please others, or to be admired or\ncriticised. It sings because it is happy: it pours the thrilling sounds\nfrom its throat, to relieve the overflowings of its own heart\u2014the liquid\nnotes come from, and go to the heart, dropping balm into it, as the\ngushing spring revives the traveller\u2019s parched and fainting lips. That\nstream of joy comes pure and fresh to the longing sense, free from art\nand affectation; the same that rises over vernal groves, mingled with\nthe breath of morning, and the perfumes of the wild hyacinth, that waits\nfor no audience, that wants no rehearsing, and still\u2014\n\n \u2018Hymns its good God, and carols sweet of love.\u2019\n\nThis is the great difference between nature and art, that the one _is_\nwhat the other _seems_, and gives all the pleasure it expresses, because\nit feels it itself. Madame Fodor sings, as a musical instrument may be\nmade to play a tune, and perhaps with no more real delight: but it is\nnot so with the linnet or the thrush, that sings because God pleases,\nand pours out its little soul in pleasure. This is the reason why its\nsinging is (so far) so much better than melody or harmony, than bass or\ntreble, than the Italian or the German school, than quavers or\ncrotchets, or half-notes, or canzonets, or quartetts, or any thing in\nthe world but truth and nature!\n\nThe Opera is the most artificial of all things. It is not only art, but\nostentatious, unambiguous, exclusive art. It does not subsist as an\nimitation of nature, but in contempt of it; and instead of seconding,\nits object is to pervert and sophisticate all our natural impressions of\nthings. When the Opera first made its appearance in this country, there\nwere strong prejudices entertained against it, and it was ridiculed as a\nspecies of the _mock-heroic_. The prejudices have worn out with time,\nand the ridicule has ceased; but the grounds for both remain the same in\nthe nature of the thing itself. At the theatre, we see and hear what has\nbeen said, thought, and done by various people elsewhere; at the Opera,\nwe see and hear what was never said, thought, or done any where but at\nthe Opera. Not only is all communication with nature cut off, but every\nappeal to the imagination is sheathed and softened in the melting medium\nof Siren sounds. The ear is cloyed and glutted with warbled ecstacies or\nagonies; while every avenue to terror or pity is carefully stopped up\nand guarded by song and recitative. Music is not made the vehicle of\npoetry, but poetry of music: the very meaning of the words is lost or\nrefined away in the effeminacy of a foreign language. A grand serious\nOpera is a tragedy wrapped up in soothing airs, to suit the tender\nfeelings of the nurselings of fortune\u2014where tortured victims swoon on\nbeds of roses, and the pangs of despair sink in tremulous accents into\ndowny repose. Just so much of human misery is given as to lull those who\nare exempted from it into a deeper sense of their own security: just\nenough of the picture of human life is shewn to relieve their languor,\nwithout disturbing their indifference;\u2014not to excite their sympathy, but\n\u2018with some sweet, oblivious antidote,\u2019 to pamper their sleek and sordid\napathy. In a word, the whole business of the Opera is to stifle emotion\nin its birth, and to intercept every feeling in its progress to the\nheart. Every impression that, left to itself, might sink deep into the\nmind, and wake it to real sympathy, is overtaken and baffled by means of\nsome other impression, plays round the surface of the imagination,\ntrembles into airy sound, or expires in an empty pageant. In the grand\ncarnival of the senses,\n\n \u2018The cloister\u2019d heart\n Sits squat at home, like Pagod in a niche\n Obscure\u2019;\u2014\n\nthe pulse of life is suspended, the link which binds us to humanity is\nbroken; the soul is fretted by the sense of excessive softness into a\nfeverish hectic dream; truth becomes a fable, good and evil matters of\nperfect indifference, except as they can be made subservient to our\nselfish gratification; and there is hardly a vice for which the mind on\ncoming out of the Opera is not prepared, no virtue of which it is\ncapable!\n\nBut what shall we say of the company at the Opera? Is it not grand,\nselect, splendid, and imposing? Do we not see there \u2018the flower of\nBritain\u2019s warriors, her statesmen, and her fair,\u2019 her nobles and her\ndiplomatic characters? First, we only know the diplomatic characters by\ntheir taking prodigious quantities of snuff. As to great warriors, some\nthat we know had better not shew their faces\u2014if there is any truth in\nphysiognomy; and as to great men, we know of but one in modern times,\nand neither Europe nor the Opera-house was big enough to hold him. With\nrespect to Lords and Ladies, we see them as we do gilded butterflies in\nglass cases. We soon get tired of them, for they seem tired of\nthemselves, and one another. They gape, stare, affect to whisper, laugh,\nor talk loud, to fill up the vacuities of thought and expression. They\ndo not gratify our predilection for happy faces! But do we not feel the\nthrob of pleasure from the blaze of beauty in the side-boxes? That blaze\nwould be brighter, were it not quenched in the sparkling of diamonds. As\nfor the rest, _the grapes are sour_. Beauty is a thing that is not made\nonly to be seen. Who can behold it without a transient wish to be near\nit, to adore, to possess it? He must be a fool or a coxcomb, whom the\nsight of a beauty dazzles, but does not warm; whom a thousand glances\nshot from a thousand heavenly faces pierce without wounding; who can\nbehold without a pang the bowers of Paradise opening to him by a\nthousand doors, and barred against him by magic spells!\u2014Bright\ncreatures, fairest of the fair, ye shine above our heads, bright as\nAriadne\u2019s crown, fair as the dewy star of evening: but ye are no more to\nus! There is no golden chain let down to us from you: we have sometimes\nseen you at a play, or caught a glimpse of your faces passing in a\ncoronet-coach; but\u2014\u2014As we are growing romantic, we shall take a turn\ninto the _crush-room_, where, following the train of the great\nstatesmen, the warriors, and the diplomatic characters, we shall meet\nwith a nearly equal display of external elegance and accomplishment,\nwithout the pride of sex, rank, or virtue! If the women were all Junos\nbefore, here they are all Venuses, and no less Goddesses! Those who\ncomplained of inaccessible beauty before, may here find beauty more\naccessible, and take their revenge on the boxes in the lobbies!\n\n * * * * *\n\nIn fine, though we do not agree with a contemporary critic, that the\nOpera is an entertainment that ought to be held in general estimation,\nyet we think the present a very proper time for its encouragement. It\nmay serve to assist the _euthanasia_ of the British character, of\nBritish liberty, and British morals,\u2014by hardening the heart, while it\nsoftens the senses, and dissolving every manly and generous feeling in\nan atmosphere of voluptuous effeminacy.\n\n\n\n\n ON THE QUESTION WHETHER POPE WAS A POET\n\n\n _The Edinburgh Magazine._] [_February, 1818._\n\nThe question whether Pope was a poet, has hardly yet been settled, and\nis hardly worth settling; for if he was not a great poet, he must have\nbeen a great prose writer, that is, he was a great writer of some sort.\nHe was a man of exquisite faculties, and of the most refined taste; and\nas he chose verse (the most obvious distinction of poetry) as the\nvehicle to express his ideas, he has generally passed for a poet, and a\ngood one. If, indeed, by a great poet we mean one who gives the utmost\ngrandeur to our conceptions of nature, or the utmost force to the\npassions of the heart, Pope was not in this sense a great poet; for the\nbent, the characteristic power of his mind, lay the contrary way;\nnamely, in representing things as they appear to the indifferent\nobserver, stripped of prejudice and passion, as in his critical essays;\nor in representing them in the most contemptible and insignificant point\nof view, as in his satires; or in clothing the little with mock-dignity,\nas in his poems of fancy; or in adorning the trivial incidents and\nfamiliar relations of life with the utmost elegance of expression, and\nall the flattering illusions of friendship or self-love, as in his\nepistles. He was not then distinguished as a poet of lofty enthusiasm,\nof strong imagination, with a passionate sense of the beauties of\nnature, or a deep insight into the workings of the heart; but he was a\nwit, and a critic, a man of sense, of observation, and the world; with a\nkeen relish for the elegancies of art, or of nature when embellished by\nart, a quick _tact_ for propriety of thought and manners, as established\nby the forms and customs of society, a refined sympathy with the\nsentiments and habitudes of human life, as he felt them, within the\nlittle circle of his family and friends. He was, in a word, the poet not\nof nature but of art: and the distinction between the two is this. The\npoet of nature is one who, from the elements of beauty, of power, and of\npassion in his own breast, sympathises with whatever is beautiful, and\ngrand, and impassioned in nature, in its simple majesty, in its\nimmediate appeal to the senses, to the thoughts and hearts of all men;\nso that the poet of nature, by the truth, and depth, and harmony of his\nmind, may be said to hold communion with the very soul of nature; to be\nidentified with, and to foreknow, and to record the feelings of all men,\nat all times and places, as they are liable to the same impressions; and\nto exert the same power over the minds of his readers, that nature does.\nHe sees things in their eternal beauty, for he sees them as they are; he\nfeels them in their universal interest; for he feels them as they affect\nthe first principles of his and our common nature. Pope was not\nassuredly a poet of this class, or in the first rank of it. He saw\nnature only dressed by art; he judged of beauty by fashion; he sought\nfor truth in the opinions of the world; he judged of the feelings of\nothers by his own. The capacious soul of Shakespeare had an intuitive\nand mighty sympathy with whatever could enter into the heart of man in\nall possible circumstances; Pope had an exact knowledge of all that he\nhimself loved or hated, wished or wanted. Milton has winged his daring\nflight from heaven to earth through chaos and old night. Pope\u2019s muse\nnever wandered with safety but from his library to his grotto, or from\nhis grotto into his library again. His mind dwelt with greater pleasure\non his own garden, than on the garden of Eden; he could describe the\nfaultless whole-length mirror that reflected his own person better than\nthe smooth surface of the lake that reflects the face of heaven; a piece\nof cut glass, or a pair of paste buckles with more brilliance and effect\nthan a thousand dew-drops glittering in the sun. He would be more\ndelighted with a patent lamp than with \u2018the pale reflex of Cynthia\u2019s\nbrow,\u2019 that fills the skies with its soft silent lustre, trembles\nthrough the cottage casement, and cheers the watchful mariner on the\nlonely wave. In short, he was the poet of personality and of polished\nlife. That which was nearest to him was the greatest: the fashion of the\nday bore sway in his mind over the immutable laws of nature. He\npreferred the artificial to the natural in external objects, because he\nhad a stronger fellow-feeling with the self-love of the maker or\nproprietor of a gewgaw than admiration of that which was interesting to\nall mankind alike. He preferred the artificial to the natural in\npassion, because the involuntary and uncalculating impulses of the one\nhurried him away with a force and vehemence with which he could not\ngrapple, while he could trifle with the conventional and superficial\nmodifications of mere sentiment at will, laugh at or admire, put them on\nor off like a masquerade dress, make much or little of them, indulge\nthem for a longer or a shorter time as he pleased, and because, while\nthey amused his fancy and exercised his ingenuity, they never once\ndisturbed his vanity, his levity, or indifference. His mind was the\nantithesis of strength and grandeur: its power was the power of\nindifference. He had none of the inspired raptures of poetry: he was in\npoetry what the sceptic is in religion. It cannot be denied that his\nchief excellence lay more in diminishing than \u2018in aggrandizing\nobjects,\u2014in checking than in encouraging our enthusiasm,\u2014in sneering at\nthe extravagancies of fancy or passion, instead of giving a loose to\nthem,\u2014in describing a row of pins and needles rather than the embattled\nspears of Greeks and Trojans,\u2014in penning a lampoon or a compliment,\u2014and\nin praising Martha Blount!\n\nShakespeare says,\u2014\n\n \u2018In fortune\u2019s ray and brightness\n The herd hath more annoyance by the brize\n Than by the tyger: But when the splitting wind\n Makes flexible the knees of knotted oaks,\n And flies fled under shade, why then\n The thing of courage,\n As roused with rage, with rage doth sympathize,\n And with an accent tuned i\u2019 th\u2019 self-same key,\n Replies to chiding fortune.\u2019\n\nThere is hardly any of this rough work in Pope. His muse was on a peace\nestablishment, and grew somewhat effeminate by long ease and indulgence.\nHe lived in the smiles of fortune, and basked in the favour of the\ngreat. In his smooth and polished verse we meet with no prodigies of\nnature, but with miracles of wit; the thunders of his pen are whispered\nflatteries; his forked lightnings playful sarcasms; for the \u2018gnarled\noak\u2019 he gives us \u2018the soft myrtle\u2019; for rocks, and seas, and mountains,\nartificial grass-plats, gravel-walks, and tinkling rills; for\nearthquakes and tempests, the breaking of a flower-pot, or the fall of a\nchina-jar; for the tug and war of the elements, or the deadly strife of\nthe passions, we have\n\n \u2018Calm contemplation and poetic ease.\u2019\n\nYet within this retired and narrow circle, how much, and that how\nexquisite, was contained! What discrimination, what wit, what delicacy,\nwhat fancy, what lurking spleen, what elegance of thought, what\nrefinement of sentiment! It is like looking at the world through a\nmicroscope, where every thing assumes a new character and a new\nconsequence,\u2014where things are seen in their minutest circumstances and\nslightest shades of difference,\u2014when the little becomes gigantic, the\ndeformed beautiful, and the beautiful deformed. The wrong end of the\nmagnifier is, to be sure, held to every thing; but still the exhibition\nis highly curious, and we know not whether to be most pleased or\nsurprised.\n\n\n\n\n ON RESPECTABLE PEOPLE.\n\n\n _The Edinburgh Magazine._] [_August 1818._\n\nThere is not any term that is oftener misapplied, or that is a stronger\ninstance of the abuse of language, than this same word, _respectable_.\nBy a _respectable man_ is generally meant a person whom there is no\nreason for respecting, or none that we choose to name: for if there is\nany good reason for the opinion we wish to express, we naturally assign\nit as the ground of his respectability. If the person whom you are\ndesirous to characterize favourably, is distinguished for his\ngood-nature, you say that he is a good-natured man; if by his zeal to\nserve his friends, you call him a friendly man; if by his wit or sense,\nyou say that he is witty or sensible; if by his honesty or learning, you\nsay so at once; but if he is none of these, and there is no one quality\nwhich you can bring forward to justify the high opinion you would be\nthought to entertain of him, you then take the question for granted, and\njump at a conclusion, by observing gravely, that \u2018he is a very\nrespectable man.\u2019 It is clear, indeed, that where we have any striking\nand generally admitted reasons for respecting a man, the most obvious\nway to ensure the respect of others, will be to mention his estimable\nqualities; where these are wanting, the wisest course must be to say\nnothing about them, but to insist on the general inference which we have\nour particular reasons for drawing, only vouching for its authenticity.\nIf, for instance, the only motive we have for thinking or speaking well\nof another is, that he gives us good dinners, as this is not a valid\nreason to those who do not, like us, partake of his hospitality, we may\n(without going into particulars) content ourselves with assuring them,\nthat he is a most respectable man: if he is a slave to those above him,\nand an oppressor of those below him, but sometimes makes us the channels\nof his bounty or the tools of his caprice, it may be as well to say\nnothing of the matter, but to confine ourselves to the safer generality,\nthat he is a person of the highest respectability: if he is a low dirty\nfellow, who has amassed an immense fortune, which he does not know what\nto do with, the possession of it alone will guarantee his\nrespectability, if we say nothing of the manner in which he has come by\nit, or in which he spends it. A man may be a knave or a fool, or both\n(as it may happen), and yet be a most respectable man, in the common and\nauthorized sense of the term, provided he keeps up appearances, and does\nnot give common fame a handle for no longer keeping up the imposture.\nThe best title to the character of respectability lies in the\nconvenience of those who echo the cheat, and in the conventional\nhypocrisy of the world. Any one may lay claim to it who is willing to\ngive himself airs of importance, and can find means to divert others\nfrom inquiring too strictly into his pretensions. It is a disposable\ncommodity,\u2014not a part of the man, that sticks to him like his skin, but\nan appurtenance, like his goods and chattels. It is meat, drink, and\nclothing to those who take the benefit of it by allowing others the\ncredit. It is the current coin, the circulating medium, in which the\nfictitious intercourse of the world is carried on, the bribe which\ninterest pays to vanity. Respectability includes all that vague and\nindefinable mass of respect floating in the world, which arises from\nsinister motives in the person who pays it, and is offered to\nadventitious and doubtful qualities in the person who receives it. It is\nspurious and nominal; hollow and venal. To suppose that it is to be\ntaken literally or applied to sterling merit, would betray the greatest\nignorance of the customary use of speech. When we hear the word coupled\nwith the name of any individual, it would argue a degree of romantic\nsimplicity to imagine that it implies any one quality of head or heart,\nany one excellence of body or mind, any one good action or praiseworthy\nsentiment; but as soon as it is mentioned, it conjures up the ideas of a\nhandsome house with large acres round it, a sumptuous table, a cellar\nwell stocked with excellent wines, splendid furniture, a fashionable\nequipage, with a long list of elegant contingencies. It is not what a\nman _is_, but what he _has_, that we speak of in the significant use of\nthis term. He may be the poorest creature in the world in himself, but\nif he is well to do, and can spare some of his superfluities, if he can\nlend us his purse or his countenance upon occasion, he then \u2018buys golden\nopinions\u2019 of us;\u2014it is but fit that we should speak well of the bridge\nthat carries us over, and in return for what we can get from him, we\nembody our servile gratitude, hopes, and fears, in this word\nrespectability. By it we pamper his pride, and feed our own necessities.\nIt must needs be a very honest uncorrupted word that is the go-between\nin this disinterested kind of traffic. We do not think of applying this\nword to a great poet or a great painter, to the man of genius or the man\nof virtue, for it is seldom we can _spunge_ upon them. It would be a\nsolecism for any one to pretend to the character who has a shabby coat\nto his back, who goes without a dinner, or has not a good house over his\nhead. He who has reduced himself in the world by devoting himself to a\nparticular study, or adhering to a particular cause, excites only a\nsmile of pity, or a shrug of the shoulders at the mention of his name;\nwhile he who has raised himself in it by a different course, who has\nbecome rich for want of ideas, and powerful from want of principle, is\nlooked up to with silent homage, and passes for a respectable man. \u2018The\nlearned pate ducks to the golden fool.\u2019 We spurn at virtue and genius in\nrags; and lick the dust in the presence of vice and folly in purple.\nWhen Otway was left to starve after having produced _Venice Preserv\u2019d_,\nthere was nothing in the phrenzied action with which he devoured the\nfood that choked him, to provoke the respect of the mob, who would have\nhooted at him the more for knowing that he was a poet. Spenser, kept\nwaiting for the hundred pounds which Burleigh grudged him \u2018for a song,\u2019\nmight feel the mortification of his situation; but the statesman never\nfelt any diminution of his sovereign\u2019s favour in consequence of it.\nCharles II.\u2019s neglect of his favourite poet Butler did not make him look\nless gracious in the eyes of his courtiers, or of the wits and critics\nof the time. Burns\u2019s embarrassments, and the temptations to which he was\nexposed by his situation, degraded him, but left no stigma on his\npatrons, who still meet to celebrate his memory, and consult about his\nmonument, in the face of day. To enrich the mind of a country by works\nof art or science, and leave yourself poor, is not the way for any one\nto rank as respectable, at least in his lifetime:\u2014to oppress, to\nenslave, to cheat, and plunder it, is a much better way. \u2018The time gives\nevidence of it.\u2019 But the instances are common.\n\nRespectability means a man\u2019s situation and success in life, not his\ncharacter or conduct. The city merchant never loses his respectability\ntill he becomes bankrupt. After that, we hear no more of it or him. The\njustice of the peace, and the parson of the parish, the lord and the\nsquire, are allowed, by immemorial usage, to be very respectable people,\nthough no one ever thinks of asking why. They are a sort of fixtures in\nthis way. To take an example from one of them. The country parson may\npass his whole time, when he is not employed in the cure of souls, in\nflattering his rich neighbours, and leaguing with them to _snub_ his\npoor ones, in seizing poachers, and encouraging informers; he may be\nexorbitant in exacting his tithes, harsh to his servants, the dread and\nbye-word of the village where he resides, and yet all this, though it\nmay be notorious, shall abate nothing of his respectability. It will not\nhinder his patron from giving him another living to play the petty\ntyrant in, or prevent him from riding over to the squire\u2019s in his\ncarriage and being well received, or from sitting on the bench of\njustices with due decorum and with clerical dignity. The poor curate, in\nthe mean time, who may be a real comfort to the bodies and minds of his\nparishioners, will be passed by without notice. Parson Adams, drinking\nhis ale in Sir Thomas Booby\u2019s kitchen, makes no very respectable figure;\nbut Sir Thomas himself was right worshipful, and his widow a person of\nhonour! A few such historiographers as Fielding would put an end to the\nfarce of respectability, with others like it. Peter Pounce, in the same\nauthor, was a consummation of this character, translated into the most\nvulgar English. The character of Captain Blifil, his epitaph, and\nfuneral sermon, are worth tomes of casuistry, and patched up theories of\nmoral sentiments. Pope somewhere exclaims, in his fine indignant way,\n\n \u2018What can ennoble sots, or knaves, or cowards?\n Alas! not all the blood of all the Howards.\u2019\n\nBut this is the heraldry of poets, not of the world. In fact, the only\nway for a poet now-a-days to emerge from the obscurity of poverty and\ngenius, is to prostitute his pen, turn literary pimp to some\nborough-mongering lord, canvass for him at elections, and by this means\naspire to the same importance, and be admitted on the same respectable\nfooting with him as his valet, his steward, or his practising attorney.\nA Jew, a stock-jobber, a war contractor, a successful monopolist, a\nnabob, an Indian director, or an African slave-dealer, are all very\nrespectable people in their turn. A member of parliament is not only\nrespectable, but _honourable_;\u2014\u2018all honourable men!\u2019 Yet this\ncircumstance, which implies such a world of respect, really means\nnothing. To say of any one that he is a member of parliament, is to say,\nat the same time, that he is not at all distinguished as such. No body\never thought of telling you, that Mr. Fox or Mr. Pitt were members of\nparliament. Such is the constant difference between names and things!\n\nThe most mischievous and offensive use of this word has been in\npolitics. By respectable people (in the fashionable cant of the day) are\nmeant those who have not a particle of regard for any one but\nthemselves, who have feathered their own nests, and only want to lie\nsnug and warm in them. They have been set up and appealed to as the only\nfriends of their country and the constitution, while in truth they were\nfriends to nothing but their own interest. With them all is well, if\nthey are well off. They are raised by their lucky stars above the reach\nof the distresses of the community, and are cut off by their situation\nand sentiments, from any sympathy with their kind. They would see their\ncountry ruined before they would part with the least of their\nsuperfluities. Pampered in luxury and their own selfish comforts, they\nare proof against the calls of patriotism, and the cries of humanity.\nThey would not get a scratch with a pin to save the universe. They are\nmore affected by the overturning of a plate of turtle soup than by the\nstarving of a whole county. The most desperate characters, picked up\nfrom the most necessitous and depraved classes, are not worse judges of\npolitics than your true, staunch, thorough-paced \u2018lives and fortunes\nmen,\u2019 who have what is called a stake in the country, and see every\nthing through the medium of their cowardly and unprincipled hopes and\nfears. London is, perhaps, the only place in which the standard of\nrespectability at all varies from the standard of money. There things go\nas much by appearance as by weight; and he may be said to be a\nrespectable man who cuts a certain figure in company by being dressed in\nthe fashion, and venting a number of common-place things with tolerable\ngrace and fluency. If a person there brings a certain share of\ninformation and good manners into mixed society, it is not asked, when\nhe leaves it, whether he is rich or not. Lords and fiddlers, authors and\ncommon council men, editors of newspapers and parliamentary speakers,\nmeet together, and the difference is not so much marked as one would\nsuppose. To be an Edinburgh Reviewer is, I suspect, the highest rank in\nmodern literary society.\n\n\n\n\n ON FASHION\n\n\n _The Edinburgh Magazine._] [_September 1818._\n\n \u2018Born of nothing, begot of nothing.\u2019\n\n \u2018His garment neither was of silk nor say,\n But painted plumes in goodly order dight,\n Like as the sun-burnt Indians do array\n Their tawny bodies in their proudest plight:\n As those same plumes, so seem\u2019d he vain and light,\n That of his gait might easily appear;\n For still he far\u2019d as dancing in delight,\n And in his hands a windy fan did bear,\n That in the idle air he mov\u2019d still here and there.\u2019\n\nFashion is an odd jumble of contradictions, of sympathies and\nantipathies. It exists only by its being participated among a certain\nnumber of persons, and its essence is destroyed by being communicated to\na greater number. It is a continual struggle between \u2018the great vulgar\nand the small\u2019 to get the start of or keep up with each other in the\nrace of appearances, by an adoption on the part of the one of such\nexternal and fantastic symbols as strike the attention and excite the\nenvy or admiration of the beholder, and which are no sooner made known\nand exposed to public view for this purpose, than they are successfully\ncopied by the multitude, the slavish herd of imitators, who do not wish\nto be behind-hand with their betters in outward show and pretensions,\nand which then sink, without any farther notice, into disrepute and\ncontempt. Thus fashion lives only in a perpetual round of giddy\ninnovation and restless vanity. To be old-fashioned is the greatest\ncrime a coat or a hat can be guilty of. To look like nobody else is a\nsufficiently mortifying reflection; to be in danger of being mistaken\nfor one of the rabble is worse. Fashion constantly begins and ends in\nthe two things it abhors most, singularity and vulgarity. It is the\nperpetual setting up and disowning a certain standard of taste,\nelegance, and refinement, which has no other foundation or authority\nthan that it is the prevailing distinction of the moment, which was\nyesterday ridiculous from its being new, and to-morrow will be odious\nfrom its being common. It is one of the most slight and insignificant of\nall things. It cannot be lasting, for it depends on the constant change\nand shifting of its own harlequin disguises; it cannot be sterling, for,\nif it were, it could not depend on the breath of caprice; it must be\nsuperficial, to produce its immediate effect on the gaping crowd; and\nfrivolous, to admit of its being assumed at pleasure by the numbers of\nthose who affect, by being in the fashion, to be distinguished from the\nrest of the world. It is not any thing in itself, nor the sign of any\nthing but the folly and vanity of those who rely upon it as their\ngreatest pride and ornament. It takes the firmest hold of the most\nflimsy and narrow minds, of those whose emptiness conceives of nothing\nexcellent but what is thought so by others, and whose self-conceit makes\nthem willing to confine the opinion of all excellence to themselves and\nthose like them. That which is true or beautiful in itself, is not the\nless so for standing alone. That which is good for any thing, is the\nbetter for being more widely diffused. But fashion is the abortive issue\nof vain ostentation and exclusive egotism: it is haughty, trifling,\naffected, servile, despotic, mean, and ambitious, precise and\nfantastical, all in a breath\u2014tied to no rule, and bound to conform to\nevery whim of the minute. \u2018The fashion of an hour old mocks the wearer.\u2019\nIt is a sublimated essence of levity, caprice, vanity, extravagance,\nidleness, and selfishness. It thinks of nothing but not being\ncontaminated by vulgar use, and winds and doubles like a hare, and\nbetakes itself to the most paltry shifts to avoid being overtaken by the\ncommon hunt that are always in full chase after it. It contrives to keep\nup its fastidious pretensions, not by the difficulty of the attainment,\nbut by the rapidity and evanescent nature of the changes. It is a sort\nof conventional badge, or understood passport into select circles, which\nmust still be varying (like the water-mark in bank-notes) not to be\ncounterfeited by those without the pale of fashionable society; for to\nmake the test of admission to all the privileges of that refined and\nvolatile atmosphere depend on any real merit or extraordinary\naccomplishment, would exclude too many of the pert, the dull, the\nignorant, too many shallow, upstart, and self-admiring pretenders, to\nenable the few that passed muster to keep one another in any tolerable\ncountenance. If it were the fashion, for instance, to be distinguished\nfor virtue, it would be difficult to set or follow the example; but then\nthis would confine the pretension to a small number, (not the most\nfashionable part of the community), and would carry a very singular air\nwith it. Or if excellence in any art or science were made the standard\nof fashion, this would also effectually prevent vulgar imitation, but\nthen it would equally prevent fashionable impertinence. There would be\nan obscure circle of _virt\u00f9_ as well as virtue, drawn within the\nestablished circle of fashion, a little province of a mighty empire;\u2014the\nexample of honesty would spread slowly, and learning would still have to\nboast of a respectable minority. But of what use would such uncourtly\nand out-of-the-way accomplishments be to the great and noble, the rich\nand the fair, without any of the _eclat_, the noise and nonsense which\nbelong to that which is followed and admired by all the world alike? The\nreal and solid will never do for the current coin, the common wear and\ntear of foppery, and fashion. It must be the meretricious, the showy,\nthe outwardly fine, and intrinsically worthless\u2014that which lies within\nthe reach of the most indolent affectation, that which can be put on or\noff at the suggestion of the most wilful caprice, and for which, through\nall its fluctuations, no mortal reason can be given, but that it is the\nnewest absurdity in vogue! The shape of a head-dress, whether flat or\npiled (curl on curl) several stories high by the help of pins and\npomatum, the size of a pair of paste buckles, the quantity of gold-lace\non an embroidered waistcoat, the mode of taking a pinch of snuff, or of\npulling out a pocket-handkerchief, the lisping and affected\npronunciation of certain words, the saying _Me\u2019m_ for _Madam_, Lord\nFoppington\u2019s _Tam and \u2019Paun honour_, with a regular set of visiting\nphrases and insipid sentiments ready sorted for the day, were what\nformerly distinguished the mob of fine gentlemen and ladies from the mob\nof their inferiors. These marks and appendages of gentility had their\nday, and were then discarded for others equally peremptory and\nunequivocal. But in all this chopping and changing, it is generally one\nfolly that drives out another; one trifle that by its specific levity\nacquires a momentary and surprising ascendency over the last. There is\nno striking deformity of appearance or behaviour that has not been made\n\u2018the sign of an inward and invisible grace.\u2019 Accidental imperfections\nare laid hold of to hide real defects. Paint, patches, and powder, were\nat one time synonymous with health, cleanliness, and beauty. Obscenity,\nirreligion, small oaths, tippling, gaming, effeminacy in the one sex and\nAmazon airs in the other, any thing is the fashion while it lasts. In\nthe reign of Charles II., the profession and practice of every species\nof extravagance and debauchery were looked upon as the indispensable\nmarks of an accomplished cavalier. Since that period the court has\nreformed, and has had rather a rustic air. Our belles formerly\noverloaded themselves with dress: of late years, they have affected to\ngo almost naked,\u2014\u2018and are, when unadorned, adorned the most.\u2019 The women\nhaving left off stays, the men have taken to wear them, if we are to\nbelieve the authentic Memoirs of the Fudge Family. The Niobe head is at\npresent buried in the _poke_ bonnet, and the French milliners and\n_marchands des modes_ have proved themselves an overmatch for the Greek\nsculptors, in matters of taste and costume.\n\nA very striking change has, however, taken place in dress of late years,\nand some progress has been made in taste and elegance, from the very\ncircumstance, that, as fashion has extended its empire in that\ndirection, it has lost its power. While fashion in dress included what\nwas costly, it was confined to the wealthier classes: even this was an\nencroachment on the privileges of rank and birth, which for a long time\nwere the only things that commanded or pretended to command respect, and\nwe find Shakespear complaining that \u2018the city madam bears the cost of\nprinces on unworthy shoulders;\u2019 but, when the appearing in the top of\nthe mode no longer depended on the power of purchasing certain expensive\narticles of dress, or the right of wearing them, the rest was so obvious\nand easy, that any one who chose might cut as coxcombical a figure as\nthe best. It became a matter of mere affectation on the one side, and\ngradually ceased to be made a matter of aristocratic assumption on the\nother. \u2018In the grand carnival of this our age,\u2019 among other changes this\nis not the least remarkable, that the monstrous pretensions to\ndistinctions in dress have dwindled away by tacit consent, and the\nsimplest and most graceful have been in the same request with all\nclasses. In this respect, as well as some others, \u2018the age is grown so\npicked, the peasant\u2019s toe comes so near the courtier\u2019s heel, it galls\nhis kibe;\u2019 a lord is hardly to be distinguished in the street from an\nattorney\u2019s clerk; and a plume of feathers is no longer mistaken for the\nhighest distinction in the land! The ideas of natural equality and the\nManchester steam-engines together have, like a double battery, levelled\nthe high towers and artificial structures of fashion in dress, and a\nwhite muslin gown is now the common costume of the mistress and the\nmaid, instead of their wearing, as heretofore, rich silks and satins or\ncoarse linsey-wolsey. It would be ridiculous (on a similar principle)\nfor the courtier to take the wall of the citizen, without having a sword\nby his side to maintain his right of precedence; and, from the stricter\nnotions that have prevailed of a man\u2019s personal merit and identity, a\ncane dangling from his arm is the greatest extension of his figure that\ncan be allowed to the modern _petit-ma\u00eetre_.\n\nWhat shews the worthlessness of mere fashion is, to see how easily this\nvain and boasted distinction is assumed, when the restraints of decency\nor circumstances are once removed, by the most uninformed and commonest\nof the people. I know an undertaker that is the greatest prig in the\nstreets of London, and an Aldermanbury haberdasher, that has the most\nmilitary strut of any lounger in Bond-street or St. James\u2019s. We may, at\nany time, raise a regiment of fops from the same number of fools, who\nhave vanity enough to be intoxicated with the smartness of their\nappearance, and not sense enough to be ashamed of themselves. Every one\nremembers the story in Peregrine Pickle, of the strolling gipsy that he\npicked up in spite, had well scoured, and introduced her into genteel\ncompany, where she met with great applause, till she got into a passion\nby seeing a fine lady cheat at cards, rapped out a volley of oaths, and\nlet nature get the better of art. Dress is the great secret of address.\nClothes and confidence will set anybody up in the trade of modish\naccomplishment. Look at the two classes of well-dressed females whom we\nsee at the play-house, in the boxes. Both are equally dressed in the\nheight of the fashion, both are _rouged_, and wear their neck and arms\nbare,\u2014both have the same conscious, haughty, theatrical air;\u2014the same\ntoss of the head, the same stoop in the shoulders, with all the grace\nthat arises from a perfect freedom from embarrassment, and all the\nfascination that arises from a systematic disdain of formal prudery,\u2014the\nsame pretence and jargon of fashionable conversation,\u2014the same mimicry\nof tones and phrases,\u2014the same \u2018lisping, and ambling, and painting, and\nnicknaming of Heaven\u2019s creatures;\u2019 the same every thing but real\npropriety of behaviour, and real refinement of sentiment. In all the\nexternals, they are as like as the reflection in the looking-glass. The\nonly difference between the woman of fashion and the woman of pleasure\nis, that the one _is_ what the other only _seems to be_; and yet, the\nvictims of dissipation who thus rival and almost outshine women of the\nfirst quality in all the blaze, and pride, and glitter of shew and\nfashion, are, in general, no better than a set of raw, uneducated,\ninexperienced country girls, or awkward, coarse-fisted servant maids,\nwho require no other apprenticeship or qualification to be on a level\nwith persons of the highest distinction in society, in all the\nbrilliancy and elegance of outward appearance, than that they have\nforfeited its common privileges, and every title to respect in reality.\nThe truth is, that real virtue, beauty, or understanding, are the same,\nwhether \u2018in a high or low degree;\u2019 and the airs and graces of pretended\nsuperiority over these which the highest classes give themselves, from\nmere frivolous and external accomplishments, are easily imitated, with\nprovoking success, by the lowest, whenever they _dare_.\n\nThe two nearest things in the world are gentility and vulgarity\u2014\n\n \u2018And thin partitions do their bounds divide.\u2019\n\nWhere there is much affectation of the one, we may be always sure of\nmeeting with a double share of the other. Those who are conscious to\nthemselves of any real superiority or refinement, are not particularly\njealous of the adventitious marks of it. Miss Burney\u2019s novels all turn\nupon this slender distinction. It is the only thing that can be said\nagainst them. It is hard to say which she has made out to be the worst;\nlow people always aping gentility, or people in high life always\navoiding vulgarity. Mr. Smith and the Brangtons were everlastingly\ntrying to do as their fashionable acquaintances did, and these again\nwere always endeavouring _not_ to do and say what Mr. Smith and the\nBrangtons did or said. What an instructive game at cross-purposes!\n\u2018Kings are naturally lovers of low company,\u2019 according to the\nobservation of Mr. Burke; because their rank cannot be called into\nquestion by it, and they can only hope to find, in the opposite extreme\nof natural and artificial inequality, any thing to confirm them in the\nbelief, that their personal pretensions at all answer to the ostensible\nsuperiority to which they are raised. By associating only with the worst\nand weakest, they persuade themselves that they are the best and wisest\nof mankind.\n\n\n\n\n ON NICKNAMES\n\n\n _The Edinburgh Magazine._] [_September 1818._\n\n \u2018H\u00e6 nug\u00e6 in seria ducunt.\u2019\n\nThis is a more important subject than it seems at first sight. It is\nas serious in its results as it is contemptible in the means by which\nthose results are brought about. Nicknames for the most part govern\nthe world. The history of politics, of religion, of literature, of\nmorals, and of private life, is too often little less than the history\nof nicknames. What are half the convulsions of the civilised world,\nthe frequent overthrow of states and kingdoms, the shock and hostile\nencounter of mighty continents, the battles by sea and land, the\nintestine commotions, the feuds of the Vitelli and Orsini, of the\nGuelphs and Gibellines, the civil wars in England, and the League in\nFrance, the jealousies and heart-burnings of cabinets and councils,\nthe uncharitable proscriptions of creeds and sects, Turk, Jew, Pagan,\nPapist and Puritan, Quaker and Methodist,\u2014the persecutions and\nmassacres, the burnings, tortures, imprisonments, and lingering deaths\ninflicted for a different profession of faith,\u2014but so many\nillustrations of the power of this principle? Fox\u2019s Book of Martyrs,\nand Neale\u2019s History of the Puritans, are comments on the same text.\nThe fires in Smithfield were fanned by nicknames, and a nickname set\nits seal on the unopened dungeons of the Holy Inquisition. Nicknames\nare the talismans and spells that collect and set in motion all the\ncombustible part of men\u2019s passions and prejudices, which have hitherto\nplayed so much more successful a game, and done their work so much\nmore effectually than reason, in all the grand concerns and petty\ndetails of human life, and do not yet seem tired of the task assigned\nthem. Nicknames are the convenient portable tools by which they\nsimplify the process of mischief, and get through their job with the\nleast time and trouble. These worthless, unmeaning, irritating,\nenvenomed words of reproach are the established signs by which the\ndifferent compartments of society are ticketted, labelled, and marked\nout for each other\u2019s hatred and contempt. They are to be had, ready\ncut and dry, of all sorts and sizes, wholesale and retail, for foreign\nexportation or home consumption, and for all occasions in life. \u2018The\npriest calls the lawyer a cheat, the lawyer beknaves the divine.\u2019 The\nFrenchman hates the Englishman because he is an Englishman, and the\nEnglishman hates the Frenchman for as good a reason. The Whig hates\nthe Tory, and the Tory the Whig. The Dissenter hates the\nChurch-of-England-man, and the Church-of-England-man hates the\nDissenter, as if they were of a different species, because they have a\ndifferent designation. The Mussulman calls the worshipper of the Cross\n\u2018Christian dog,\u2019 spits in his face, and kicks him from the pavement,\nby virtue of a nickname; and the Papist retorts the indignity upon the\nInfidel and the Jew by the same infallible rule of right. In France,\nthey damn Shakespear in the lump, by calling him a _barbare_; and we\ntalk of Racine\u2019s _verbiage_ with inexpressible contempt and\nself-complacency. Among ourselves, an anti-Jacobin critic denounces a\nJacobin poet and his friends, at a venture, \u2018as infidels and\nfugitives, who have left their wives destitute, and their children\nfatherless\u2019\u2014whether they have wives and children or not. The\nunenlightened savage makes a meal of his enemy\u2019s flesh, after\nreproaching him with the name of his tribe, because he is differently\ntattooed; and the literary cannibal cuts up the character of his\nopponent by the help of a nickname. The jest of all this is, that a\nparty nickname is always a relative term, and has its counter-sign,\nwhich has just the same force and meaning, so that both must be\nperfectly ridiculous and insignificant. A Whig implies a Tory; there\nmust be \u2018Malcontents\u2019 as well as \u2018Malignants\u2019; Jacobins and\nAnti-Jacobins; French and English. These sort of _noms des guerres_\nderive all their force from their contraries. Take away the meaning of\nthe one, and you take the sting out of the other. They could not exist\nbut upon the strength of mutual and irreconcileable antipathies; there\nmust be no love lost between them. What is there in the names\nthemselves to give them a preference over each other? \u2018Sound them,\nthey do become the mouth as well; weigh them, they are as heavy;\nconjure with them, one will raise a spirit as soon as the other.\u2019 If\nthere were not fools and madmen who hated both, there could not be\nfools and madmen bigotted to either. I have heard an eminent character\nboast that he had done more to produce the late war by nicknaming\nBuonaparte \u2018the Corsican,\u2019 than all the state-papers and documents on\nthe subject put together. And yet Mr. Southey asks triumphantly, \u2018Is\nit to be supposed that it is England, _our_ England, to whom that war\nwas owing?\u2019 As if, in a dispute between two countries, the conclusive\nargument which lies in the pronoun _our_, belonged only to one of\nthem. I like Shakespear\u2019s version of the matter better:\n\n \u2018Hath Britain all the sun that shines? day, night,\n Are they not but in Britain? I\u2019 th\u2019 world\u2019s volume\n _Our_ Britain seems as of it, but not in it;\n In a great pool a swan\u2019s nest. Prithee think\n There\u2019s livers out of Britain.\u2019\n\nIn all national disputes, it is common to appeal to the numbers on your\nside as decisive on the point. If every body in England thought the late\nwar right, every body in France thought it wrong. There were ten\nmillions on one side of the question, (or rather of the water), and\nthirty millions on the other side. That\u2019s all. I remember some one\narguing, in justification of our ministers interfering on that occasion,\n\u2018That governments would not go to war for nothing;\u2019 to which I answered,\nThen they could not go to war at all, for, at that rate, neither of them\ncould be in the wrong, and yet both of them must be in the right, which\nwas absurd. The only meaning of these vulgar nicknames and\nparty-distinctions, where they are urged most violently and confidently,\nis, that others differ from you in some particular or other, (whether it\nbe opinion, dress, clime, complexion), which you highly disapprove of,\nforgetting, that, by the same rule, they have the very same right to be\noffended at you because you differ from them. Those who have reason on\ntheir side do not make the most obstinate and furious appeals to\nprejudice and abusive language. I know but of one exception to this\ngeneral rule, and that is, where the things that excite disgust are of\nsuch a kind that they cannot well be gone into without offence to\ndecency and good manners; but it is equally certain in this case, that\nthose who are most shocked at the things are not those who are most\nforward to apply the names. A person will not be fond of repeating a\ncharge, or adverting to a subject, that inflicts a wound on his own\nfeelings, even for the sake of wounding the feelings of another. A man\nshould be very sure that he himself is not what he has always in his\nmouth. The greatest prudes have been often accounted the greatest\nhypocrites, and a satirist is at best but a suspicious character. The\nloudest and most unblushing invectives against vice and debauchery will\nas often proceed from a desire to inflame and pamper the passions of the\nwriter, by raking into a nauseous subject, as from a wish to excite\nvirtuous indignation against it in the public mind, or to reform the\nindividual. To familiarise the mind to gross ideas is not the way to\nincrease your own or the general repugnance to them. But, to return to\nthe subject of nicknames.\n\nThe use of this figure of speech is, that it excites a strong idea\nwithout requiring any proof. It is a shorthand compendious mode of\ngetting at a conclusion, and never troubling yourself or any body else\nwith the formalities of reasoning or the dictates of common sense. It is\nsuperior to all evidence, for it does not rest upon any, and operates\nwith the greatest force and certainty in proportion to the utter want of\nprobability. Belief is only a strong impression, and the malignity or\nextravagance of the accusation passes for a proof of the crime. \u2018Brevity\nis the soul of wit;\u2019 and of all eloquence a nickname is the most\nconcise, and of all arguments the most unanswerable. It gives _carte\nblanche_ to the imagination, throws the reins on the neck of the\npassions, and suspends the use of the understanding altogether. It does\nnot stand upon ceremony, on the nice distinctions of right and wrong. It\ndoes not wait the slow processes of reason, or stop to unravel the web\nof sophistry. It takes every thing for granted that serves for\nnourishment for the spleen. It is instantaneous in its operations. There\nis nothing to interpose between the effect and it. It is passion without\nproof, and action without thought,\u2014\u2018the unbought grace of life, the\ncheap defence of nations.\u2019 It does not, as Mr. Burke expresses it,\n\u2018leave the will puzzled, undecided, and sceptical in the moment of\naction.\u2019 It is a word and a blow.\n\n \u2018Bring but a Scotsman frae his hill,\n Clap in his cheek a Highland gill,\n Say such is royal George\u2019s will,\n And there\u2019s the foe,\n He has nae thought but how to kill\n Twa at a blow.\u2019\n\nThe \u2018No Popery\u2019 cry, raised a little while ago, let loose all the\nlurking spite and prejudice which had lain rankling in the proper\nreceptacles for them for above a century, without any knowledge of the\npast history of the country which had given rise to them, or any\nreference to their connection with present circumstances; for the\nknowledge of the one would have prevented the possibility of their\napplication to the other. Facts present a tangible and definite idea to\nthe mind, a train of causes and consequences, accounting for each other,\nand leading to a positive conclusion\u2014but no farther. But a nickname is\ntied down to no such limited service; it is a disposable force, that is\nalmost always perverted to mischief. It clothes itself with all the\nterrors of uncertain abstraction, and there is no end of the abuse to\nwhich it is liable but the cunning of those who employ, or the credulity\nof those who are gulled by it. It is a reserve of the ignorance,\nbigotry, and intolerance of weak and vulgar minds, brought up where\nreason fails, and always ready, at a moment\u2019s warning, to be applied to\nany, the most absurd purposes. If you bring specific charges against a\nman, you thereby enable him to meet and repel them, if he thinks it\nworth his while; but a nickname baffles reply, by the very vagueness of\nthe inferences from it, and gives increased activity to the confused,\ndim, and imperfect notions of dislike connected with it, from their\nhaving no settled ground to rest upon. The mind naturally irritates\nitself against an unknown object of fear or jealousy, and makes up for\nthe blindness of its zeal by an excess of it. We are eager to indulge\nour hasty feelings to the utmost, lest, by stopping to examine, we\nshould find that there is no excuse for them. The very consciousness of\nthe injustice we may be doing another makes us only the more loud and\nbitter in our invectives against him. We keep down the admonitions of\nreturning reason, by calling up a double portion of gratuitous and\nvulgar spite. The will may be said to act with most force _in vacuo_;\nthe passions are the most ungovernable when they are blindfolded. That\nmalignity is always the most implacable which is accompanied with a\nsense of weakness, because it is never satisfied of its own success or\nsafety. A nickname carries the weight of the pride, the indolence, the\ncowardice, the ignorance, and the ill-nature of mankind on its side. It\nacts, by mechanical sympathy, on the nerves of society. Any one who is\nwithout character himself may make himself master of the reputation of\nanother by the application of a nickname, as, if you do not mind soiling\nyour fingers, you may always throw dirt on another. No matter how\nundeserved the imputation, it will stick; for, though it is sport to the\nbye-standers to see you bespattered, they will not stop to see you wipe\nout the stains. You are not heard in your own defence; it has no effect,\nit does not tell, excites no sensation, or it is only felt as a\ndisappointment of their triumph over you. Their passions and prejudices\nare inflamed by the charge, \u2018as rage with rage doth sympathise;\u2019 by\nvindicating yourself, you merely bring them back to common sense, which\nis a very sober, mawkish state. _Give a dog a bad name, and hang him_,\nis a proverb. \u2018A nickname is the heaviest stone that the devil can throw\nat a man.\u2019 It is a bugbear to the imagination, and, though we do not\nbelieve it, it still haunts our apprehensions. Let a nickname be\nindustriously applied to our dearest friend, and let us know that it is\never so false and malicious, yet it will answer its end; it connects the\nperson\u2019s name and idea with an ugly association, you think of them with\npain together, or it requires an effort of indignation or magnanimity on\nyour part to disconnect them; it becomes an uneasy subject, a sore\npoint, and you will sooner desert your friend, or join in the conspiracy\nagainst him, than be constantly forced to repel charges without truth or\nmeaning, and have your penetration or character called in question by a\nrascal. Nay, such is the unaccountable construction of language and of\nthe human mind, that the affixing the most innocent or praiseworthy\nappellation to any individual or set of individuals, _as a nickname_,\nhas all the effect of the most opprobrious epithets. Thus the cant name\n\u2018The Talents,\u2019 was successfully applied as a stigma to the Whigs at one\ntime; it held them up to ridicule, and made them obnoxious to public\nfeeling, though it was notorious to every body that the Whig leaders\nwere \u2018the Talents,\u2019 and that their adversaries nicknamed them so from\nreal hatred and pretended derision. \u2018The Party\u2019 is now substituted for\n\u2018the Talents,\u2019 since success has given their own set the monstrous\naffectation of being men of talents; and the poor Morning Chronicle is\npersecuted daily as the Party as it formerly stood the brunt (innocently\nenough) of all the abuse and sarcasms that were showered on the Talents.\nCall a man short by his Christian name, as Tom or Dick such a one, or by\nhis profession, (however respectable), as Canning pelted a noble lord\nwith his left-off title of Doctor,\u2014and you undo him for ever, if he has\na reputation to lose. Such is the tenaciousness of spite and ill-nature,\nor the jealousy of public opinion, even this will be peg enough to hang\ndoubtful inuendos, weighty dilemmas upon. \u2018With so small a web as this\nwill I catch so great a fly as Cassio.\u2019 The public do not like to see\ntheir favourites treated with impertinent familiarity\u2014it lowers the tone\nof admiration very speedily. It implies that some one stands in no great\nawe of their idol, and he perhaps may know as much about the matter as\nthey do. It seems as if a man whose name, with some contemptuous\nabbreviation, is always dinned in the public ear, was distinguished by\nnothing else. By repeating a man\u2019s name in this manner you may soon make\nhim sick of it, and of his life too. Mr. Southey has by this time, I\nshould suppose, a tolerable surfeit of his title of Laureate! Children\ndo not like to be _called out of their names_. It is questioning their\npersonal identity. A writer, who has made his vocabulary rich in\nnicknames, (the late Editor of the Times,) thought he had made a great\nacquisition to his stock, when it was pretended at one time that\nBonaparte\u2019s real name was not Napoleon but Nicholas. He congratulated\nhimself on this discovery, as a standing jest and a lasting triumph. Yet\nthere was nothing in the name to signify. Nicholas Poussin was an\ninstance of a great man in the last age, and in our own times, have we\nnot Nicholas Vansittart? The same writer has the merit of having carried\nthis figure of speech as far as it would go. He fairly worried his\nreaders into conviction by abuse and nicknames. People surrendered their\njudgments to escape the persecution of his style, and the disgust and\nindignation which his incessant violence and vulgarity excited, at last\nmade you hate those who were the objects of it. _Causa caus\u00e6 causa\ncausati._ He made people sick of a subject by making them sick of his\narguments. Yet he attributed the effect he produced to the eloquence of\nhis phraseology and the force of his reasonings!\n\nA parrot may be taught to call names; and if the person who keeps the\nparrot has a spite to his neighbours, he may give them a great deal of\nannoyance without much wit, either in the employer or the puppet. The\ninsignificance of the instrument has nothing to do with the efficacy of\nthe means. Hotspur would have had \u2018a _starling_ taught to repeat nothing\nbut Mortimer,\u2019 in the ears of his enemy. Nature, it is said, has given\narms to all creatures the most proper to defend themselves, and annoy\nothers: to the lowest she has given the use of nicknames.\n\nThere are some droll instances of the effect of proper names combined\nwith circumstances. A young student had come up to London from\nCambridge, and went in the evening and planted himself in the pit of the\nplay-house. He had not been seated long when, in one of the front boxes\nnear him, he discovered one of his college tutors, with whom he felt an\nimmediate and strong desire to claim acquaintance, and called out in a\nlow and respectful voice, \u2018Dr. Topping!\u2019 The appeal was, however,\nineffectual. He then repeated in a louder tone, but still in an under\nkey, so as not to excite the attention of any one but his friend, \u2018Dr.\nTopping!\u2019 The Doctor took no notice. He then grew more impatient, and\nrepeated \u2018Dr. Topping, Dr. Topping!\u2019 two or three times pretty loud, to\nsee whether the Doctor did not or would not hear him. Still the Doctor\nremained immovable. The joke began at length to get round, and one or\ntwo persons, as he continued his invocations of the Doctor\u2019s name,\njoined with him in them; these were reinforced by others calling out,\n\u2018Dr. Topping! Dr. Topping!\u2019 on all sides, so that he could no longer\navoid perceiving it, and at length the whole pit rose and roared, \u2018Dr.\nTopping!\u2019 with loud and repeated cries, and the Doctor was forced to\nretire precipitately, frightened at the sound of his own name. There is\nsometimes an inconvenience in common as well as uncommon names. On the\nnight that Garrick took his leave of the stage, an inveterate playgoer\ncould not get a seat in any part of the house. At length he went up into\nthe gallery, but found that equally full with the rest. In this\nextremity a thought struck him, and he called out as loud as he could,\n\u2018Mr. Smith, you\u2019re wanted. Your wife\u2019s taken suddenly ill, and you must\ngo home immediately.\u2019 In an instant, half a dozen persons started up\nfrom different parts of the gallery to go out, and the gentleman took\npossession of the first place that offered. No doubt these persons would\nbe disposed to quarrel with their names and their wives for some time\nafter.\n\nThe calling people by their Christian or surnames is a proof of\naffection, as well as of hatred. They are generally the best good\nfellows with whom their friends take this sort of liberty. _Diminutives_\nare titles of endearment. Dr. Johnson\u2019s calling Goldsmith \u2018Goldy\u2019 did\nequal honour to both. It shewed the regard he had for him. This\nfamiliarity may perhaps imply a certain want of formal respect; but\nformal respect is not necessary to, if it is consistent with, cordial\nfriendship. Titles of honour are the reverse of nicknames,\u2014they convey\nthe idea of respect as the others do of contempt, and equally mean\nlittle or nothing. Junius\u2019s motto, _Stat nominis umbra_, is a very\nsignificant one, it might be extended farther. A striking instance of\nthe force of names, standing by themselves, is in the respect felt\ntowards Michael Angelo in this country. We know nothing of him but his\nname. It is an abstraction of fame and greatness. Our admiration of him\nsupports itself, and our idea of his superiority seems self-evident,\nbecause it is attached to his name only. Some of our artists seem trying\nto puff their names into reputation from an instinctive knowledge of\nthis principle,\u2014by talking incessantly of themselves and doing nothing.\nIt is not, indeed, easy to deny the merit of the works\u2014which they do\n_not_ produce. Those which they have produced are very bad.\n\n\n\n\n THOUGHTS ON TASTE\n\n\n _The Edinburgh Magazine._] [_Oct. 1818._\n\nTaste is nothing but sensibility to the different degrees and kinds of\nexcellence in the works of art or nature. This definition will perhaps\nbe disputed; for I am aware the general practice is to make it consist\nin a disposition to find fault.\n\nA French man or woman will in general conclude their account of\nVoltaire\u2019s denunciation of Shakespeare and Milton as barbarians, on the\nscore of certain technical improprieties, with assuring you, that \u2018he\n(Voltaire) had a great deal of taste.\u2019 It is their phrase, _Il avait\nbeaucoup du go\u00fbt_. To which the proper answer is, that that might be;\nbut that he did not shew it in this case; as the overlooking great and\ncountless beauties, and being taken up only with petty or accidental\nblemishes, shews as little strength of understanding as it does\nrefinement or elevation of taste. The French author, indeed, allows of\nShakespeare, that \u2018he had found a few pearls on his enormous dunghill.\u2019\nBut there is neither truth nor proportion in this sentence, for his\nworks are (to say the least),\n\n \u2018Rich as the oozy bottom of the sea,\n With sunken wrack and sumless treasuries.\u2019\n\nGenius is the power of producing excellence: taste is the power of\nperceiving the excellence thus produced in its several sorts and\ndegrees, with all their force, refinement, distinctions, and\nconnections. In other words, taste (as it relates to the productions of\nart) is strictly the power of being properly affected by works of\ngenius. It is the proportioning admiration to power, pleasure to beauty:\nit is entire sympathy with the finest impulses of the imagination, not\nantipathy, not indifference to them. The eye of taste may be said to\nreflect the impressions of real genius, as the even mirror reflects the\nobjects of nature in all their clearness and lustre, instead of\ndistorting or diminishing them;\n\n \u2018Or like a gate of steel,\n Fronting the sun, receives and renders back\n His figure and his heat.\u2019\n\nTo take a pride and pleasure in nothing but defects (and those perhaps\nof the most paltry, obvious, and mechanical kind)\u2014in the disappointment\nand tarnishing of our faith in substantial excellence, in the proofs of\nweakness, not of power, (and this where there are endless subjects to\nfeed the mind with wonder and increased delight through years of patient\nthought and fond remembrance), is not a sign of uncommon refinement, but\nof unaccountable perversion of taste. So, in the case of Voltaire\u2019s\nhypercriticisms on Milton and Shakespeare, the most common-place and\nprejudiced admirer of these authors knows, as well as Voltaire can tell\nhim, that it is a fault to make a sea-port (we will say) in Bohemia, or\nto introduce artillery and gunpowder in the war in Heaven. This is\ncommon to Voltaire, and the merest English reader: there is nothing in\nit either way. But what he differs from us in, and, as it is supposed,\ngreatly to his advantage, and to our infinite shame and mortification,\nis, that this is all that he perceives, or will hear of in Milton or\nShakespeare, and that he either knows, or pretends to know, nothing of\nthat prodigal waste, or studied accumulation of grandeur, truth, and\nbeauty, which are to be found in each of these authors. Now, I cannot\nthink, that, to be dull and insensible to so great and such various\nexcellence,\u2014to have no feeling in unison with it, no latent suspicion of\nthe treasures hid beneath our feet, and which we trample upon with\nignorant scorn, to be cut off, as by a judicial blindness, from that\nuniverse of thought and imagination that shifts its wondrous pageant\nbefore us, to turn aside from the throng and splendour of airy shapes\nthat fancy weaves for our dazzled sight, and to strut and vapour over a\nlittle pettifogging blunder in geography or chronology, which a\nschool-boy, or a village pedagogue, would be ashamed to insist upon, is\nany proof of the utmost perfection of taste, but the contrary. At this\nrate, it makes no difference whether Shakespeare wrote his works or not,\nor whether the critic, who \u2018damns him into everlasting redemption\u2019 for a\nsingle slip of the pen, ever read them;\u2014he is absolved from all\nknowledge, taste, or feeling, of the different excellencies, and\ninimitable creations of the poet\u2019s pen\u2014from any sympathy with the\nwanderings and the fate of Imogen, the beauty and tenderness of Ophelia,\nthe thoughtful abstraction of Hamlet; his soliloquy on life may never\nhave given him a moment\u2019s pause, or touched his breast with one solitary\nreflection;\u2014the Witches in Macbeth may \u2018lay their choppy fingers upon\ntheir skinny lips\u2019 without making any alteration in his pulse,\u2014and\nLear\u2019s heart may break in vain for him;\u2014he may hear no strange noises in\nProspero\u2019s island,\u2014and the moonlight that sleeps on beds of flowers,\nwhere fairies couch in the Midsummer Night\u2019s Dream, may never once have\nsteeped his senses in repose. Nor will it avail Milton to \u2018have built\nhigh towers in Heaven,\u2019 nor to have brought down heaven upon earth, nor\nthat he has made Satan rear his giant form before us, \u2018majestic though\nin ruin,\u2019 or decked the bridal bed of Eve with beauty, or clothed her\nwith innocence, \u2018likest heaven,\u2019 as she ministered to Adam, and his\nangel guest. Our critic knows nothing of all this, of beauty or\nsublimity, of thought or passion, breathed in sweet or solemn sounds,\nwith all the magic of verse \u2018in tones and numbers hit;\u2019 he lays his\nfinger on the map, and shews you, that there is no sea-port for\nShakespeare\u2019s weather-beaten travellers to land at in Bohemia, and takes\nout a list of mechanical inventions, and proves that gunpowder was not\nknown till long after Milton\u2019s battle of the angels; and concludes, that\nevery one who, after these profound and important discoveries, finds\nanything to admire in these two writers, is a person without taste, or\nany pretensions to it. By the same rule, a thorough-bred critic might\nprove that Homer was no poet, and the Odyssey a vulgar performance,\nbecause Ulysses makes a pun on the name of Noman. Or some other disciple\nof the same literal school might easily set aside the whole merit of\nRacine\u2019s _Athalie_, or Moliere\u2019s _Ecole des Femmes_, and pronounce these\n_chef d\u2019\u0153uvres_ of art barbarous and Gothic, because the characters in\nthe first address one another (absurdly enough) as _Monsieur_ and\n_Madame_, and because the latter is written in rhyme, contrary to all\nclassical precedent. These little false measures of criticism may be\nmisapplied and retorted without end, and require to be eked out by\nnational antipathy or political prejudice to give them currency and\nweight. Thus it was in war-time that the author of the \u2018Friend\u2019 ventured\nto lump all the French tragedies together as a smart collection of\nepigrams, and that the author of the \u2018Excursion, a poem, being\nportion[49] of a larger poem, to be named the Recluse,\u2019 made bold to\ncall Voltaire a dull prose-writer\u2014with impunity. Such pitiful quackery\nis a cheap way of setting up for exclusive taste and wisdom, by\npretending to despise what is most generally admired, as if nothing\ncould come up to or satisfy that ideal standard of excellence, of which\nthe person bears about the select pattern in his own mind. \u2018Not to\nadmire any thing\u2019 is as bad a test of wisdom as it is a rule for\nhappiness. We sometimes meet with individuals who have formed their\nwhole character on this maxim, and who ridiculously affect a decided and\ndogmatical tone of superiority over others, from an uncommon degree both\nof natural and artificial stupidity. They are blind to painting\u2014deaf to\nmusic\u2014indifferent to poetry; and they triumph in the catalogue of their\ndefects as the fault of these arts, because they have not sense enough\nto perceive their own want of perception. To treat any art or science\nwith contempt, is only to prove your own incapacity and want of taste\nfor it: to say that what has been done best in any kind is good for\nnothing, is to say that the utmost exertion of human ability is not\nequal to the lowest, for the productions of the lowest are worth\nsomething, except by comparison with what is better. When we hear\npersons exclaiming that the pictures at the Marquis of Stafford\u2019s or Mr.\nAngerstein\u2019s, or those at the British Gallery, are a heap of trash, we\nmight tell them that they betray in this a want not of taste only, but\nof common sense, for that these collections contain some of the finest\nspecimens of the greatest masters, and that _that_ must be excellent in\nthe productions of human art, beyond which human genius, in any age or\ncountry, has not been able to go. Ask these very fastidious critics what\nit is that they _do_ like, and you will soon find, from tracing out the\nobjects of their secret admiration, that their pretended disdain of\nfirst-rate excellence is owing either to ignorance of the last\nrefinements of works of genius, or envy at the general admiration which\nthey have called forth. I have known a furious Phillippic against the\nfaults of shining talents and established reputation subside into\ncomplacent approbation of dull mediocrity, that neither tasked the\nkindred sensibility of its admirer beyond its natural inertness, nor\ntouched his self-love with a consciousness of inferiority; and that, by\nnever attempting original beauties, and never failing, gave no\nopportunity to intellectual ingratitude to be plausibly revenged for the\npleasure or instruction it had reluctantly received. So there are judges\nwho cannot abide Mr. Kean, and think Mr. Young an incomparable actor,\nfor no other reason than because he never shocks them with an idea which\nthey had not before. The only excuse for the over-delicacy and\nsupercilious indifference here described, is when it arises from an\nintimate acquaintance with, and intense admiration of, other and higher\ndegrees of perfection and genius. A person whose mind has been worked up\nto a lofty pitch of enthusiasm in this way, cannot perhaps condescend to\nnotice, or be much delighted with inferior beauties; but then neither\nwill he dwell upon, and be preposterously offended with, slight faults.\nSo that the ultimate and only conclusive proof of taste is even here not\nindifference, but enthusiasm; and before a critic can give himself airs\nof superiority for what he despises, he must first lay himself open to\nreprisals, by telling us what he admires. There we may fairly join issue\nwith him. Without this indispensable condition of all true taste,\nabsolute stupidity must be more than on a par with the most exquisite\nrefinement; and the most formidable drawcansir of all would be the most\nimpenetrable blockhead. Thus, if we know that Voltaire\u2019s contempt of\nShakespeare arose from his idolatry of Racine, this may excuse him in a\nnational point of view; but he has no longer any advantage over us; and\nwe must console ourselves as well as we can for Mr. Wordsworth\u2019s not\nallowing us to laugh at the wit of Voltaire, by laughing now and then at\nthe only author whom he is known to understand and admire![50]\n\n\n\n\n THE SAME SUBJECT CONTINUED\n\n\n _The Edinburgh Magazine._] [_July, 1819._\n\nInstead of making a disposition to find fault a proof of taste, I would\nreverse the rule, and estimate every one\u2019s pretensions to taste by the\ndegree of their sensibility to the highest and most various excellence.\nAn indifference to less degrees of excellence is only excusable as it\narises from a knowledge and admiration of higher ones; and a readiness\nin the detection of faults should pass for refinement only as it is\nowing to a quick sense and impatient love of beauties. In a word, fine\ntaste consists in sympathy, not in antipathy; and the rejection of what\nis bad is only to be accounted a virtue when it implies a preference of\nand attachment to what is better.\n\nThere is a certain point, which may be considered as the highest point\nof perfection at which the human faculties can arrive in the conception\nand execution of certain things: to be able to reach this point in\nreality is the greatest proof of genius and power; and I imagine that\nthe greatest proof of taste is given in being able to appreciate it when\ndone. For instance, I have heard (and I can believe) that Madame\nCatalani\u2019s manner of singing \u2018Hope told a flattering tale,\u2019 was the\nperfection of singing; and I cannot conceive that it would have been the\nperfection of taste to have thought nothing at all of it. There was, I\nunderstand, a sort of fluttering of the voice and a breathless\npalpitation of the heart, (like the ruffling of the feathers of the\nrobin-redbreast), which completely gave back all the uneasy and\nthrilling voluptuousness of the sentiment; and I contend that the person\non whom not a particle of this expression was lost, (or would have been\nlost, if it had even been finer), into whom the tones of sweetness or\ntenderness sink deeper and deeper as they approach the farthest verge of\necstacy or agony, he who has an ear attuned to the trembling harmony,\nand a heart \u2018pierceable\u2019 by pleasure\u2019s finest point, is the best judge\nof music,\u2014not he who remains insensible to the matter himself, or, if\nyou point it out to him, asks, \u2018What of it?\u2019 I fancied that I had a\ntriumph some time ago, over a critic and connoisseur of music, who\nthought little of the minuet in Don Giovanni; but the same person\nredeemed his pretensions to musical taste in my opinion by saying of\nsome passage in Mozart, \u2018This is a soliloquy equal to any in Hamlet.\u2019 In\nhearing the accompaniment in the Messiah of angels\u2019 voices to the\nshepherds keeping watch at night, who has the most taste and delicacy,\nhe who listens in silent rapture to the silver sounds, as they rise in\nsweetness and soften into distance, drawing the soul from earth to\nheaven, and making it partaker of the music of the spheres, or he who\nremains deaf to the summons, and remarks that it is an allegorical\nconceit? Which would Handel have been most pleased with, the man who was\nseen standing at the performance of the Coronation anthem in Westminster\nAbbey, with his face bathed in tears, and mingling \u2018the drops which\nsacred joy had engendered\u2019 with that ocean of circling sound, or with\nhim who sat with frigid, critical aspect, his heart untouched and his\nlooks unaltered as the marble statue on the wall?[51] Again, if any one,\nin looking at Rembrandt\u2019s picture of Jacob\u2019s Dream, should not be struck\nwith the solemn awe that surrounds it, and with the dazzling flights of\nangels\u2019 wings like steps of golden light, emanations of flame or spirit\nhovering between earth and sky, and should observe very wisely that\nJacob was thrown in one corner of the picture like a bundle of clothes,\nwithout power, form, or motion, and should think this a defect, I should\nsay that such a critic might possess great knowledge of the mechanical\npart of painting, but not an atom of feeling or imagination.[52] Or who\nis it that, in looking at the productions of Raphael or Titian, is the\nperson of true taste? He who finds what there is, or he who finds what\nthere is not in each? Not he who picks a petty vulgar quarrel with the\ncolouring of Raphael or the drawing of Titian is the true critic and\njudicious spectator, but he who broods over the expression of the one\ntill it takes possession of his soul, and who dwells on the tones and\nhues of the other till his eye is saturated with truth and beauty, for\nby this means he moulds his mind to the study and reception of what is\nmost perfect in form and colour, instead of letting it remain empty,\n\u2018swept and garnished,\u2019 or rather a dull blank, with \u2018knowledge at each\nentrance quite shut out.\u2019 He who cavils at the want of drawing in Titian\nis not the most sensible to it in Raphael; instead of that, he only\ninsists on his want of colouring. He who is offended at Raphael\u2019s\nhardness and monotony is not delighted with the soft, rich pencilling of\nTitian; he only takes care to find fault with him for wanting that\nwhich, if he possessed it in the highest degree, he would not admire or\nunderstand. And this is easy to be accounted for. First, such a critic\nhas been told what to do, and follows his instructions. Secondly, to\nperceive the height of any excellence, it is necessary to have the most\nexquisite sense of that kind of excellence through all its gradations:\nto perceive the want of any excellence, it is merely necessary to have a\nnegative or abstract notion of the thing, or perhaps only of the name.\nOr, in other words, any the most crude and mechanical idea of a given\nquality is a measure of positive deficiency, whereas none but the most\nrefined idea of the same quality can be a standard of superlative merit.\nTo distinguish the finest characteristics of Titian or Raphael, to go\nalong with them in their imitation of Nature, is to be so far like them:\nto be occupied only with that in which they fell short of others,\ninstead of that in which they soared above them, shows a vulgar, narrow\ncapacity, insensible to any thing beyond mediocrity, and an ambition\nstill more grovelling. To be dazzled by admiration of the greatest\nexcellence, and of the highest works of genius, is natural to the best\ncapacities, and the best natures; envy and dulness are most apt to\ndetect minute blemishes and unavoidable inequalities, as we see the\nspots in the sun by having its rays blunted by mist or smoke. It may be\nasked, then, whether mere extravagance and enthusiasm are proofs of\ntaste? And I answer, no, where they are without reason and knowledge.\nMere sensibility is not true taste, but sensibility to real excellence\nis. To admire and be wrapt up in what is trifling or absurd, is a proof\nof nothing but ignorance or affectation: on the contrary, he who admires\nmost what is most worthy of admiration, (let his raptures or his\neagerness to express them be what they may), shows himself neither\nextravagant nor \u2018unwise.\u2019 When Mr. Wordsworth once said that he could\nread the description of Satan in Milton,\n\n \u2018Nor seem\u2019d\n Less than archangel ruin\u2019d, and the excess\n Of glory obscur\u2019d,\u2019\n\ntill he felt a certain faintness come over his mind from a sense of\nbeauty and grandeur, I saw no extravagance in this, but the utmost truth\nof feeling. When the same author, or his friend Mr. Southey, says, that\nthe Excursion is better worth preserving than the Paradise Lost, this\nappears to me, I confess, a great piece of impertinence, or an\nunwarrantable stretch of friendship. Nor do I think the preference given\nby certain celebrated reviewers, of Mr. Rogers\u2019s Human Life over Mr.\nWordsworth\u2019s Lyrical Ballads, founded on the true principles of poetical\njustice; for something is, after all, better than nothing.\n\nTo hasten to a conclusion of these desultory observations. The highest\ntaste is shown in habitual sensibility to the greatest beauties; the\nmost general taste is shown in a perception of the greatest variety of\nexcellence. Many people admire Milton, and as many admire Pope, while\nthere are but few who have any relish for both. Almost all the disputes\non this subject arise, not so much from false, as from confined taste.\nWe suppose that only one thing can have merit; and that, if we allow it\nto any thing else, we deprive the favourite object of our critical faith\nof the honours due to it. We are generally right in what we approve\nourselves; for liking proceeds from a certain conformity of objects to\nthe taste; as we are generally wrong in condemning what others admire;\nfor our dislike mostly proceeds from our want of taste for what pleases\nthem. Our being totally senseless to what excites extreme delight in\nthose who have as good a right to judge as we have, in all human\nprobability implies a defect of faculty in us, rather than a limitation\nin the resources of nature or art. Those who are pleased with the fewest\nthings, know the least; as those who are pleased with every thing, know\nnothing. Shakespeare makes Mrs. Quickly say of Falstaff, by a pleasant\nblunder, that \u2018Carnation was a colour he could never abide.\u2019 So there\nare persons who cannot like Claude, because he is not Salvator Rosa;\nsome who cannot endure Rembrandt, and others who would not cross the\nstreet to see a Vandyke; one reader does not like the neatness of\nJunius, and another objects to the extravagance of Burke; and they are\nall right, if they expect to find in others what is only to be found in\ntheir favourite author or artist, but equally wrong if they mean to say,\nthat each of those they would condemn by a narrow and arbitrary standard\nof taste, has not a peculiar and transcendent merit of his own. The\nquestion is not, whether _you_ like a certain excellence, (it is your\nown fault if you do not), but whether another possessed it in a very\neminent degree. If he did not, who is there that possessed it in a\ngreater\u2014that ranks above him in that particular? Those who are accounted\nthe best, are the best in their line. When we say that Rembrandt was a\nmaster of _chiaro-scuro_, for instance, we do not say that he joined to\nthis the symmetry of the Greek statues, but we mean that we must go to\nhim for the perfection of _chiaro-scuro_, and that a Greek statue has\nnot _chiaro-scuro_. If any one objects to Junius\u2019s Letters, that they\nare a tissue of epigrams, we answer, Be it so; it is for that very\nreason that we admire them. Again, should any one find fault with Mr.\nBurke\u2019s writings as a collection of rhapsodies, the proper answer always\nwould be, Who is there that has written finer rhapsodies? I know an\nadmirer of Don Quixote who can see no merit in Gil Blas, and an admirer\nof Gil Blas who could never get through Don Quixote. I myself have great\npleasure in reading both these works, and in that respect think I have\nan advantage over both these critics. It always struck me as a singular\nproof of good taste, good sense, and liberal thinking, in an old friend,\nwho had Paine\u2019s Rights of Man and Burke\u2019s Reflections on the French\nRevolution, bound up in one volume, and who said, that, both together,\nthey made a very good book. To agree with the greatest number of good\njudges, is to be in the right; and good judges are persons of natural\nsensibility and acquired knowledge.[53] On the other hand, it must be\nowned, there are critics whose praise is a libel, and whose\nrecommendation of any work is enough to condemn it. Men of the greatest\ngenius and originality are not always persons of the most liberal and\nunprejudiced taste; they have a strong bias to certain qualities\nthemselves, are for reducing others to their own standard, and lie less\nopen to the general impressions of things. This exclusive preference of\ntheir own peculiar excellencies to those of others, in writers whose\nmerits have not been sufficiently understood or acknowledged by their\ncontemporaries, chiefly because they were _not_ common-place, may\nsometimes be seen mounting up to a degree of bigotry and intolerance,\nlittle short of insanity. There are some critics I have known who never\nallow an author any merit till all the world \u2018cry out upon him,\u2019 and\nothers who never allow another any merit that any one can discover but\nthemselves. So there are connoisseurs who spend their lives and waste\ntheir breath in extolling sublime passages in obscure writers, and\nlovers who choose their mistresses for their ugly faces. This is not\ntaste, but affectation. What is popular is not necessarily vulgar; and\nthat which we try to rescue from fatal obscurity, had in general much\nbetter remain in it.\n\n\n\n\n THE SAME SUBJECT CONTINUED\n\n\nTaste relates to that which, either in the objects of nature, or the\nimitation of them or the Fine Arts in general is calculated to give\npleasure. Now, to know what is calculated to give pleasure, the way is\nto enquire what does give pleasure: so that taste is, after all, much\nmore a matter of fact and less of theory than might be imagined. We may\nhence determine another point, _viz._\u2014whether there is any universal or\nexclusive standard of taste, since this is to inquire, in other words,\nwhether there is any one thing that pleases all the world alike, or\nwhether there is only one thing that pleases anybody, both which\nquestions carry their own answers with them. Still it does not follow,\nbecause there is no dogmatic or bigoted standard of taste, like a\nformula of faith, which whoever does not believe without doubt he shall\nbe damned everlastingly, that there is no standard of taste whatever,\nthat is to say, that certain things are not more apt to please than\nothers, that some do not please more generally, that there are not\nothers that give most pleasure to those who have studied the subject,\nthat one nation is most susceptible of a particular kind of beauty, and\nanother of another, according to their characters, &c. It would be a\ndifficult attempt to force all these into one general rule or system,\nand yet equally so to deny that they are absolutely capricious, and\nwithout any foundation or principle whatever. There are, doubtless,\nbooks for children that we discard as we grow up; yet, what are the\nmajority of mankind, or even readers, but grown children? If put to the\nvote of all the milliners\u2019 girls in London, _Old Mortality_, or even\n_Heart of Midlothian_, would not carry the day (or, at least, not very\ntriumphantly) over a common Minerva-press novel; and I will hazard\nanother opinion, that no woman ever liked Burke. Mr. Pratt, on the\ncontrary, said that he had to \u2018boast of many learned and beautiful\nsuffrages.\u2019[54] It is not, then, solely from the greatest number of\nvoices, but from the opinion of the greatest number of well-informed\nminds, that we can establish, if not an absolute standard, at least a\ncomparative scale, of taste. Certainly, it can hardly be doubted that\nthe greater the number of persons of strong natural sensibility or love\nfor any art, and who have paid the closest attention to it, who agree in\ntheir admiration of any work of art, the higher do its pretensions rise\nto classical taste and intrinsic beauty. In this way, as the opinion of\na thousand good judges may outweigh that of nearly all the rest of the\nworld, so there may be one individual among them whose opinion may\noutweigh that of the other nine hundred and ninety-nine; that is, one of\na still stronger and more refined perception of beauty than all the\nrest, and to whose opinion that of the others and of the world at large\nwould approximate and be conformed, as their taste or perception of what\nwas pleasing became stronger and more confirmed by exercise and proper\nobjects to call it forth. Thus, if we were still to insist on an\nuniversal standard of taste, it must be that, not which _does_, but\nwhich _would_ please universally, supposing all men to have paid an\nequal attention to any subject and to have an equal relish for it, which\ncan only be guessed at by the imperfect and yet more than casual\nagreement among those who have done so from choice and feeling. Taste is\nnothing but an enlarged capacity for receiving pleasure from works of\nimagination, &c. It is time, however, to apply this rule. There is, for\ninstance, a much greater number of habitual readers and playgoers in\nFrance, who are devoted admirers of Racine or Moli\u00e8re than there are in\nEngland of Shakspeare: does Shakspeare\u2019s fame rest, then, on a less\nbroad and solid foundation than that of either of the others? I think\nnot, supposing that the class of judges to whom Shakspeare\u2019s excellences\nappeal are a higher, more independent, and more original court of\ncriticism, and that their suffrages are quite as unanimous (though not\nso numerous) in the one case as in the other. A simile or a sentiment is\nnot the worse in common opinion for being somewhat superficial and\nhackneyed, but it is the worse in poetry. The perfection of\n_common-place_ is that which would unite the greatest number of\nsuffrages, if there were not a tribunal above _common-place_. For\ninstance, in Shakspeare\u2019s description of flowers, primroses are\nmentioned\u2014\n\n \u2018That come before the swallow dares, and take\n The winds of March with beauty:\u2019\n\nNow, I do not know that this expression is translatable into French, or\nintelligible to the common reader of either nation, but raise the scale\nof fancy, passion, and observation of nature to a certain point, and I\nwill be bold to say that there will be no scruple entertained whether\nthis single metaphor does not contain more poetry of the kind than is to\nbe found in all Racine. As no Frenchman could write it, so I believe no\nFrenchman could understand it. We cannot take this insensibility on\ntheir part as a mark of our superiority, for we have plenty of persons\namong ourselves in the same predicament, but not the wisest or most\nrefined, and to these the appeal is fair from the many\u2014\u2018and fit audience\nfind, though few.\u2019 So I think it requires a higher degree of taste to\njudge of Titian\u2019s portraits than Raphael\u2019s scripture pieces: not that I\nthink more highly of the former than the latter, but the world and\nconnoisseurs in general think there is no comparison (from the dignity\nof the subject), whereas I think it difficult to decide which are the\nfinest. Here again we have a common-place, a preconception, the moulds\nof the judgment preoccupied by certain assumptions of degrees and\nclasses of excellence, instead of judging from the true and genuine\nimpressions of things. Men of genius, or those who can produce\nexcellence would be the best judges of it\u2014poets of poetry, painters of\npainting, &c.\u2014but that persons of original and strong powers of mind are\ntoo much disposed to refer everything to their own peculiar bias, and\nare comparatively indifferent to merely passive impressions. On the\nother hand, it is wholly wrong to oppose taste to genius, for genius in\nworks of art is nothing but the power of producing what is beautiful\n(which, however, implies the intimate sense of it), though this is\nsomething very different from mere negative or formal beauties, which\nhave as little to do with taste as genius.\n\nI have, in a former essay, ascertained one principle of taste or\nexcellence in the arts of imitation, where it was shown that objects of\nsense are not as it were simple and self-evident propositions, but admit\nof endless analysis and the most subtle investigation. We do not see\nnature with our eyes, but with our understandings and our hearts. To\nsuppose that we see the whole of any object, merely by looking at it, is\na vulgar error: we fancy that we do, because we are, of course,\nconscious of no more than we see in it, but this circle of our knowledge\nenlarges with further acquaintance and study, and we then perceive that\nwhat we perhaps barely distinguished in the gross, or regarded as a dull\nblank, is full of beauty, meaning, and curious details. He sees most of\nnature who understands its language best, or connects one thing with the\ngreatest number of other things. Expression is the key to the human\ncountenance, and unfolds a thousand imperceptible distinctions. How,\nthen, should every one be a judge of pictures, when so few are of faces?\nA merely ignorant spectator, walking through a gallery of pictures, no\nmore distinguishes the finest than your dog would, if he was to\naccompany you. Do not even the most experienced dispute on the\npreference, and shall the most ignorant decide? A vulgar connoisseur\nwould even prefer a Denner to a Titian, because there is more of merely\ncurious and specific detail. We may hence account for another\ncircumstance, why things please in the imitation which do not in\nreality. If we saw the whole of anything, or if the object in nature\nwere merely one thing, this could not be the case. But the fact is, that\nin the imitation, or in the scientific study of any object, we come to\nan analysis of the details or some other abstract view of the subject\nwhich we had overlooked in a cursory examination, and these may be\nbeautiful or curious, though the object in the gross is disgusting, or\nconnected with disagreeable or uninteresting associations. Thus, in a\npicture of _still life_, as a shell or a marble chimney-piece, the\nstains or the gradations of colour may be delicate, and subjects for a\nnew and careful imitation, though the _tout ensemble_ has not, like a\nliving face, the highest beauty of intelligence and expression. Here lie\nand here return the true effects and triumphs of art. It is not in\nmaking the eye a microscope, but in making it the interpreter and organ\nof all that can touch the soul and the affections, that the perfection\nof fine art is shown. Taste, then, does not place in the first rank of\nmerit what merely proves difficulty or gratifies curiosity, unless it is\ncombined with excellence and sentiment, or the pleasures of imagination\nand the moral sense. In this case the pleasure is more than doubled,\nwhere not only the imitation but the thing imitated, is fine in itself.\nHence the preference given to Italian over Dutch pictures.\n\nIn respect to the imitation of nature, I would further observe that I\nthink Sir Joshua Reynolds was wrong in making the grandeur of the design\ndepend on the omission of the details, or the want of finishing. This\nseems also to proceed on the supposition that there cannot be two views\nof nature, but that the details are opposed to and inconsistent with an\nattention to general effect. Now this is evidently false, since the two\nthings are undoubtedly combined by nature. For instance, the grandeur of\ndesign or character in the arch of an eyebrow is not injured or\ndestroyed in reality by the hair-lines of which it is composed. Nor is\nthe general form or outline of the eyebrow altered in the imitation,\nwhether you make it one rude mass or descend into the minuti\u00e6 of the\nparts, which are arranged in such a manner as to produce the arched form\nand give the particular expression. So the general form of a nose, say\nan aquiline one, is not affected, whether I paint a wart which may\nhappen to be on it or not, and so of the outline and proportions of the\nwhole face. That is, general effect is consistent with individual\ndetails, and though these are not necessary to it, yet they often assist\nit, and always confirm the sense of verisimilitude. The most finished\npaintings, it is true, are not the grandest in effect; but neither is it\ntrue that the greatest daubs are the most sublime in character and\ncomposition. The best painters have combined an eye to the whole with\ncareful finishing, and as there is a medium in all things, so the rule\nhere seems to be not to go on _ad infinitum_ with the details, but to\nstop when the time and labour necessary seem, in the judgment of the\nartist, to exceed the benefit produced.\n\nBeauty does not consist in a medium, but in gradation or harmony. It has\nbeen the fashion of late to pretend to refer everything to association\nof ideas (and it is difficult to answer this appeal, since association,\nby its nature, mixes up with everything), but as Hartley has himself\nobserved, who carried this principle to the utmost extent, and might be\nsupposed to understand its limits, association implies something to be\nassociated, and if there is a pleasing association, there must be first\nsomething naturally pleasing from which the secondary satisfaction is\nreflected, or to which it is conjoined. The chirping of a sparrow is as\nmuch a rural and domestic sound as the notes of the robin or the thrush,\nbut it does not serve as a point to link other interests to because it\nwants beauty in itself; and, on the other hand, the song of the\nnightingale draws more attention to itself as a piece of music, and\nconveys less sentiment than the simple note of the cuckoo, which, from\nits solitary singularity, acts as the warning voice of time. Those who\ndeny that there is a natural and pleasing softness arising from harmony\nor gradation, might as well affirm that sudden and abrupt transitions do\nnot make our impressions more distinct as that they do not make them\nmore harsh and violent. Beauty consists in gradation of colours or\nsymmetry of form (conformity): strength or sublimity arises from the\nsense of power, and is aided by contrast. The ludicrous is the\nincoherent, arising, not from a conflicting power, but from weakness or\nthe inability of any habitual impulse to sustain itself. The _ideal_ is\nnot confined to creation, but takes place in imitation, where a thing is\nsubjected to one view, as all the parts of a face to the same\nexpression. Invention is only feigning according to nature, or with a\ncertain proportion between causes and effects. Poetry is infusing the\nsame spirit into a number of things, or bathing them all as it were, in\nthe same overflowing sense of delight (making the language also soft and\nmusical), as the same torch kindles a number of lamps. I think invention\nis chiefly confined to poetry and words or ideas, and has little place\nin painting or concrete imagery, where the want of truth, or of the\nactual object, soon spoils the effect and force of the representation.\nIndeed, I think all genius is, in a great measure, national and local,\narising out of times and circumstances, and being sustained at its full\nheight by these alone, and that originality is not a deviation from, but\na recurrence to nature. Rules and models destroy genius and art; and the\nexcess of the artificial in the end cures itself, for it in time becomes\nso uniform and vapid as to be altogether contemptible, and to seek\n_perforce_ some other outlet or purchase for the mind to take hold of.\n\nThe metaphysical theory above premised will account not only for the\ndifficulty of imitating nature, but for the excellence of various\nmasters, and the diversity and popularity of different styles. If the\ntruth of sense and nature were one, there could be but one mode of\nrepresenting it, more or less correct. But nature contains an infinite\nvariety of parts, with their relations and significations, and different\nartists take these, and altogether do not give the whole. Thus Titian\ncoloured, Raphael designed, Rubens gave the florid hue and motions,\nRembrandt _chiaro-scuro_, &c.; but none of these reached perfection in\ntheir several departments, much less with reference to the whole\ncircumference of art. It is ridiculous to suppose there is but one\nstandard or one style. One artist looks at objects with as different an\neye from another, as he does from the mathematician. It is erroneous to\ntie down individual genius to ideal models. Each person should do that,\nnot which is best in itself, even supposing this could be known, but\nthat which he can do best, which he will find out if left to himself.\nSpenser could not have written _Paradise Lost_, nor Milton the _Faerie\nQueene_. Those who aim at faultless regularity will only produce\nmediocrity, and no one ever approaches perfection except by stealth, and\nunknown to themselves. Did Correggio know what he had done when he had\npainted the \u2018St. Jerome\u2019\u2014or Rembrandt when he made the sketch of\n\u2018Jacob\u2019s Dream?\u2019 Oh, no! Those who are conscious of their powers never\ndo anything.\n\n\n\n\n ON THE PRESENT STATE OF PARLIAMENTARY ELOQUENCE\n\n\n _The London Magazine._] [_October 1820._\n\nIt was a fine impertinence of the younger Pliny, to try to persuade\nTacitus, in one of his epistles, that the diffuse style was better than\nthe concise. \u2018Such a one,\u2019 says he, \u2018aims at the throat of his\nadversary: now I like to strike him wherever I can.\u2019 I may be thought\nguilty of a like piece of officiousness in the remarks here offered on\nseveral of the most prominent of our parliamentary speakers. In general,\nto suggest advice, or hazard criticism, is to recommend it to others to\ndo something, which we know they either will not or cannot do: or it is\nto desire them either to please us, or do nothing. The present article\nmay be considered as a marginal note or explanatory addition to a former\none, on nearly the same subject\u2014like one of Lord Castlereagh\u2019s long\nparentheses: but I hope there will be more in it. It is a subject of\nwhich I wish to make clear work as I go; for it is one to which, if I\ncan once get rid of it, I am not likely to recur.\n\nThe haughty tone of invective which I have already ascribed to Lord\nChatham, was very different from that didactic style of parliamentary\noratory which has since been imported from northern colleges and\nlecture-rooms. Of this school Sir James Mackintosh and Mr. Brougham may\nbe reckoned at the head.\n\nThis method consists, not so much in taking a side, as in stating a\nquestion. The speaker takes upon him to be the judge rather than the\nadvocate; and if he had the authority of a judge, or could direct the\ndecision, as well as sum up the evidence, it would be all very well. An\norator of this stamp does not seat himself on the Opposition side of the\nHouse to urge or to reply to particular points, but in a Professor\u2019s\nchair of Humanity, to read a lecture to the tyros of the Treasury-Bench,\non the elementary principles and all the possible bearings, the\nobjections and answers, the difficulties and the solutions of every\nquestion in philosophy, jurisprudence, politics, and political\neconomy,\u2014on war, peace, \u2018domestic treason, foreign levy,\u2019 colonial\nproduce, copy-right of authors, prison discipline, the hulks, the\ncorn-bill, the penitentiary, prostitutes, and pick-pockets. Nothing\ncomes amiss to him that can puzzle himself or _pose_ his hearers; and he\nlets out all his knowledge indiscriminately, whether it makes for or\nagainst him, with deliberate impartiality and scrupulous exactness. Such\npersons might be called _Orators of the Human Mind_. They are a little\nout of their place, it must be owned, in the House of Commons. The\nobject there is\u2014not to put the majority in possession of the common\ngrounds of judging, as in a class of students\u2014(these are taken for\ngranted as already known)\u2014but to carry a point, to gain a verdict for\nyourself or for truth, by throwing the weight of eloquence and argument\ninto the scale against interest, prejudice, or sophistry. There are\nretainers enough on the other side to manage for the crown, who are\nready to take all advantages without your volunteering to place yourself\nin their power, or to put excuses in their mouths, to help them out at a\ndead-lift. If they were candid, if they were disinterested, if they were\nnot hostilely disposed, it might be a feasible scheme to consider a\ndebate as an amicable communication of doubts and lights, as a\ncomparison of strength or a confession of weakness: but why hint a\ndoubt, or start a difficulty needlessly in your own path, which will be\neagerly caught at, and made use of in the most insulting manner to\ndefeat a host of real proofs, and overturn the most legitimate\nconclusions? Why tamper with your own cause? Why play at fast and loose\nwith your object? Why restore the weapons into your enemies\u2019 hands,\nwhich you have just wrested from them? Why \u2018make a wanton\u2019 of the First\nMinister of State? It is either vanity, weakness, or indifference to do\nso. You might as well in confidence tell an adversary where you meant to\nstrike him, point out to him your own weak sides, or wait in courtesy\nfor the blow. Gamesters do not show one another their hands: neither\nshould politicians, who understand what they are about\u2014that is, knaves\n_will_ not, and honest men _ought_ not. Others will find out the rotten\nparts of a question: do you stick to the sound\u2014knowledge is said to be\npower: but knowledge, applied as we have seen it, neutralises itself.\nMere knowledge, to be effectual, must act _in vacuo_: but the House of\nCommons is by no means a vacuum, and empty receiver for abstract truth\nand airy speculation. There is the resistance, the refrangibility of\ndense prejudice and crooked policy: you must concentrate, you must\nenforce, you must urge to glowing sympathy: and enthusiasm, zeal,\nperfect conviction on your part, is the only principle that can be\nbrought into play against the cool calculations or gross incentives of\nselfishness and servility on the opposite side. A middle line of conduct\ndoes not excite respect, but contempt. They do not think you sincere,\nbut lukewarm. They give you credit for affectation or timidity, but none\nfor heartiness in a cause, or fidelity to a party. They have more hopes\nof you than fears. By everlasting subtle distinctions, and hesitating,\nqualified, retracting dissent from measures you would be thought most to\nreprobate, you do more harm than good. In theory there are infinite\nshades of difference, but in practice the question must be decided one\nway or other: either the Ayes or the Noes must have it. In all such\ncases, those who are not for us are against us. In political\ncontroversy, as in a battle, there are but two sides to chuse between;\nand those who create a diversion in favour of established abuses by\nsetting up a third, fanciful, impracticable standard of perfection of\ntheir own, in the most critical circumstances, betray the cause they\npretend to espouse with such overweening delicacy. For my own part, I\nhate a fellow who picks a hole in his own coat, who finds a flaw in his\nown argument, who treats his enemies as if they might become friends, or\nhis friends as if they might become enemies. I hate your shuffling,\n_shilly-shally_ proceedings, and diagonal sidelong movements between\nright and wrong. Fling yourself into the gap at once\u2014either into the\narms, or at the heads of Ministers!\n\nI remember hearing, with some pain and uneasiness, Sir James\nMackintosh\u2019s maiden speech on the Genoa business. It was a great, but\nineffectual effort. The mass of information, of ingenuity, and\nreasoning, was very prodigious; but the whole was misdirected, no\nimpression whatever was made. It was like an inaugural dissertation on\nthe general principles of ethics, on the laws of nature and nations, on\nancient and modern history\u2014a laboured treatise _de omnibus rebus et\nquibusdam aliis_. There were all the rules of moral arithmetic, all the\nitems in a profligate political account; but the bill was not properly\ncast up, the case was not distinctly made out, the counsel got no\ndamages for his client. Nothing was gained by this motion, nor could\nthere be. When he had brought his heaviest artillery to bear with\nprobable success upon a certain point, he stopped short like a\nscientific demonstrator (not like a skilful engineer) to show how it\nmight be turned against himself. When he had wound up the charge of\ntreachery or oppression to a climax, he gratuitously suggested a\npossible plea of necessity, accident, or some other topic, to break the\nforce of his inference; or he anticipated the answers that might be made\nto it, as if he was afraid he should not be thought to know all that\ncould be said on both sides of the question. This enlarged knowledge of\ngood and evil may be very necessary to a philosopher, but it is very\nprejudicial to an orator. No man can play the whole game in this manner,\nblow hot and cold in a breath, or take an entire debate into his own\nhands, and wield it in which way he pleases. He will find his own load\nenough for his own shoulders to bear. The exceptions if you chuse to go\ninto them, multiply faster than the rules: the various complications of\nthe subject distract, instead of convincing: you do your adversary\u2019s\nwork for him; the battle is lost without a blow being struck; and a\nspeech of this sceptical kind requires and receives no answer. It falls\nby its own weight, and buries any body but the Minister under its\nruins\u2014or it is left, not a triumphal arch, but a splendid mausoleum of\nthe learning, genius, and eloquence of the speaker.\u2014The Cock-pit of St.\nStephen\u2019s does not relish this scholastic refinement, this method of\nholding an argument with a man\u2019s self: a little bear-garden,\ncut-and-thrust work would be much better understood. Sir James has of\nlate improved his tact and knowledge of the House. He has taken up Sir\nSamuel Romilly\u2019s department of questions relating to the amelioration of\nthe penal code and general humanity, and I have no doubt Government will\nleave him in quiet possession of it. They concede these sort of\nquestions as an amiable diversion, or friendly _bonus_, to the\nindefatigable spirit of Opposition.\n\nMr. Brougham is, I conceive, another instance of this analytical style\nof debating, which \u2018plays round the head, but does not reach the heart.\u2019\nThere is a want of warmth, of _momentum_, of impulse in his speeches. He\nloses himself in an infinity of details, as his learned and honourable\nfriend does in a wide sea of speculation. He goes picking up a number of\ncurious pebbles on the shore, and at the outlets of a question\u2014but he\ndoes not \u2018roll all his strength and all his sharpness up into one ball,\u2019\nto throw at and crush his enemies beneath his feet. He enters into\nstatistics, he calls for documents, he examines accounts. This method is\nslow, perplexing, circuitous, and not sure. While the evidence is\ncollecting, the question is lost. While one thing is substantiating,\nanother goes out of your mind. These little detached multifarious\nparticulars, which require such industry and sagacity in the speaker to\nbring them forward, have no clue in the minds of the hearers to connect\nthem together. There is no substratum of prejudice, no cement of\ninterest. They do not grow out of the soil of common feeling and\nexperience, but are set in it; nor do they bear the fruits of\nconviction. Mr. Brougham can follow the ramifications of an intricate\nsubject, but he is not so well acquainted with the springs of the human\nmind. He finds himself at the end of his speech,\u2014in the last sentence of\nit,\u2014just where he was at the beginning, or in any other given part of\nit. He has not acquired any additional _impetus_, is not projected\nforward with any new degree of warmth or vigour. He was cold, correct,\nsmart, pointed at first, and he continues so still. A repetition of\nblows, however, is of no use, unless they are struck in the same place:\na change of position is not progression. As Sir James Mackintosh\u2019s\nspeeches are a decomposition of the moral principles of society, so Mr.\nBrougham\u2019s are an ingenious taking in pieces of its physical mechanism.\nWhile they are at work with their experiments, their antagonists are\nputting in motion the passions, the fears, and antipathies of mankind,\nand blowing their schemes of reform above the moon.\n\nTalent alone, then, is not sufficient to support a successful\nOpposition. There is talent on the other side too, of some sort or\nother; and, in addition, there is another weight, that of influence,\nwhich requires a counterpoise. This can be nothing else but fixed\nprinciple, but naked honesty, but undisguised enthusiasm. That is the\nexpansive force that must shatter the strongholds of corruption if ever\nthey are shattered, that must make them totter, if ever they are made to\ntotter, about the heads of their possessors. Desire to expose a\nministry, and you will do it\u2014if it be, like ours, vulnerable all over.\nDesire to make a display of yourself, and you will do it, if you have a\ndecent stock of acquirements. Mr. Brougham has a great quantity of\ncombustible materials constantly passing through his hands, but he has\nnot the warmth in his own heart to \u2018kindle them into a flame of sacred\nvehemence.\u2019 He is not a good hater. He is not an impassioned lover of\nthe popular cause. He is not a Radical orator: he is not a Back-bone\ndebater. He wants nerve, he wants impetuosity. He may divide on a\nquestion, but he will never carry it. His circumspection, which he\nthinks his strength, is in reality his weakness. He makes paltry\nexcuses, unmanly concessions. His political warfare is not a _bellum\ninternecinum_. He commits no mortal offences. He has not yet cut off his\nretreat. In a word, he trims too much between all parties. A person who\ndoes this too long, loses the confidence, loses the cordiality of all\nparties; loses his character; and when he has once lost that, there is\nnothing to stand in his way to office and the first honours of the\nState!\n\nHe who is not indifferent himself will find out, from his own feelings,\nwhat it is that interests others in a cause. An honest man is an orator\nby nature. The late Mr. Whitbread was an honest man, and a true\nparliamentary speaker. He had no artifices, no tricks, no reserve about\nhim. He spoke point-blank what he thought, and his heart was in his\nbroad, honest, English face. He had as much activity of mind as Mr.\nBrougham, and paid the same attention to business as that gentleman\ndoes; but it was with him a matter of feeling, and had nothing of a\nprofessional look. His objects were open and direct; and he had a\nsufficient stock of natural good sense and practical information, not to\nbe made the dupe of sophistry and chicane. He was always in his place,\nand ready to do his duty. If a falsehood was stated, he contradicted it\ninstantly in a few plain words: if an act of injustice was palliated, it\nexcited his contempt; if it was justified, it roused his indignation: he\nretorted a mean insinuation with manly spirit, and never shrunk from a\nfrank avowal of his sentiments. He presented a petition or complaint\nagainst some particular grievance better than any one else I ever saw.\nHis manner seemed neither to implicate him in the truth of the charge,\nnor to signify a wish to disclaim it beforehand. He was merely the organ\nthrough which any alleged abuse of power might meet the public ear, and\nhe either answered or redressed, according to the merits of the case\nupon inquiry. In short, he was the representative of the spontaneous,\nunsophisticated sense of the English people on public men and public\nmeasures. Any plain, well-meaning man, on hearing him speak, would say,\n\u2018That is just what I think\u2019; or from observing his manner, would say,\n\u2018That is just what I feel.\u2019 He was not otherwise a powerful debater or\nan accomplished speaker. He could not master a general view of any\nsubject, or get up a set speech with effect. One or two that I heard him\nmake (particularly one on the Princess of Wales and the situation of her\naffairs in 1813, in which he grew pathetic) were complete failures. He\ncould pull down better than he could build up. The irritation of\nconstant contradiction was necessary to his full possession of\nhimself:\u2014give him \u2018ample scope and verge enough,\u2019 and he lost his way.\nHe stuck close to the skirts of Ministry, but he was not qualified to\noriginate or bring to a triumphant conclusion any great political\nmovement. His enthusiasm ran away with his judgment, and was not\n_backed_ by equal powers of reasoning or imagination. He was a sanguine,\nhigh-spirited man, but not a man of genius, or a deep thinker; and his\nfortitude failed him, when the last fatal blow was given to himself and\nhis party. He could not have drawn up so able a political statement as\nMr. Brougham; but he would have more personal adherents in the House of\nCommons, for he was himself the adherent of a cause.\n\nMr. Tierney is certainly a better speaker and a cleverer man. But he can\nnever make a leader for want of earnestness. He has no Quixotic\nenthusiasm in himself; much less any to spare for his followers. He\ncares nothing (or seems to care nothing) about a question; but he is\nimpatient of absurdity, and has a thorough contempt for the\nunderstandings of his opponents. Sharpened by his spleen, nothing\nescapes his acuteness. He makes fine sport for the spectators. He takes\nup Lord Castlereagh\u2019s blunders, and Mr. Vansittart\u2019s no-meanings; and\nretorts them on their heads in the finest style of execution imaginable.\nIt is like being present on a Shrove-Tuesday, and seeing a set of\nmischievous unfeeling boys throwing at a brace of cocks, and breaking\ntheir shins. Mr. Tierney always brings down his man: but beyond this you\nfeel no confidence in him; you take no interest in his movements but as\nhe is instrumental in annoying other people. He (to all appearance) has\nno great point to carry himself, and no wish to be thought to have any\nimportant principle at stake. He is by much too sincere for a hypocrite,\nbut is not enough in earnest for a parliamentary leader. For others to\nsympathise with you, you must first sympathise with them. When Mr.\nWhitbread got up to speak, you felt an interest in what he was going to\nsay, in the success of his arguments: when you hear that Mr. Tierney is\non his legs, you feel that you shall be amused with an admirable display\nof dexterity and talent, but are nearly indifferent as to the result.\nYou look on as at an exhibition of extraordinary skill in fencing or\nprize-fighting.\n\nOf all those who have for some years past aspired by turns to be leaders\nof the Opposition, Mr. Ponsonby was the person who had the fewest\npretensions. He was a literal arguer. He affected great sagacity and\njudgment, and referred every thing, in a summary way, to the principles\nof common sense, and the reason of the case. He abounded in truisms,\nwhich seldom go far in deciding disputable points. He generally reduced\nthe whole range of the debate into the narrow compass of a self-evident\nproposition:\u2014to make sure of his object, he began by taking the question\nfor granted, and necessarily failed when he came to the particular\napplication. He was not aware of the maxim, that he who proves too much,\nproves nothing. His turn of observation was legal, not acute: his manner\nwas dry, but his blows were not hard: his features were flat on his\nface, and his arguments did not stand out from the question. He might\nhave been a tolerable special-pleader, but he was a bad orator, and, I\nthink, a worse politician. Any one who argues on strict logical grounds\nmust be prepared to go all lengths, or he will be sure to be defeated at\nevery step he takes: but the gentleman\u2019s principles were of a very\ncautious and temporising cast. I have seen him, more than once, give\nhimself great airs over those who took more general views of the\nsubject; and he was very fastidious in the choice of associates, with\nwhom he would condescend to act.\n\nMr. Ponsonby\u2019s style of speaking was neither instructive nor\nentertaining. In this respect, it was the reverse of Mr. Grattan\u2019s,\nwhich was both. To see the latter make one of his promised motions on\nCatholic Emancipation, was one of the most extraordinary exhibitions,\nboth bodily and mental, which could possibly be witnessed. You saw a\nlittle oddly-compacted figure of a man, with a large head and\nfeatures,\u2014such as they give to pasteboard masks, or stick upon the\nshoulders of Punch in the puppet-show,\u2014rolling about like a\nMandarin\u2014sawing the air with his whole body from head to foot, sweeping\nthe floor with a roll of parchment, which he held in one hand, and\nthrowing his legs and arms about like the branches of trees tossed by\nthe wind:\u2014every now and then striking the table with impatient\nvehemence, and, in a sharp, slow, nasal, gutteral tone, drawling out,\nwith due emphasis and discretion, a set of little smart antithetical\nsentences,\u2014all ready-cut and dry, polished and pointed;\u2014that seemed as\nif they \u2018would lengthen out in succession to the crack of doom.\u2019\nAlliterations were tacked to alliterations,\u2014inference was dove-tailed\ninto inference,\u2014and the whole derived new brilliance and piquancy from\nthe contrast it presented to the uncouthness of the speaker, and the\nmonotony of his delivery. His were compositions that would have done\nequally well to be said or sung. The rhyme was placed at the beginning\ninstead of the end of each line; he sharpened the sense on the sound,\nand clenched an argument by corresponding letters of the alphabet. It\nmust be confessed, that there was something meretricious, as well as\nalluring, in this style. After the first surprise and startling effect\nis over, and the devoted champion of his country\u2019s cause goes on ringing\nthe changes on \u2018the Irish People and the Irish Parliament\u2019\u2014on \u2018the\nGuinea and the Gallows,\u2019 as the ultimate resources of the English\ngovernment,\u2014on \u2018ministerial mismanagement, and privileged\nprofligacy,\u2019\u2014we begin to feel that there is nothing in these quaint and\naffected verbal coincidences more nearly allied to truth than\nfalsehood:\u2014there is a want of directness and simplicity in this warped\nand garbled style; and our attention is drawn off from the importance of\nthe subject by a shower of epigrammatic conceits, and fanciful\nphraseology, in which the orator chuses to veil it. It is hardly enough\nto say, in defence of this jingle of words, (as well as of the\noverstrained hyperbolical tone of declamation which accompanies it) that\n\u2018it is a custom of Ireland.\u2019[55] The same objection may be made to it in\npoint of taste that has been made to the old-fashioned, obsolete\npractice of cutting trees into the shape of arm-chairs and peacocks, or\nto that style of landscape-gardening, where\n\n \u2018Grove nods to grove, each alley has a brother,\n And half the platform just reflects the other\u2014\u2019\n\nand I am afraid that this objection cannot be got over, at least, on\nthis side the water.[56]\n\nThe best Irish speaker I ever heard (indeed the best speaker without any\nexception whatever) is Mr. Plunkett; who followed Mr. Grattan in one of\nthe debates on the Catholic question above alluded to. The contrast was\nnot a little striking; and it was certainly in favour of Mr. Plunkett.\nHis style of workmanship was more manly and more masterly. There were no\nlittle Gothic ornaments or fantastic excrescences to catch and break the\nattention: no quaintness, witticism, or conceit. Roubilliac, after being\nabroad, said, that \u2018what he had seen there made his own work in\nWestminster Abbey look like tobacco-pipes.\u2019 You had something of the\nsame sort of feeling with respect to Mr. Grattan\u2019s artificial and\nfrittered style, after hearing Mr. Plunkett\u2019s defence of the same side\nof the question. He went strait forward to his end with a force equal to\nhis rapidity. He removed all obstacles, as he advanced. He overturned\nMr. Banks with his right hand, and Mr. Charles Yorke with his left\u2014the\none on a chronological question of the Concordat, and the other as to\nthe origin of the Corporation and Test Acts. One wonders how they ever\ngot up again, or trusted themselves on a ground of matter-of-fact ever\nafter. Mr. Secretary Peele did not offer to put himself in his way. No\npart of the subject could come amiss to him\u2014history, law, constitutional\nprinciple, common feeling, local prejudices, general theory,\u2014all was\nalike within his reach and his controul. Having settled one point, he\npassed on to another, carrying his hearers with him:\u2014it was as if he\nknew all that could be said on the question, and was anxious to impart\nhis knowledge without any desire of shining. There was no affectation,\nno effort, but equal ease and earnestness. Every thing was brought to\nbear that could answer his purpose, and there was nothing superfluous.\nHis eloquence swept along like a river,\n\n \u2018Without o\u2019erflowing, full.\u2019\n\nEvery step told: every sentence went to account. I cannot say that there\nwas any thing very profound or original in argument, imposing in\nimagination, or impassioned in sentiment, in any part of this\naddress\u2014but it was throughout impregnated with as much thought,\nimagination and passion as the House would be likely to understand or\nsympathise with. It acted like a loadstone to the feelings of the House;\nand the speaker raised their enthusiasm, and carried their convictions\nas far as he wished, or as it was practicable. The effect was\nextraordinary: the impression grew stronger from first to last. No one\nstirred the whole time, and, at the end, the lobbies were crowded with\nmembers going up stairs and saying, \u2018Well, this is a speech worth going\nwithout one\u2019s dinner to hear,\u2019 (Oh, unequivocal testimony of applause!)\n\u2018there has been nothing like this since the time of Fox,\u2019 etc. For\nmyself, I never heard any other speech that I would have given three\nfarthings to have made. It did not make the same figure in the\nnewspapers the next day; for it was but indifferently reported, owing to\nthe extreme fluency with which it was delivered. There was no boggling,\nno straggling, irrelevant matter;\u2014you could not wait for him at the end\nof a long parenthesis, and go on with your report as if nothing had\nhappened in the interval, as is sometimes the case,[57]\u2014and besides, for\nthe reason above given, it was a speech better calculated to strike in\nthe hearing than the perusal; for though it was fully up to the tone of\nthe House, the public mind can bear stronger meats. Another such speech\nwould have decided the question, and made the difference of four votes\nby which it was lost. While the impression was fresh in the mind, it was\nnot easy for any one, pretending to honesty, to look his neighbour in\nthe face and vote against the motion. But Mr. Plunkett, in the mean\ntime, sailed for Ireland. Any one who can speak as he can, and is a\nfriend to his own, or any other country, ought not to let the present\nmen retain their seats six months longer. Nothing but the will is\nwanting.\u2014The ability, I will venture to say, is there.\n\nAnd what shall I say of Lord Castlereagh\u2014that spouter without beginning,\nmiddle, or end\u2014who has not an idea in his head, nor a word to say for\nhimself\u2014who carries the House of Commons by his manner alone\u2014who bows\nand smiles assent and dissent\u2014who makes a dangling proposition of his\nperson, and is himself a drooping figure of speech\u2014what shall I say of\nthis inanimate automaton? Nothing! For what can be said of him?\n\n \u2018Come then, expressive silence, muse his praise.\u2019[58]\n\nNeither have I any thing to say of the style of eloquence of Mr.\nAlderman Wood, or Mr. Waithman, or Sir. W. Curtis\u2014except that the latter\nalways appears to me a very fit and lively representative of the good\nliving, drinking, and eating of the city. This is but reasonable. The\nbodies of the city, not their minds, should be represented. A large\nturtle in the House (with a proxy to the minister) would answer the\npurpose just as well.\n\nMr. Wilberforce is a speaker whom it is difficult to class either with\nministers or opposition. His character and his pretensions are\naltogether equivocal. He is a man of some ability, and, at one time, had\nconsiderable influence. He is what might be called \u2018a sweet speaker\u2019:\nhis silver voice floats and glides up and down in the air, as if it was\navoiding every occasion of offence, and dodging the question through its\nvarious avenues of reason and interest.\n\n \u2014\u2014\u2018In many a winding bout\n Of melting softness long drawn out.\u2019\n\nThere is a finical flexibility of purpose, and a cautious curiosity of\nresearch, that would put you in pain for him, if the want of proper\nself-respect did not take away all common fellow-feeling. His stratagems\nare so over-wrought that you wish them to fail: his evasions are so\nslippery and yet so palpable that you laugh in his face. Mr. Wilberforce\nis a man that has always two strings to his bow: as an orator, he is a\nkind of lay-preacher in parliament. He is at continual _hawk and\nbuzzard_ between character and conscience, between popularity and court\nfavour, between his loyalty and his religion, between this world and the\nnext. Is not this something like trying to serve God and Mammon? He is\nanxious to stand fair with the reflecting part of the community, without\ngiving umbrage to power. He is shocked at vice in low stations:\n\n \u2018But \u2019tis the fall degrades her to a whore;\n Let greatness own her, and she\u2019s mean no more.\u2019\n\nHe would go with the popular cause as long as it was popular, and gave\nhim more weight than he lost by it; but would desert it the instant it\nbecame obnoxious, and that an obstinate adherence to it was likely to\ndeprive him of future opportunities of doing good. He had rather be on\nthe right side than the wrong, if he loses nothing by it. His reputation\ncosts him nothing; though he always takes care to save appearances. His\nvirtues compound for his vices in a very amicable manner. His humanity\nis at the horizon, three thousand miles off,\u2014his servility stays at\nhome, at the beck of the minister. He unbinds the chains of Africa, and\nhelps (we trust without meaning it) to rivet those of his own country,\nand of Europe. As a general truth,\u2014(not meaning any undue application in\nthe present instance,) it may be affirmed, that there is not a more\ninsignificant as well as a dangerous character crawling between heaven\nand earth, than that of the pretended patriot, and philanthropist, who\nhas not courage to take the plain reward of vice or virtue\u2014who crouches\nto authority, and yet dreads the censure of the world, who gives a\nsneaking casting vote on the side of conscience only when he can do it\nwith impunity,\u2014or else throws the weight of his reputation into the\nscale of his interest and the profligacy of others\u2014who makes an\naffectation of principle a stalking-horse to his pitiful desire of\ndistinction, and betrays a cause, sooner than commit himself.\n\n\u2018Out upon such half-faced fellowship.\u2019 We have another example of\ntrumpery ambition in the person of Mr. C. Wynne; who, officious,\nindefatigable in his petty warfare with the abuses of power, is chiefly\nanxious to stand well with those who sanction them. He interprets the\ntext literally, _not to do evil that good may come_. He is so fearful of\nthe imputation of the least wrong, that he will never do or let any one\nelse do the greatest right. _Summum jus summa injuria_, has never\nentered his head. He is the dog in the political manger: a technical\nmarplot. He takes a systematic delight in giving a lift to his enemies,\nand in hampering his friends. He is a regular whipper-in on the side of\nopposition, to all those who go but a hairs-breadth beyond his\npragmatical notions of discretion and propriety. He sets up for a\nbalance-master of the constitution and, by insisting on its never\ndeviating from its erect, perpendicular position, is sure to have it\noverturned. He professes to be greatly scandalized at the abuses and\ncorruptions in our ancient institutions, which are \u2018as notorious as the\nsun at noon-day,\u2019 and would have them removed\u2014but he is much more\nscandalized at those indiscreet persons who bring to light any of these\nnotorious abuses, in order to have them remedied. He is more angry at\nthose with whom he differs in the smallest iota than at those who differ\nfrom him _toto c\u00e6lo_: and is at mortal enmity with every antiministerial\nmeasure that is not so clogged with imbecility and objections as to be\nimpracticable or absolutely unavailing. He is therefore a bad partisan,\nand does little mischief, only because he is little attended to. Indeed,\nhis voice is against him.\n\nI did not much like Sir Samuel Romilly\u2019s significant, oracular way of\nlaying down the law in the House:\u2014his self-important assumption of\nsecond-hand truths, and his impatience of contradiction, as if he gave\nhis time there to humanity for _nothing_. He was too solemn a speaker:\nas Garrow was too flippant and fluent. The latter appeared to have\nnothing to do but to talk nonsense _by the yard_, for the pleasure of\nexposing himself or being exposed by others. He might be said to hold in\nhis hand a general retainer for absurdity, and to hold his head up in\nthe pillory of his own folly with a very unabashed and unblushing gaiety\nof demeanour. Lawyers, as a general rule, are the very worst speakers in\nthe House: if there are a few nominal exceptions, it is because they are\nnot lawyers.\n\nI do not recollect any other speaker of importance but Mr. Canning; and\nhe requires a chapter by himself. Thus then I would try to estimate\nhim.\u2014The orator and the writer do not always belong to the same class of\nintellectual character; nor is it, I think, in general, fair to judge of\nthe merit of popular harangues by reducing them to the standard of\nliterary compositions. Something,\u2014a great deal,\u2014is to be given to the\nsuddenness of the emergency, the want of preparation, the instantaneous\nand effectual, but passing appeal to individual characters, feelings,\nand events. The speaker has less time allowed him to enforce his\npurpose, and to procure the impression he aims at than the writer; and\nhe is therefore entitled to produce it by less scrupulous, by more\nobvious and fugitive means. He must strike the iron while it is hot. The\nblow must be prompt and decisive. He must mould the convictions and\npurposes of his hearers while they are under the influence of passion\nand circumstances,\u2014as the glass-blower moulds the vitreous fluid with\nhis breath. If he can take the popular mind by surprise, and stamp on\nit, while warm, the impression desired, it is not to be demanded whether\nthe same means would have been equally successful on cool reflection or\nafter the most mature deliberation. That is not the question at issue.\nAt a moment\u2019s notice the expert debater is able to start some topic,\nsome view of a subject, which answers the purpose of the moment. He can\nsuggest a dextrous evasion of his adversaries\u2019 objections, he knows when\nto seize and take advantage of the impulse of popular feeling, he is\nmaster of the dazzling fence of argument, \u2018the punto, the stoccado, the\nreverso,\u2019 the shifts, and quirks, and palpable topics of debate; he can\nwield these at pleasure, and employ them to advantage on the spur of the\noccasion\u2014this is all that can be required of him; for it is all that is\nnecessary, and all that he undertakes to do. That another could bring\nforward more weighty reasons, offer more wholesome advice, convey more\nsound and extensive information in an indefinite period, is nothing to\nthe purpose; for all this wisdom and knowledge would be of no avail in\nthe supposed circumstances; the critical opportunity for action would be\nlost, before any use could be made of it. The one thing needful in\npublic speaking is not to say what is best, but the best that can be\nsaid in a given time, place, and circumstance. The great qualification\ntherefore of a leader in debate (as of a leader in fight) is presence of\nmind: he who has not this, wants every thing, and he who has it, may be\nforgiven almost all other deficiencies. The current coin of his\ndiscourses may be light and worthless in itself; but if it is always\nkept bright and ready for immediate use, it will pass unquestioned; and\nthe public voice will affix to his name the praise of a sharp-witted,\nable, fluent, and eloquent speaker. We \u2018no further seek his merits to\ndisclose, or scan his frailties in their brief abode,\u2019\u2014the popular ear\nand echo of popular applause. What he says may be trite, pert, shallow,\ncontradictory, false, unfounded, and sophistical; but it was what was\nwanted for the occasion, and it told with those who heard it. Let it\nstop there, and all is well. The rest is forgotten; nor is it worth\nremembering.\n\nBut Mr. Canning has an ill habit of printing his speeches: and I doubt\nwhere the same oratorical privileges can be extended to _printed_\nspeeches; or to this gentleman\u2019s speeches in general, even though they\nshould not be printed. Whether afterwards committed to the press or not,\nthey have evidently, I think, been first committed, with great care, to\npaper or to memory. They have all the marks, and are chargeable with all\nthe _malice prepense_ of written compositions. They are not occasional\neffusions, but set harangues. They are elaborate _impromptus_; deeply\nconcerted and highly polished pieces of extempore ingenuity. The\nrepartee has been conceived many months before the luckless observation\nwhich gives ostensible birth to it; and an argument woven into a debate\nis sure to be the counterpart or fag-end of some worn-out sophism of\nseveral years\u2019 standing. Mr. Canning is not so properly an orator as an\nauthor reciting his own compositions. He foresees (without much of the\nspirit of prophecy) what will, may, or can be said on some well-conned\nsubject, and gets up, by anticipation, a tissue of excellent good\nconceits, indifferent bad arguments, classical quotations, and showy\nsimiles, which he contrives, by a sort of rhetorical join-hand, to tack\non to some straggling observation dropped by some Honourable Member,\u2014and\nso goes on, with folded arms and sonorous voice, neither quickened nor\nretarded, neither elevated nor depressed by the _hear him\u2019s_ that now\nrise on the one side, or are now echoed from the other;\u2014never diverted\ninto laughing gaiety, never hurried into incontrolable passion\u2014till he\nis regularly delivered in the course of the same number of hours of the\nlabour of weeks and months. To those who are in the secret of the arts\nof debating, who are versed in the complicated tactics of parliamentary\ncommon-place, there is nothing very mysterious in the process, though it\nstartles the uninitiated. The fluency, the monotony, the unimpressible,\nimposing style of his elocution,\u2014\u2018swinging slow with sullen roar,\u2019 like\nthe alternate oscillation of a pendulum\u2014afraid of being thrown off his\nbalance\u2014never trusting himself with the smallest inflection of tone or\nmanner from the impulse of the moment,\u2014all shew that the speaker relies\non the tenaciousness of his memory, not on the quickness and fertility\nof his invention. Mr. Canning, I apprehend, never answered a speech: he\nanswers, or affects to answer some observation in a speech, and then\nmanufactures a long _tirade_ out of his own \u2018mother-wit and arts\n_well-known_ before.\u2019 He _caps_ an oration, as school-boys cap verses;\nand gets up his oracular responses, as Sidrophel and Whackum did theirs,\nby having met with his customers of old. From that time he has the\ndebate entirely in his own hands, and exercises over it \u2018sole sovereign\nsway and masterdom.\u2019 One of these spontaneous mechanical sallies of his\nresembles a _voluntary_ played on a barrel-organ: it is a kind of\nPan-harmonic display of wit and wisdom\u2014such as Mr. Canning possesses!\nThe amplest stores of his mind are unfolded to their inmost source\u2014the\nclassic lore, the historic page, the philosophic doubt, the sage reply,\nthe sprightly allusion, the delicate irony, the happy turning of a\nperiod or insinuation of a paragraph with senatorial dignity and Ovidian\ngrace\u2014are all here concocted, studied, revised, varnished over, till the\nsense aches at their glossy beauty and sickens at hopeless perfection.\nOur modern orator\u2019s thoughts have been declared by some to have all the\nelegance of the antique; I should say, they have only the fragility and\nsmoothness of plaster-cast copies!\n\nIf I were compelled to characterize Mr. Canning\u2019s style by a single\ntrait, I should say that he is a mere _parodist_ in verse or prose, in\nreasoning or in wit. He transposes arguments as he does images, and\nmakes sophistry of the one, and burlesque of the other. \u2018What\u2019s serious,\nhe turns to farce.\u2019 This is perhaps, not art in him, so much as nature.\nThe specific levity of his mind causes it to subsist best in the\nrarified atmosphere of indifference and scorn: it attaches most interest\nand importance to the slight and worthless. There is a striking want of\nsolidity and keeping in this person\u2019s character. The frivolous, the\nequivocal, is his delight\u2014the element in which he speaks, and writes,\nand has his being, as an orator and poet. By applying to low and\ncontemptible objects the language or ideas which have been appropriated\nto high and swelling contemplations, he reduces the latter to the same\npaltry level, or renders the former doubly ridiculous. On the same\nprinciple, or from not feeling the due force and weight of different\nthings, as they affect either the imagination or the understanding, he\nbrings the slenderest and most evanescent analogies to bear out the most\nimportant conclusions; establishes some fact in history by giving it the\nform of an idle interrogation, like a school-boy declaiming on he knows\nnot what; and thinks to overturn the fixed sentiment of a whole people\nby an interjection of surprise at what he knows to be unavoidable and\nunanswerable. There is none of the gravity of the statesman, of the\nenthusiasm of the patriot, the impatient zeal of the partizan, in Mr.\nCanning. We distinguish through the disguise of pompous declamation, or\nthe affectation of personal consequence, only the elegant trifler, the\nthoughtless epigrammatist, spreading \u2018a windy fan of painted plumes,\u2019 to\ncatch the breath of popular applause, or to flutter in the tainted\nbreeze of court-favour. \u2018As those same plumes, so seems he vain and\nlight,\u2019\u2014never applying his hand to useful action, or his mind to sober\ntruth. A thing\u2019s being evident, is to him a reason for attempting to\nfalsify it: its being right is a reason for straining every nerve to\nevade or defeat it at all events. It might appear, that with him\ninversion is the order of nature. \u2018Trifles light as air, are\u2019 to his\nunderstanding, \u2018confirmations strong as proofs of holy writ:\u2019 and he\nwinks and shuts his apprehension up to the most solemn and momentous\ntruths as gross and vulgar errors. His political creed is of an entirely\nfanciful and fictitious texture\u2014a kind of moral, religious, political,\nand sentimental _filligre-work_: or it is made up of monstrous pretexts,\nand idle shadows, and spurious theories, and mock-alarms. Hence his\ngravest reasonings have very much an air of concealed irony; and it\nmight sometimes almost be suspected that, by his partial, loose, and\nunguarded sophisms, he meant to abandon the very cause he professes to\nmagnify and extol.[59] It is indeed, his boast, his pride, his pleasure,\n\u2018to make the worse appear the better reason,\u2019 which he does with the\npertness of a school-boy and the effrontery of a prostitute: he assumes\nindecent postures in the debate, confounds the sense of right and wrong\nby his licentious disregard of both, puts honesty out of countenance by\nthe familiarity of his proposals, makes a jest of principle,\u2014\u2018takes the\nrose from the fair forehead of a virtuous cause, and plants a blister\nthere.\u2019\n\nThe House of Lords does not at present display much of the aristocracy\nof talent. The scene is by no means so amusing or dramatic here as in\nthe House of Commons. Every speaker seems to claim his privilege of\npeerage in the awful attention of his auditors, which is granted while\nthere is any reasonable hope of a return: but it is not easy to hear\nLord Grenville repeat the same thing regularly four times over, in\ndifferent words\u2014to listen to the Marquis of Wellesley who never lowers\nhis voice for four hours from the time he begins, nor utters the\ncommonest syllable in a tone below that in which Pierre curses the\nSenate\u2014Lord Holland might have other pretensions to alacrity of mind\nthan an impediment of speech, and Lord Liverpool might introduce less of\nthe _vis inerti\u00e6_ of office into his official harangues, than he does.\nLord Ellenborough was great \u2018in the extremity of an oath.\u2019 Lord Eldon,\n\u2018his face \u2019twixt tears and smiles contending,\u2019 never loses his place or\nhis temper. It is a pity to see Lord Erskine sit silent, who was once a\npopular and powerful speaker; and when he does get up to speak, you wish\nhe had said nothing. This nobleman, the other day, on his return to\nScotland after an absence of fifty years, made a striking speech on the\ninstinctive and indissoluble attachment of all persons to the country\nwhere they are born,\u2014which he considered as an innate and unerring\nprinciple of the human mind; and, in expatiating on the advantages of\npatriotism, argued by way of illustration, that if it were not for this\noriginal dispensation of Providence, attaching, and, as it were,\n_rooting_ every one to the spot where he was bred and born,\u2014civil\nsociety should never have existed, nor mankind have been reclaimed from\nthe barbarous and wandering way of life, to which they were in the first\ninstance addicted! How these persons should become attached by habit to\nplaces where it appears, from their vagabond dispositions, they never\nstayed at all, is an oversight of the speaker which remains unexplained.\nOn the same occasion, the learned Lord, in order to produce an effect,\nobserved that when, advancing farther north, he should come to the old\nplayground near his father\u2019s mansion, where he used to play at ball when\na child, his sensations would be of a most affecting description. This\nis possible; but his Lordship returned homewards the next day, thinking,\nno doubt, he had anticipated all the sentiment of the situation. This\nputs one in mind of the story one has heard of Tom Sheridan, who told\nhis father he had been down to the bottom of a coal-pit. \u2018Then, you are\na fool, Tom,\u2019 said the father. \u2018Why so, Sir?\u2019 \u2018Because,\u2019 said the other,\n\u2018it would have answered all the same purpose _to have said you had been\ndown_!\u2019\n\n\n\n\n HAYDON\u2019S \u2018CHRIST\u2019S AGONY IN THE GARDEN\u2019\n\n\n _The London Magazine._] [_May, 1821._\n\nWe have prefixed to the present number an engraved outline of this\npicture (which we hope will be thought satisfactory), and we subjoin the\nfollowing description of it in the words of the artist\u2019s catalogue.\n\n\u2018_Christ\u2019s Agony in the Garden._\u2014The manner of treating this subject in\nthe present picture has not been taken from the account of any one\nApostle [Evangelist] in particular, but from the united relations of the\nwhole four.\n\n\u2018The moment selected for the expression of our Saviour is the moment\nwhen he acquiesces to (in) the necessity of his approaching sacrifice,\nafter the previous struggle of apprehension.\n\n \u201c_Nevertheless, not my will, but thine be done._\u201d\n\n\u2018It is wished to give an air of submissive tenderness, while a quiver of\nagony still trembles on his features. The Apostles are resting a little\nbehind, on a sort of garden-bank; St. John in an unsound doze\u2014St. James\nin a deep sleep\u2014St. Peter has fallen into a disturbed slumber against a\ntree, while keeping guard with his sword, and is on the point of waking\nat the approach of light. Behind St. Peter, and stealing round the edge\nof the bank, comes the mean traitor, Judas, with a centurion, soldiers,\nand a crowd; the centurion has stepped forward from his soldiers (who\nare marching up) to look with his torch, where Christ is retired and\npraying; while Judas, alarmed lest he might be surprised too suddenly,\npresses back his hand to enforce caution and silence, and crouching down\nhis malignant and imbecile face beneath his shoulders, he crawls forward\nlike a reptile to his prey, his features shining with the anticipated\nrapture of successful treachery.\n\n\u2018It is an inherent feeling in human beings, to rejoice at the instant of\na successful exercise of their own power, however despicably directed.\n\n\u2018The Apostles are supposed to be lit by the glory which emanates from\nChrist\u2019s head, and the crowd by the torches and lights about them.\u2019\n\nThe printed catalogue contains also elaborate and able descriptions of\nMacbeth, the murder of Dentatus, and the judgment of Solomon, which have\nbeen already before the public.\n\nWe do not think _Christ\u2019s Agony in the Garden_ the best picture in this\ncollection, nor the most striking effort of Mr. Haydon\u2019s pencil. On the\ncontrary, we must take leave to say, that we consider it as a\ncomparative failure, both in execution and probable effect. We doubt\nwhether, in point of policy, the celebrated artist would not have\nconsulted his reputation and his ultimate interest more, by waiting till\nhe had produced another work on the same grand and magnificent scale as\nhis last, instead of trusting to the ebb of popularity, resulting from\nthe exhibition of Christ\u2019s Entrance into Jerusalem, to float him through\nthe present season. It is well, it may be argued, to keep much before\nthe public, since they are apt to forget their greatest favourites: but\nthey are also fastidious; and it is safest not to appear always before\nthem in the same, or a less imposing, attitude. It is better to rise\nupon them at every step, if possible (and there is yet room for\nimprovement in our artist\u2019s productions), to take them by surprise, and\ncompel admiration by new and extraordinary exertions\u2014than to trust to\ntheir generosity or gratitude, to the lingering remains of their\naffection for old works, or their candid construction of some less\narduous undertaking. A liberal and friendly critic has, indeed, declared\non this occasion, that if the spirits of great men and lofty geniuses\ntake delight in the other world, in contemplating what delighted them in\nthis, then the shades of Raphael, Michael Angelo, and Correggio, can\nfind no better employment than to descend again upon the earth, once\nmore teeming with the birth of high art, and stand with hands crossed,\nand eyes uplifted in mute wonder, before Mr. Haydon\u2019s picture of\nChrist\u2019s Agony in the Garden. If we believed that the public in general\nsympathised seriously in this sentiment, we would not let a murmur\nescape us to disturb it;\u2014the opinion of the world, however erroneous, is\nnot easily altered; and if they are happy in their ignorance, let them\nremain so;\u2014but if the artist himself, to whom this august compliment has\nbeen paid, should find the hollowness of such hyperbolical commendation,\na hint to him, as to its cause in the present instance, may not be\nthrown away. The public may, and must, be managed to a certain point;\nthat is, a little noise, and bustle, and officious enthusiasm, is\nnecessary to catch their notice and fix their attention; but then they\nshould be left to see for themselves; and after that, an artist should\nfling himself boldly and fairly into the huge stream of popularity (as\nLord Byron swam across the Hellespont), stemming the tide with manly\nheart and hands, instead of buoying himself up with borrowed bloated\nbladders, and flimsy newspaper paragraphs. When a man feels his own\nstrength, and the public confidence, he has nothing to do but to use the\none, and not abuse the other. As his suspicions of the lukewarmness or\nbackwardness of the public taste are removed, his jealousy of himself\nshould increase. The town and the country have shown themselves willing,\neager patrons of Mr. Haydon\u2019s AT HOME:\u2014he ought to feel particular\nobligations not to invite them by sound of trumpet and beat of drum to\nan inferior entertainment; but, like our advertising friend, Matthews,\ncompass \u2018sea, earth, and air,\u2019 to keep up the eclat of his first and\noverwhelming _accueil_! So much for advice; now to criticism.\n\nWe have said, that we regard the present performance as a comparative\nfailure; and our reasons are briefly and plainly these following:\u2014First,\nthis picture is inferior in size to those that Mr. Haydon has of late\nyears painted, and is so far a falling off. It does not fill a given\n_stipulated_ space in the world\u2019s eye. It does not occupy one side of a\ngreat room. It is the Iliad in a nutshell. It is only twelve feet by\nnine, instead of nineteen by sixteen; and that circumstance tells\nagainst it with the unenlightened many, and with the judicious few. One\ngreat merit of Mr. Haydon\u2019s pictures is their size. Reduce him within\nnarrow limits, and you cut off half his resources. His genius is\ngigantic. He is of the race of Brobdingnag, and not of Lilliput. He can\nmanage a groupe better than a single figure: he can manage ten groupes\nbetter than one. He bestrides his art like a Colossus. The more you give\nhim to do, the better he does it. Ardour, energy, boundless ambition,\nare the categories of his mind, the springs of his enterprises. He only\nasks \u2018ample room and verge enough.\u2019 Vastness does not confound him,\ndifficulty rouses him, impossibility is the element in which he glories.\nHe does not concentrate his powers in a single point, but expands them\nto the utmost circumference of his subject, with increasing impetus and\nrapidity. He must move great masses, he must combine extreme points, he\nmust have striking contrasts and situations, he must have all sorts of\ncharacters and expressions; these he hurries over, and dashes in with a\ndecided, undistracted hand;\u2014set him to finish any one of these to an\nexact perfection, to make \u2018a hand, an ear, an eye,\u2019 that, in the words\nof an old poet, shall be \u2018worth an history,\u2019 and his power is gone. His\n_forte_ is in motion, not in rest; in complication and sudden effects,\nnot in simplicity, subtlety, and endless refinement. As it was said in\nthe Edinburgh Review, Mr. Haydon\u2019s compositions are masterly\nsketches;\u2014they are not, as it was said in Blackwood\u2019s Magazine, finished\nminiature pictures. We ourselves thought the Christ in the triumphant\nEntry into Jerusalem, the least successful part of that much admired\npicture: but there it was lost, or borne along in a crowd of bold and\nbusy figures, in varied or violent actions. Here it is, not only the\nprincipal, but a solitary, and almost the only important figure: it is\nthrown in one corner of the picture like a lay-figure in a painter\u2019s\nroom; the attitude is much like still-life: and the expression is (in\nour deliberate judgment) listless, feeble, laboured, neither expressing\nthe agony of grief, nor the triumph of faith and resignation over it. It\nmay be, we are wrong: but if so, we cannot help it. It is evident,\nhowever, that this head is painted on a different principle from that of\nthe Christ last year. It is wrought with care, and even with precision,\nin the more detailed outlines: but it is timid, without relief, and\nwithout effect. The colour of the whole figure is, as if it had been\nsmeared over, and neutralized, with some chalky tint. It does not stand\nout from the canvas, either in the general masses, or in the nicer\ninflections of the muscles and surface of the skin. It has a veil over\nit, not a glory round it. We ought, in justice, to add, that a black and\nwhite copy (we understand by a young lady) of the head of Christ has a\nmore decided and finer apparent character. To what can this anomaly be\nowing? Is it that Mr. Haydon\u2019s conception and drawing of character is\ngood, but that his mastery in this respect leaves him, when he resigns\nthe port-crayon; and that, instead of giving additional force and beauty\nto the variations of form and expression, by the aid of colour and real\nlight and shade, he only _smudges_ them over with the pencil, and leaves\nthe indications of truth and feeling more imperfect than he found them?\nWe believe that Mr. Haydon generally copies from nature only with his\nport-crayon; and paints from conjecture or fancy. If so, it would\naccount for what we have here considered as a difficulty. We have reason\nto believe that the old painters copied form, colour,\u2014every thing, to\nthe last syllable,\u2014from nature. Indeed, we have seen two of the heads in\nthe celebrated Madonna of the Garland, the Mother, and the fine head of\nJoseph, as original, finished studies of heads (the very same as they\nare in the large composition) in the collection at Burleigh-house. By\nthe contrary practice, Mr. Haydon, as it appears to us, has habituated\nhis hand and eye to giving only the contour of the features or the\ngrosser masses:\u2014when he comes to the details of those masses, he fails.\nSome one, we suspect from the style of this picture, has been advising\nour adventurous and spirited artist to try to finish, and he has been\ntaking the advice: we would advise him to turn back, and consult the\nnatural bent of his own genius. A man may avoid great faults or\nabsurdities by the suggestion of friends: he can only attain positive\nexcellence, or overcome great difficulties, by the unbiassed force of\nhis own mind.\n\nThe crowd coming, with Judas at their head, to surprise our Saviour, is\nnot to our taste. We dislike mobs in a picture. There is, however, a\ngood deal of bustle and movement in the advancing group, and it\ncontrasts almost too abruptly with the unimpassioned stillness and\nretirement of the figure of Christ. Judas makes a bad figure both in Mr.\nHaydon\u2019s catalogue, and on his canvas. We think the original must have\nbeen a more profound and plausible-looking character than he is here\nrepresented. He should not grin and show his teeth. He was by all\naccounts, a grave, plodding, calculating personage, usurious, and with a\ncast of melancholy, and soon after went and hanged himself. Had Mr.\nHaydon been in Scotland when he made this sketch? Judas was not a\nlaughing, careless wag; he was one of the \u2018Melancholy Andrews.\u2019\u2014The best\npart of this picture is decidedly (in our opinion) the middle ground,\ncontaining the figures of the three Apostles. There is a dignity, a\ngrace, a shadowy repose about them which approaches close indeed upon\nthe great style in painting. We have only to regret that a person, who\ndoes so well at times, does not do well always. We are inclined to\nattribute such inequalities, and an appearance of haste and\nunconcoctedness in some of Mr. Haydon\u2019s plans, to distraction and hurry\nof mind, arising from a struggle with the difficulties both of art and\nof fortune; and as the last of these is now removed, we trust this\ncircumstance will leave him at leisure to prosecute the grand design he\nhas begun (the Raising of Lazarus) with a mind free and unembarrassed;\nand enable him to conclude it in a manner worthy of his own reputation,\nand that of his country!\n\n\n\n\n POPE, LORD BYRON, AND MR. BOWLES[60]\n\n\n _The London Magazine._] [_June 1821._\n\nThis is a very proper letter for a lord to write to his bookseller, and\nfor Mr. Murray to show about among his friends, as it contains some dry\nrubs at Mr. Bowles, and some good hits at Mr. Southey and his\n\u2018invariable principles.\u2019 There is some good _hating_, and some good\nwriting in it, some coarse jests, and some dogmatical assertions; but\nthat it is by any means a _settler_ of the question, is what we are in\nall due form inclined to doubt. His Lordship, as a poet, is a little\nheadstrong and self-willed, a spoiled child of nature and fortune: his\nphilosophy and criticism have a tincture of the same spirit: he doles\nout his opinions with a great deal of frankness and spleen, saying,\n\u2018this I like, that I loathe;\u2019 but he does not trouble himself, or the\nreader, with his reasons, any more than he accounts to his servants for\nthe directions he gives them. This might seem too great a compliment in\nhis Lordship to the public.\n\nAll this _pribble prabble_ about Pope, and Milton, and Shakspeare, and\nwhat foreigners say of us, and the Venus, and Antinous, and the\nAcropolis, and the Grand Canal at Venice, and the Turkish fleet, and\nFalconer\u2019s Shipwreck, and ethics, and ethical poetry (with the single\nexception of some bold picturesque sketches in the poet\u2019s best\nprose-style) is what might be talked by any Bond-street lounger of them\nall, after a last night\u2019s debauch, in the intervals between the\nsplashings of the soda-water and the acid taste of the port wine rising\nin the mouth. It is no better than that. If his Lordship had sent it in\nfrom Long\u2019s, or the Albany, to be handed about in Albemarle-street, in\nslips as he wrote it, it would have been very well. But all the way from\nRavenna, cannot he contrive to send us something better than his own\nill-humour and our own common-places\u2014than the discovery that Pope was a\npoet, and that Cowper was none; and the old story that Canova, in\nforming a statue, takes a hand from one, a foot from another, and a nose\nfrom a third, and so makes out the idea of perfect beauty! (We would\nadvise his Lordship to say less about this subject of _virt\u00f9_, for he\nknows little about it: and besides, his perceptions are at variance with\nhis theories.) In truth, his Lordship has the worst of this controversy,\nthough he throws out a number of pert, smart, flashy things, with the\nair of a man who sees company on subjects of taste, while his reverend\nantagonist, who is the better critic and logician of the two, goes\nprosing on in a tone of obsequious pertinacity and sore pleasantry, as\nif he were sitting (an unwelcome guest) at his Lordship\u2019s table, and\nwere awed, yet galled, by the cavalier assumption of patrician manners.\nWe cannot understand these startling _voluntaries_, played off before\nthe public on the ground of personal rank, nor the controversial\nunder-song, like the drone of a bagpipe that forms a tedious\naccompaniment to them. As Jem Belcher, when asked if he did not feel a\nlittle awkward at facing Gamble the tall Irishman, made answer, \u2018An\nplease ye, sir, when I am stript to my shirt, I am afraid of no man;\u2019\u2014so\nwe would advise Mr. Bowles, in a question of naked argument, to fear no\nman, and to let no man bite his thumb at him. If his Lordship were to\ninvite his brother-poet to his house, and to eke out a sour jest by the\nflavour of Monte-Pulciano or Frontiniac,\u2014if in the dearth of argument he\nwere to ply his friend\u2019s weak side with rich sauces and well seasoned\nhospitality, \u2018_Ah! \u00e7a est bon, ah! goutez \u00e7a!_\u2018\u2014if he were to point, in\nillustration of Pope\u2019s style, to the marble pillars, the virandas, the\npier glasses, the classic busts, the flowering dessert, and were to\nexclaim, \u2018You see, my dear Bowles, the superiority of art over nature,\nthe triumph of polished life over Gothic barbarism: we have here neither\nthe ghosts nor fairies of Shakspeare, nor Milton\u2019s Heaven, nor _his_\nHell, yet we contrive to do without them;\u2019\u2014it might require Parson\nSupple\u2019s command of countenance to smile off this uncourteous address;\nbut the divine would not have to digest such awkward raillery on an\nempty stomach\u2014he would have his _quid pro quo_: his Lordship would have\npaid for the liberty of using his privilege of peerage. But why any man\nshould carry the _r\u00f4le_ of his Lordship\u2019s chaplain out of his Lordship\u2019s\nhouse, is what we see no reason for.\u2014Lord Byron, in the Preface to his\nTragedy, complains that Horace Walpole has had hard measure dealt him by\nthe critics, \u2018firstly, because he was a lord, and secondly, because he\nwas a gentleman.\u2019 We do not know how the case may stand between the\npublic and a dead nobleman: but a living lord has every reasonable\nallowance made him, and can do what no one else can. If Lord Byron\nchooses to make a bad joke, by means of an ill-spelt pun, it is a\ncondescension in his Lordship:\u2014if he puts off a set of smart assertions\nand school-boy instances for pithy proofs, it is not because he is not\nable, but because he cannot be at the pains of going deeper into the\nquestion:\u2014if he is rude to an antagonist, it is construed into agreeable\nfamiliarity; any notice from so great a man appears like a favour:\u2014if he\ntells or recommends \u2018a tale of bawdry,\u2019 he is not to be tied down by the\npetty rules which restrict common men:\u2014if he publishes a work, which is\nthought of too equivocal a description for the delicate air of\nAlbemarle-street, his Lordship\u2019s own name in the title-page is\nsufficient to back it without the formality of a bookseller\u2019s; if a\nwire-drawn tragedy of his is acted, in spite of his protestations\nagainst such an appeal to the taste of a vulgar audience, the storm of\npitiless damnation is not let loose upon it, because it is felt that it\nwould fall harmless on so high and proud a head; the gilded coronet\nserves as a conductor to carry off the lightning of popular criticism,\nwhich might blast the merely laurelled bard; the blame, the\ndisappointment, the flat effect, is thrown upon the manager, upon the\nactors\u2014upon any body but the Noble Poet! This sounding title swells the\nmouth of Fame, and lends her voice a thousand circling echoes: the rank\nof the Author, and the public charity extended to him, as he does not\nwant it, cover a multitude of sins. What does his Lordship mean, then by\nthis whining over the neglect of Horace Walpole,\u2014this uncalled-for\nsympathy with the faded lustre of patrician and gentlemanly pretensions?\nHas _he_ had only half his fame! Or, does he already feel, with morbid\nanticipation, the retiring ebb of that overwhelming tide of popularity,\nwhich having been raised too high by adventitious circumstances, is lost\nin flats and shallows, as soon as their influence is withdrawn? Lord\nByron has been twice as much talked of as he would have been, had he not\nbeen Lord Byron. His rank and genius have been happily placed \u2018each\nother\u2019s beams to share,\u2019 and both together, by their mutually reflected\nsplendour, may be said to have melted the public coldness into the very\nwantonness of praise: the faults of the man (real or supposed) have only\ngiven a dramatic interest to his works. Whence, then, this repining,\nthis ungracious cavilling, this _got up_ ill-humour? We load his\nLordship with ecstatic admiration, with unqualified ostentatious\neulogies; and he throws them stifling back in our face: he thanks us\nwith cool, cutting contempt: he asks us for our voices, \u2018our sweet\nvoices,\u2019 like Coriolanus; and, like Coriolanus, disdains us for the\nunwholesome gift. Why, then does he ask for it? If, as a lord, he holds\nin contempt and abhorrence the willing, delighted homage, which the\npublic pay to the poet, let him retire and feed the pride of birth in\nstately solitude, or take his place among his equals: but if he does not\nfind this enough, and wants our wondering tribute of applause to satisfy\nhis craving vanity, and make him something more than a mere vulgar lord\namong hundreds of other lords, why dash the cup of delicious poison,\nwhich, at his uneasy request, we tender him, to the ground, with\nindignant reckless hands, and tell us he scorns equally our censure or\nour praise? If he looks upon both as equal impertinence, he can easily\nescape out of the reach of both by ceasing to write; we shall in that\ncase soon cease to think of his Lordship: but if he cannot do without\nour good opinion, why affect all this coyness, coldness, and contempt?\nIf he says he writes not to please us, but to live by us, that only\nalters the nature of the obligation, and he might still be civil to Mr.\nMurray\u2019s customers. Whether he is independent of public opinion, or\ndependent on it, he need not be always sending his readers to Coventry.\nWhen we come to offer him our demonstrations of good will, he should not\nkick us down stairs. If he persists in this humour, the distaste may in\ntime \u2018become mutual.\u2019\n\nBefore we proceed, there is one thing in which we must say we heartily\nagree with Lord Byron; and that is the ridicule with which he treats Mr.\nBowles\u2019s editorial inquisition into the moral character of Pope. It is a\npure piece of clerical priggism. If Pope was not free from vice, we\nshould like to know who is. He was one of the most faultless of poets,\nboth in his life and in his writings. We should not care to throw the\nfirst stone at him. We do not wonder at Lord Byron\u2019s laughing outright\nat Mr. Bowles\u2019s hysterical horrors at poor Pope\u2019s platonic peccadillos,\nnor at his being a little impatient of the other\u2019s attempt to make\nhimself a _make-believe_ character of perfection out of the \u2018most small\nfaults\u2019 he could rake up against the reputation of an author, whom he\nwas bound either not to edite or not to injure. But we think his\nLordship turns the tables upon the divine, and gets up into the reading\ndesk himself, without the proper canonical credentials, when he makes\nsuch a fuss as he does about didactic or moral poetry as the highest of\nall others, because moral truth and moral conduct are of such vast and\nparamount concernment in human life. But because they are such good\nthings in themselves, does it follow that they are the better for being\nput into rhyme? We see no connection between \u2018ends of verse, and sayings\nof philosophers.\u2019 This reasoning reminds us of the critic who said, that\nthe only poetry he knew of, good for any thing, was the four lines,\nbeginning \u2018Thirty days hath September, April, June, and November,\u2019 for\nthat these were really of some use in finding out the number of days in\nthe different months of the year. The rules of arithmetic are important\nin many respects, but we do not know that they are the fittest subjects\nof poetry. Besides, Pope was not the only moral poet, nor are we sure\nthat we understand his moral system, or that Lord Byron understands it,\nor that he understood it himself. Addison paraphrased the Psalms, and\nBlackmore sung the Creation: yet Pope has written a lampoon upon the\none, and put the other in his Dunciad. Mr. Bowles has numbers of\nmanuscript sermons by him, the morality of which, we will venture to\nsay, is quite as pure, as orthodox, as that of the unpublished cantos of\nDon Juan; yet we doubt whether Mr. Murray, the Mec\u00e6nas of poetry and\northodoxy, would give as much for the one as for the other. We do not\nlook for the flowers of fancy in moral treatises, nor for a homily in\nhis Lordship\u2019s irregular stanzas. The Decalogue, as a practical prose\ncomposition, or as a body of moral laws and precepts, is of sufficient\nweight and authority; but we should not regard the putting this into\nheroic verse, as an effort of the highest poetry. That \u2018Sternhold and\nHopkins had great qualms\u2019 is no imputation on the pious raptures of the\nHebrew bard: and we suspect his Lordship himself would object to the\nallegory in Spenser, as a drawback on the poetry, if it is in other\nrespects to his Lordship\u2019s taste, which is more than we can pretend to\ndetermine. The Noble Letter-writer thus moralizes on this subject and\ntransposes the ordinary critical canons somewhat arbitrarily and\nsophistically.\n\n\u2018The depreciation of Pope is partly founded upon a false idea of the\ndignity of his order of poetry, to which he has partly contributed by\nthe ingenuous boast,\n\n \u201cThat not in Fancy\u2019s maze he wander\u2019d long,\n But _stoop\u2019d_ to Truth, and moraliz\u2019d his song.\u201d\n\n\u2018He should have written \u201crose to truth.\u201d In my mind the highest of all\npoetry is ethical poetry, as the highest of all earthly objects must be\nmoral truth. Religion does not make a part of my subject; it is\nsomething beyond human hands except Milton\u2019s and Dante\u2019s, and even\nDante\u2019s powers are involved in his delineation of human passions, though\nin supernatural circumstances. What made Socrates the greatest of men?\nHis moral truth\u2014his ethics. What proved Jesus Christ the Son of God\nhardly less than his miracles? His moral precepts. And if ethics have\nmade a philosopher the first of men, and have not been disdained as an\nadjunct to his Gospel by the Deity himself, are we to be told that\nethical poetry, or didactic poetry, or by whatever name you term it,\nwhose object is to make men better and wiser, is not the _very first\norder_ of poetry; and are we to be told this too by one of the\npriesthood? It requires more mind, more wisdom, more power, than all the\n\u201cforests\u201d that ever were \u201cwalked\u201d for their \u201cdescription,\u201d and all the\nepics that ever were founded upon fields of battle. The Georgics are\nindisputably, and, I believe, _undisputedly_, even a finer poem than the\n\u00c6neid. Virgil knew this: he did not order _them_ to be burnt.\n\n \u201cThe proper study of mankind is man.\u201d\n\n\u2018It is the fashion of the day to lay great stress upon what they call\n\u201cimagination\u201d and \u201cinvention,\u201d\u2014the two commonest of qualities: an Irish\npeasant, with a little whiskey in his head, will imagine and invent more\nthan would furnish forth a modern poem. If Lucretius had not been\nspoiled by the Epicurean system, we should have had a far superior poem\nto any now in existence. As mere poetry, it is the first of Latin poems.\nWhat then has ruined it? His ethics. Pope has not this defect: his moral\nis as pure as his poetry is glorious.\u2019 P. 42.\n\nReally this is very inconsequential, incongruous reasoning. An Irish\npeasant, with a little whiskey in his head, would not fall upon more\nblunders, contradictions, and defective conclusions. Lord Byron talks of\nthe ethical systems of Socrates and Jesus Christ. What made the former\nthe great man he supposes?\u2014The invention of his system\u2014the discovery of\nsublime moral truths. Does Lord Byron mean to say, that the mere\nrepetition of the same precepts in prose, or the turning them into\nverse, will make others as great, or will make a great man at all? The\ntwo things compared are wholly disparates. The finding out the 48th\nproposition in Euclid made Pythagoras a great man. Shall we say that the\nputting this into a grave, didactic distich would make either a great\nmathematician or a great poet? It would do neither one nor the other;\nthough, according to Lord Byron, this distich would belong to the\nhighest class of poetry, \u2018because it would do that in verse, which one\nof the greatest of men had wished to accomplish in prose.\u2019 Such is the\nway in which his Lordship transposes the common sense of the\nquestion,\u2014because it is his humour! The value of any moral truth depends\non the philosophic invention implied in it. But this rests with the\nfirst author, and the general idea, which forms the basis of didactic\npoetry, remains the same, through all its mechanical transmissions\nafterwards. The merit of the ethical poet must therefore consist in his\nmanner of adorning and illustrating a number of these general truths\nwhich are not his own, that is, in the poetical invention and\nimagination he brings to the subject, as Mr. Bowles has well shown, with\nrespect to the episodes in the Essay on Man, the description of the poor\nIndian and the lamb doomed to death, which are all the unsophisticated\nreader ever remembers of that much-talked-of production. Lord Byron\nclownishly chooses to consider all poetry but what relates to this\nethical or didactic truth as \u2018a lie.\u2019 Is Lear a lie? Or does his\nLordship prefer the story, or the moral, in \u00c6sop\u2019s Fables? He asks \u2018why\nmust the _poet_ mean the _liar_, the _feigner_, the _tale-teller_? A man\nmay make and create better things than these.\u2019\u2014He may make and create\nbetter things than a common-place, and he who does not, makes and\ncreates nothing. The ethical or didactic poet necessarily repeats after\nothers, because general truths and maxims are limited. The individual\ninstances and illustrations, which his Lordship qualifies as \u2018lies,\u2019\n\u2018feigning,\u2019 and \u2018tale-telling,\u2019 are infinite, and give endless scope to\nthe genius of the true poet. The rank of poetry is to be judged of by\nthe truth and purity of the moral\u2014so we find it \u2018in the bond,\u2019\u2014and yet\nCowper, we are told, was no poet. Is there any keeping in this, or is it\nmerely an air? Again, we are given to understand that didactic poetry\n\u2018requires more mind, more power than all the descriptive or epic poetry\nthat ever was written:\u2019 and as a proof of this, his Lordship lays it\ndown, that the Georgics are a finer poem than the \u00c6neid. We do not\nperceive the inference here. \u2018Virgil knew this: he did not order _them_\nto be burnt.\n\n \u201cThe proper study of mankind is man.\u201d\u2019\n\nDoes our author mean that this was Virgil\u2019s reason for liking his\npastoral poetry better than his description of Dido and \u00c6neas? But\nfarther, there is a Latin poem (that of Lucretius) superior even to the\nGeorgics; nay, it would have been so to any poem now in existence, but\nfor one unlucky circumstance. And what is that? \u2018Its ethics!\u2019 So that\nethics have spoiled the finest poem in the world. This is the rub that\nmakes didactic poetry come in such a questionable shape. If original,\nlike Lucretius, there will be a difference of opinion about it. If trite\nand acknowledged, like Pope, however pure, there will be little valuable\nin it. It is the glory and the privilege of poetry to be conversant\nabout those truths of nature and the heart that are at once original and\nself-evident. His Lordship ought to _have known this_. In the same\npassage, he speaks of imagination and invention as \u2018the two commonest of\nqualities.\u2019 We will tell his Lordship what is commoner, the want of\nthem. \u2018An Irish peasant,\u2019 he adds, \u2018with a little whiskey in his head,\nwill imagine and invent more than\u2019\u2014(What? Homer, Spenser, and Ariosto?\nNo: but than)\u2014\u2018would furnish forth a modern poem.\u2019 That we will not\ndispute. But at any rate, when sober next morning, he would be as \u2018full\nof wise saws and modern instances\u2019 as his Lordship; and in either case,\nequally positive, tetchy, and absurd!\n\nHis Lordship, throughout his pamphlet, makes a point of contradicting\nMr. Bowles, and, it would seem, of contradicting himself. He cannot be\nsaid to have any opinions of his own, but whatever any one else\nadvances, he denies out of mere spleen and rashness. \u2018He hates the word\n_invariable_,\u2019 and not without reason. \u2018What is there of human, be it\npoetry, philosophy, wit, wisdom, science, power, glory, mind, matter,\nlife, or death, which is invariable?\u2019 There is one of the particulars in\nthis enumeration, which seems pretty invariable, which is death. One\nwould think that the principles of poetry are so too, notwithstanding\nhis peevish disclaimer: for towards the conclusion of this letter he\nsets up Pope as a classic model, and considers all modern deviations\nfrom it as grotesque and barbarous.\n\n\u2018They have raised a mosque by the side of a Grecian temple of the purest\narchitecture; and, more barbarous than the barbarians from whose\npractice I have borrowed the figure, they are not contented with their\nown grotesque edifice, unless they destroy _the prior and purely\nbeautiful fabric which preceded_,[61] and which shames them and theirs\nfor ever and ever.\u2019\n\nLord Byron has here substituted his own invariable principles for Mr.\nBowles\u2019s, which he hates as bad as Mr. Southey\u2019s variable politics. Will\nnothing please his Lordship\u2014neither dull fixtures nor shining\nweather-cocks?\u2014We might multiply instances of a want of continuous\nreasoning, if we were fond of this sort of petty cavilling. Yet we do\nnot know that there is any better quarry in the book. Why does his\nLordship tell us that \u2018ethical poetry is the highest of all poetry,\u2019 and\nyet that \u2018Petrarch the sonnetteer\u2019 is esteemed by good judges the very\nhighest poet of Italy? Mr. Bowles is a sonnetteer, and a very good one.\nWhy does he assert that \u2018the poet who executes the best is the highest,\nwhatever his department,\u2019 and then affirm in the next page that didactic\npoetry \u2018requires more mind, more wisdom, more power than all the forests\nthat ever were walked for their description;\u2019 and then again, two pages\nafter, that \u2018a good poet can make a silk purse of a sow\u2019s ear;\u2019 that is,\nas he interprets it, \u2018can imbue a pack of cards with more poetry than\ninhabits the forests of America?\u2019 That\u2019s a _Non Sequitur_, as Partridge\nhas it. Why, contending that all subjects are alike indifferent to the\ngenuine poet, does he turn round upon himself, and assume that \u2018the sun\nshining upon a warming-pan cannot be made sublime or poetical?\u2019 Why does\nhe say that \u2018there is nothing in nature like the bust of the Antinous,\nexcept the Venus,\u2019 which is not in nature?[62] Why does he call the\nfirst \u2018that wonderful _creation_ of perfect beauty,\u2019 when it is a mere\nportrait, and on that account so superior to his favourite coxcomb, the\nApollo? Why does he state that \u2018more poetry cannot be gathered into\nexistence\u2019 than we here see, and yet that this poetry arises neither\nfrom nature nor moral exaltedness; Mr. Bowles and he being at issue on\nthis very point, viz. the one affirming that the essence of poetry is\nderived from nature, and his Lordship, that it consists in moral truth?\nWhy does he consider a shipwreck as an artificial incident? Why does he\nmake the excellence of Falconer\u2019s Shipwreck consist in its\ntechnicalities, and not in its faithful description of common feelings\nand inevitable calamity? Why does he say all this, and much more, which\nhe should not? Why does he write prose at all? Yet, in spite of all this\ntrash, there is one passage for which we forgive him, and here it is.\n\n\u2018The truth is, that in these days the grand _primum mobile_ of England\nis _cant_: cant political, cant poetical, cant religious, cant moral;\nbut always cant, multiplied through all the varieties of life. It is the\nfashion, and while it lasts, will be too powerful for those who can only\nexist by taking the tone of the times. I say _cant_, because it is a\nthing of words, without the smallest influence upon human actions; the\nEnglish being no wiser, no better, and much poorer, and more divided\namong themselves, as well as far less moral, than they were before the\nprevalence of this verbal decorum.\u2019 These words should be written in\nletters of gold, as the testimony of a lofty poet to a great moral\ntruth, and we can hardly have a quarrel with the writer of them.\n\nThere are three questions which form the subject of the present\npamphlet; viz. What is poetical? What is natural? What is artificial?\nAnd we get an answer to none of them. The controversy, as it is carried\non between the chief combatants, is much like a dispute between two\nartists, one of whom should maintain that blue is the only colour fit to\npaint with, and the other that yellow alone ought ever to be used. Much\nmight be said on both sides, but little to the purpose. Mr. Campbell\nleads off the dance, and launches a ship as a beautiful and poetical\nartificial object. But he so loads it with patriotic, natural, and\nforeign associations, and the sails are \u2018so perfumed that the winds are\nlove-sick,\u2019 that Mr. Bowles darts upon and seizes it as contraband to\nart, swearing that it is no longer the work of the shipwright, but of\nMr. Campbell\u2019s lofty poetic imagination; and dedicates its stolen beauty\nto the right owners, the sun, the winds, and the waves. Mr. Campbell, in\nhis eagerness to make all sure, having overstepped the literal mark,\npresses no farther into the controversy; but Lord Byron, who is \u2018like an\nIrishman in a row, _any body\u2019s customer_,\u2019 carries it on with good\npolemical hardihood, and runs a very edifying parallel between the ship\nwithout the sun, the winds, and waves,\u2014and the sun, the winds, and waves\nwithout the ship. \u2018The sun,\u2019 says Mr. Bowles, \u2018is poetical, by your\nLordship\u2019s admission.\u2019 We think it would have been so without it. But\nhis Lordship contends that \u2018the sun would no longer be poetical, if it\ndid not shine on ships, or pyramids, or fortresses, and other works of\nart,\u2019 (he expressly excludes \u2018footmen\u2019s liveries\u2019 and \u2018brass\nwarming-pans\u2019 from among those artificial objects that reflect new\nsplendour on the eye of Heaven)\u2014to which Mr. Bowles replies, that let\nthe sun but shine, and \u2018it is poetical _per se_,\u2019 in which we think him\nright. His Lordship decompounds the wind into a _caput mortuum_ of\npoetry, by making it howl through a pig-stye, instead of\n\n \u2018Roaming the illimitable ocean wide;\u2019\n\nand turns a water-fall, or a clear spring, into a slop-basin, to prove\nthat nature owes its elegance to art. His Lordship is \u2018ill at these\nnumbers.\u2019 Again, he affirms that the ruined temple of the Parthenon is\npoetical, and the coast of Attica with Cape Colonna, and the\nrecollection of Falconer\u2019s Shipwreck, classical. Who ever doubted it?\nWhat then? Does this prove that the Rape of the Lock is not a\nmock-heroic poem? He assures us that a storm with cockboats scudding\nbefore it is interesting, particularly if this happens to take place in\nthe Hellespont, over which the noble critic swam; and makes it a\nquestion, whether the dark cypress groves, or the white towers and\nminarets of Constantinople are more impressive to the imagination? What\nhas this to do with Pope\u2019s grotto at Twickenham, or the boat in which he\npaddled across the Thames to Kew? Lord Byron tells us (and he should\nknow) that the Grand Canal at Venice is a muddy ditch, without the\nstately palaces by its side; but then it is a natural, not an artificial\ncanal; and finally, he asks, what would the desert of Tadmor be without\nthe ruins of Palmyra, or Salisbury Plain without Stone-Henge? Mr. Bowles\nwho, though tedious and teasing, has \u2018damnable iteration in him,\u2019 and\nhas read the Fathers, answers very properly, by saying that a desert\nalone \u2018conveys ideas of immeasurable distance, of profound silence, of\nsolitude;\u2019 and that Salisbury Plain has the advantage of Hounslow Heath,\nchiefly in getting rid of the ideas of artificial life, \u2018carts,\ncaravans, raree-show-men, butchers\u2019 boys, coaches with coronets, and\nlivery servants behind them,\u2019 even though Stone-Henge did not lift its\npale head above its barren bosom. Indeed, Lord Byron\u2019s notions of art\nand poetry are sufficiently wild, romantic, far-fetched, obsolete: his\ntaste is Oriental, Gothic; his Muse is not domesticated; there is\nnothing _mimminee-pimminee_, modern, polished, light, fluttering, in his\nstandard of the sublime and beautiful: if his thoughts are proud,\npampered, gorgeous, and disdain to mingle with the objects of humble,\nunadorned nature, his lordly eye at least \u2018keeps distance due\u2019 from the\nvulgar vanities of fashionable life; from drawing-rooms, from\ncard-parties, and from courts. He is not a carpet poet. He does not sing\nthe sofa, like poor Cowper. He is qualified neither for poet-laureate\nnor court-newsman. He is at issue with the Morning Post and Fashionable\nWorld, on what constitutes the true pathos and sublime of human life. He\nhardly thinks Lady Charlemont so good as the Venus, or as an Albanian\ngirl, that he saw mending the road in the mountains. If he does not like\nflowers and forests, he cares as little for stars, garters, and prince\u2019s\nfeathers, for diamond necklaces and paste buckles. If his Lordship\ncannot make up his mind to the quiet, the innocence, the simple,\nunalterable grandeur of nature, we are sure that he hates the frippery,\nthe foppery, and pert grimace of art, quite as much. His Lordship likes\nthe poetry, the imaginative part of art, and so do we; and so we believe\ndid the late Mr. John Scott. He likes the _sombre_ part of it, the\nthoughtful, the decayed, the ideal, the spectral shadow of human\ngreatness, the departed spirit of human power. He sympathizes not with\nart as a display of ingenuity, as the triumph of vanity or luxury, as it\nis connected with the idiot, superficial, petty self-complacency of the\nindividual and the moment, (these are to him not \u2018luscious as locusts,\nbut bitter as coloquintida\u2019); but he sympathizes with the triumphs of\nTime and Fate over the proudest works of man\u2014with the crumbling\nmonuments of human glory\u2014with the dim vestiges of countless generations\nof men\u2014with that which claims alliance with the grave, or kindred with\nthe elements of nature. This is what he calls art and artificial poetry.\nBut this is not what any body else understands by the terms, commonly or\ncritically speaking. There is as little connexion between the two things\nas between the grand-daughters of Mr. Coutts, who appeared at court the\nother day, and Lady Godiva\u2014as there is between a reigning toast and an\nEgyptian mummy. Lord Byron, through the whole of the argument, pelts his\nreverend opponent with instances, like throwing a stone at a dog, which\nthe incensed animal runs after, picks up, mumbles between his teeth, and\ntries to see what it is made of. The question is, however, too tough for\nMr. Bowles\u2019s powers of mastication, and though the fray is amusing,\nnothing comes of it. Between the Editor of Pope, and the Editor of the\nNew Monthly Magazine, his Lordship sits\n\n \u2018\u2014\u2014high arbiter,\n And by decision more embroils the fray.\u2019\n\nWhat is the use of taking a work of art, from which \u2018all the art of art\nis flown\u2019 a mouldering statue, or a fallen column in Tadmor\u2019s marble\nwaste, that staggers and over-awes the mind, and gives birth to a\nthousand dim reflections, by seeing the power and pride of man\nprostrate, and laid low in the dust; what is there in this to prove the\nself-sufficiency of the upstart pride and power of man? A Ruin is\npoetical. Because it is a work of art, says Lord Byron. No, but because\nit is a work of art o\u2019erthrown. In it we see, as in a mirror, the life,\nthe hopes, the labour of man defeated, and crumbling away under the slow\nhand of time; and all that he has done reduced to nothing, or to a\nuseless mockery. Or as one of the bread-and-butter poets has described\nthe same thing a little differently, in his tale of Peter Bell the\npotter,\u2014\n\n \u2018\u2014\u2014The stones and tower\n Seem\u2019d fading fast away\n From human thoughts and purposes,\n To yield to some transforming power,\n And blend with the surrounding trees.\u2019\n\nIf this is what Lord Byron means by artificial objects and interests,\nthere is an end of the question, for he will get no critic, no school to\ndiffer with him. But a fairer instance would be a snug citizen\u2019s box by\nthe road side, newly painted, plastered and furnished, with every thing\nin the newest fashion and gloss, not an article the worse for wear, and\na lease of one-and-twenty years to run, and then let us see what Lord\nByron, or his friend and \u2018host of human life\u2019 will make of it, compared\nwith the desolation, and the waste of all these comforts, arts, and\nelegances. Or let him take\u2014not the pyramids of Egypt, but the pavilion\nat Brighton, and make a poetical description of it in prose or verse. We\ndefy him. The poetical interest, in his Lordship\u2019s transposed cases,\narises out of the imaginary interest. But the truth is, that where art\nflourishes and attains its object, imagination droops, and poetry along\nwith it. It ceases, or takes a different and ambiguous shape; it may be\nelegant, ingenious, pleasing, instructive, but if it aspires to the\nsemblance of a higher interest, or the ornaments of the highest fancy,\nit necessarily becomes burlesque, as for instance, in the Rape of the\nLock. As novels end with marriage, poetry ends with the consummation and\nsuccess of art. And the reason (if Lord Byron would attend to it) is\npretty obvious. Where all the wishes and wants are supplied, anticipated\nby art, there can be no strong cravings after ideal good, nor dread of\nunimaginable evils; the sources of terror and pity must be dried up:\nwhere the hand has done every thing, nothing is left for the imagination\nto do or to attempt: where all is regulated by conventional\nindifference, the full workings, the involuntary, uncontrollable\nemotions of the heart cease: property is not a poetical, but a practical\nprosaic idea, to those who possess and clutch it; and cuts off others\nfrom cordial sympathy; but nature is common property, the unenvied idol\nof all eyes, the fairy ground where fancy plays her tricks and feats;\nand the passions, the workings of the heart (which Mr. Bowles very\nproperly distinguishes from manners, inasmuch as they are not in the\npower of the will to regulate or satisfy) are still left as a subject\nfor something very different from didactic or mock-heroic poetry. By\n_art_ and _artificial_, as these terms are applied to poetry or human\nlife, we mean those objects and feelings which depend for their\nsubsistence and perfection on the will and arbitrary conventions of man\nand society; and by nature, and natural subjects, we mean those objects\nwhich exist in the universe at large, without, or in spite of, the\ninterference of human power and contrivance, and those interests and\naffections which are not amenable to the human will. That we are to\nexclude art, or the operation of the human will, from poetry altogether,\nis what we do not affirm; but we mean to say, that where this operation\nis the most complete and manifest, as in the creation of given objects,\nor regulation of certain feelings, there the spring of poetry, _i.e._ of\npassion and imagination, is proportionably and much impaired. We are\nmasters of Art, Nature is our master; and it is to this greater power\nthat we find working above, about, and within us, that the genius of\npoetry bows and offers up its highest homage. If the infusion of art\nwere not a natural disqualifier for poetry, the most artificial objects\nand manners would be the most poetical: on the contrary, it is only the\nrude beginnings, or the ruinous decay of objects of art, or the simplest\nmodes of life and manners, that admit of, or harmonize kindly with, the\ntone and language of poetry. To consider the question otherwise, is not\nto consider it too curiously, but not to understand it at all. Lord\nByron talks of Ulysses striking his horse Rhesus with his bow, as an\ninstance of the heroic in poetry. But does not the poetical dignity of\nthe instrument arise from its very commonness and simplicity? A bow is\nnot a supererogation of the works of art. It is almost peculiar to a\nstate of nature, that is, the first and rudest state of society. Lord\nByron might as well talk of a shepherd\u2019s crook, or the garland of\nflowers with which he crowns his mistress, as images borrowed from\nartificial life. He cannot make a gentleman-usher\u2019s rod poetical, though\nit is the pink of courtly and gentlemanly refinement. Will the bold\nstickler for the artificial essence of poetry translate Pope\u2019s\ndescription of Sir Plume,\u2014\n\n \u2018Of amber-headed snuff-box justly vain,\n And the nice conduct of a clouded cane,\u2019\u2014\n\ninto the same sort of poetry as Homer\u2019s description of the bow of\nUlysses? It is out of the question. The very mention of the last has a\nsound with it like the twang of the bow itself; whereas the others, the\nsnuff-box and clouded cane, are of the very essence of effeminate\nimpertinence. Pope says, in Spence\u2019s Anecdotes, that \u2018a lady of fashion\nwould admire a star, because it would remind her of the twinkling of a\nlamp on a ball-night.\u2019 This is a much better account of his own poetry\nthan his noble critic has given. It is a clue to a real solution of the\ndifficulty. What is the difference between the feeling with which we\ncontemplate a gas light in one of the squares, and the crescent moon\nbeside it, but this\u2014that though the brightness, the beauty perhaps, to\nthe mere sense, is the same or greater; yet we know that when we are out\nof the square we shall lose sight of the lamp, but that the moon will\nlend us its tributary light wherever we go; it streams over green valley\nor blue ocean alike; it is hung up in air, a part of the pageant of the\nuniverse; it steals with gradual, softened state into the soul, and\nhovers, a fairy apparition, over our existence! It is this which makes\nit a more poetical object than a patent lamp, or a Chinese lanthorn, or\nthe chandelier at Covent-garden, brilliant as it is, and which, though\nit were made ten times more so, would still only dazzle and scorch the\nsight so much the more; it would not be attended with a mild train of\nreflected glory; it would \u2018denote no foregone conclusion,\u2019 would touch\nno chord of imagination or the heart; it would have nothing romantic\nabout it.\u2014A man can make any thing, but he cannot make a sentiment! It\nis a thing of inveterate prejudice, of old association, of common\nfeelings, and so is poetry, as far as it is serious. A \u2018pack of cards,\u2019\na silver bodkin, a paste buckle, \u2018may be imbued\u2019 with as much mock\npoetry as you please, by lending false associations to it; but real\npoetry, or poetry of the highest order, can only be produced by\nunravelling the real web of associations, which have been wound round\nany subject by nature, and the unavoidable conditions of humanity. Not\nto admit this distinction at the threshold, is to confound the style of\nTom Thumb with that of the Moor of Venice, or Hurlothrumbo with the Doge\nof Venice. It is to mistake jest for earnest, and one thing for another.\n\n \u2018How far that little candle throws its beams!\n So shines a good deed in a naughty world.\u2019\n\nThe image here is one of artificial life; but it is connected with\nnatural circumstances and romantic interests, with darkness, with\nsilence, with distance, with privation, and uncertain danger: it is\ncommon, obvious, without pretension or boast, and therefore the poetry\nfounded upon it is natural, because the feelings are so. It is not the\nsplendour of the candle itself, but the contrast to the gloom\nwithout,\u2014the comfort, the relief it holds out from afar to the benighted\ntraveller,\u2014the conflict between nature and the first and cheapest\nresources of art, that constitutes the romantic and imaginary, that is,\nthe poetical interest, in that familiar but striking image. There is\nmore art in the lamp or chandelier; but for that very reason, there is\nless poetry. A light in a watch-tower, a beacon at sea, is sublime for\nthe same cause; because the natural circumstances and associations set\nit off; it warns us against danger, it reminds us of common calamity, it\npromises safety and hope: it has to do with the broad feelings and\ncircumstances of human life, and its interest does not assuredly turn\nupon the vanity or pretensions of the maker or proprietor of it. This\nsort of art is co-ordinate with nature, and comes into the first-class\nof poetry, but no one ever dreamt of the contrary. The features of\nnature are great leading landmarks, not near and little, or confined to\na spot, or an individual claimant; they are spread out everywhere the\nsame, and are of universal interest. The true poet has therefore been\ndescribed as\n\n \u2018Creation\u2019s tenant, he is nature\u2019s heir.\u2019\n\nWhat has been thus said of the man of genius might be said of the man of\nno genius. The spirit of poetry, and the spirit of humanity are the\nsame. The productions of nature are not locked up in the cabinets of the\ncurious, but spread out on the green lap of earth. The flowers return\nwith the cuckoo in the spring: the daisy for ever looks bright in the\nsun; the rainbow still lifts its head above the storm to the eye of\ninfancy or age\u2014\n\n \u2018So was it when my life began;\n So is it now I am a man,\n So shall it be till I grow old and die;\u2019\n\nbut Lord Byron does not understand this, for he does not understand Mr.\nWordsworth\u2019s poetry, and we cannot make him. His Lordship\u2019s nature, as\nwell as his poetry, is something arabesque and outlandish.\u2014Again, once\nmore, what, we would ask, makes the difference between an opera of\nMozart\u2019s, and the singing of a thrush confined in a wooden cage at the\ncorner of the street in which we live? The one is nature, and the other\nis art: the one is paid for, and the other is not. Madame Fodor sings\nthe air of _Vedrai Carino_ in _Don Giovanni_ so divinely, because she is\nhired to sing it; she sings it to please the audience, not herself, and\ndoes not always like to be _encored_ in it; but the thrush that awakes\nus at daybreak with its song, does not sing because it is paid to sing,\nor to please others, or to be admired or criticised. It sings because it\nis happy: it pours the thrilling sounds from its throat, to relieve the\noverflowings of its own breast\u2014the liquid notes come from, and go to,\nthe heart, dropping balm into it, as the gushing spring revives the\ntraveller\u2019s parched and fainting lips. That stream of joy comes pure and\nfresh to the longing sense, free from art and affectation, the same that\nrises over vernal groves, mingled with the breath of morning, and the\nperfumes of the wild hyacinth; that waits for no audience, that wants no\nrehearsing, that exhausts its raptures, and still\u2014\n\n \u2018Hymns its good God, and carols sweet of love.\u2019\n\nThere is this great difference between nature and art, that the one _is_\nwhat the other _seems_, and gives all the pleasure it expresses, because\nit feels it itself. Madame Fodor sings, as a musical instrument may be\nmade to play a tune, and perhaps with no more real delight: but it is\nnot so with the linnet or the thrush, that sings because God pleases,\nand pours out its little soul in pleasure. This is the reason why its\nsinging is (so far) so much better than melody or harmony, than base or\ntreble, than the Italian or the German School, than quavers or\ncrotchets, or half-notes, or canzonets, or quartetts, or any thing in\nthe world but truth and nature!\n\nTo give one more instance or two of what we understand by a natural\ninterest ingrafted on artificial objects, and of the principle that\nstill keeps them distinct. Amelia\u2019s \u2018hashed mutton\u2019 in Fielding, is one\nthat I might mention. Hashed mutton is an article in cookery, homely\nenough in the scale of art, though far removed from the simple products\nof nature; yet we should say that this common delicacy which Amelia\nprovided for her husband\u2019s supper, and then waited so long in vain for\nhis return, is the foundation of one of the most natural and affecting\nincidents in one of the most natural and affecting books in the world.\nNo description of the most splendid and luxurious banquet could come up\nto it. It will be remembered, when the _Almanach des Gourmands_, and\neven the article on it in the last Edinburgh Review, are forgotten. Did\nLord Byron never read Boccacio? We wish he would learn refinement from\nhim, and get rid of his hard _bravura_ taste, and swashbuckler\nconclusions. What makes the charm of the Story of the Falcon? Is it\nproperly art or nature? The tale is one of artificial life, and elegant\nmanners, and chivalrous pretensions; but it is the fall from these, the\ndecline into the vale of low and obscure poverty,\u2014the having but one\nlast loop left to hang life on, and the sacrifice of that to a feeling\nstill more precious, and which could only give way with life\nitself,\u2014that elevates the sentiment, and has made it find its way into\nall hearts. Had Frederigo Alberigi had an aviary of Hawks, and preserves\nof pheasants without end, he and his poor bird would never have been\nheard of. It is not the expence and ostentation of the entertainment he\nset before his mistress, but the prodigality of affection, squandering\naway the last remains of his once proud fortunes, that stamps this\nbeautiful incident on the remembrance of all who have ever read it. We\nwish Lord Byron would look it over again, and see whether it does not\nmost touch the chords of pathos and sentiment in those places where we\nfeel the absence of all the pomp and vanities of art. Mr. Campbell talks\nof a ship as a sublime and beautiful object in art. We will confess we\nalways stop to look at the mail-coaches with no slight emotion, and,\nperhaps, extend our hands after some of them, in sign of gratulation.\nThey carry the letters of friends, of relations; they keep up the\ncommunication between the heart of a country. We do not admire them for\ntheir workmanship, for their speed, for their livery\u2014there is something\nmore in it than this. Perhaps we can explain it by saying, that we once\nheard a person observe\u2014\u2018I always look at the Shrewsbury mail, and\nsometimes with tears in my eyes: that is the coach that will bring me\nthe news of the death of my father and mother.\u2019 His Lordship will say,\nthe mail-coach is an artificial object. Yet we think the interest here\nwas not founded upon that circumstance. There was a finer and deeper\nlink of affection that did not depend on the red painted pannels, or the\n_dyed garments_ of the coachman and guard. At least it strikes us so.\n\nThis is not an easy subject to illustrate, and it is still more\ndifficult to define. Yet we shall attempt something of the sort.\n\n1. Natural objects are common and obvious, and are imbued with an\nhabitual and universal interest, without being vulgar. Familiarity in\nthem does not breed contempt, as it does in the works of man. They form\nan ideal class; their repeated impression on the mind, in so many\ndifferent circumstances, grows up into a sentiment. The reason is, that\nwe refer them generally and collectively to ourselves, as links and\nmementos of our various being; whereas, we refer the works of art\nrespectively to those by whom they are made or to whom they belong. This\ndistracts the mind in looking at them, and gives a petty and unpoetical\ncharacter to what we feel relating to them. When the works of art become\npoetical, it is when they are emancipated from this state of\n\u2018circumscription and confine,\u2019 by some circumstance that sets aside the\nidea of property and individual distinction. The sound of village\nbells,\u2014\n\n \u2018\u2014\u2014The poor man\u2019s only music,\u2019[63]\n\nexcites as lively an interest in the mind, as the warbling of a thrush:\nthe sight of a village spire presents nothing discordant with the\nsurrounding scenery.\n\n2. Natural objects are more akin to poetry and the imagination, partly\nbecause they are not our own handy-work, but start up spontaneously,\nlike a visionary creation, of their own accord, without our knowledge or\nconnivance.\u2014\n\n \u2018The earth hath bubbles, as the water hath,\n And these are of them;\u2014\u2019\n\nand farther, they have this advantage over the works of art, that the\nlatter either fall short of their preconceived intention, and excite our\ndisgust and disappointment by their defects; or, if they completely\nanswer their end, they then leave nothing to the imagination, and so\nexcite little or no romantic interest that way. A Count Rumford stove,\nor a Dutch oven, are useful for the purposes of warmth or culinary\ndispatch. Gray\u2019s purring favourite would find great comfort in warming\nits nose before the one, or dipping its whiskers in the other; and so\ndoes the artificial animal, man: but the poetry of Rumford grates or\nDutch ovens, it would puzzle even Lord Byron to explain. Cowper has made\nsomething of the \u2018loud-hissing urn,\u2019 though Mr. Southey, as being one of\nthe more refined \u2018naturals,\u2019 still prefers \u2018the song of the kettle.\u2019 The\nmore our senses, our self-love, our eyes and ears, are surrounded, and,\nas it were, saturated with artificial enjoyments and costly decorations,\nthe more the avenues to the imagination and the heart are unavoidably\nblocked up. We do not say, that this may not be an advantage to the\nindividual; we say it is a disadvantage to the poet. Even \u2018Mine Host of\nHuman Life\u2019 has felt its palsying, enervating influence. Let any one\n(after ten years old) take shelter from a shower of rain in Exeter\nChange, and see how he will amuse the time with looking over the\ntrinkets, the chains, the seals, the curious works of art. Compare this\nwith the description of Una and the Red Cross Knight in Spenser:\n\n \u2018Enforc\u2019d to seek some covert nigh at hand,\n A shady grove not far away they spied,\n That promis\u2019d aid the tempest to withstand:\n Whose lofty trees, yclad with summer\u2019s pride,\n Did spread so broad, that heaven\u2019s light did hide,\n Not pierceable with power of any star;\n And all within were paths and alleys wide,\n With footing worn, and leading inward far;\n Far harbour that them seems: so in they enter\u2019d are.\n\n \u2018And forth they pass, with pleasure forward led,\n Joying to hear the birds\u2019 sweet harmony,\n Which therein shrowded from the tempest\u2019s dread,\n Seem\u2019d in their song to scorn the cruel sky.\n Much can they praise the trees so straight and high,\n The sailing pine, the cedar proud and tall,\n The vine-prop elm, the poplar never dry,\n The builder oak, sole king of forests all,\n The aspen good for staves, the cypress funeral.\u2019[64]\n\nArtificial flowers look pretty in a lady\u2019s head-dress; but they will not\ndo to stick into lofty verse. On the contrary, a crocus bursting out of\nthe ground seems to blush with its own golden light\u2014\u2018a thing of life.\u2019\nSo a greater authority than Lord Byron has given his testimony on this\nsubject: \u2018Behold the lilies of the field, they toil not, neither do they\nspin; yet I say unto you, that even Solomon in all his glory was not\narrayed like one of these.\u2019 Shakspeare speaks of\u2014\n\n \u2014\u2014\u2018Daffodils,\n That come before the swallow dares and take\n The winds of March with beauty.\u2019\n\nAll this play of fancy and dramatic interest could not be transferred to\na description of hot-house plants, regulated by a thermometer. Lord\nByron unfairly enlists into the service of his argument those artificial\nobjects, which are direct imitations of nature, such as statuary, etc.\nThis is an oversight. At this rate, all poetry would be artificial\npoetry. Dr. Darwin is among those, who have endeavoured to confound the\ndistinctions of natural and artificial poetry, and indeed, he is,\nperhaps, the only one who has gone the whole length of Lord Byron\u2019s\nhypercritical and super-artificial theory. Here are some of his lines,\nwhich have been greatly admired.\n\n _Apostrophe to Steel._\n\n \u2018Hail, adamantine steel! magnetic lord,\n King of the prow, the ploughshare, and the sword!\n True to the pole, by thee the pilot guides\n His steady course amid the struggling tides,\n Braves with broad sail the immeasurable sea,\n Cleaves the dark air, and asks no star but thee!\u2019\n\nThis is the true false gallop of the sublime. Yet steel is a very useful\nmetal, and doubtless performs all these wonders. But it has not, among\nso many others, the virtue of amalgamating with the imagination. We\nmight quote also his description of the spinning-jenny, which is\npronounced by Dr. Aikin to be as ingenious a piece of mechanism as the\nobject it describes; and, according to Lord Byron, this last is as well\nsuited to the manufacture of verses as of cotton-twist without end.\n\n3. Natural interests are those which are real and inevitable, and are so\nfar contradistinguished from the artificial, which are factitious and\naffected. If Lord Byron cannot understand the difference, he may find it\nexplained by contrasting some of Chaucer\u2019s characters and incidents with\nthose in the Rape of the Lock, for instance. Custance floating in her\nboat on the wide sea, is different from Pope\u2019s heroine,\n\n \u2018Launched on the bosom of the silver Thames.\u2019\n\nGriselda\u2019s loss of her children, one by one, of her _all_, does not\nbelong to the same class of incidents, nor of subjects for poetry, as\nBelinda\u2019s loss of her favourite curl. A sentiment that has rooted itself\nin the heart, and can only be torn from it with life, is not like the\ncaprice of the moment\u2014the putting on of paint and patches, or the\npulling off a glove. The inbred character is not like a masquerade\ndress. There is a difference between the theatrical, and natural, which\nis important to the determination of the present question, and which has\nbeen overlooked by his Lordship. Mr. Bowles, however, formally insists\n(and with the best right in the world) on the distinction between\npassion and manners. But he agrees with Lord Byron, that the Epistle to\nAbelard is the height of the pathetic.\n\n \u2018Strange that such difference should be\n Twixt tweedledum and tweedledee.\u2019\n\nThat it is in a great degree pathetic, we should be amongst the last to\ndispute; but its character is more properly rhetorical and voluptuous.\nThat its interest is of the highest or deepest order, is what we should\nwonder to hear any one affirm, who is intimate with Shakspeare, Chaucer,\nBoccacio, our own early dramatists, or the Greek tragedians. There is\nmore true, unfeigned, unspeakable, heart-felt distress in one line of\nChaucer\u2019s tale just mentioned,\n\n \u2018Let me not like a worm go by the way,\u2019\n\nthan in all Pope\u2019s writings put together; and we say it without any\ndisrespect to him too. Didactic poetry has to do with manners, as they\nare regulated, not by fashion or caprice, but by abstract reason and\ngrave opinion, and is equally remote from the dramatic, which describes\nthe involuntary and unpremeditated impulses of nature. As Lord Byron\nrefers to the Bible, we would just ask him here, which he thinks the\nmost poetical parts of it, the Law of the Twelve Tables, the Book of\nLeviticus, etc.; or the Book of Job, Jacob\u2019s dream, the story of Ruth\netc?\n\n4. Supernatural poetry is, in the sense here insisted on, allied to\nnature, not to art, because it relates to the impressions made upon the\nmind by unknown objects and powers, out of the reach both of the\ncognizance and will of man, and still more able to startle and confound\nhis imagination, while he supposes them to exist, than either those of\nnature or art. The Witches in Macbeth, the Furies in \u00c6schylus, are so\nfar artificial objects, that they are creatures of the poet\u2019s brain; but\ntheir impression on the mind depends on their possessing attributes,\nwhich baffle and set at nought all human pretence, and laugh at all\nhuman efforts to tamper with them. Satan in Milton is an artificial or\nideal character: but would any one call this artificial poetry? It is,\nin Lord Byron\u2019s phrase, super-artificial, as well as super-human poetry.\nBut it is serious business. Fate, if not Nature, is its ruling genius.\nThe Pandemonium is not a baby-house of the fancy, and it is ranked\n(ordinarily,) with natural, _i.e._ with the highest and most important\norder of poetry, and above the Rape of the Lock. We intended a\ndefinition, and have run again into examples. Lord Byron\u2019s _concretions_\nhave spoiled us for philosophy. We will therefore leave off here, and\nconclude with a character of Pope, which seems to have been written with\nan eye to this question, and which (for what we know) is as near a\nsolution of it as the Noble Letter-writer\u2019s emphatical division of\nPope\u2019s writings into ethical, mock-heroic, and fanciful poetry.\n\n\u2018Pope was not assuredly a poet of this class, or in the first rank of\nit. He saw nature only dressed by art; he judged of beauty by fashion;\nhe sought for truth in the opinions of the world; he judged of the\nfeelings of others by his own. The capacious soul of Shakspeare had an\nintuitive and mighty sympathy with whatever could enter into the heart\nof man in all possible circumstances: Pope had an exact knowledge of all\nthat he himself loved or hated, wished or wanted. Milton has winged his\ndaring flight from heaven to earth, through Chaos and old Night. Pope\u2019s\nMuse never wandered with safety, but from his library to his grotto, or\nfrom his grotto into his library back again. His mind dwelt with greater\npleasure on his own garden, than on the garden of Eden; he could\ndescribe the faultless whole-length mirror that reflected his own\nperson, better than the smooth surface of the lake that reflects the\nface of heaven\u2014a piece of cut glass or a pair of paste buckles with more\nbrilliance and effect, than a thousand dew-drops glittering in the sun.\nHe would be more delighted with a patent lamp, than with \u201cthe pale\nreflex of Cynthia\u2019s brow,\u201d that fills the skies with its soft silent\nlustre, that trembles through the cottage window, and cheers the\nwatchful mariner on the lonely wave. In short, he was the poet of\npersonality and of polished life. That which was nearest to him, was the\ngreatest; the fashion of the day bore sway in his mind over the\nimmutable laws of nature. He preferred the artificial to the natural in\nexternal objects, because he had a stronger fellow-feeling with the\nself-love of the maker or proprietor of a gewgaw, than admiration of\nthat which was interesting to all mankind. He preferred the artificial\nto the natural in passion, because the involuntary and uncalculating\nimpulses of the one hurried him away with a force and vehemence with\nwhich he could not grapple; while he could trifle with the conventional\nand superficial modifications of mere sentiment at will, laugh at or\nadmire, put them on or off like a masquerade dress, make much or little\nof them, indulge them for a longer or a shorter time, as he pleased; and\nbecause while they amused his fancy and exercised his ingenuity, they\nnever once disturbed his vanity, his levity, or indifference. His mind\nwas the antithesis of strength and grandeur; its power was the power of\nindifference. He had none of the enthusiasm of poetry; he was in poetry\nwhat the sceptic is in religion.\n\n\u2018It cannot be denied, that his chief excellence lay more in diminishing,\nthan in aggrandizing objects; in checking, not in encouraging our\nenthusiasm; in sneering at the extravagances of fancy or passion,\ninstead of giving a loose to them; in describing a row of pins and\nneedles, rather than the embattled spears of Greeks and Trojans; in\npenning a lampoon or a compliment, and in praising Martha Blount.\n\n\u2018Shakspeare says,\n\n \u201c\u2014\u2014In Fortune\u2019s ray and brightness\n The herd hath more annoyance by the brize\n Than by the tyger: but when the splitting wind\n Makes flexible the knees of knotted oaks,\n And flies fled under shade, why then\n The thing of courage,\n As roused with rage, with rage doth sympathise;\n And with an accent tuned in the self-same key,\n Replies to chiding Fortune.\u201d\n\nThere is none of this rough work in Pope. His Muse was on a\npeace-establishment, and grew somewhat effeminate by long ease and\nindulgence. He lived in the smiles of fortune, and basked in the favour\nof the great. In his smooth and polished verse we meet with no prodigies\nof nature, but with miracles of wit; the thunders of his pen are\nwhispered flatteries; its forked lightnings pointed sarcasms; for\u2014\u201cthe\ngnarled oak,\u201d he gives us \u201cthe soft myrtle:\u201d for rocks, and seas, and\nmountains, artificial grass-plats, gravel-walks, and tinkling rills; for\nearthquakes and tempests, the breaking of a flower-pot, or the fall of a\nchina jar; for the tug and war of the elements, or the deadly strife of\nthe passions, we have\n\n \u201cCalm contemplation and poetic ease.\u201d\n\nYet within this retired and narrow circle how much, and that how\nexquisite, was contained! What discrimination, what wit, what delicacy,\nwhat fancy, what lurking spleen, what elegance of thought, what pampered\nrefinement of sentiment! It is like looking at the world through a\nmicroscope, where every thing assumes a new character and a new\nconsequence, where things are seen in their minutest circumstances and\nslightest shades of difference; where the little becomes gigantic, the\ndeformed beautiful, and the beautiful deformed. The wrong end of the\nmagnifier is, to be sure, held to everything, but still the exhibition\nis highly curious, and we know not whether to be most pleased or\nsurprised. Such, at least, is the best account I am able to give of this\nextraordinary man, without doing injustice to him or others.\u2019\n\n\n\n\n ON CONSISTENCY OF OPINION\n\n\n _The London Magazine._] [_November 1821._\n\n \u2018\u2014\u2014Servetur ad imum\n Qualis ab inceptu processerit, et sibi constet.\u2019\n\nMany people boast of being masters in their own house. I pretend to be\nmaster of my own mind. I should be sorry to have an ejectment served\nupon me for any notions I may chuse to entertain there. Within that\nlittle circle I would fain be an absolute monarch. I do not profess the\nspirit of martyrdom; I have no ambition to march to the stake or up to a\nmasked battery, in defence of an hypothesis: I do not court the rack: I\ndo not wish to be flayed alive for affirming that two and two make four,\nor any other intricate proposition: I am shy of bodily pains and\npenalties, which some are fond of, imprisonment, fine, banishment,\nconfiscation of goods: but if I do not prefer the independence of my\nmind to that of my body, I at least prefer it to every thing else. I\nwould avoid the arm of power, as I would escape from the fangs of a wild\nbeast: but as to the opinion of the world, I see nothing formidable in\nit. \u2018It is the eye of childhood that fears a painted devil.\u2019 I am not to\nbe brow-beat or wheedled out of any of my settled convictions. Opinion\nto opinion, I will face any man. Prejudice, fashion, the cant of the\nmoment, go for nothing; and as for the reason of the thing, it can only\nbe supposed to rest with me or another, in proportion to the pains we\nhave taken to ascertain it. Where the pursuit of truth has been the\nhabitual study of any man\u2019s life, the love of truth will be his ruling\npassion. \u2018Where the treasure is, there the heart is also.\u2019 Every one is\nmost tenacious of that to which he owes his distinction from others.\nKings love power, misers gold, women flattery, poets reputation\u2014and\nphilosophers truth, when they can find it. They are right in cherishing\nthe only privilege they inherit. If \u2018to be wise were to be obstinate,\u2019 I\nmight set up for as great a philosopher as the best of them; for some of\nmy conclusions are as fixed and as incorrigible to proof as need be. I\nam attached to them in consequence of the pains, the anxiety, and the\nwaste of time they have cost me. In fact, I should not well know what to\ndo without them at this time of day; nor how to get others to supply\ntheir place. I would quarrel with the best friend I have sooner than\nacknowledge the absolute right of the Bourbons. I see Mr. \u2014\u2014 seldomer\nthan I did, because I cannot agree with him about the _Catalogue\nRaisonn\u00e9e_. I remember once saying to this gentleman, a great while ago,\nthat I did not seem to have altered any of my ideas since I was sixteen\nyears old. \u2018Why then,\u2019 said he,\u2019 you are no wiser now than you were\nthen!\u2019 I might make the same confession, and the same retort would apply\nstill. Coleridge used to tell me, that this pertinacity was owing to a\nwant of sympathy with others. What he calls _sympathising with others_\nis their admiring him, and it must be admitted that he varies his\nbattery pretty often, in order to accommodate himself to this sort of\nmutual understanding. But I do not agree in what he says of me. On the\nother hand, I think that it is my sympathising _beforehand_ with the\ndifferent views and feelings that may be entertained on a subject, that\nprevents my retracting my judgment, and flinging myself into the\ncontrary extreme _afterwards_. If you proscribe all opinion opposite to\nyour own, and impertinently exclude all the evidence that does not make\nfor you, it stares you in the face with double force when it breaks in\nunexpectedly upon you, or if at any subsequent period it happens to suit\nyour interest or convenience to listen to objections which vanity or\nprudence had hitherto overlooked. But if you are aware from the first\nsuggestion of a subject, either by subtlety of tact, or close attention,\nof the full force of what others possibly feel and think of it, you are\nnot exposed to the same vacillation of opinion. The number of grains and\nscruples, of doubts and difficulties, thrown into the scale while the\nbalance is yet undecided, add to the weight and steadiness of the\ndetermination. He who anticipates his opponent\u2019s arguments, confirms\nwhile he corrects his own reasonings. When a question has been carefully\nexamined in all its bearings, and a principle is once established, it is\nnot liable to be overthrown by any new facts which have been arbitrarily\nand petulantly set aside, nor by every wind of idle doctrine rushing\ninto the interstices of a hollow speculation, shattering it in pieces,\nand leaving it a mockery and a bye-word; like those tall, gawky,\nstaring, pyramidal erections which are seen scattered over different\nparts of the country, and are called the _Follies_ of different\ngentlemen! A man may be confident in maintaining a side, as he has been\ncautious in chusing it. If after making up his mind strongly in one way,\nto the best of his capacity and judgment, he feels himself inclined to a\nvery violent revulsion of sentiment, he may generally rest assured that\nthe change is in himself and his motives, not in the reason of things.\n\nI cannot say that, from my own experience, I have found that the persons\nmost remarkable for sudden and violent changes of principle have been\ncast in the softest or most susceptible mould. All their notions have\nbeen exclusive, bigoted, and intolerant. Their want of consistency and\nmoderation has been in exact proportion to their want of candour and\ncomprehensiveness of mind. Instead of being the creatures of sympathy,\nopen to conviction, unwilling to give offence by the smallest difference\nof sentiment, they have (for the most part) been made up of mere\nantipathies\u2014a very repulsive sort of personages\u2014at odds with themselves,\nand with every body else. The slenderness of their pretensions to\nphilosophical inquiry has been accompanied with the most presumptuous\ndogmatism. They have been persons of that narrowness of view and\nheadstrong self-sufficiency of purpose, that they could see only one\nside of a question at a time, and whichever they pleased. There is a\nstory somewhere in Don Quixote, of two champions coming to a shield hung\nup against a tree with an inscription written on each side of it. Each\nof them maintained, that the words were what was written on the side\nnext him, and never dreamt, till the fray was over, that they might be\ndifferent on the opposite side of the shield. It would have been a\nlittle more extraordinary if the combatants had changed sides in the\nheat of the scuffle, and stoutly denied that there were any such words\non the opposite side as they had before been bent on sacrificing their\nlives to prove were the only ones it contained. Yet such is the very\nsituation of some of our modern polemics. They have been of all sides of\nthe question, and yet they cannot conceive how an honest man can be of\nany but one\u2014that which they hold at present. It seems that they are\nafraid to look their old opinions in the face, lest they should be\nfascinated by them once more. They banish all doubts of their own\nsincerity by inveighing against the motives of their antagonists. There\nis no salvation out of the pale of their strange inconsistency. They\nreduce common sense and probity to the straitest possible limits\u2014the\nbreasts of themselves and their patrons. They are like people out at sea\non a very narrow plank, who try to push every body else off. Is it that\nthey have so little faith in the cause to which they have become such\nstaunch converts, as to suppose that, should they allow a grain of sense\nto their old allies and new antagonists, they will have more than they?\nIs it that they have so little consciousness of their own\ndisinterestedness, that they feel if they allow a particle of honesty to\nthose who now differ with them, they will have more than they? Those\nopinions must needs be of a very fragile texture which will not stand\nthe shock of the least acknowledged opposition, and which lay claim to\nrespectability by stigmatising all who do not hold them as \u2018sots, and\nknaves, and cowards.\u2019 There is a want of well-balanced feeling in every\nsuch instance of extravagant versatility; a something crude, unripe, and\nharsh, that does not hit a judicious palate, but sets the teeth on edge\nto think of. \u2018I had rather hear my mother\u2019s cat mew, or a wheel grate on\nthe axle-tree, than one of these same metre-balladmongers\u2019 chaunt his\nincondite retrograde lays without rhyme and without reason.\n\nThe principles and professions change: the man remains the same. There\nis the same spirit at the bottom of all this pragmatical fickleness and\nvirulence, whether it runs into one extreme or another:\u2014to wit, a\nconfinement of view, a jealousy of others, an impatience of\ncontradiction, a want of liberality in construing the motives of others\neither from monkish pedantry, or a conceited overweening reference of\nevery thing to our own fancies and feelings. There is something to be\nsaid, indeed, for the nature of the political machinery, for the\nwhirling motion of the revolutionary wheel which has of late wrenched\nmen\u2019s understandings almost asunder, and \u2018amazed the very faculties of\neyes and ears;\u2019 but still this is hardly a sufficient reason, why the\nadept in the old as well as the new school should take such a prodigious\nlatitude himself, while at the same time he makes so little allowance\nfor others. His whole creed need not be turned topsy-turvy, from the top\nto the bottom, even in times like these. He need not, in the rage of\nparty spirit, discard the proper attributes of humanity, the common\ndictates of reason. He need not outrage every former feeling, nor\ntrample on every customary decency, in his zeal for reform, or in his\ngreater zeal against it. If his mind, like his body, has undergone a\ntotal change of essence, and purged off the taint of all its early\nopinions, he need not carry about with him, or be haunted in the persons\nof others with, the phantoms of his altered principles to loathe and\nexecrate them. He need not (as it were) pass an act of attainder on all\nhis thoughts, hopes, wishes, from youth upwards, to offer them at the\nshrine of matured servility: he need not become one vile antithesis, a\nliving and ignominious satire on himself. Mr. Wordsworth has hardly, I\nshould think, so much as a single particle of feeling left in his whole\ncomposition, the same that he had twenty years ago; not \u2018so small a drop\nof pity,\u2019 for what he then was, \u2018as a wren\u2019s eye,\u2019\u2014except that I do not\nhear that he has given up his theory that poetry should be written in\nthe language of prose, or applied for an injunction against the Lyrical\nBallads. I will wager a trifle, that our ingenious poet will not concede\nto any patron, (how noble and munificent soever) that the Leech Gatherer\nis not a fit subject of the Muse, and would sooner resign the\nstamp-distributorship of two counties, than burn that portion of the\nRecluse, a Poem, which has been given to the world under the title of\nthe Excursion. The tone, however, of Mr. Wordsworth\u2019s poetical effusions\nrequires a little revision to adapt it to the progressive improvement in\nhis political sentiments: for, as far as I understand the Poems\nthemselves or the Preface, his whole system turns upon this, that the\nthoughts, the feelings, the expressions of the common people in country\nplaces are the most refined of all others; at once the most pure, the\nmost simple, and the most sublime:\u2014yet, with one stroke of his\nprose-pen, he disfranchises the whole rustic population of Westmoreland\nand Cumberland from voting at elections, and says there is not a man\namong them that is not a knave in grain. In return, he lets them still\nretain the privilege of expressing their sentiments in select and\nnatural language in the Lyrical Ballads. So much for poetical justice\nand political severity! An author\u2019s political theories sit loose upon\nhim, and may be changed like his clothes. His literary vanity, alas!\nsticks to him like his skin, and survives in its first gloss and\nsleekness, amidst\n\n \u2018The wreck of matter, and the crush of worlds.\u2019\n\nMr. Southey still makes experiments on metre, not on governments, and\nseems to think the last resort of English liberty is in court-iambics.\nStill the same upstart self-sufficiency, still the same itch of new\nfangled innovation directed into a new channel, still the same principle\nof favouritism, still the same overcharged and splenetic hostility\u2014all\nis right that he approves, all is wrong that opposes his views in the\nsmallest particular. There is no inconsistency in all these anomalies.\nAbsurdity is uniform; egotism is the same thing; a limited range of\ncomprehension is a habit of mind that a man seldom gets the better of,\nand may distinguish equally the Pantisocratist or Constitutional\nAssociation-monger.\n\nTo quit this, which is rather a stale topic, as well as a hopeless one,\nand give some instances of a change of sentiment in individuals, which\nmay serve for materials of a history of opinion in the beginning of the\n19th century:\u2014A gentleman went to live, some years ago, in a remote part\nof the country, and as he did not wish to affect singularity he used to\nhave two candles on his table of an evening. A romantic acquaintance of\nhis in the neighbourhood, smit with the love of simplicity and equality,\nused to come in, and without ceremony snuff one of them out, saying, it\nwas a shame to indulge in such extravagance, while many a poor cottager\nhad not even a rush-light to see to do their evening\u2019s work by. This\nmight be about the year 1802, and was passed over as among the ordinary\noccurrences of the day. In 1816 (oh! fearful lapse of time, pregnant\nwith strange mutability), the same enthusiastic lover of economy, and\nhater of luxury, asked his thoughtless friend to dine with him in\ncompany with a certain lord, and to lend him his man servant to wait at\ntable; and just before they were sitting down to dinner, he heard him\nsay to the servant in a sonorous whisper\u2014\u2018and be sure you don\u2019t forget\nto have six candles on the table!\u2019 Extremes meet. The event here was as\ntrue to itself as the oscillation of the pendulum. My informant, who\nunderstands moral equations, had looked for this reaction, and noted it\ndown as characteristic. The impertinence in the first instance was the\ncue to the ostentatious servility in the second. The one was the\nfulfilment of the other, like the type and anti-type of a prophecy.\nNo\u2014the keeping of the character at the end of fourteen years was as\nunique as the keeping of the thought to the end of the fourteen lines of\na Sonnet! Would it sound strange if I were to whisper it in the reader\u2019s\near, that it was the same person who was thus anxious to see six candles\non the table to receive a lord, who once (in ages past) said to me, that\n\u2018he saw nothing to admire in the eloquence of such men as Mansfield and\nChatham; and what did it all end in, but their being made Lords?\u2019 It is\nbetter to be a lord than a lacquey to a lord. So we see that the\nswelling pride and preposterous self-opinion which exalts itself above\nthe mightiest, looking down upon, and braying the boasted pretensions of\nthe highest rank and the most brilliant talents as nothing, compared\nwith its own conscious powers and silent unmoved self-respect, grovels\nand licks the dust before titled wealth, like a lacquered slave, the\nmoment it can get wages and a livery! Would Milton or Marvel have done\nthus?\n\nMr. Coleridge, indeed, sets down this outrageous want of keeping to an\nexcess of sympathy, and there is, after all, some truth in his\nsuggestion. There is a craving after the approbation and concurrence of\nothers natural to the mind of man. It is difficult to sustain the weight\nof an opinion singly for any length of way. The intellect languishes\nwithout cordial encouragement and support. It exhausts both strength and\npatience to be always striving against the stream. _Contra audentior\nito_\u2014is the motto but of few. Public opinion is always pressing upon the\nmind, and, like the air we breathe, acts unseen, unfelt. It supplies the\nliving current of our thoughts, and infects without our knowledge. It\ntaints the blood, and is taken into the smallest pores. The most\nsanguine constitutions are, perhaps, the most exposed to its influence.\nBut public opinion has its source in power, in popular prejudice, and is\nnot always in accord with right reason, or a high and abstracted\nimagination. Which path to follow where the two roads part? The heroic\nand romantic resolution prevails at first in high and heroic tempers.\nThey think to scale the heights of truth and virtue at once with him\n\u2018whose genius had angelic wings, and fed on manna,\u2019\u2014but after a time\nfind themselves baffled, toiling on in an uphill road, without friends,\nin a cold neighbourhood, without aid or prospect of success. The poet\n\n \u2018Like a worm goes by the way.\u2019\n\nHe hears murmurs loud or suppressed, meets blank looks or scowling\nfaces, is exposed to the pelting of the pitiless press, and is stunned\nby the shout of the mob, that gather round him to see what sort of a\ncreature a poet and a philosopher is. What is there to make him proof\nagainst all this? A strength of understanding steeled against\ntemptation, and a dear love of truth that smiles opinion to scorn? These\nhe perhaps has not. A lord passes in his coach. Might he not get up, and\nride out of the reach of the rabble-rout? He is invited to stop dinner.\nIf he stays he may insinuate some wholesome truths. He drinks in rank\npoison\u2014flattery! He recites some verses to the ladies, who smile\ndelicious praise, and thank him through their tears. The master of the\nhouse suggests a happy allusion in the turn of an expression. \u2018There\u2019s\nsympathy.\u2019 This is better than the company he lately left. Pictures,\nstatues meet his raptured eye. Our Ulysses finds himself in the gardens\nof Alcinous: our truant is fairly caught. He wanders through enchanted\nground. Groves, classic groves, nod unto him, and he hears \u2018ancestral\nvoices\u2019 hailing him as brother-bard! He sleeps, dreams, and wakes cured\nof his thriftless prejudices and morose philanthropy. He likes this\ncourtly and popular sympathy better. \u2018He looks up with awe to kings;\nwith honour to nobility; with reverence to magistrates,\u2019 &c. He no\nlonger breathes the air of heaven and his own thoughts, but is steeped\nin that of palaces and courts, and finds it agree better with his\nconstitutional temperament. Oh! how sympathy alters a man from what he\nwas!\n\n \u2018I\u2019ve heard of hearts unkind,\n Kind deeds with coldness still returning;\n Alas! the gratitude of man\n Has oftener set me mourning.\u2019\n\nA spirit of contradiction, a wish to monopolise all wisdom, will not\naccount for uniform consistency, for it is sure to defeat and turn\nagainst itself. It is \u2018every thing by turns, and nothing long.\u2019 It is\nwarped and crooked. It cannot bear the least opposition, and sooner than\nacquiesce in what others approve it will change sides in a day. It is\noffended at every resistance to its captious, domineering humour, and\nwill quarrel for straws with its best friends. A person under the\nguidance of this demon, if every whimsy or occult discovery of his own\nis not received with acclamation by one party, will wreak his spite by\ndeserting to the other, and carry all his talent for disputation with\nhim, sharpened by rage and disappointment. A man, to be steady in a\ncause, should be more attached to the truth than to the acquiescence of\nhis fellow-citizens. A young student, who came up to town a few years\nsince with some hypercritical refinements on the modern philosophy to\nintroduce him to the Gamaliels of the age, but who would allow no one\nelse to have a right view of the common doctrines of the school, or to\nbe able to assign a reason for the faith that was in him, was sent to\nCoventry by the true adepts, who were many of them as wise and as\nfastidious as himself. He therefore turned round upon the whole set for\nthis indignity, and has been playing off the heavy artillery of his\nscurrilous abuse, his verbal logic, and the powerful distinctions of the\ncivil and canon law upon the devoted heads of his tasteless associates;\n\u2018perpetual volley, arrowy sleet,\u2019 ever since! It is needless to mention\nnames. The learned gentleman having left his ungrateful party and\nunprofitable principles in dudgeon, has gone into the opposite extreme\nlike mad, sticks at nothing, is callous to public opinion, so that he\npleases his employers, and can become \u2018a thorn in the side of freedom\u2019;\nand fairly takes the bridle in his teeth, stop him who can. A more\nobstinate being never took pen in hand. Yet, by agreeing to his\nconclusions, and subscribing to his arguments (such as they are) it\nwould be still possible to make him give up every one of his absurdities\nin succession, and to drive him to set up another New Daily Paper\nagainst himself!\n\nI can hardly consider Mr. Coleridge as a deserter from the cause he\nfirst espoused, unless one could tell what cause he ever heartily\nespoused, or what party he ever belonged to, in downright earnest. He\nhas not been inconsistent with himself at different times, but at all\ntimes. He is a sophist, a casuist, a rhetorician, what you please; and\nmight have argued or declaimed to the end of his breath on one side of a\nquestion or another, but he never was a pragmatical fellow. He lived in\na round of contradictions, and never came to a settled point. His fancy\ngave the cue to his judgment, and his vanity set his invention afloat in\nwhatever direction he could find most scope for it, or most _sympathy_,\nthat is, admiration. His Life and Opinions might naturally receive the\ntitle of one of Hume\u2019s Essays\u2014\u2018A Sceptical Solution of Sceptical\nDoubts.\u2019 To be sure, his WATCHMAN and his FRIEND breathe a somewhat\ndifferent tone on subjects of a particular description, both of them\napparently pretty high-raised, but whoever will be at the pains to\nexamine them closely, will find them to be _voluntaries_, fugues, solemn\ncapriccios, not set compositions with any malice prepense in them, or\nmuch practical meaning. I believe some of his friends, who were indebted\nto him for the suggestion of plausible reasons for conformity, and an\nopening to a more qualified view of the letter of their paradoxical\nprinciples, have lately disgusted him by the virulence and extravagance\nto which they have carried hints, of which he never suspected that they\nwould make the least possible use. But if Mr. Coleridge is satisfied\nwith the wandering Moods of his Mind, perhaps this is no reason that\nothers may not reap the solid benefit. He himself is like the idle\nsea-weed on the ocean, tossed from shore to shore: they are like\nbarnacles fastened to the vessel of state, rotting its goodly timbers!\n\nThere are some persons who are of too fastidious a turn of mind to like\nany thing long, or to assent twice to the same opinion. \u2014\u2014 always sets\nhimself to prop the falling cause, to nurse the ricketty bantling. He\ntakes the part which he thinks in most need of his support, not so much\nout of magnanimity, as to prevent too great a degree of presumption or\nself-complacency on the triumphant side. \u2018Though truth be truth, yet he\ncontrives to throw such changes of vexation on it as it may lose some\ncolour.\u2019 I have been delighted to hear him expatiate with the most\nnatural and affecting simplicity on a favourite passage or picture, and\nall the while afraid of agreeing with him, lest he should instantly turn\nround and unsay all that he had said, for fear of my going away with too\ngood an opinion of my own taste, or too great an admiration of my\nidol\u2014and his own. I dare not ask his opinion twice, if I have got a\nfavourable sentence once, lest he should belie his own sentiments to\nstagger mine. I have heard him talk divinely (like one inspired) of\nBoccaccio, and the story of the Pot of Basil, describing \u2018how it grew,\nand it grew, and it grew,\u2019 till you saw it spread its tender leaves in\nthe light of his eye, and wave in the tremulous sound of his voice; and\nyet if you asked him about it at another time, he would, perhaps, affect\nto think little of it, or to have forgotten the circumstance. His\nenthusiasm is fickle and treacherous. The instant he finds it shared in\ncommon, he backs out of it. His enmity is equally refined, but hardly so\nunsocial. His exquisitely turned invectives display all the beauty of\nscorn, and impart elegance to vulgarity. He sometimes finds out minute\nexcellencies, and cries up one thing to put you out of conceit with\nanother. If you want him to praise Sir Joshua _con amore_, in his best\nmanner, you should begin with saying something about Titian\u2014if you seem\nan idoliser of Sir Joshua, he will immediately turn off the discourse,\ngliding like the serpent before Eve, wary and beautiful, to the graces\nof Sir Peter Lely, or ask if you saw a Vandyke the other day, which he\ndoes not think Sir Joshua could stand near. But find fault with the Lake\nPoets, and mention some pretended patron of rising genius, and you need\nnot fear but he will join in with you and go all lengths that you can\nwish him. You may calculate upon him there. \u2018Pride elevates, and joy\nbrightens his face.\u2019 And, indeed, so eloquent is he, and so beautiful in\nhis eloquence, that I myself, with all my freedom from gall and\nbitterness, could listen to him untired, and without knowing how the\ntime went, losing and neglecting many a meal and hour,\n\n \u2014\u2014\u2018From morn to noon,\n From noon to dewy eve, a summer\u2019s day!\u2019\n\nWhen I cease to hear him quite, other tongues, turned to what accents\nthey may of praise or blame, will sound dull, ungrateful, out of tune,\nand harsh, in the comparison.\n\nAn overstrained enthusiasm produces a capriciousness in taste, as well\nas too much indifference. A person who sets no bounds to his admiration\ntakes a surfeit of his favourites. He over-does the thing. He gets sick\nof his own everlasting praises, and affected raptures. His preferences\nare a great deal too violent to last. He wears out an author in a week,\nthat might last him a year, or his life, by the eagerness with which he\ndevours him. Every such favourite is in his turn the greatest writer in\nthe world. Compared with the lord of the ascendant for the time being,\nShakspeare is common-place, and Milton a pedant, a little insipid or so.\nSome of these prodigies require to be dragged out of their\nlurking-places, and cried up to the top of the compass;\u2014their traits are\nsubtle, and must be violently obtruded on the sight. But the effort of\nexaggerated praise, though it may stagger others, tires the maker, and\nwe hear of them no more after a while. Others take their turns, are\nswallowed whole, undigested, ravenously, and disappear in the same\nmanner. Good authors share the fate of bad, and a library in a few years\nis nearly dismantled. It is a pity thus to outlive our admiration, and\nexhaust our relish of what is excellent. Actors and actresses are\ndisposed of in the same conclusive peremptory way: some of them are\ntalked of for months, nay, years; then it is almost an offence to\nmention them. Friends, acquaintance, go the same road;\u2014are now asked to\ncome six days in the week, then warned against coming the seventh. The\nsmallest faults are soon magnified in those we think too highly of: but\nwhere shall we find perfection? If we will put up with nothing short of\nthat, we shall have neither pictures, books, nor friends left\u2014we shall\nhave nothing but our own absurdities to keep company with! \u2018In all\nthings a regular and moderate indulgence is the best security for a\nlasting enjoyment.\u2019 BURKE.\n\nThere are numbers who judge by the event, and change with fortune. They\nextol the hero of the day, and join the prevailing clamour whatever it\nis; so that the fluctuating state of public opinion regulates their\nfeverish, restless enthusiasm, like a thermometer. They blow hot or\ncold, according as the wind sets favourably or otherwise. With such\npeople the only infallible test of merit is success; and no arguments\nare true that have not a large or powerful majority on their side. They\ngo by appearances. Their vanity, not the truth, is their ruling object.\nThey are not the last to quit a falling cause, and they are the first to\nhail the rising sun. Their minds want sincerity, modesty, and keeping.\nWith them\u2014\n\n \u2014\u2014\u2018To have done is to hang\n Quite out of fashion, like a rusty mail\n In monumental mockery.\u2019\n\nThey still, \u2018with one consent, praise new-born gauds,\u2019 and Fame, as they\nconstrue it, is\n\n \u2014\u2014\u2018Like a fashionable host,\n That slightly shakes his parting guest by the hand;\n And with his arms outstretch\u2019d, as he would fly,\n Grasps-in the comer. Welcome ever smiles,\n And Farewell goes out sighing.\u2019\n\nSuch servile flatterers made an idol of Buonaparte while fortune smiled\nupon him, but when it left him, they removed him from his pedestal in\nthe cabinet of their vanity, as we take down the picture of a relation\nthat has died without naming us in his will. The opinion of such\ntriflers is worth nothing: it is merely an echo. We do not want to be\ntold the event of a question, but the rights of it. Truth is in their\ntheory nothing but \u2018noise and inexplicable dumb show.\u2019 They are the\nheralds, outriders, and trumpeters in the procession of fame; are more\nloud and boisterous than the rest, and give themselves great airs, as\nthe avowed patrons and admirers of genius and merit.\n\nAs there are many who change their sentiments with circumstances, (as\nthey decided lawsuits in Rabelais with the dice), so there are others\nwho change them with their acquaintance. \u2018Tell me your company, and I\u2019ll\ntell you your opinions,\u2019 might be said to many a man who piques himself\non a select and superior view of things, distinct from the vulgar.\nIndividuals of this class are quick and versatile, but they are not\nbeforehand with opinion. They catch it, when it is pointed out to them,\nand take it at the rebound, instead of giving the first impulse. Their\nminds are a light, luxuriant soil, into which thoughts are easily\ntransplanted, and shoot up with uncommon sprightliness and vigour. They\nwear the dress of other people\u2019s minds very gracefully and\nunconsciously. They tell you your own opinion, or very gravely repeat an\nobservation you have made to them about half a year afterwards. They let\nyou into the delicacies and luxuries of Spenser with great\ndisinterestedness, in return for your having introduced that author to\ntheir notice. They prefer West to Raphael, Stothard to Rubens, till they\nare told better. Still they are acute in the main, and good judges in\ntheir way. By trying to improve their taste, and reform their notions\naccording to an ideal standard, they perhaps spoil and muddle their\nnative faculties, rather than do them any good. Their first manner is\ntheir best, because it is the most natural. It is well not to go out of\nourselves, and to be contented to take up with what we are, for better\nfor worse. We can neither beg, borrow, nor steal characteristic\nexcellencies. Some views and modes of thinking suit certain minds, as\ncertain colours suit certain complexions. We may part with very shining\nand very useful qualities without getting better ones to supply them.\nMocking is catching, only in regard to defects. Mimicry is always\ndangerous.\n\nIt is not necessary to change our road in order to advance on our\njourney. We should cultivate the spot of ground we possess to the utmost\nof our power, though it may be circumscribed and comparatively barren.\n_A rolling stone gathers no moss._ People may collect all the wisdom\nthey will ever attain, quite as well by staying at home as by travelling\nabroad. There is no use in shifting from place to place, from side to\nside, or from subject to subject. You have always to begin again, and\nnever finish any course of study or observation. By adhering to the same\nprinciples you do not become stationary. You enlarge, correct, and\nconsolidate your reasonings, without contradicting and shuffling about\nin your conclusions. If truth consisted in hasty assumptions and\npetulant contradictions, there might be some ground for this whiffling\nand violent inconsistency. But the face of truth, like that of nature,\nis different and the same. The first outline of an opinion, and the\ngeneral tone of thinking, may be sound and correct, though we may spend\nany quantity of time and pains in working up and uniting the parts at\nsubsequent sittings. If we have mistaken the character of the\ncountenance altogether at first, no alterations will bring it right\nafterwards. Those who mistake white for black in the first instance, may\nas well mistake black for white when they reverse their canvass. I do\nnot see what security they can have in their present opinions, who build\ntheir pretension to wisdom on the total folly, rashness, and\nextravagance (to say no worse) of their former ones. The perspective may\nchange with years and experience: we may see certain things nearer, and\nothers more remote; but the great masses and landmarks will remain,\nthough thrown into shadow and tinged by the intervening atmosphere: so\nthe laws of the understanding, the truth of nature, will remain, and\ncannot be thrown into utter confusion and perplexity by our blunders or\ncaprice, like the objects in Hogarth\u2019s Rules of Perspective, where every\nthing is turned upside down, or thrust out of its well-known place. I\ncannot understand how our political Harlequins feel after all their\nsummersaults and metamorphoses. They can hardly, I should think, look at\nthemselves in the glass, or walk across the room without stumbling. This\nat least would be the case if they had the least reflection or\nself-knowledge. But they judge from pique and vanity solely. There\nshould be a certain decorum in life as in a picture, without which it is\nneither useful nor agreeable. If my opinions are not right, at any rate\nthey are the best I have been able to form, and better than any others I\ncould take up at random, or out of perversity, now. Certainly opinions\nvitiate one another, and destroy the simplicity and clearness of the\nmind: nothing is good that has not a beginning, a middle, and an end;\nand I would wish my thoughts to be\n\n \u2018Linked each to each by natural piety!\u2019\n\n\n\n\n ON THE SPIRIT OF PARTISANSHIP\n\n\n _The London Magazine._] [_December, 1821._\n\nI have in my time known few thorough partisans; at least on my own side\nof the question. I conceive, however, that the honestest and\nstrongest-minded men have been so. In general, interest, fear, vanity,\nthe love of contradiction, even a scrupulous regard to truth and\njustice, come to divert them from the popular cause. It is a character\nthat requires very opposite and almost incompatible qualities\u2014reason and\nprejudice, a passionate attachment founded on an abstract idea. He who\ncan take up a speculative question, and pursue it with the same zeal and\nunshaken constancy that he does his immediate interests or private\nanimosities, he who is as faithful to his principles as he is to\nhimself, is the true partisan. I do not here speak of the bigot, or the\nmercenary or cowardly tool of a party. There are plenty of this\ndescription of persons (a considerable majority of the inhabitants of\nevery country)\u2014who are \u2018ever strong upon the stronger side,\u2019 staunch,\nthorough-paced sticklers for their passions and prejudices, and who\nstand by their party as long as their party can stand by them. I speak\nof those who espouse a cause from liberal motives and with liberal\nviews, and of the obstacles that are so often found to relax their\nperseverance or impair their zeal. These may, I think, be reduced\nchiefly to the heads of obligations to friends, of vanity, or the desire\nof the lead and distinction, to an over-squeamish delicacy in regard to\nappearances, to fickleness of purpose, or to natural timidity and\nweakness of nerve.\n\nThere is nothing more contemptible than party spirit in one point of\nview; and yet it seems inseparable in practice from public principle.\nYou cannot support measures unless you support men;\u2014you cannot carry any\npoint or maintain any system, without acting in concert with others. In\ntheory, it is all very well. We may refine in our distinctions, and\nelevate our language to what point we please. But in carrying the most\nsounding words and stateliest propositions into effect, we must make use\nof the instrumentality of men; and some of the alloy and imperfection of\nthe means may insinuate itself into the end. If we do not go all lengths\nwith those who are embarked with us in the same views; if we are not\nhearty in the defence of their interests and motives; if we are not\nfully in their confidence and they in ours; if we do not ingraft on the\nstock of public virtue the charities and sentiments of private affection\nand esteem; if the bustle and anxiety and irritation of the\nstate-affairs do not kindle into the glow of friendship as well as\npatriotism; if we look distant, suspicious, lukewarm at one another; if\nwe criticise, carp at, pry into the conduct of our party with watchful,\njealous eyes; it is to be feared we shall play the game into the enemy\u2019s\nhands, and not co-operate together for the common good with all the\nsteadiness and cordiality that might be wished. On the other hand, if we\nlend ourselves to the foibles and weaknesses of our friends; if we\nsuffer ourselves to be implicated in their intrigues, their scrambles\nand bargainings for place and power; if we flatter their mistakes, and\nnot only screen them from the eyes of others, but are blind to them\nourselves; if we compromise a great principle in the softness of a\nwomanish friendship; if we entangle ourselves in needless family-ties;\nif we sell ourselves to the vices of a patron, or become the mouthpiece\nand echo of a _coterie_; we shall be in that case slaves of a faction,\nnot servants of the public, nor shall we long have a spark of the old\nRoman or the old English virtue left. Good-nature, conviviality,\nhospitality, habits of acquaintance and regard, favours received or\nconferred, spirit and eloquence to defend a friend when pressed hard\nupon, courtesy and good-breeding, are one thing\u2014patriotism, firmness of\nprinciple, are another. The true patriot knows when to make each of\nthese in turn give way to or control the other, in furtherance of the\ncommon good, just as the accomplished courtier makes all other\ninterests, friendships, cabals, resentments, reconciliations,\nsubservient to his attachment to the person of the king. He has the\nwelfare of his country, the cause of mankind at heart, and makes that\nthe scale in which all other motives are weighed as in a balance. With\nthis inward prompter, he knows when to speak and when to hold his\ntongue, when to temporise, and when to throw away the scabbard, when to\nmake men of service to principles, and when to make principles the sole\ncondition of popularity,\u2014nearly as well as if he had a title or a\npension depending in reversion on his success: for it is true that \u2018in\ntheir generation the children of this world are wiser than the children\nof light.\u2019 In my opinion, Charles Fox had too much of what we mean by\n\u2018the milk of human kindness\u2019 to be a practical statesman, particularly\nin critical times, and with a cause of infinite magnitude at stake. He\nwas too easy a friend, and too generous an enemy. He was willing to\nthink better of those with whom he acted, or to whom he was opposed,\nthan they deserved. He was the creature of temperament and sympathy, and\nsuffered his feelings to be played upon, and to get the better of his\nprinciples, which were not of the most rigid kind\u2014not \u2018stuff o\u2019 the\nconscience.\u2019 With all the power of the crown, and all the strongholds of\nprejudice and venality opposed to him, \u2018instead of a softness coming\nover the heart of a man,\u2019 he should (in such a situation) have \u2018turned\nto the stroke his adamantine scales that feared no discipline of human\nhands,\u2019 and made it a struggle _ad internecionem_ on the one side, as it\nwas on the other. There was no place for moderation, much less for\nhuckstering and trimming. Mr. Burke saw the thing right enough. It was a\nquestion about a principle\u2014about the existence or extinction of human\nrights in the abstract. He was on the side of legitimate slavery; Mr.\nFox on that of natural liberty. That was no reason he should be less\nbold or jealous in her defence, because he had every thing to contend\nagainst. But he made too many coalitions, too many compromises with\nflattery, with friendship, (to say nothing of the baits of power) not to\nfalter and be defeated at last in the noble stand he had made for the\nprinciples of freedom.\n\nAnother sort are as much too captious and precise, as these are lax and\n_cullible_ in their notions of political warfare. Their fault is an\noverweening egotism, as that of the former was too great a facility of\ntemper. They will have every thing their own way to the minutest tittle,\nor they cannot think of giving it their sanction and support. The cause\nmust come to them, they will not go to the cause. They stand upon their\npunctilio. They have a character at stake, which is dearer to them than\nthe whole world. They have an idea of perfect truth and beauty in their\nown minds, the contemplation of which is a never-failing source of\ndelight and consolation to them,\n\n \u2018Though sun and moon were in the flat sea sunk,\u2019\n\nand which they will not soil by mixing it up with the infirmities of any\ncause or any party. They will not, \u2018to do a great right, do a little\nwrong.\u2019 They will let the lofty pillar inscribed to human liberty fall\nto the ground sooner than extend a finger to save it, on account of the\ndust and cobwebs that cling to it. It is not this great and mighty\nobject they are thinking of all the time, but their own fantastic\nreputation and puny pretensions. While the world is tumbling about our\nears, and the last hold of liberty, the ark containing our birth-right,\nthe only possible barrier against barefaced tyranny, is\ntottering\u2014instead of setting the engines and the mortal instruments at\nwork to prop it, and fighting in the trenches to the last drop, they are\nwashing their hands of all imaginary imperfections, and looking in the\nglass of their own vanity, with an air of heightened self-complacency.\nAlas! they do not foresee the fatal consequences; they have an eye only\nto themselves. While all the power, the prejudice, and ignorance of\nmankind are drawn up in deadly array against the advance of truth and\njustice, they owe it to themselves, forsooth! to state the naked merits\nof the question (heat and passion apart) and pick out all the faults of\nwhich their own party has been guilty, to fling as a make-weight into\nthe adversary\u2019s scale of unmeasured abuse and execration. They will not\ntake their ready stand by the side of him who was \u2018the very arm and\nburgonet of man,\u2019 and like a demi-Atlas, could alone prop a declining\nworld, because for themselves they have some objections to the\nindividual instrument, and they think principles more important than\npersons. No, they think persons of more consequence than principles, and\nthemselves most of all. They injure the principle, through the person\nmost able to protect it. They betray the cause by not defending it as it\nis attacked, tooth and nail, might and main, without exception and\nwithout remorse. When every thing is at stake, dear and valuable to man,\nas man; when there is but the one dreadful alternative of entire loss,\nor final recovery of truth and freedom, it is no time to stand upon\ntrifles and moot-points; that great object is to be secured first, and\nat all hazards.\n\n \u2018Entire affection scorneth nicer hands.\u2019\n\nBut there is a third thing in their minds, a fanciful something which\nthey prefer to both contending parties. It may be so; but neither they\nnor we can get it. We must have one of the two things imposed upon us,\nnot by choice but by hard necessity. \u2018Our bane and antidote are both\nbefore us:\u2019 and if we do anything to neglect the one, we justly incur\nthe heavy, intolerable, unredeemed penalty of the other. If our pride is\nstung, if we have received a blow or the lie in our own persons, we know\nwell enough what to do: our blood is up, we have an actual feeling and\nobject to satisfy; and we are not to be diverted from our purpose by\nsophistry or mere words. The quarrel is personal to ourselves; and we\nfeel the whole stress of it, rousing every faculty and straining every\nnerve. But if the quarrel is general to mankind; if it is one in which\nthe rights, freedom, hopes, and happiness of the whole world are\nembarked; if we see the dignity of our common nature prostrate, trampled\nupon and mangled before the brute image of power, this gives us little\nconcern; our reason may disapprove, but our passions, our prejudices,\nare not touched; and therefore our reason, our humanity, our abstract\nlove of right (not \u2018screwed to the sticking place\u2019 by some paltry\ninterest of our own) are easily satisfied with any hollow professions of\ngood-will, or put off with vague excuses, or staggered with open\ndefiance. We are here, where a principle only is in danger, at leisure\nto calculate consequences, prudently for ourselves, or favourably for\nothers: were it a point of honour (we think the honour of human nature\nis not our honour, that its disgrace is not our disgrace\u2014we are not the\n_rabble_!) we should throw consideration and compassion to the dogs, and\ncry\u2014\u2018Away to Heaven respective lenity, and fire-eyed fury be my conduct\nnow!\u2019 But charity is cold. We are the dupes of the flatteries of our\nopponents, because we are indifferent to our own object: we stand in awe\nof their threats, because in the absence of passion we are tender of our\npersons. They beat us in courage and in intellect, because we have\nnothing but the common good to sharpen our faculties or goad our will;\nthey have no less an alternative in view than to be uncontrolled masters\nof mankind, or to be hurled from high,\u2014\n\n \u2018To grinning scorn a sacrifice,\n And endless infamy!\u2019\n\nThey do not celebrate the triumphs of their enemies as their own: it is\nwith them a more feeling disputation. They never give an inch of ground\nthat they can keep; they keep all that they can get; they make no\nconcessions that can redound to their own discredit; they assume all\nthat makes for them; if they pause, it is to gain time; if they offer\nterms, it is to break them: they keep no faith with enemies: if you\nrelax in your exertions, they persevere the more: if you make new\nefforts, they redouble theirs. While they give no quarter, you stand\nupon more ceremony. While they are cutting your throat, or putting the\ngag in your mouth, you talk of nothing but liberality, freedom of\ninquiry, and _douce humanit\u00e9_. Their object is to destroy you, your\nobject is to spare them\u2014to treat them according to your own fancied\ndignity. They have sense and spirit enough to take all advantages that\nwill further their cause: you have pedantry and pusillanimity enough to\nundertake the defence of yours, in order to defeat it. It is the\ndifference between the efficient and the inefficient; and this again\nresolves itself into the difference between a speculative proposition\nand a practical interest.\n\nOne thing that makes tyrants bold is, that they have the power to\njustify their wrong. They lay their hands upon the sword, and ask who\nwill dispute their commands. The friends of humanity and justice have\nnot in general this ark of confidence to recur to, and can only appeal\nto reason and propriety. They oppose power on the plea of right and\nconscience; and shall they, in pursuance of their claims, violate in the\nsmallest tittle what is due to truth and justice? So that the one have\nno law but their wills, and the absolute extent of their authority, in\nattaining or securing their ends, because they make no pretensions to\nscrupulous delicacy: the others are cooped and cabined in, by all sorts\nof nice investigations in philosophy, and misgivings of the moral sense;\nthat is, are deprived or curtailed of the means of succeeding in their\nends, because those ends are not barefaced violence and wrong. It might\nas well be said that a man has a right to knock me on the head on the\nhighway, and that I am only to use mildness and persuasion in return, as\nbest suited to the justice of my cause; as that I am not to retaliate\nand make reprisals on the common enemies of mankind in their own style\nand mode of execution. Is not a man to defend his liberty, or the\nliberties of his fellow-men, as strenuously and remorselessly as he\nwould his life or his purse? Men are Quakers in political principle,\nTurks and Jews in private conscience.\n\nThe whole is an error, arising from confounding the distinction between\ntheory and practice, between the still-life of letters and the tug and\nonset of contending factions. I might recommend to our political\nmediators the advice which Henry V. addressed to his soldiers on a\ncritical occasion.\n\n \u2018In peace there\u2019s nothing so becomes a man\n As modest stillness and humility;\n But when the blast of war blows in our ears,\n Then imitate the action of the tiger;\n Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood,\n Disguise fair nature with hard-favour\u2019d rage;\n Then lend the eye a terrible aspect;\n Let it pry through the portage of the head,\n Like the brass-cannon: let the brow o\u2019erwhelm it\n As fearfully as doth a galled rock\n O\u2019erhang and jutty his confounded base,\n Swill\u2019d with the wild and wasteful ocean:\n Now set the teeth, and stretch the nostril wide;\n Hold hard the breath, and bend up every spirit\n To his full height.\u2019\n\nSo, in speculation, refine as much as you please, intellectually and\nmorally speaking, and you may do it with advantage. Reason is then the\ninstrument you use, and you cannot raise the standard of perfection you\nfix upon and propose to others too high, or proceed with too much\ncandour and moderation in the advancement of truth: but in practice, you\nhave not your choice of ends or means. You have two things to decide\nbetween, the extreme, probably, of an evil and a considerable good, and\nif you will not make your mind up to take the best of the two with all\nits disadvantages and draw-backs you must be contented to take the\nworst: for as you cannot alter the state of the conflicting parties who\nare carrying their point by force, or dictate what is best by a word\nspeaking; so by finding fault with the attainable good, and throwing\ncold water on it, you add fuel to your enemy\u2019s courage and assist his\nsuccess. \u2018Those who are not for us are against us.\u2019 You create a\ndiversion in his favour, by distracting and enervating men\u2019s minds, as\nmuch as by questioning the general\u2019s orders, or drawing off a strong\ndetachment in the heat of a battle. Political, is like military warfare.\nThere are but two sides, and after you have once chosen your party, it\nwill not do to stand in the midway, and say you like neither. There is\nno other to like, in the eye of common sense, or in the practical and\ninevitable result of the thing. As active partisans, we must take up\nwith the best we can get in the circumstances, and defend it with all\nour might against a worse cause (which will prevail, if this does not)\ninstead of \u2018letting our frail thoughts dally with faint surmise;\u2019\u2014or,\nwhile dreaming of an ideal perfection, we shall find ourselves surprised\ninto the train, and gracing the triumph, of the common enemy. It is\nsufficient if our objects and principles are sound and disinterested. If\nwe were engaged in a friendly contest, where integrity and fair dealing\nwere the order of the day, our means might be as unimpeachable as our\nends; but in a struggle with the passions, interests, and prejudices of\nmen, right reason, pure intention, are hardly competent to carry us\nthrough: we want another stimulus. The vices may be opposed to each\nother sometimes with advantage and propriety. A little of the alloy of\nhuman frailty may be allowed to lend its aid to the service of humanity;\nand if we have only so much obstinacy or insensibility as enables us to\npersevere in the path of public duty with more determination and effect,\nboth our motives and conduct will be above the ordinary standard of\npolitical morality. To suppose that we can do much more than this, or\nthat we can set up our individual opinion of what is best in itself, or\nof the best means of attaining it, and be listened to by the world at\nlarge, is egregiously to overrate their docility or our own powers of\npersuasion.\n\nIt is the same want of a centripetal force, of a ruling passion, of a\nmoral instinct of union and co-operation for a general purpose, that\nmakes men fly off into knots and factions, and each set up for the\nleader of a party himself. Where there is a strong feeling of interest\nat work, it reconciles and combines the most discordant materials, and\nfits them to their place in the social machine. But in the conduct and\nsupport of the public good, we see \u2018nothing but vanity, chaotic vanity.\u2019\nThere is no forbearance, no self-denial, no magnanimity of proceeding.\nEvery one is seeking his own aggrandisement, or to supplant his\nneighbour, instead of advancing the popular cause. It is because they\nhave no real regard for it but as it serves as a stalking-horse to their\nambition, restless inquietude, or love of cabal. They abuse and vilify\ntheir own party, just as they do the Ministers.\n\n \u2018Each lolls his tongue out at the other,\n And shakes his empty noddle at his brother.\u2019\n\nJohn Bull does not aim so maliciously, or hit so hard at Whigs and\nReformers, as Cobbett. The reason is, that a very large proportion of\nthese Marplots and regenerators of the world are actuated by no love of\ntheir species or zeal for a general question, but by envy, malice, and\nall uncharitableness. They are discontented with themselves and with\nevery thing about them. They object to, they dissent from every measure.\nNothing pleases their fastidious tastes. For want of something to\nexercise their ill-humour and troublesome officiousness upon, they abuse\nthe Government:\u2014when they are baulked or tired of this they fall foul of\none another. The slightest slip or difference of opinion is never\nforgiven, but gives birth to a deadly feud. Touch but their petty\nself-importance, and out comes a flaming denunciation of their own\ncabal, and all they know about the individuals composing it. This is not\npatriotism, but spleen\u2014a want of something to do and to talk about\u2014of\nsense, honesty, and feeling. To wreak their spite on an individual, they\nwill ruin the cause, and serve up the friend and idol of the people\nsliced and carbonadoed, a delicious morsel to the other side. There is a\nstrange want of keeping in this. They are true neither to themselves nor\nto their principles. The Reformers are in general, it must be confessed,\nan ill-conditioned set; and they should be told of this infirmity that\nmost easily besets them. When they find their gall and bitterness\noverflowing on the very persons who take the lead, and deservedly take\nthe lead, in their affairs, for some slight flaw or misunderstanding,\nthey should be taught to hold their tongues, or be drummed out of the\nregiment as spies and informers.\n\nTrimming, and want of spirit to declare the honest truth, arise in part\nfrom the same source. When a man is not thoroughly convinced of an\nopinion, or where he does not feel a deep interest in it, he does not\nlike to make himself obnoxious by avowing it; is willing to make all the\nallowance he can for difference of sentiment, and consults his own\nsafety by retiring from a sinking cause. This is the very time when the\ngenuine partisan, who has a rooted attachment to a principle, and feels\nit as a part of himself, finds himself most called upon to come forward\nin its support. His anxiety for truth and justice leaves him in no fear\nfor himself, and the sincerity of his motives makes him regardless of\ncensure or obloquy. His profession of hearty devotion to freedom was not\nan ebullition called forth by the sunshine of prosperity, a lure for\npopularity and public favour; and when these desert it, he still\nmaintains his post with his integrity. There is a natural timidity of\nmind, also, which can never go the whole length of any opinion, but is\nalways interlarding its qualified assent with unmeaning _buts_ and\n_ifs_; as there is a levity and discursiveness of imagination which\ncannot settle finally in any belief, and requires a succession of\nglancing views, topics, and opposite conclusions, to satisfy its\nappetite for intellectual variety. I have known persons leave the cause\nof independence and freedom, not because they found it unprofitable, but\nbecause they found it flat and stale for want of novelty. At the same\ntime, interest is a great stimulator; and perhaps the success of their\nearly principles might have reconciled them to their embarrassing\nmonotony. Few persons have strength and simplicity of mind (without some\nadditional inducement) to be always harping on the same string, or to\nput up with the legitimate variety to be found in an abstract principle,\napplicable to all emergencies. They like changeable silks better than\nlasting homespun. A sensible man once mentioned to me his having called\non \u2014\u2014 that morning, who entertained him with a _tirade_ against the\nBourbons for two hours; but he said he did not at all feel convinced\nthat he might not have been writing Ultra-royalist paragraphs for the\n\u2014\u2014, just before he came, in their favour, and only shifted his side of\nthe argument, as a man who is tired of lying too long on one side of his\nbody is glad to turn to the other. There was much shrewdness, and equal\nprobability in this conjecture.\n\nI think the spirit of partisanship is of use in a point of view that has\nnot been distinctly adverted to. It serves as a conductor to carry off\nour antipathies and ill-blood in a quarter and a manner that is least\nhurtful to the general weal. A thorough partisan is a good hater; but he\nhates only one side of a question, and that the _outside_. His bigotry\nthrows human nature into strong light and shade; he has his sympathies\nas well as his antipathies; it is not all black or a dull drab-colour.\nHe does not generalise in his contempt or disgust, or proceed from\nindividuals to universals. He lays the faults and vices of mankind to\nthe account of sects and parties, creeds and classes. Man in himself is\na good sort of animal. It is the being a Tory or a Whig (as it may\nhappen) that makes a man a knave or fool; but then we hardly look upon\nhim as of the same species with ourselves. Kings are not arbitrary, nor\npriests hypocritical, because they are men, but because they are kings\nand priests. We form certain nominal abstractions of these classes,\nwhich the more we dislike them, the less natural do they seem, and leave\nthe general character of the species untouched, or act as a foil to it.\nThere is nothing that is a greater damper to party spirit than to\nsuggest that the errors and enormities of both sides arise from certain\ninherent dispositions, common to the species. It shocks the liberal and\nenlightened among us, to suppose that under any circumstances they could\nbecome bigots, tools, persecutors. They wipe their hands clean of all\nsuch aspersions. There is a great gulph of prejudice and passion placed\nbetween us and our opponents; and this is interpreted into a natural\nbarrier and separation of sentiment and feeling. \u2018Our withers are\nunwrung.\u2019 Burke represented modern revolutionists to himself, under the\nequivocal similitude of \u2018green-eyed, spring-nailed, velvet-pawed\nphilosophers, whether going on two legs or on four;\u2019 and thus removed to\na distance from his own person all the ill attributes with which he had\ncomplimented the thorough-bred metaphysician. By comparing the plausible\nqualities of a Minister of state to the sleekness of the panther, I\nmyself seem to have no more affinity with that whole genus, than with\nthe whiskers and claws of that formidable and spirited animal. Bishop\nTaylor used to reprimand his rising pride by saying, at the sight of a\nreprobate, \u2018There goes my wicked self:\u2019 we do not apply the same method\npolitically, and say, \u2018There goes my Tory or my Jacobin self.\u2019 We\nsuppose the two things incompatible. The Calvinist damns the Arminian,\nthe Protestant the Papist, &c. but it is not for a difference of nature,\nbut an opposition of opinion. The spirit of partizanship is not a spirit\nof our misanthropy. But for the vices and errors of example and\ninstitution, mankind are (on this principle) only a little lower than\nthe angels: it is false doctrine and absurd prejudices that make demons\nof them. The only original sin is differing in opinion with us: of that\nthey are curable like any occasional disorder, and the man comes out,\nfrom beneath the husk of his party and prejudices, pure and immaculate.\nMake proselytes of them, let them come over to our way of thinking, and\nthey are a different race of beings quite. This is to be effected by the\nforce of argument and the progress of knowledge. It is well, it is\nperfectly well. We cast the slough of our vices with the shibboleth of\nour party; a Reform in Parliament would banish all knavery and folly\nfrom the land. It is not the same wretched little mischievous animal,\nman, that is alike under all denominations and all systems, and in whom\ndifferent situations and notions only bring out different inherent,\nincorrigible vices and propensities; but the professions and the theory\nbeing changed for the one, which we think the only true and infallible\none, the whole world, by the mere removal of our arbitrary prejudices\nand modes of thinking, would become as sincere, as benevolent, as\nindependent, and as worthy people as we are! To hate and proscribe half\nthe species under various pretexts and nicknames, seems, therefore, the\nonly way to entertain a good opinion of ourselves and mankind in\ngeneral.\n\n\n\n\n \u2018THE PIRATE\u2019\n\n\n _The London Magazine._] [_January, 1822._\n\nThis is not the best, nor is it the worst (the worst is good enough for\nus) of the Scotch Novels. There is a story in it, an interest excited\nalmost from the first, a clue which you get hold of and wish to follow\nout; a mystery to be developed, and which does not disappoint you at\nlast. After you once get into the stream, you read on with eagerness,\nand have only to complain of the number of impediments and diversions\nthrown in your way. The author is evidently writing to gain time, to\nmake up his complement of volumes, his six thousand guineas worth of\nmatter; and to get to the end of your journey, and satisfy the curiosity\nhe has raised, you must be content to travel with him, stop when he\nstops, and turn out of the road as often as he pleases. He dallies with\nyour impatience, and smiles in your face, but you cannot, and dare not\nbe angry with him, while with his giant-hand he plays at pushpin with\nthe reader, and sweeps the rich stakes from the table. He has, they say,\ngot a _plum_ by his writings. What have not the public got by reading\nthem? The course of exchange is, and will be, in our favour, as long as\nhe gives us one volume for ourselves, and two for himself. Who is there\nthat has not been the better, the wiser, and happier man for these fine\nand inexhaustible productions of genius? The more striking characters\nand situations are not quite so highly wrought up in the present, as in\nsome former instances, nor are they so crowded, so thickly sown. But the\ngenius of the author is not exhausted, nor can it be so till not a\nScotch superstition, or popular tradition is left, or till the pen drops\nlifeless and regretted from its master\u2019s hand. Ah! who will then call\nthe mist from its hill? Who will make the circling eddies roar? Who,\nwith his \u2018so potent art,\u2019 will dim the sun, or stop the winds, that wave\nthe forest-heads, in their course? Who will summon the spirits of the\nnorthern air from their chill abodes, or make gleaming lake or hidden\ncavern teem with wizard, or with elfin forms? There is no one but the\nScottish Prospero, but old Sir Walter, can do the trick aright. He is\nthe very genius of the clime\u2014mounts in her old grey clouds, dips in her\n_usquebaugh_ and whiskey!\u2014startles you with her antique Druid spells in\nthe person of Elshie, or stirs up the fierce heat of her theological\nfires with Macbriar and Kettle-drumle: sweeps the country with a far\nwar-cry to Lochiel, or sighs out the soul of love in the perfumed breath\nof the Lily of St. Leonard\u2019s. Stand thou, then, Meg Merrilies, on the\npoint of thy fated rock, with wild locks and words streaming to the\nwind; and sit thou there in thy narrow recess, Balfour of Burley,\nbetwixt thy Bible and thy sword, thy arm of flesh and arm of the\nSpirit:\u2014when the last words have passed the lips of the author of\nWaverley, there will be none to re-kindle your fires, or recall your\nspirit! Let him write on then to the last drop of ink in his ink-stand,\neven though it should not be made according to the model of that\ndescribed by Mr. Coleridge, and we will not be afraid to read whatever\nhe is not ashamed to publish. We are the true and liege subjects of his\npen, and profess our ultra-fealty in this respect, like the old French\nleaguers, with a _Quand m\u00eame_.\n\nThe Pirate is not what we expected, nor is it new. We had looked for a\nprodigious _row_\u2014landing and boarding, cut and thrust, blowing up of\nships, and sacking of sea-ports, with the very devil to pay, and a noise\nto deafen clamour,\n\n \u2018Guns, drums, trumpets,\n Blunderbusses and thunder.\u2019\n\nWe supposed that for the time \u2018Hell itself would be empty, and all the\ndevils be here.\u2019 _There be land pirates and water pirates_; and we\nthought Sir Walter would be for kicking up just such a dust by sea, in\nthe Buccaneers, (as it was to be called) as he has done by land in Old\nMortality. _Multum abludit imago._ There is nothing or little of the\nsort. There is here (bating a sprinkling of twenty pages of roaring\nlads, who come on shore for no use but to get themselves hanged in the\nOrkneys,) only a single Pirate, a peaking sort of gentleman, spiteful,\nbut not enterprising; in love, and inclined to take up and reform, but\nvery equivocal in the sentiments he professes, and in those he inspires\nin others. Cleveland is the Pirate, who is wrecked off the coast of\nZetland, is saved from destruction by young Mordaunt Mertoun, who had\nbeen so far the hero of the piece, and jilts him with his mistress,\nMinna, a grave sentimentalist, and the elder of two sisters, to whom\nMordaunt had felt a secret and undeclared passion. The interest of the\nnovel hinges on this _bizarre_ situation of the different parties. Sir\nWalter (for he has in the present work leisure on his hands to\nphilosophize) here introduces a dissertation of some length, but not\nmuch depth, to show that the jilting of favoured, or half-favoured\nlovers, comes by the dispensation of Providence, and that the breed of\nhonest men and bonny lasses would be spoiled if the fairest of the fair,\nthe sentimental Miss, and the prude (contrary to all previous and\ncommon-place calculation), did not prefer the blackguard and the bravo,\nto the tender, meek, puny, unpretending, heartbroken lover. We do not\nthink our novelist manages his argument well, or shines in his new\nProfessor\u2019s chair of morality. Miss Polly Peachum, we do indeed\nremember, the artless, soft, innocent Polly, fell in love with the bold\nCaptain Macheath; but so did Miss Lucy Lockitt too, who was no chicken,\nand who, according to this new balance of power in the empire of love,\nought to have tempered her fires with the phlegm of some young chaplain\nto the prison, or the soft insinuations of some dreaming poet. But as\nour author himself is not in a hurry to get on with his story, we will\nimitate him, and let him speak here in his superfluous character of a\ncasuist, or commentator on his own narrative.\n\n[A long passage from Chap, XIII., beginning \u2018Captain Cleveland sate\nbetwixt the sisters,\u2019 follows.]\n\nSuffice it to say, that we differ from this solution of the difficulty,\ningenious and old as it is; and to justify that opinion, ask only\nwhether such a man as Cleveland would not be a general favourite with\nwomen, instead of being so merely with those of a particularly retired\nand fantastic character, which destroys the author\u2019s balance of\nqualities in love? Indeed, his own story is a very bad illustration of\nhis doctrine; for this romantic and imprudent attachment of the gentle\nand sensitive Minna to the bold and profligate Captain Cleveland leads\nto nothing but the most disastrous consequences; and the opposition\nbetween their sentiments and characters, which was to make them fit\npartners for life, only prevents the possibility of their union, and\nrenders both parties permanently miserable. Besides, the whole\nperplexity is, after all, gratuitous. The enmity between Cleveland and\nyoung Mertoun (the chief subject of the plot) is founded on their\njealousy of each other in regard to Minna, and yet there had been no\npositive engagement between her and Mertoun, who, like Edmund in Lear,\nis equally betrothed to both sisters\u2014in the end marrying the one that he\nas well as the reader likes least. Afterwards, when the real character\nof this gay rover of the seas is more fully developed, and he gets into\nscrapes with the police of Orkney, the grave, romantic Minna, like a\ntrue northern lass, deserts him, and plays off a little old-fashioned,\nunavailing, but discreet morality upon him. When the reader begins to\nsympathise with \u2018a brave man in distress,\u2019 then is the time for his\nmistress with \u2018the pale face and raven locks\u2019 to look to her own\ncharacter. We like the theory of the Beggar\u2019s Opera better than this:\nthe ladies there followed their supposed hero, their _beau ideal_ of a\nlover, to prison, instead of leaving him to his untoward fate. Minna is\nno NUT-BROWN MAID, though she has a passion for outlaws, between whose\nminds and those of the graver and more reflecting of the fair sex there\nis, according to the opinion of our GREAT UNKNOWN, a secret and\npre-established harmony. What is still more extraordinary and\nunsatisfactory in the progress of the story is this\u2014all the pretended\npreternatural influence of Norna of the Fitful-Head, the most potent and\nimpressive personage in the drama, is exerted to defeat Cleveland\u2019s\nviews, and to give Minna to Mordaunt Mertoun, for whom she conceives an\ninstinctive and anxious attachment as her long-lost son; and yet in the\nend the whole force of this delusion, and the reader\u2019s sympathies, are\ndestroyed by the discovery that Cleveland, not Mertoun, is her real\noffspring, and that she has been equally led astray by her maternal\naffection and preternatural pretensions. Does this great writer of\nromances, this profound historiographer of the land of visions and of\nsecond sight, thus mean to qualify his thrilling mysteries\u2014to _back_ out\nof his thrice-hallowed prejudices, and to turn the tables upon us with\nmodern cant and philosophic scepticism? That is the last thing we could\nforgive him!\n\nWe have said that the characters of the Pirate are not altogether new.\nNorna, the enchantress, whom he is \u2018so fond\u2019 at last to depose from her\n_ideal_ cloudy throne of spells and mystic power, is the Meg Merrilies\nof the scene. She passes over it with vast strides, is at hand whenever\nshe is wanted, sits hatching fate on the topmost tower that overlooks\nthe wilderness of waves, or glides suddenly from a subterraneous\npassage, and in either case moulds the elements of nature, and the\nunruly passions of men, to her purposes. She has \u2018strange power of\nspeech,\u2019 weaves events with words, is present wherever she pleases, and\nperforms what she wills, and yet she doubts her own power, and\ncriticises her own pretensions. Meg Merrilies was an honester witch. She\nat least stuck true to herself. We hate anything by halves; and most of\nall, imagination and superstition piece-meal. Cleveland, again, is a\nsort of inferior _Gentle Geordie_, and Minna lags after Effie Deans, the\nvictim of misplaced affection, but far, far behind. Wert thou to live a\nthousand years, and write a thousand romances, thou wouldst never, old\nTrue-penny, beat thy own _Heart of Mid Lothian_! It is for that we can\nforgive thee all that thou didst mean to write in the BEACON, or hast\nwritten elsewhere, beneath the dignity of thy genius and knowledge of\nman\u2019s weaknesses, as well as better nature! Magnus Troil is a great\nname, a striking name; but we _ken_ his person before; he is of the same\ngenealogy as the Bailie Braidwardine, and other representatives of old\nScottish hospitality; the dwarf Nick Strumpfer is of a like familiar\nbreed, only uglier and more useless than any former one: we have even\ntraces, previous to the Pirate, of the extraordinary agriculturist and\nprojector, Mr. Timothy Yellowley, and his sister, Miss Barbara\nYellowley, with pinched nose and grey eyes; but we confess we have one\nindividual who was before a stranger to us, at least in these parts,\nnamely, Claud Halcro, the poet, and friend of \u2018Glorious John.\u2019 We do not\nthink him in his place amidst dwarfs, witches, pirates, and _Udallers_;\nand his stories of the Wits\u2019 Coffee-house and Dryden\u2019s poetry are as\ntedious to the critical reader as they are to his Zetland patron and\nhearers. We might confirm this opinion by a quotation, but we should be\nthought too tedious. He fills up, we will venture to say, a hundred\npages of the work with sheer impertinence, with _pribble prabble_.\nWhenever any serious matter is to be attended to, Claud Halcro pulls out\nhis fiddle and draws the long bow, and repeats some verses of \u2018_Glorious\nJohn_.\u2019 Bunce, the friend of Cleveland, is much better; for we can\nconceive how a strolling-player should turn gentleman-rover in a time of\nneed, and the foppery and finery of the itinerant stage-hero become the\nquarter-deck exceedingly well. In general, however, our author\u2019s humour\nrequires the aid of costume and dialect to set it off to advantage: his\nwit is Scotch, not English wit. It must have the _twang_ of the uncouth\npronunciation and peculiar manners of the country in it. The elder\nMertoun is a striking misanthropic sketch; but it is not very well made\nout in what his misanthropy originates, nor to what it tends. He is\nmerely a part of the machinery: neither is he the first gentleman in\nthese Novels who lands without an introduction on the remote shores of\nScotland, and shuts himself up (for reasons best known to himself) in\ninaccessible and solitary confinement. We had meant to give the outline\nof the story of the Pirate, but we are ill at a plot, and do not care to\nblunt the edge of the reader\u2019s curiosity by anticipating each\nparticular. As far, however, as relates to the historical foundation of\nthe narrative, the author has done it to our hands, and we give his\nwords as they stand in the _Advertisement_.\n\n[Nearly the whole of the Advertisement is quoted.]\n\nOf the execution of these volumes we need hardly speak. It is inferior,\nbut it is only inferior to some of his former works. Whatever he\ntouches, we see the hand of a master. He has only to describe action,\nthoughts, scenes, and they everywhere speak, breathe, and live. It\nmatters not whether it be a calm sea-shore, a mountain tempest, a\ndrunken brawl, the \u2018Cathedral\u2019s choir and gloom,\u2019 the Sybil\u2019s\nwatch-tower, or the smuggler\u2019s cave; the things are immediately there\nthat we should see, hear, and feel. He is Nature\u2019s Secretary. He neither\nadds to, nor takes away from her book; and that makes him what he is,\nthe most popular writer living. We might give various instances of his\nunrivalled undecaying power, but shall select only one or two with which\nwe were most struck and delighted in the perusal. The characters of the\ntwo sisters, daughters of Magnus Troil, and the heroines of the tale,\nare thus beautifully drawn.\n\n[Here follows the description of Minna and Brenda, from Chap. III.]\n\nSo much for elegant Vandyke portrait-painting. Now for something of the\nSalvator style. Norna, the terrific and unhappy Norna, is thus finely\nintroduced.\n\n[The first introduction of Norna is quoted from Chap. V.]\n\nWe give one more extract in a different style; and we think the comic\npainting in it is little inferior to Hogarth\u2019s.\n\n[A passage, beginning \u2018Now the fortunate arrival of Mordaunt,\u2019 &c. is\nquoted from Chap. XI.]\n\nShall we go on? No, but will leave the reader to revel at ease in the\nluxuries of feeling and description scattered through the rest of the\nwork.\n\nWe have only time to add two remarks more, which we do not remember to\nhave seen made. One relates to the exquisitely good-natured and liberal\ntone displayed in the author\u2019s quotations from living writers. He takes\nthem every one by turns, and of all factions in poetry and politics,\nunder his wing, and sticks a stanza from Coleridge, from Wordsworth,\nfrom Byron, from Crabbe, from Rogers, as a motto to his chapters, not\njealous of their popularity, nor disdaining their obscurity. The author\ncan hardly guess how much we like him for this. The second thing we\nwould advert to is a fault, and a remarkable one. It is the slovenliness\nof the style and badness of the grammar throughout these admirable\nproductions. Badness of the grammar! Slovenly style! What do you mean by\nthat? Take a few instances, and we have done with the subject for ever.\nWe give them _seriatim_, as we marked them in the margin.\n\n\n\u2018Here Magnus proceeded with great _animation_, sipping from _time_ to\n_time_ the half diluted spirit, which at the same _time animated_ his\nresentment against the intruders,\u2019 etc. P. 16.\n\n\n\u2018In those days (for the _present_ times are greatly altered for the\nbetter) the _presence_ of a superior in such a situation,\u2019 etc. P. 21.\n\n\n\u2018The _information_, which she acquired by habits of patient attention,\n_were_ indelibly rivetted in a naturally powerful memory.\u2019 P. 48.\n\n\n\u2018And I know not _whom_ else are expected.\u2019 P. 56.\n\n\n\u2018Or perhaps he _preferred_ the situation, of the house and farm which he\nhimself was to occupy (which indeed was a tolerable one) as _preferable_\nto that, etc.\u2019 P. 89.\n\n\n\u2018The _strength_ of the retiring wave proved even _stronger_ than he had\nexpected,\u2019 etc. P. 169.\n\n\nBut let us have done with this, and leave it to the Editor of the\nQuarterly Review to take up the subject as a mighty important little\ndiscovery of his own!\n\n\n\n\n \u2018PEVERIL OF THE PEAK\u2019\n\n\n _The London Magazine._] [_February, 1823._\n\nThe author of Waverley is here himself again; and it is on English\nground that he has come upon his feet. Peveril of the Peak is all but\nequal to the best of the SCOTCH NOVELS. It is no weaving up of old odds\nand ends; no lazy repetition of himself at second-hand, and _the worse\nfor the wear_. Peveril is all new, good,[65] full of life, spirit,\ncharacter, bustle, incident, and expectation; nothing is wanting to make\nit quite equal to the very best of his former productions, but that it\nhas not the same intense interest, nor the same preternatural and\noverpowering imagery. Fenella, a deaf and dumb dwarf, attached to the\nCountess of Derby, is, indeed, an exquisitely drawn character, and\nexerts a sort of quaint, apparently magic influence over the scene; but\nher connection with it is so capricious, so ambiguous, and at last so\nimprobable, as to produce or to leave none of those thrilling and\nawe-struck impressions which were so irresistibly interwoven with some\nformer delineations of the same kind. But as a sketch, as a picture, the\nlittle fairy attendant of the Queen of Man is one of the most beautiful\nand interesting the author ever struck out with his enchanting and\nenchanted pencil. The present Novel comes the nearest to OLD MORTALITY,\nboth in the class of subjects of which it treats, and in the\nindefatigable spirit and hurried movement of the execution. It differs\nfrom that noble master-piece in this, that Sir Walter (or whoever else,\nin the devil\u2019s name, it is) has not infused the same depth or loftiness\nof sentiment into his English Roundheads and Cavaliers, as into his\nScotch Covenanters and Royalists; that the characters are left more in\nthe outlines and dead colouring; and though the incidents follow one\nanother as rapidly, and have great variety and contrast, there is not\nthe same accumulation of interest, the same thickening of the plot, nor\nthe same thronging together of eager and complicated groups upon the\ncanvas. His English imagination is not so fully peopled with character,\nmanners, and sentiment, as his Scotch understanding is; but, by the\nmass, they are not \u2018thinly scattered to make up a show.\u2019 There is _cut\nand come again_. We say this the more willingly, because we were among\nthose who conceived there was a falling off, a _running to seed_, in\nsome of the later productions of the author. The FORTUNES OF NIGEL\nshowed a resuscitation in his powers; that is, a disposition to take new\nground, and proceed with real pains and unabated vigour; and in his\nPeveril, we think he has completed his victory over excusable idleness\nand an inexcusable disregard of reputation. He may now go on upon a\nfresh lease, and write ten more Novels, just as good or as bad as he\npleases!\n\nThere were two things that we used to admire of old in this author, and\nthat we have had occasion to admire anew in the present instance, the\nextreme life of mind or naturalness displayed in the descriptions, and\nthe magnanimity and freedom from bigotry and prejudice shewn in the\ndrawing of the characters. This last quality is the more remarkable, as\nthe reputed author is accused of being a thorough-paced partisan in his\nown person,\u2014intolerant, mercenary, mean; a professed toad-eater, a\nsturdy hack, a pitiful retailer or suborner of infamous slanders, a\nliterary Jack Ketch, who would greedily sacrifice any one of another way\nof thinking as a victim to prejudice and power, and yet would do it by\nother hands, rather than appear in it himself. Can this be all true of\nthe author of Waverley; and does he deal out such fine and heaped\njustice to all sects and parties in time past? Perhaps (if so) one of\nthese extremes accounts for the other; and, as \u2018he knows all qualities\nwith a learned spirit,\u2019 probably he may be aware of this practical\ndefect in himself, and be determined to shew to posterity, that when his\nown interest was not concerned, he was as free from that nauseous and\npettifogging bigotry, as a mere matter of speculation, as any man could\nbe. As a novel-writer, he gives the devil his due, and he gives no more\nto a saint. He treats human nature scurvily, yet handsomely; that is,\nmuch as it deserves; and, if it is the same person who is the author of\nthe Scotch novels, and who has a secret moving hand in certain Scotch\nNewspapers and Magazines, we may fairly characterize him as\n\n \u2018The wisest, _meanest_ of mankind.\u2019\n\nAmong other characters in the work before us, is that of Ned Christian,\na cold-blooded hypocrite, pander, and intriguer; yet a man of prodigious\ntalent,\u2014of great versatility,\u2014of unalterable self-possession and good\nhumour, and with a power to personate agreeably, and to the life, any\ncharacter he pleased. Might not such a man have written the Scotch\nNovels?\n\nIt has been suggested, with great modesty, that the Author of Waverley\nwas like Shakspeare. We beg leave with equal modesty to suggest another\ncomparison, which we think much nearer the mark; and that is, to the\nwritings of Mr. Cobbett. The peculiarity of Shakspeare\u2019s mind is (we\nhumbly apprehend) that sort of power which completely levels the\ndistinction between imagination and reality. His mind properly has\nwings, and it is indifferent to him whether he treads the air or walks\nthe earth. He makes us acquainted with things we did not know before, as\nif we knew them familiarly. Now Sir Walter Scott only recals to us what\nwe already knew\u2014he deals wholly in realities, or what are commonly\nreceived as such; and so does Mr. Cobbett. Both are downright\nmatter-of-fact minds, and have little, if any, of that power which\nthrows into objects more than ordinary opinion or feeling connects with\nthem. Naturalness is the _forte_ of both these writers. They have a\nstrong, vivid, bodily perception (so to speak), a material intuition of\nwhat they write about. All their ideas are concrete, and not abstracted.\nMention an old, dilapidated castle, and a thriving, substantial brick\nmansion to Sir Walter Scott, and he immediately has an actual image of\nsome such objects conjured up in his mind, and describes them as he has\nseen them, with all their local circumstances, and so as to bring back\nsome similar recollection to the reader\u2019s mind, as if there had been\njust two such buildings in the place where he was brought up. But this\nrevived reality is all; there is no new light thrown upon the subject.\nIt is a sort of poetic memory. Good. So set Mr. Cobbett to work upon the\nsubject of our agricultural distress, and with quite as much poetry, as\nmuch of the picturesque, and in as good English as Sir Walter Scott\nwrites Scotch, he will describe you to the life a turnip-field with the\ngreen sprouts glittering in the sun, the turnips frozen to a mere clod,\nthe breath of the oxen steaming near that are biting it, and the dumb\npatience of the silly sheep. We should like to know whether he is not as\ngreat a hand at this sort of ocular demonstration as Sir Walter himself?\nHe shall describe a Scotch heath, or an American wilderness against Sir\nWalter for a thousand pounds. Then for character; who does it with more\nmaster-strokes, with richer gusto, or a greater number of palpable hits\nthan the Editor of the Political Register? Again, as to pathos, let Mr.\nCobbett tell a story of a pretty servant girl or soldier\u2019s wife, left by\nher sweetheart, or shot dead in his arms, and see if he will not come\nnear the _Heart of Mid Lothian_? You may say it is not this or that, it\nis coarse, low, the man has no feeling, but it is nature, and that\u2019s\nquite enough. The truth is, these two original geniuses have found out a\nsecret; they write as they feel. It is just like school boys being able\nto read as they would talk. It is a very awkward difficulty to get over,\nbut being once accomplished, the effect is prodigious. Then, there is\nthe same strong sarcastic vein of _roystering_ pot-house humour in the\none as in the other; and as for giving both sides of a question, nobody\nhas done that more effectually than Mr. Cobbett in the course of his\ndifferent writings. His style also is as good, nay, far better: and if\nit should be said that Mr. Cobbett sometimes turns blackguard, it cannot\nbe affirmed that he is a cat\u2019s paw\u2014which is the _dernier resort_ of\nhumanity, into which Sir Walter has retreated, and shuts himself up in\nit impregnably as in a fortress. To conclude this parallel, we will be\nbold to say in illustration of our argument, that there is hardly a\nsingle page in the Scotch Novels which Mr. Cobbett could not write, if\nhe set his mind to it; and there is not a single page in Shakspeare,\neither the best or the worst, which he _could_ write for his life, and\nlet him try ever so. Such is the genius of the three men.\n\nSo much by way of preface to our account of the most magnanimous Peveril\nof the Peak, and now for extracts. We have not time or limits to give\nthe story, which, however, relates to the Civil Wars of England; but we\nshall furnish our readers with a specimen of the spirit with which it is\nwritten; it is the description of the meeting of Peveril with the dwarf\nFenella, where she tries to prevent his going to meet Alice Bridgenorth\nat the Goddard Crovann-stone in the Isle of Man.\n\n[The whole of Chap. XVI. of _Peveril of the Peak_ is set out].\n\n\nWe have been led to such length by the beauty of this description that\nwe have not room for another extract, or we would give that master-piece\nof wit and irony, the scene where Peveril meets with Ganlesse and Smith\nat a low alehouse, on his route through Derbyshire.\n\n\n\n\n COMMON PLACES\n\n\n _The Literary Examiner._] [_September-December 1823._\n\nI. The art of life is to know how to enjoy a little and to endure much.\n\n\nII. Liberty is the only true riches. Of all the rest we are at once the\nmasters and the slaves.\n\n\nIII. Do I not feel this from the least shadow of restraint, of\nobligation, of dependence? Why then do I complain? I have had nothing to\ndo all my life but to think, and have enjoyed the objects of thought,\nthe sense of truth and beauty, in perfect integrity of soul. No one has\nsaid to me, _Believe this, do that, say what we would have you_; no one\nhas come between me and my free-will; I have breathed the very air of\ntruth and independence. Compared with this unbiassed, uncontrouled\npossession of the universe of thought and nature, what I have wanted is\nlight in the balance, and hardly claims the tribute of a sigh. Oh!\nLiberty, what a mistress art thou! Have I not enjoyed thee as a bride,\nand drank thy spirit as of a wine-cup, and will yet do so to my latest\nbreath!\n\n\nIV. But is not Liberty dangerous, and self-will excessive? I do not\nthink so: for those who are not governed by their own feelings are led\naway by prejudice or interest; and reason is a safer guide than opinion,\nliberty a nobler one than fear.\n\n\nV. Do I see a Claude? What is there to prevent me from fixing my eye, my\nheart, my understanding, upon it? What sophist shall deter me from\nthinking it fine? What is there to make me afraid of expressing what I\nthink? I enter into all its truth and beauty. I wonder over it, I detect\neach hidden grace, I revel and luxuriate in it, without any doubts or\nmisgivings. Is not this to be master of it and of myself? But is the\npicture mine? No\u2014oh! yes, ten times over!\n\n\nVI. That thing, _a lie_, has never come near my soul. I know not what it\nis to fear to think or to say what I think.\n\n\nVII. I am choked, pent up in any other atmosphere but this. I cannot\nimagine how kings and courtiers contrive to exist. I could no more live\nwithout daring to speak, to look, to feel what I thought, than I could\nhold in my breath for any length of time. Nor could I bear to debar\nothers of this privilege. Were it not that the Great would play the part\nof slaves themselves, they would hate to be surrounded with nothing but\nslaves, and to see meanness and hypocrisy crawling before them, as much\nas we do to see a spider crawling in our path.\n\n\nVIII. I never knew what it was to feel like a footman. How many lords in\nwaiting can say as much?\n\n\nIX. When I consider how little difference there is in mankind (either in\nbody or mind) I cannot help being astonished at the airs some people\ngive themselves.\n\n\nX. I am proud up to the point of equality\u2014every thing above or below\n_that_ appears to me arrant impertinence or abject meanness.\n\n\nXI. The ignorant and vulgar think that a man wants spirit, if he does\nnot insult and triumph over them. This is a great mistake.\n\n\nXII. For a man to be a coxcomb, shews a want of imagination. No one will\never pride himself on his beauty who has studied the head of the\nAntinous, or be in danger of running into the excess of the fashion, who\nhas any knowledge of the Antique. The _ideal_ is incompatible with\npersonal vanity.\n\n\nXIII. A scholar is like a book written in a dead language\u2014it is not\nevery one that can read in it.\n\n\nXIV. Just as much as we see in others, we have in ourselves.\n\n\nXV. A painter gives only his own character in a portrait, whether grave\nor gay, gross or refined, wise or foolish. Even in copying a head, there\nis some difficulty in making the features unlike our own. A person with\na low forehead or a short chin puts a constraint upon himself in\npainting a high forehead or a long chin. So much has sympathy to do with\nthe operations both of the eye and the hand, with observation and\npractice!\n\n\nXVI. People at a play hiss an unsuccessful author or actor, as if the\nlatter had committed some heinous crime\u2014he has committed the greatest\ncrime, that of setting up a superiority over us which he has failed to\nmake good.\n\n\nXVII. The rich, who do nothing themselves, represent idleness as the\ngreatest crime. They have reason: it is necessary that some one should\ndo something.\n\n\nXVIII. What a pity that kings and great men do not write books, instead\nof mere authors! What superior views they must have of things, and how\nthe world would be benefited by the communication!\n\n\nXIX. The greatest proof of superiority is to bear with impertinence.\n\n\nXX. No truly great man ever thought himself so.\n\n\nXXI. Every man, in judging of himself, is his own contemporary.\n\n\nXXII. Abuse is an indirect species of homage.\n\n\nXXIII. From the height from which the great look down on the world, all\nthe rest of mankind seem equal.\n\n\nXXIV. It is a bad style that requires frequent _breaks_ and marks of\nadmiration.\n\n\nXXV. It happens in conversation as in different games. One person seems\nto excel, till another does better, and we then think no more of the\nfirst.\n\n\nXXVI. Those who can keep secrets, have no curiosity. We only wish to\ngain knowledge, that we may impart it.\n\n\nXXVII. Genius is native to the soil where it grows\u2014is fed by the air,\nand warmed by the sun\u2014and is not a hot-house plant or an exotic.\n\n\nXXVIII. All truly great works of art are _national_ in their character\nand origin.\n\n\nXXIX. People are distinguished less by a genius for any particular\nthing, than by a peculiar tone and manner of feeling and thinking,\nwhatever be the subject. The same qualities of mind or characteristic\nexcellence that a man shows in one art, he would probably have displayed\nin any other. I have heard Mr. Northcote say, that he thought Sir Joshua\nReynolds would have written excellent genteel comedies. His _Discourses_\ncertainly are bland and amiable (rather than striking or original) like\nhis pictures.\n\n\nXXX. The same kind of excellence may be observed to prevail in different\narts at the same period of time, as characteristic of the spirit of the\nage. Fielding and Hogarth were cotemporaries.\n\n\nXXXI. There is an analogy in the style of certain authors to certain\nprofessions. One writes like a lawyer: it seems as if another would have\nmade an eminent physician. Mandeville said of Addison that he was \u2018a\nparson in a tye-wig:\u2019 and there is something in _The Spectator_ to\njustify this description of him.\n\n\nXXXII. Salvator Rosa paints like a soldier; Nicholas Poussin like a\nprofessor at a University; Guido like a finished gentleman; Parmegiano\nwith something of the air of a dancing master. Alas! Guido was a\ngamester and a madman; and Parmegiano a searcher after the philosopher\u2019s\nstone. One of the happiest ideas in modern criticism was that of\ndesignating different living poets by the cups Apollo gives them to\ndrink out of: thus Wordsworth is made to drink out of a wooden bowl,\nLord Byron out of a skull chased with silver, &c.\n\n\nXXXIII. Extreme impatience and irritability are often combined with a\ncorresponding degree of indifference and indolence. When the eagerness\nof pursuit or the violence of opposition ceases, nothing is left to\ninterest the mind, that has been once accustomed to a state of morbid\nexcitement.\n\n\nXXXIV. Artists and other studious professions are not happy, for this\nreason: they cannot enjoy mental repose. A state of lassitude and\nlanguor succeeds to that of overstrained, anxious exertion.\n\n\nXXXV. It is the custom at present to exclude all but Scientific and\nMechanical subjects from our fashionable Public Institutions, lest any\nallusions to popular sentiments or the cause of humanity should by\nchance creep in, to the great annoyance of the polite and well-informed\npart of the audience.\n\n\nXXXVI. People had much rather be thought to look ill than old: because\nit is possible to recover from sickness, but there is no recovering from\nage.\n\n\nXXXVII. I never knew but one person who had a passion for truth\u2014and only\none who had the same regard to the distinction between right and wrong,\nthat others have to their own interest.\n\n\nXXXVIII. Women are the sport of caprice, the slaves of custom.\n\n\nXXXIX. When men are not favourites with women, it is either from habits\nof vulgar debauchery, or from constitutional indifference, or from an\noverstrained and pedantic idea of the sex, taken from books, and\nanswering to nothing in real life.\n\n\nXL. The object of books is to teach us ignorance; that is, to throw a\nveil over nature, and persuade us that things are not what they are, but\nwhat the writer fancies or wishes them to be.\n\n\nXLI. My little boy said the other day, \u2018He could not tell what to do\nwithout a book to read\u2014he should wander about without knowing what to do\nwith himself.\u2019 So have I wandered about, till now, and, waking from the\ndream of books at last, don\u2019t know what to do with myself. My poor\nlittle fellow! may\u2019st thou dream long amidst thy darling books, and\nnever wake!\n\n\nXLII. Political truth is a libel; religious truth, blasphemy.\n\n\nXLIII. The greatest crime in the eye of the world is to endeavour to\ninstruct or amend it.\n\n\nXLIV. Weighing remote consequences in the mind is like weighing the air\nin scales.\n\n\nXLV. A hypocrite seems to be the only perfect character\u2014since it\nembraces the extremes of what human nature _is_, and of what it _would\nbe thought_.\n\n\nXLVI. The Scotch understanding differs from the English, as an\nEncyclopedia does from a circulating library. An Englishman is contented\nto pick up a few odds and ends of knowledge; a Scotchman is master of\nevery subject alike. Here each individual has a particular _hobby_ and\nfavourite bye-path of his own: in Scotland learning is a common hack,\nwhich every one figures away with, and uses at his pleasure.\n\n\nXLVII. A misanthropic writer might be called _the Devil\u2019s amanuensis_.\n\n\nXLVIII. To be a lord, a papist, and poor, is the most enviable\ndistinction of humanity. There is all the pride and sense of\nindependence, irritated and strengthened by being proscribed by power,\nand liable to be harassed by petty daily insults from every, the meanest\nvassal. What a situation to make the mind recoil from the world upon\nitself, and to sit and brood in moody grandeur and disdain of soul over\nfallen splendours and present indignities! It is just the life I should\nlike to have led.\n\n\nXLIX. The tone of good company is marked by the absence of\npersonalities. Among well-informed persons, there are plenty of topics\nto discuss, without giving pain to any one present\u2014without submitting to\nact the part of a _butt_, or of that still poorer creature, the wag that\nplays upon him.\n\n\nL. Londoners complain of the dullness of the country, and country people\nfeel equally uncomfortable and at a loss what to do with themselves in\ntown. The fault is neither in the town nor in the country\u2014every one is\nnaturally unsettled and dissatisfied without his usual resources and\noccupations, let them be _what_ or _where_ they may.\n\n\nLI. Each rank in society despises that which is a step below it, and the\nhighest looks down upon them all. To get rid of the impertinence of\nartificial pretensions, we resort to nature at last. Kings, for this\nreason, are fond of low company; and lords marry actresses and barmaids.\nThe Duke of York (not the present, but the late King\u2019s brother) was at a\nball at Plymouth. He danced with a Miss Byron, a very pretty girl,\ndaughter of the admiral of that name, and aunt to our poet. But there\nwas a Mrs. Fanning present, who was a paragon of beauty. The Duke asked,\n\u2018Who is she?\u2019 \u2018A baker\u2019s daughter,\u2019 was the answer. \u2018I don\u2019t mean that;\nbut what is she now?\u2019\u2014\u2018A broker\u2019s wife.\u2019 The lady did not perceive, that\nto a prince of the blood there was little difference between a\ntradesman\u2019s wife and the daughter of a naval officer; but that the\nhandsomest woman at a ball was an object of admiration in spite of\ncircumstances.\n\n\nLII. It has been asked, whether Lord Byron is a writer likely to live?\nPerhaps not: he has intensity of power, but wants distinctive character.\nIn my opinion, Mr. Wordsworth is the only poet of the present day that\nis likely to live\u2014_should he ever happen to be born_! But who will be\nthe midwife to bring his works to light? It is a question whether Milton\nwould have become popular without the help of Addison; nay, it is a\nquestion whether he is so, even with it.\n\n\nLIII. An anecdote is told of General Wolfe,[66] that he was out with a\nparty of friends in a boat the day before the Battle of Quebec. It was a\nbeautiful summer\u2019s evening, and the conversation turned to Gray\u2019s _Elegy\nin a Country Churchyard_, which was just then published. Wolfe repeated\nthe lines, \u2018For who to dumb forgetfulness a prey,\u2019 &c., with enthusiasm,\nand said, \u2018I would rather be the author of those lines than beat the\nFrench to-morrow!\u2019 He did beat the French, and was himself killed the\nnext day. Perhaps it was better to be capable of uttering a sentiment\nlike this, than to gain a battle or write a poem.\n\n\nLIV. Authors, a short time since, set upon Government: Government have\nof late turned the tables on them, and set upon authors. In one respect,\nit must be confessed, the court-tools have greatly the advantage of us:\nthey can go all lengths in vulgar Billingsgate and abuse, without being\ncharged with vulgarity. They have the sanction of the Court; they plead\nthe King\u2019s privilege. It is not to be supposed that any thing inelegant\nor gross can be patronised at Carlton-house. Every thing about a place,\neven the convenience of an Admiralty secretary, must, one would think,\nbe kept sweet and wholesome. But instead of the least refinement and\npolish, they treat us with nothing, but garbage. A lie and a nickname\nare their favourite figures of rhetoric\u2014the alternate substitutes for\nwit and argument\u2014the twin-supporters of the Bible and the Crown. They\nuse us (it seems) contrary to the advice of Hamlet, \u2018according to our\nown deserts, and not their own dignity.\u2019 The dirt they fling sticks on\ntheir opponents, without soiling their own fingers. Loyalty is \u2018the true\nfuller\u2019s earth that takes out all stains.\u2019 At all events, do or say what\nthey can, it is they who are the _gentlemen_, and we who are the\n_blackguards_. If we were to call Sir Walter Scott a _Sawney_ writer, or\nMr. Croker _Jackey_, it would be thought shocking, indecent, vulgar, and\nno one would look at our publication twice: yet on the Tory side the\nsame thing passes for the height of sense and wit; and ladies of quality\nare delighted with the _John Bull_, gentlemen read _Blackwood_, and\ndivines take in the _Quarterly_. There is Mr. William Mudford, of the\n_Courier_\u2014a vapid common-place hack, pert and dull\u2014but who would think\nof calling him by the diminutive of his Christian name? No; these are\nthe extreme resources reserved for the Court-classics, who, in the zeal\nof their loyalty, are allowed to forget their manners. There is, in\nfact, nothing too mean for the genius of these writers, or too low for\nthe taste of their employers.\n\n\nLV. A Tory can rise no higher than _the assumption of a question_. If he\nrelied on any thing but custom and authority, he would cease to be a\nTory. He has a prejudice in favour of certain _things_, and against\ncertain _persons_. This is all he knows of the matter. He therefore\ngives you assertions for argument, and abuse for wit. If you ask a\nreason for his opinions, he calls you names; and if you ask why he does\nso, he proves that he is in the right, by repeating them a thousand\ntimes. A nickname with him is the test of truth. It vents his spleen,\nstrengthens his own prejudices, and communicates them mechanically to\nhis hearers.\n\n\nLVI. When an Elector of Hanover is made into a King of England, what\ndoes he become in the course of a century?\u2014A George the Fourth.\n\n\nLVII. If I were to give a toast at a loyal and patriotic meeting, it\nshould be, _Down with the Stuarts all over the world!_\n\n\nLVIII. The taste of the great in pictures is singular, but not\nunaccountable. The King is said to prefer the Dutch to the Italian\nschool of painting; and if you hint your surprise at this, you are\nlooked upon as a very Gothic and _outr\u00e9_ sort of person. You are told,\nhowever, by way of consolation, \u2018To be sure, there is Lord Carlisle\nlikes an Italian picture\u2014Mr. Holwell Carr likes an Italian picture\u2014the\nMarquis of Stafford is fond of an Italian picture\u2014Sir George Beaumont\nlikes an Italian picture.\u2019 These, notwithstanding, are regarded as\nquaint and daring exceptions to the established rule; and their\npreference is a species of _l\u00e8se-majest\u00e9_ in the Fine Arts\u2014as great an\neccentricity and want of fashionable etiquette, as if any gentleman or\nnobleman still preferred old claret to new, when the King is known to\nhave changed his mind on this subject, or was guilty of the offence of\ndipping his fore-finger and thumb in the middle of a snuff-box, instead\nof gradually approximating the contents to the edge of the box,\naccording to the most approved models. One would imagine that the great\nand exalted in station would like lofty subjects in works of art,\nwhereas they seem to have an exclusive predilection for the mean and\nmechanical. One would think those whose word is law, would be pleased\nwith the great and striking effects of the pencil[67]: on the contrary,\nthey admire nothing but the little and elaborate. They have a fondness\nfor cabinet or _furniture_ pictures, and a proportionable antipathy to\nworks of genius. Even arts with them must be servile, to be tolerated.\nPerhaps the seeming contradiction may be thus explained. These persons\nare raised so high above the rest of the species, that the more violent\nand agitating pursuits of mankind appear to them like the turmoil of\nants on a molehill. Nothing interests them but their own pride and\nself-importance. Our passions are to them an impertinence; an expression\nof high sentiment they rather shrink from as a ludicrous and upstart\nassumption of equality. They, therefore, like what glitters to the eye,\nwhat is smooth to the touch; but they shun, by an instinct of sovereign\ntaste, whatever has a soul in it, and implies a _reciprocity_ of\nfeeling. The gods of the earth can have no interest in any thing human;\nthey are cut off from all sympathy with the \u2018bosoms and businesses of\nmen.\u2019 Instead of requiring to be wound up beyond their habitual feeling\nof stately dignity, they wished to have the springs of overstrained\npretension let down, to be relaxed with \u2018trifles light as air,\u2019 to be\namused with the familiar and frivolous, and to have the world appear a\nscene of _still life_, except as they disturb it! The little in thought\nand internal sentiment is a necessary relief and set-off to the\noppressive sense of external magnificence. Hence Kings babble and repeat\nthey know not what. A childish dotage often accompanies the\nconsciousness of absolute power. Repose is somewhere necessary, and the\nsoul sleeps, while the senses gloat around. Besides, the mechanical and\nhigh-finished style of art may be considered as something _done to\norder_. It is a task to be executed more or less perfectly, according to\nthe price given and the industry of the artist. We stand by, as it were,\nsee the work done, insist upon a greater degree of neatness and\naccuracy, and exercise a sort of petty jealous jurisdiction over each\nparticular. We are judges of the minuteness of the details, and though\never so nicely executed, as they give us no ideas beyond what we had\nbefore, we do not feel humbled in the comparison. The artisan scarcely\nrises into the artist; and the name of genius is degraded, rather than\nexalted in his person. The performance is so far ours that we have paid\nfor it, and the highest price is all that is necessary to produce the\nhighest finishing. But it is not so in works of genius and imagination.\nTheir price is above rubies. The inspiration of the Muse comes not with\nthe _fiat_ of a monarch, with the donation of a patron; and therefore\nthe Great turn with disgust or effeminate indifference from the mighty\nmasters of the Italian school because such works baffle and confound\ntheir self-will, and make them feel that there is something in the mind\nof man which they can neither give nor take away.\n\n \u2018Quam nihil ad tuum, Papinane, ingenium!\u2019\n\n\nLIX. The style of conversation in request in courts proceeds much upon\nthe same principle. It is low, and it is little. I have known a few\npersons who have had access to the Presence (and who might be supposed\nto catch what they could of the tone of royalty at second-hand, bating\nthe dignity\u2014God knows there was nothing of that!) and I should say they\nwere the _highest finishers_ in this respect I ever met with. No\ncircumstance escaped them, they worked out all the details (whether to\nthe purpose or not) like a fac-simile, they mimicked every thing,\nexplained every thing; the story was not _told_, but acted over again.\nIt is true, there were no _grandes pens\u00e9es_, there was a complete truce\nwith all thought and reflection; but they were everlasting dealers in\nmatters of fact, and there was no end of their minute prolixity\u2014one must\nsuppose this mode pleased their betters, or was copied from them.\nDogberry\u2019s declaration\u2014\u2018Were I as tedious as a king, I could find in my\nheart to bestow it all upon your worship\u2019\u2014is not so much a blunder of\nthe clown\u2019s, as a sarcasm of the poet\u2019s. Are we to account for the\neffect (as before) from supposing that their overstrained attention to\ngreat things makes them seek for a change in little ones?\u2014Or that their\nidea of themselves as raised above every one else is confirmed by\ndwelling on the meanest and most insignificant objects?\u2014Or is it that\nfrom their ignorance and seclusion from the world, every thing is alike\nnew and wonderful to them? Or that dreading the insincerity of those\nabout them, they exact an extraordinary degree of trifling accuracy, and\nrequire every one to tell a story, as if he was giving evidence on oath\nbefore a court of justice? West said that the late King used to get him\nup into a corner, and fairly put his hands before him so that he could\nnot get away, till he had got every particular out of him relating to\nthe affairs of the Royal Academy. This weakness in the mind of kings has\nbeen well insisted on by Peter Pindar. It is of course like one of the\nspots in the sun.\n\n\nLX. I hate to be near the sea, and to hear it roaring and raging like a\nwild beast in its den. It puts me in mind of the everlasting efforts of\nthe human mind, struggling to be free, and ending just where it began.\n\n\nLXI. Happy are they that can say with Timon\u2014\u2018I am Misanthropos, and hate\nmankind!\u2019 They can never be at a loss for subjects to exercise their\nspleen upon: their sources of satisfaction must hold out while the world\nstands. Those who do not pity others, assuredly need not envy them: if\nthey take pleasure in the distresses of their fellow-creatures, they\nhave their wish. Let them cast an eye on that long disease, human life,\non that villainous compound, human nature, and glut their malice. There\nis madness, there is idiotcy, there is sickness, old age, and death;\nthere is the cripple, the blind, and the deaf; there is the deformed in\nbody, the weak in mind, the prisoner and the gaoler, the beggar and the\ndwarf; there is poverty, labour, pain, ignominy; there is riches, pride,\ngriping avarice, bloated luxury; there is the agony of suffering or the\nlassitude of _ennui_; there is the sickness of the heart from hope\ndelayed, and the worse and more intolerable sickness from hope attained;\nthere is the gout, the stone, the plague, cold, fever, thirst, and\nnakedness, shipwreck, famine, fire and the sword, all are instruments of\nhuman fate, and pamper the dignity of human nature: there are the\nracking pains of jealousy, remorse, and anguish, the lingering ones of\ndisappointment, sorrow, and regret; there is the consciousness of\nunmerited, hopeless obscurity, and \u2018the cruel sunshine thrown by fortune\non a fool;\u2019 there is unrequited love, and\u2014marriage; there is the coquet\nslighting others and slighted in her turn, the jilt, the antiquated\nprude, the brutal husband, and the common-place wife; there are vows of\ncelibacy and lost character; there is the cabal, the idle gossiping, the\nchurlishness and dulness of the country, the heartlessness and\nprofligacy of great cities; there are the listless days, the sleepless\nnights, the having too much or too little to do; years spent in vain in\na pursuit, or, if successful, the having to leave it at last; there are\nthe jealousies of different professions among themselves or of each\nother, lawyers, divines, physicians, artists; the contempt of the more\nthriving for the less fortunate, and the hatred and heart-burnings with\nwhich it is repaid; there is hypocrisy, oppression, falsehood,\ntreachery, cowardice, selfishness, meanness; the luck of fools, the\nrespectability of knaves; the cant of piety, loyalty, and humanity; the\nlamentations of West-India planters over the ingratitude of their negro\nslaves, and Louis XVIII. resigning to God and the Mother of all Saints\nthe credit of the success of his arms; there are sects and parties,\nkings and their subjects, queens and common-council men, speeches in\nParliament, plays and actors _damned_, or successful for a time and then\nlaid on the shelf, and heard of no more; quacks at all corners,\nmountebanks in the pulpit, and drones in the state, peace and war,\ntreaties of offence and defence, conspiracies, revolutions, Holy\nAlliances, the sudden death of Lord Castlereagh, and the oratory of his\nsuccessor Mr. Canning, hid for the present like the moon \u2018in its vacant\ninterlunar cave;\u2019 and Ferdinand and his paper-kites, and the Cortes,\nunconscious of the rebel maxim, \u2018Catch a king and kill a king\u2019; and Slop\nraving at the bloodthirsty victims of courtly assassins, and whetting\nmild daggers for patriot throats; and Mr. Croker\u2019s _cheat-the-gallows\nface_ in the _Quarterly_, and Lord Wellington\u2019s _heart_ in the cause of\nSpanish liberty, and a beloved Monarch retired amid all this to shady\nsolitude \u2018to play with Wisdom.\u2019 A good hater may here find wherewithal\nto feed the largest spleen and swell it, even to bursting!\n\n\nLXII. Happiness, like mocking, is catching. At least, none but those who\nare happy in themselves, can make others so. No wit, no understanding,\nneither riches nor beauty, can communicate this feeling\u2014the happy alone\ncan make happy. Love and Joy are twins, or born of each other.\n\n\nLXIII. No one knows when he is safe from ridicule.\n\n\nLXIV. Is it a misfortune or a happiness that we so often like the faults\nof one we love better than the virtues of any other woman; that we like\nher refusals, better than all other favours; that we like her love of\nothers, better than any one else\u2019s love of us?\n\n\nLXV. If a man were refused by a woman a thousand times, and he really\nloved her, he would still think that at the bottom of her heart she\npreferred him to every one else. Nor is this wonderful, when we consider\nthat all passion is a species of madness; and that the feeling in the\nmind towards the beloved object is the most amiable and delightful thing\nin the world. Our love to her is heavenly, and so (the heart whispers\nus) must hers be to us\u2014though it were buried at the bottom of the sea;\nnay, from the tomb our self-love would revive it! We never can persuade\nourselves that a mistress cares nothing about us, till we no longer care\nabout her. No! It is certain that there is nothing truly deserving of\nlove but love, and\n\n \u2018In spite of pride, in erring reason\u2019s spite,\u2019\n\nwe still believe in the justice of the blind God!\n\n\nLXVI. It would be easy to forget a misplaced attachment, but that we do\nnot like to acknowledge ourselves in the wrong.\n\n\nLXVII. A great mind is one that can forget or look beyond itself.\n\n\nLXVIII. The grand scenes of Nature are more adapted for occasional\nvisits than for constant residence. They are the temples of the Goddess,\nnot fit dwellings for her worshippers. Familiarity breeds contempt or\nindifference; and it is better to connect this feeling with the petty\nand trivial than with the lofty and sublime. Besides, it is unnecessary\nto run the risk in the latter case. One chief advantage of the great and\nmagnificent objects of Nature is, that they stamp their image on the\nmind for ever; the blow need not be repeated to have the desired effect.\nWe take them with us wherever we go; we have but to think of them and\nthey appear; and at the distance of half a life or of the circumference\nof the globe, we unlock the springs of memory, and the tall mountain\nshoots into the sky, the lake expands its bosom, and the cataract rushes\nfrom the pine-clad rock. The bold majestic outline is all that there is\nto discover in such situations, and this we can always remember. In more\ncultivated and artificial scenes we may observe a thousand hedge-row\nbeauties with curious eye, or pluck the tender flower beneath our feet,\nwhile Skiddaw hovers round our heads, and the echoes of Helvellyn\nthunder in our hearts.\n\n\nLXIX. I should always choose to live within reach of a fine prospect,\nrather than to see one from my windows. A number of romantic, distant\nobjects staring in upon one (uncalled-for) tantalise the imagination,\nand tempt the truant feet; whereas, at home, I wish to feel satisfied\nwhere I am, and sheltered from the world.\n\n\nLXX. Mr. Martin\u2019s picture of Adam and Eve in Paradise has this capital\ndefect, that there is no _repose_ in it. You see two insignificant naked\nfigures, and a preposterous architectural landscape, like a range of\nbuildings overlooking them. They might as well be represented sleeping\non the top of the pinnacle of the Temple with the world and all the\nglories thereof spread out before them. They ought to have been painted\nimparadised in one another\u2019s arms, shut up in measureless content, with\nEden\u2019s choicest bowers closing round them, and Nature stooping to clothe\nthem with vernal bowers. Nothing could be too retired, too voluptuous,\ntoo sacred from day\u2019s garish eye: instead of which, you have a gaudy\npanoramic view, a glittering barren waste, a triple row of clouds, of\nrocks, and mountains piled one upon the other, as if the imagination\nalready bent its idle gaze over that wide world, which was so soon to be\ntheir place of exile, and the aching restless spirit of the artist was\noccupied in building a stately prison for our first parents, instead of\ndecking their bridal bed, and wrapping them in a short-lived dream of\nbliss!\n\n\nLXXI. The mind tires of variety, but becomes reconciled to uniformity.\nChange produces a restless habit, a love of farther change: the\nrecurrence of the same objects conduces to repose, and to content. My\nUncle Toby\u2019s bowling-green bounded his harmless ambition; Bonaparte, not\ncontented with France and Europe for a pleasure-ground, wanted to have\nRussia for an ice-house; and Alexander, at the farthest side of India,\nwept for new worlds to conquer. If we let our thoughts wander abroad,\nthere is no end to fantastic projects, to the craving after novelty, to\nfickleness, and disappointment: if we confine them at home, Peace may\nfind them there. Mr. Horne Tooke used to contend that all tendency to\nexcess was voluntary in the mind: the wants of Nature kept within a\ncertain limit. Even if a person adhered to a regular number of cups of\ntea or glasses of wine, he did not feel tempted to exceed this number:\nbut if he once went beyond his usual allowance, the desire to transgress\nincreased with its indulgence, and the artificial appetite was\nproportioned to the artificial stimulus. It has been remarked that in\nthe tropical climates, where there is no difference of seasons, time\npasses away on smoother and swifter pinions, \u2018the earth spins round on\nits soft axle,\u2019 unnoticed, unregretted: and life wears out soonest and\nbest in sequestered privacy, within the round of a few, simple, unenvied\nenjoyments.\n\n\nLXXII. The retailing of a set of anecdotes is not conversation. A story\nadmits of no answer: a remark or an opinion naturally calls forth\nanother, and leads to as many different views of a subject as there are\nminds in company. An officer in a Scotch marching regiment has always a\nnumber of very edifying anecdotes to communicate: but unless you are of\nthe same mess or the same clan, you are necessarily _sent to Coventry_.\nProsing, mechanical narrations of this kind are tedious, as well as\ntinctured with egotism: if they are set off with a brilliant manner,\nwith mimicry, and action, they become theatrical: the speaker is a kind\nof _Mr. Matthews at home_, and the audience are more or less delighted\nand amused with the exhibition; but there is an end of society, and you\nno more think of interrupting a confirmed story-teller, than you would\nof interrupting a favourite actor on the stage.\n\n\nLXXIII. The Queen\u2019s trial gave a deathblow to the hopes of all\nreflecting persons with respect to the springs and issues of public\nspirit and opinion. It was the only question I ever knew that excited a\nthorough popular feeling. It struck its roots into the heart of the\nnation; it took possession of every house or cottage in the kingdom;\nman, woman, and child took part in it, as if it had been their own\nconcern. Business was laid aside for it: people forgot their pleasures,\neven their meals were neglected, nothing was thought of but the fate of\nthe Queen\u2019s trial. The arrival of the _Times Newspaper_ was looked upon\nas an event in every village, the Mails hardly travelled fast enough;\nand he who had the latest intelligence in his pocket was considered as\nthe happiest of mortals. It kept the town in a ferment for several\nweeks: it agitated the country to the remotest corner. It spread like\nwildfire over the kingdom; the public mind was electrical. So it should\nbe on other occasions; it was only so on this. An individual may be\noppressed, a nation may be trampled upon, mankind may be threatened with\nannihilation of their rights, and the threat enforced; and not a finger\nis raised, not a heart sinks, not a pulse beats quicker in the public or\nprivate quarrel, a momentary burst of vain indignation is heard, dies\naway, and is forgotten. Truth has no echo, but folly and imposture have\na thousand reverberations in the hollowness of the human heart. At the\nvery time when all England went mad about the poor Queen, a man of the\nname of Bruce was sent to Botany Bay for having spoken to another who\nwas convicted of sedition; and no notice was taken of it. We have seen\nwhat has been done in Spain, and Earth does not roll its billows over\nthe heads of tyrants, to bury them in a common grave. What was it then\nin the Queen\u2019s cause that stirred this mighty \u2018coil and pudder\u2019 in the\nbreast? Was it the love of truth, of justice, of liberty? No such thing!\nHer case was at best doubtful, and she had only suffered the loss of\nprivileges peculiar to herself. But she was a Queen, she was a woman,\nand _a thorn in the King\u2019s side_. There was the cant of loyalty, the\ncant of gallantry, and the cant of freedom mixed altogether in\ndelightful and inextricable confusion. She was a Queen\u2014all the loyal and\nwell-bred bowed to the name; she was a wife\u2014all the women took the\nalarm; she was at variance with the lawful sovereign\u2014all the free and\nindependent Electors of Westminster and London were up in arms. \u2018The\nQueen\u2019s name was a tower of strength,\u2019 which these persons had hitherto\nwanted, and were glad to catch at. Though a daughter of the Duke of\nBrunswick, though a grand-daughter of George III., yet because she was\nseparated from her husband, she must be hand-and-glove with the people,\nthe wretched, helpless, doating, credulous, meddlesome people, who are\nalways ready to lick the hands, not just then raised to shed their blood\nor rivet on their chains. There was here an idol to pull down and an\nidol to set up. There was an imperial title and meretricious\nfrontispiece to the spurious volume of Liberty. There was the\nmock-majesty of an empty throne behind the real one, and the\nimpertinence of mankind was interested to thrust the unwelcome claimant\ninto it. City patriots stood a chance of becoming liege men, and true to\na Queen\u2014of their own choosing. The spirit of faction was half merged in\nthe spirit of servility. There was a rag-fair of royalty\u2014every one\ncarried his own paints and patches into the presence of the new Lady of\nLoretto\u2014there was a sense of homage due, of services and countenance\nbestowed on Majesty. This popular farce had all the charm of _private\ntheatricals_. The Court of St. James\u2019s was nothing to the _make-believe_\nCourt at Kew. The king was a sort of _state-fixture_; but the\nQueen-Consort, the favourite of the rabble, was herself one of them. The\npresence-doors were flung open, and every blackguard and blockhead\nrushed in. What an opportunity to see, to hear, to touch a Queen! To\ngratify the itch of loyalty by coming in contact with the person of the\nSovereign was a privilege reserved for a few; but to receive this favour\nat the Queen\u2019s hands was a distinction common to all. All the trades of\nLondon came to kiss the Queen\u2019s hand: Presbyterian parsons knelt to kiss\nthe hand of their royal mistress; the daughters of country curates and\nof city knights sipped loyalty from the back of her Majesty\u2019s hand.\nRadicals and reformers contended who should be first in paying homage to\nthe Queen; there was a race for precedence, quarrelling and pulling of\ncaps between the wives of distinguished orators and caricaturists, at\nthe very footsteps of the throne; while Mr. Alderman Wood,\n\n \u2018A gentle Husher, Vanity by name.\u2019\n\nstrove to keep the peace, and vindicate the character of civic dames for\ncourtly manners. Mr. Place, Mr. Hone, Mr. Thelwall, Sir Richard\nPhillips, kissed her Majesty\u2019s hand; Mr. Cobbett alone was not\ninvited,\u2014it was thought he might _bite_. What a pity that it was before\nMr. Irving\u2019s time, or he might have thrown in the casting-weight of his\nperfect mind and body, and _ousted_ both the King and Bergami! In the\nmidst of all this, his Majesty went to the play, bowed to the boxes, the\npit, the gallery, and to the _actors_, and you would suppose in four\ndays\u2019 time, that a whisper had never been uttered to imply that the King\nnot only was not the most graceful man in his dominions, but the best of\nmonarchs and of husbands. The Queen and her _pic-nic_ parties were no\nmore thought of. What a scene for history to laugh at!\n\n\nLXXIV. A crowd was collected under the Horse-Guards, and on enquiry I\nfound it was to see the Duke of York come out. \u2018What went they forth for\nto see?\u2019 They were some of the lowest and most wretched of the people,\nand it was perhaps the sense of contrast,\u2014a sense of which the great and\nmighty have always availed themselves liberally, to cherish the\nenthusiasm of their admirers. It was also curiosity to see a name, a\nsound that they had so often heard, reduced to an object of sight; a\nmetaphysical and political abstraction actually coming out of a door\nwith a ruddy face and a frock-coat. It was, in the first place, the\nCommander-in-Chief, and the commander of the troops at Dunkirk, the\nauthor of the love-letters to Mrs. Clarke and of army-circulars, the son\nof the King, and presumptive heir to the Crown;\u2014there were all these\ncontradictions embodied in the same person. \u2018Oh, the wonderful works of\nnature,\u2019 as the _Recruit_ in the play says on looking at the guinea\nwhich has just enlisted him: so we may say on looking at a king or a\nking\u2019s brother. I once pointed out the Duke of York to a Scotchman. \u2018Is\nthat his Grace\u2014I mean his Royal Highness?\u2019 said the native of the North,\nout of breath to acknowledge the title, and pay with his tongue the\ninstinctive adulation which his heart felt!\n\n\nLXXV. When Effie Deans becomes a fine lady, do we not look back with\nregret to the time when she was the poor faded lily of St. Leonards, the\noutcast and condemned prisoner? So, should the cause of liberty and\nmankind ever become triumphant, instead of militant, may we not heave a\nsigh of regret over the past, and think that poor suffering human\nnature, with all its wrongs and insults, trodden into the earth like a\nvile weed, was a more interesting topic for reflection? We need not be\nmuch alarmed for the event, even if this should be so; for the way to\nUtopia is not \u2018the primrose path of dalliance;\u2019 and at the rate we have\nhitherto gone on, it must be many thousand years off!\n\n\nLXXVI. Mankind are an incorrigible race. Give them but bugbears and\nidols\u2014it is all that they ask; the distinctions of right and wrong, of\ntruth and falsehood, of good and evil, are worse than indifferent to\nthem.\n\n\nLXXVII. The Devil was a great loss in the preternatural world. He was\nalways something to fear and to hate. He supplied the antagonist powers\nof the imagination, and the arch of true religion hardly stands firm\nwithout him. Mr. Irving may perhaps bring him into fashion again.\n\n\nLXXVIII. Perhaps the evils arising from excessive inequality in a state\nwould be sufficiently obviated if property were divided equally among\nthe surviving children. But it is said it would be impossible to make a\nlaw for this purpose, under any circumstances or with any\nqualifications, because the least interference with the disposal of\nproperty would be striking at its existence and at the very root of all\nproperty. And yet this objection is urged in those very countries, where\nthe law of primogeniture (intended to keep it in disproportionate\nmasses, and setting aside the will of the testator altogether) is\nestablished as an essential part of the law of the land. So blind is\nreason, where passion or prejudice intervenes!\n\n\nLXXIX. Kings, who set up for Gods upon earth, should be treated as\nmadmen, which one half of them, or as idiots, which the other half,\nreally are.\n\n\nLXXX. Tyrants are at all times mad with the lust of power.\n\n\nLXXXI. Reformers are naturally speculative people; and speculative\npeople are effeminate and inactive. They brood over ideas, till\nrealities become almost indifferent to them. They talk when they should\nact, and are distracted with nice doubts and distinctions, while the\nenemy is thundering at the gates, and the bomb-shells are bursting at\ntheir feet. They hold up a paper Constitution as their shield, which the\nsword pierces through, and drinks their heart\u2019s blood! They are cowards,\ntoo, at bottom; and dare not strike a decisive blow, lest it should be\nretaliated. While they merely prate of moderation and the public good,\nthey think, if the worst comes to the worst, there may still be a chance\nof retreat for them, hoping to screen themselves behind their\nimbecility. They are not like their opponents, whose all is at stake,\nand who are urged on by instinctive fury and habitual cunning to defend\nit: the common good is too remote a speculation to call forth any\nviolent passions or personal sacrifices; and if it should be lost, it is\nas fine a topic as ever to harangue and lament about. Patriots are, by\nthe constitution of their minds, poets; and an Elegy on the fall of\nLiberty is as interesting to hear or to recite as an Ode on its most\ntriumphant success. They who let off Ferdinand the other day, confiding\nin the promises of a traitor and in the liberality of a despot, were\ngreater hypocrites to themselves than he was.\n\n\nLXXXII. In the late quarrel about Liberty, upwards of five millions of\nmen have been killed, and _one king_.\n\n\nLXXXIII. The people (properly speaking) are not a herd of slaves just\nlet loose, or else goaded on, like blind drudges, to execute the behests\nof their besotted taskmasters; but the band of free citizens, taught to\nknow their rights, and prepared to exercise them.\n\n\nLXXXIV. The people are the slaves of ignorance and custom; the friends\nof the people are the dupes of reason and humanity. Power stops at\nnothing but its own purposes.\n\n\nLXXXV. The Author of Waverley observes\u2014\u2018In truth, the Scottish peasantry\nare still infected with that rage for funeral ceremonial, which once\ndistinguished the grandees of the kingdom so much, that a sumptuary law\nwas made by the Parliament of Scotland for the purpose of restraining\nit; and I have known many in the lowest stations who have denied\nthemselves not merely the comforts, but almost the necessaries of life,\nin order to save such a sum of money as might enable their surviving\nfriends to bury them like Christians, as they termed it; nor could their\nfaithful executors be prevailed upon, though equally necessitous, to\nturn to the use and maintenance of the living the money vainly wasted\nupon the interment of the dead.\u2019\u2014\u2018Antiquary,\u2019 vol. IV. p. 48. If I were\nto attempt an explanation of the peculiar delight and pride which the\nScotch are thus supposed to take in funeral ceremonies, I should say,\nthat as inhabitants of wild and barren districts, they are more familiar\nwith the face of nature than with the face of man; and easily turn to it\nas their place of rest and final home. There is little difference, in\ntheir imaginations, between treading the green mountain turf, and being\nlaid beneath it. The world itself is but a living tomb to them. Their\nmode of subsistence is cold, hard, comfortless, bare of luxuries and of\nenjoyments, torpid, inured to privations and self-denial; and death\nseems to be its consummation and triumph, rather than its unwelcome end.\nTheir life was a sort of struggle for a dreary existence; so that it\nrelapses into the grave with joy and a feeling of exultation. The grey\nrock out of which their tomb is cut is a citadel against all assaults of\nthe flesh and the spirit; the kindred earth that wraps the\nweather-beaten, worn-out body, is a soft and warm resting-place from the\nhardships it has had to encounter. It is no wonder, therefore, that the\nScotch prepare for the due celebration of this event with the foresight\ncharacteristic of them, and that their friends consign them to the earth\nwith becoming fortitude and costly ceremony. \u2018Man,\u2019 says Sir Thomas\nBrown, though in quite a different spirit, \u2018man is a noble animal,\nsplendid in ashes and pompous in the grave; solemnising nativities and\ndeaths with equal lustre, nor omitting ceremonies of bravery, even in\nthe INFAMY of his nature.\u2014_See his_ URN BURIAL.\n\n\nLXXXVI. In the Heart of Midlothian vol. IV. p. 13, we meet with the\nfollowing reflections: \u2018Perhaps one ought to be actually a Scotchman to\nconceive how ardently, under all distinctions of rank and situation,\nthey feel their mutual connection with each other as natives of the same\ncountry. There are, I believe, more associations common to the\ninhabitants of a rude and wild than of a well-cultivated and fertile\ncountry: their ancestors have more seldom changed their place of\nresidence; their mutual recollection of remarkable objects is more\naccurate; the high and the low are more interested in each other\u2019s\nwelfare; the feelings of kindred and relationship are more widely\nextended; and, in a word, the bonds of patriotic affection, always\nhonourable, even when a little too exclusively strained, have more\ninfluence on men\u2019s feelings and actions.\u2019 Thus far our author, but\nwithout making much progress in the question he has started. \u2018_Via_\nGoodman Dull! thou hast spoken no word all this while\u2019\u2014I might say, but\nI do not choose, to say so, to the Great Unknown. There is an\nenumeration of particulars, slightly and collaterally connected with the\nsubject, but, as \u2018Douce David Deans\u2019 would say, \u2018they do not touch the\nroot of the matter.\u2019 In fact, then, the mind more easily forms a strong\nand abstracted attachment to the soil (in which it was bred) in remote\nand barren regions, where few artificial objects or pursuits fritter\naway attention, or divert it from its devotion to the naked charms of\nnature\u2014(perhaps the privations, dangers, and loneliness incident to such\nsituations also enhance the value and deepen the interest we take in\nthem)\u2014and again, in a rude and scattered population, where there is a\ndearth and craving after general society, we naturally become more\nclosely and permanently attached to those few persons with whom\nneighbourhood, or kindred, or a common cause, or similar habits or\nlanguage, bring us into contact. Two Englishmen meeting in the wilds of\nArabia would instantly become friends, though they had never seen one\nanother before, from the want of all other society and sympathy. So it\nis in the ruder and earlier stages of civilisation. This is what\nattaches the Highlander to his hill and to his clan. This is what\nattaches Scotchmen to their country and to one another. A Londoner, in\nhis fondness for London, is distracted between the play-houses, the\nopera, the shops, the coffee-houses, the crowded streets, &c. An\ninhabitant of Edinburgh has none of these diversities to reconcile: he\nhas but one idea in his head or in his mouth,\u2014that of the Calton Hill;\nan idea which is easily embraced, and which he never quits his hold of,\ntill something more substantial offers,\u2014a situation as porter in a\nwarehouse, or as pimp to a great man.\n\n\n\n\n NOTES\n\n\n FUGITIVE WRITINGS\n\n\n ON ABSTRACT IDEAS\n\nThis essay was first published along with the second edition (1836) of\n_An Essay on the Principles of Human Action_. See Bibliographical Note,\nvol. VII. p. 384. The source of the essay does not appear to be known,\nbut it very likely formed the substance of one of the Lectures which\nHazlitt delivered at the Russell Institution. See _ante_, pp. 25, _et\nseq._ and notes. The title of one of these Lectures (III.) was \u2018On\nBerkeley\u2019s Principles of Human Knowledge, and on the Nature of\nAbstraction.\u2019 It has not been thought necessary to give references to\nall the numerous passages quoted from Locke and other philosophers\ndiscussed by Hazlitt. In many cases he himself gives a sufficient\nreference in the text.\n\n PAGE\n\n 1. _It is by Mr. Locke ... denied_, _etc._ See _An Essay concerning\n Human Understanding_, II. xi. 10.\n\n \u2018_From the root_,\u2019 _etc._ _Paradise Lost_, V. 479\u2013481.\n\n 6. _The Bishop of Worcester._ Edward Stillingfleet (1635\u20131699), who\n published three pamphlets in reply to Locke\u2019s _Essay_. For an\n account of the controversy see Locke\u2019s _Works_ (Bohn), II. 339\n _et seq._\n\n 7. \u2018_General ideas_,\u2019 _etc._ Condillac, _La Logique_, chap. V.\n\n 8. \u2018_To speak_,\u2019 _etc. Ibid._\n\n 9. \u2018_It is agreed on all hands_,\u2019 _etc._ All the passages quoted\n from Berkeley are from the Introduction to _A Treatise\n concerning the Principles of Human Knowledge_ (1710).\n\n 12. \u2018_Abstract ideas_,\u2019 _etc._ Locke\u2019s _Essay_, IV. vii. 9.\n\n\n ON THE WRITINGS OF HOBBES\n\nThis and the four succeeding papers were first published in _Literary\nRemains_, where the author\u2019s son says of them (vol. I. p. 115): \u2018The\nfollowing Essays form part of a series of Lectures delivered with very\ngreat effect by my father at the Russell Institution, in 1813. I found\nthem with other papers in an old hamper which many years ago he stuffed\nconfusedly full of MSS. and odd volumes of books, and left in the _care_\nof some lodging-house people, by whom it was thrown into a cellar, so\ndamp that even the covers of some of the books were fast mouldering when\nI first looked over the collection. The injury to the MSS. may be\nimagined. Some of the Lectures, indeed, to my deep regret, are\naltogether missing, burnt, probably, by the ignorant people of the\nhouse; and I have had the greatest difficulty in preparing those which\nremain for the press. They are, however, most valuable.\u2019 The course,\nconsisting of ten Lectures, was delivered in 1812, not 1813. The\nsyllabus will be found in Mr. W. C. Hazlitt\u2019s _Memoirs of William\nHazlitt_, 1. 192 et seq. The first lecture was \u2018On the Writings of\nHobbes, showing that he was the father of the modern system of\nphilosophy.\u2019\n\n 27. \u2018_They were made fierce_,\u2019 _etc._ _Advancement of Learning_, I.\n iv. 6.\n\n 28. \u2018_Four champions fierce_,\u2019 _etc._ Cf. _Paradise Lost_, II. 898.\n\n 29. _It has been generally supposed_, _etc._ Cf. the essay \u2018Mr. Locke\n a Great Plagiarist,\u2019 _post_, p. 284.\n\n 32. \u2018_Discourse of Human Nature._\u2019 This work, though circulated in\n MS. as early as 1640, was not published till 1650, the year\n before the publication of _Leviathan_.\n\n 45. \u2018_This difference of quickness_,\u2019 _etc._ _Leviathan_, part I.\n chap. VIII.\n\n _Harris, the author of Hermes_, _etc._ Cf. vol. VIII. (_The\n English Comic Writers_) p. 19, where the same passages are\n quoted from Locke, Hobbes, and Harris.\n\n 46. \u2018_Though the effect of folly_,\u2019 _etc._ _Leviathan_, part I. chap.\n VIII.\n\n \u2018_The foolish daughters of Pelias_\u2019 [Peleus], _etc. Ibid._ part\n II. chap. XXX.\n\n _The same allusion in Burke._ _Reflections on the Revolution in\n France_ (_Select Works_, ed. Payne, II. 113).\n\n 48. \u2018_Soft collar of social esteem._\u2019 _Ibid._ II. 90.\n\n \u2018_Order of thoughts_,\u2019 _etc._ _Leviathan_, part I. chap. III.\n\n \u2018_Stood all astonied_,\u2019 _etc._ _The Faerie Queene_, VII. VI. 28.\n\n 50. _Jonathan Edwards._ Jonathan Edwards (1703\u20131758), the American\n theologian and metaphysician, published his work _On the\n Freedom of the Will_ in 1754.\n\n\n ON LIBERTY AND NECESSITY\n\nLectures VII. and VIII. were \u2018On the Writers on Liberty and Necessity,\nand on Materialism.\u2019\n\n _Gassendi._ Pierre Gassendi (1592\u20131655), the French philosopher\n and mathematician, with whom Hobbes had been intimate at Paris.\n\n 53. _Spinoza\u2019s most exact and beautiful demonstration_, _etc._ In the\n _Ethica_, published in _Opera Posthuma_ (1677).\n\n _Marsennus._ Marin Mersenne (1588\u20131648), the friend and disciple\n of Descartes.\n\n 54. _Bishop Bramhall._ John Bramhall (1594\u20131663), successively Bishop\n of Derry and Archbishop of Armagh, whose controversy with\n Hobbes arose in 1655.\n\n 57. _Tripos._ \u2018Hobbes\u2019s Tripos\u2019 (1684) contained, among other things,\n the essay \u2018Of Liberty and Necessity\u2019 (1654).\n\n 58. \u2018_With all these means_,\u2019 _etc._ _Henry IV._ Part II. Act III.\n Sc. 1.\n\n 60. \u2018_Fixed fate_,\u2019 _etc._ _Paradise Lost_, II. 560.\n\n _Dr. Priestley._ Joseph Priestley\u2019s (1733\u20131804) _The Doctrine of\n Philosophical Necessity Illustrated_ appeared in 1777. His\n controversy with Horsley lasted from 1783 till 1790, during\n which time many letters to Dr. Horsley were published.\n\n 71. \u2018_Something far more deeply interfused_,\u2019 _etc._ Borrowed from\n Wordsworth\u2019s _Lines composed a few miles above Tintern Abbey_,\n 96 _et seq._\n\n 73. \u2018_Ille igitur_,\u2019 _etc._ Cicero, _De Fato_, XIX. 43.\n\n\n ON LOCKE\u2019S ESSAY ON THE HUMAN UNDERSTANDING\n\nThis appears to have been Lecture II. of the course. Cf. the essay \u2018Mr.\nLocke a Great Plagiarist,\u2019 _post_, p. 284.\n\n 79. \u2018_Discourse of reason._\u2019 _Hamlet_, Act I. Sc. 2\n\n 81. \u2018_Without form and void._\u2019 _Genesis_ i. 2.\n\n 81. _The mind alone is formative._ Kant. Cf. _post_, p. 176.\n\n 82. _The natural fool, etc._ Cf. _ante_, p. 41.\n\n 84. \u2018_Peace to all such._\u2019 Pope, _Prologue to the Satires_, 193.\n\n 85. _The Vicar\u2019s profession of faith._ See _\u00c9mile_, Livre IV.\n\n \u2018_Light of Nature pursued._\u2019 A work abridged by Hazlitt himself.\n See vol. IV. of the present edition.\n\n 88. \u2018_Fluttering its pennons vain_,\u2019 _etc._ Cf. _Paradise Lost_, II.\n 933\u20134.\n\n 89. \u2018_The latter end_,\u2019 _etc._ Cf. _The Tempest_, Act II. Sc. 1.\n\n 100. \u2018_The fundamental principle_,\u2019 _etc._ Hume, _A Treatise of Human\n Nature_, part IV. sect. IV.\n\n 108. _The \u2018Essay on Vision.\u2019_ Published in 1709.\n\n 110. \u2018_Reason pandering will._\u2019 Cf. \u2018And reason panders will.\u2019\n _Hamlet_, Act III. Sc. 4.\n\n 118. _Dr. Clarke\u2019s celebrated work._ Samuel Clarke\u2019s (1675\u20131729)\n _Discourse concerning the Being and Attributes of God, etc._,\n one of the Boyle lectures delivered in 1704 and 1705.\n\n\n ON TOOKE\u2019S DIVERSIONS OF PURLEY\n\nLecture IX. was \u2018On the Theory of Language; as treated by Horne Tooke,\nby the author of _Hermes_, and Lord Monboddo.\u2019 Cf. vol. IV. (_The Spirit\nof the Age_), p. 231, and notes.\n\n 119. \u2018_Mere_ [very] _midsummer madness_.\u2019 _Twelfth Night_, Act III.\n Sc. 4.\n\n 123. _M. Portalis._ Jean \u00c9tienne Marie Portalis (1745\u20131807), one of\n the compilers of the _Code Napol\u00e9on_.\n\n \u2018_Of the little sneering_,\u2019 _etc._ Junius, Letter LIV.\n\n \u2018_Undoes creation_,\u2019 _etc._ Gay, _Verses to be placed under the\n Picture of Sir R. Blackmore_.\n\n \u2018_Rebelling angels_,\u2019 _etc._ Marvell, _On Mr. Milton\u2019s Paradise\n Lost_.\n\n \u2018_Holds us a while_,\u2019 _etc. Ibid._\n\n 125. \u2018_That honour consists._\u2019 _etc._ _Jonathan Wild_, Book I. Chap.\n 13.\n\n 128. _A celebrated German philosopher._ Kant.\n\n 131. \u2018_So from the root_,\u2019 _etc._ Cf. _ante_, p. 1, where much of this\n paragraph is repeated.\n\n 132. \u2018_Has oft been chased_,\u2019 _etc._ Dryden, _The Hind and the\n Panther_, l. 5\u20138.\n\n\n ON SELF-LOVE\n\nLecture IV. of the series. Cf. the essay on \u2018Self-Love and Benevolence\n(A Dialogue)\u2019 printed in vol. XII. pp. 95 _et seq._, and _An Essay on\nthe Principles of Human Action_ (vol. VII. pp. 383, _et seq._), from\nwhich a great part of the present Lecture is taken.\n\n 133. \u2018_Wise saws and modern instances._\u2019 _As You Like It_, Act II. Sc.\n 7.\n\n 136. \u2018_Mutual interest_,\u2019 _etc._ _Jonathan Wild_, Book I. Chap. 4.\n\n 139. _Shaftesbury or Hutcheson._ Anthony Ashley Cooper, third Earl of\n Shaftesbury (1671\u20131713), author of the _Characteristics_\n (1711), and Francis Hutcheson (1694\u20131746), a supporter of\n Shaftesbury\u2019s ethics.\n\n 140. \u2018_Pity is only_,\u2019 _etc._ See Hobbes\u2019s _Human Nature_, Chap. IX.\n Sect. 10.\n\n 147. \u2018_The jealous God_,\u2019 _etc._\n\n \u2018Love, free as air, at sight of human ties,\n Spreads his light wings, and in a moment flies.\u2019\n Pope, _Eloisa to Abelard_, 75\u20136.\n\n 158. \u2018_Thrills in each nerve_,\u2019 _etc._ Cf.\n\n \u2018Feels at each thread, and lives along the line.\u2019\n Pope, _An Essay on Man_, l. 218.\n\n 159. \u2018_The hair-breadth scapes_,\u2019 _etc._ _Othello_, Act I. Sc. 3.\n\n 160. _Junius has remarked, etc._ In his letter to George III. (Dec.\n 19, 1769).\n\n\n MADAME DE STA\u00cbL\u2019S ACCOUNT OF GERMAN PHILOSOPHY AND LITERATURE\n\nMadame de Sta\u00ebl\u2019s _De l\u2019Allemagne_, published in London in 1813, had\nbeen reviewed, possibly by Hazlitt, in _The Morning Chronicle_ for Nov.\n13, 1813, and the four papers here reprinted and signed \u2018An English\nMetaphysician\u2019 are ostensibly a continuation of that review, though they\ncontain very little about German philosophy and nothing at all about\nGerman literature. They are, in fact, merely fragments in letter form of\nthe course of lectures which Hazlitt had recently delivered at the\nRussell Institution. See _ante_, pp. 25 _et seq._ and notes. Hazlitt was\na regular contributor to _The Morning Chronicle_ during 1813 and 1814.\nSome of his contributions on politics, the stage, and the fine arts will\nbe found in vols. III., VIII. and IX. of the present edition; and he\ngives an account of his relations with James Perry, the editor, in the\nessay \u2018On Patronage and Puffing\u2019 (see vol. VI. p. 289). None of the\n_Chronicle_ papers included in the present volume have been republished\nbefore.\n\n 162. _The article in The Edinburgh Review._ Vol. XXII. p. 198. The\n review was by Jeffrey.\n\n 164. \u2018_They were made fierce_,\u2019 _etc._ Cf. _ante_, note to p. 27.\n\n 165. \u2018_Four champions fierce_,\u2019 _etc._ Cf. _ante_, note to p. 28.\n\n\n THE SAME SUBJECT CONTINUED\n\n 167. \u2018_A justly decried author._\u2019 Locke, _Third Letter to the Bishop\n of Worcester_ (_Works_, Bohn, II. 401).\n\n \u2018_Fame is no plant_,\u2019 _etc._ _Lycidas_, 78\u201382.\n\n 168. \u2018_Harsh and crabbed._\u2019 _Comus_, 476.\n\n _Willich. Elements of the Critical Philosophy, etc., Translated\n by A. F. M. Willich, M.D._, appeared in 1798. _The Critique of\n Pure Reason_ had appeared in 1781.\n\n 171. \u2018_And all this_,\u2019 _etc._ Ben Jonson, _The Alchemist_, Act II. Sc.\n 1.\n\n\n THE SAME SUBJECT CONTINUED\n\n 174. _\u2018A dark closet_,\u2019 _etc._ Cf. Locke\u2019s _Essay_, II. xi. 17.\n\n \u2018_Drossy and divisible._\u2019 Dryden, _The Hind and the Panther_, I.\n 319.\n\n 175. _Mrs. Salmon\u2019s ... wax figures._ An old established exhibition in\n Fleet Street, near Temple Bar. See _The Spectator_, No. 28.\n\n 176. \u2018_Without form and void._\u2019 _Genesis_ i. 2.\n\n 179. \u2018_Thrills in each nerve_,\u2019 _etc._ Cf. _ante_, note to p. 158.\n\n \u2018_Jove\u2019s light\u2019nings_,\u2019 _etc._ _The Tempest_, Act I. Sc. 2.\n\n\n THE SAME SUBJECT CONTINUED\n\nAt the end of this letter it was announced that \u2018Another Letter on the\n_Principles of Human Action_ will conclude this series.\u2019 The promised\nLetter, however, does not seem to have been published.\n\n 181. \u2018_Peace to all such._\u2019 Cf. _ante_, note to p. 84.\n\n Note. For Fearn\u2019s book, see _Table Talk_, vol. VI. pp. 63\u20135;\n 260\u20132 and notes.\n\n 183. \u2018_So from the root_,\u2019 _etc._ Cf. _ante_, note to p. 1.\n\n 186. \u2018_Had oft been chased_,\u2019 _etc._ _The Hind and the Panther_, I.\n 5\u20138.\n\n\n FINE ARTS.\u2014BRITISH INSTITUTION\n\nHazlitt used a portion of this notice in the essay on \u2018Fine Arts\u2019 which\nhe afterwards (1824) contributed to _The Encyclop\u00e6dia Britannica_. See\nvol. IX., pp. 406\u20137. The British Institution was founded in 1805 at 52\nPall Mall and continued till 1866. The winter exhibition was of the\nworks of living artists. A second notice, in _The Morning Chronicle_ for\nFeb. 10, is probably by Hazlitt. It contains very brief comments on the\nless notable pictures, and is not reprinted here.\n\n 188. _Mr. Bird\u2019s Picture of Job._ The painter was Edward Bird\n (1772\u20131819), elected a Royal Academician in 1815.\n\n 189. _Mr. Allston\u2019s large picture._ This picture by the \u2018American\n Titian,\u2019 Washington Allston (1779\u20131843), gained a prize of\n 200 guineas from the British Institution and is now at\n Philadelphia.\n\n 190. _Mr. Hilton\u2019s Picture._ By William Hilton (1786\u20131839), Royal\n Academician (1818).\n\n _Mr. West\u2019s Picture._ For Benjamin West (1738\u20131820), who\n succeeded Reynolds (1792) as President of the Royal Academy,\n see vol. IX. (_Essays on the Fine Arts_), pp. 318 _et seq._\n\n \u2018_Pure religion_,\u2019 _etc._ Wordsworth\u2019s Sonnet, \u2018O Friend! I know\n not which way I must look,\u2019 etc.\n\n _Society for the suppression of vice._ Cf. vol. I. (_The Round\n Table_), p. 60 and note.\n\n _Mr. Turner\u2019s grand landscape._ Now in the National Gallery and\n (wrongly) known as \u2018Apuleia in search of Apuleius.\u2019 The\n confusion seems to have arisen from a misreading by Turner of a\n story in Ovid\u2019s _Metamorphoses_ (XIV. 517 _et seq._) which the\n picture was designed to illustrate.\n\n _Lord Egremont\u2019s picture._ An engraving by Woollett of Claude\u2019s\n \u2018Jacob and Laban\u2019 was in the possession of Lord Egremont at\n Petworth, and it is probably to this that Hazlitt refers. It\n was at Petworth that Turner painted the landscape in question.\n\n 191. \u2018_Mercury and Herse._\u2019 Exhibited in 1811.\n\n _The Favourite Lamb._ By William Collins (1788\u20131847).\n\n\n THE STAGE\n\nNearly the whole of this paper was incorporated into the essay on\n_Richard III._ in _Characters of Shakespeare\u2019s Plays_. See vol. I. pp.\n300\u2013303 and notes.\n\n 192. \u2018_As tenderly be led_,\u2019 _etc._ _Othello_, Act I. Sc. 3.\n\n \u2018_Bustle in._\u2019 _Richard III._, Act I. Sc. 1.\n\n\n THE FINE ARTS. THE LOUVRE\n\n 195. _Bl\u00fccher._ The fighting at Laon had taken place on March 9 and\n 10. Bl\u00fccher entered Paris on March 31.\n\n \u2018_Away to Heav\u2019n_,\u2019 _etc._ _Romeo and Juliet_, Act III. Sc. 1.\n\n \u2018_Nay, if you mouth_,\u2019 _etc._ _Hamlet_, Act V. Sc. 1.\n\n 196. \u2018_Pigeon-liver\u2019d_,\u2019 _etc._ _Hamlet_, Act II. Sc. 2.\n\n \u2018_Scrawls_,\u2019 _etc._ Pope, _Prologue to the Satires_, 19\u201320.\n\n _The treaty of Pilnitz._ See vol. III. (_Political Essays_), p.\n 61 and note.\n\n \u2018_This present ignorant time._\u2019 Cf. _Macbeth_, Act I. Sc. 5.\n\n \u2018_Tell me your company_,\u2019 _etc._ The proverb is quoted in _Don\n Quixote_, Part II. chap. 23.\n\n \u2018_Stands the statue_,\u2019 _etc._ Thomson, _The Seasons_, _Summer_,\n 1347. The Venus de Medici was restored to Florence after the\n fall of Napoleon.\n\n _There is the Apollo_, _etc._ This enumeration of the treasures\n collected at the Louvre by Napoleon makes Hazlitt\u2019s authorship\n of the essay quite certain. Cf. vol. VI. (_Table Talk_),\n pp. 15\u201316 and notes, and vol. VIII. (_The English Comic\n Writers_), p. 149, where the present passage is repeated almost\n _verbatim_. See also _Notes of a Journey_, _etc._, vol. IX. p.\n 107.\n\n 197. \u2018_There is old Proteus_,\u2019 _etc._ Misquoted from Wordsworth\u2019s\n Sonnet, \u2018The world is too much with us,\u2019 etc.\n\n \u2018_What\u2019s Hecuba to them_,\u2019 _etc._ _Hamlet_, Act II. Sc. 2.\n\n \u2018_Real feelings_,\u2019 _etc._ Burke, _Reflections on the Revolution\n in France_ (_Select Works_, ed. Payne, II. 101).\n\n \u2018_We look up_,\u2019 _etc. Ibid._\n\n \u2018_Breath can make them_,\u2019 _etc._ Goldsmith, _The Deserted\n Village_, 54.\n\n _Wittgenstein_, _etc._ Louis Adolphe Pierre Wittgenstein\n (1769\u20131843); Ferdinand, Baron Wintzingerode (1770\u20131818), two\n well-known Russian generals.\n\n \u2018_But once put out their light_,\u2019 _etc._ _Othello_, Act V. Sc. 2.\n\n _Poet who celebrated the fall_, _etc._ Coleridge, presumably.\n\n \u2018_Time-hallowed laws._\u2019 Hazlitt elsewhere attributes this phrase\n to Wordsworth. See vol. III., note to p. 175.\n\n\n WILSON\u2019S LANDSCAPES AT THE BRITISH INSTITUTION\n\nPart of this article was incorporated in the _Encyclop\u00e6dia Britannica_\narticle on \u2018Fine Arts\u2019 (see vol. IX. pp. 392\u2013394), and a further part\nwas included in Mr. W. C. Hazlitt\u2019s edition of the same essay in _Essays\non the Fine Arts_ (1873). Many of Wilson\u2019s landscapes were exhibited at\nthe Winter Exhibition of the Royal Academy in 1903. In this and in the\nlater notices of exhibitions the catalogue numbers have been omitted,\nand in a few cases it has been necessary to substitute a semicolon for a\ncomma, in order to distinguish between different pictures.\n\n 199. \u2018_A buoy_,\u2019 _etc._ _King Lear_, Act IV. Sc. 6.\n\n 200. \u2018_Resembling a goose-pye_,\u2019 Swift, _Vanburgh\u2019s House_, l. 104.\n\n 201. Note. \u2018_Silly shepherds_,\u2019 _etc._ Cf. Milton, _On the Morning of\n Christ\u2019s Nativity_, The Hymn, St. viii.\n\n 202. \u2018_While universal Pan_,\u2019 _etc._ _Paradise Lost_, IV. 266\u20138.\n\n Note. _Mr. Northcote\u2019s Dream of a Painter._ See vol. I. (_The\n Round Table_), note to p. 162.\n\n\n ON GAINSBOROUGH\u2019S PICTURES\n\nThis article, like the last, was used for the _Encyclop\u00e6dia_ essay (vol.\nIX. pp. 395\u20136) and was partly reproduced in Mr. W. C. Hazlitt\u2019s edition\nof _Essays on the Fine Arts_, 1873 (notes to p. 244).\n\n 202. _A Portrait of a Youth._ The famous \u2018Blue Boy\u2019 belonging to the\n Duke of Westminster, painted in 1779.\n\n 203. _Portrait of Garrick._ Painted in 1776, and now at the\n Stratford-on-Avon Museum.\n\n \u2018_Distilled books_,\u2019 _etc._ Bacon, _Essays_ (\u2018Of Studies\u2019).\n\n \u2018_I to Hercules._\u2019 _Hamlet_, Act I. Sc. 2.\n\n _Cottage Children._ \u2018Rustic Children,\u2019 now in the National\n Gallery.\n\n 205. Note. _Two Spanish Beggar Boys._ In the Dulwich Gallery. See vol.\n IX. p. 25.\n\n\n MR. KEMBLE\u2019S PENRUDDOCK\n\nThis theatrical notice is clearly Hazlitt\u2019s, though he omitted it from\n_A View of the English Stage_. Cf. vol. I. (_Characters of Shakespeare\u2019s\nPlays_), p. 237, where the same words are used, with trifling\nvariations, in criticism of Kemble\u2019s _Hamlet_. Cf. also vol. VIII. p.\n376.\n\n 205. _Penruddock._ In Richard Cumberland\u2019s _The Wheel of Fortune_\n (1795).\n\n 206. \u2018_Is whispering nothing_,\u2019 _etc._ _A Winter\u2019s Tale_, Act I. Sc.\n 2.\n\n 207. \u2018_There is no variableness_,\u2019 _etc._ _St. James_ i. 17.\n\n \u2018_Splenetic_ [splenetive] _and rash_.\u2019 _Hamlet_, Act V. Sc. 1.\n\n \u2018_The fiery soul_,\u2019 _etc._ Dryden, _Absalom and Achitophel_, l.\n 156\u20138.\n\n \u2018_You shall relish_,\u2019 _etc._ Cf. _Othello_, Act II. Sc. 1.\n\n\n INTRODUCTION TO AN ACCOUNT OF SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS\u2019S DISCOURSES\n\nHazlitt contributed to _The Champion_ six papers on the \u2018Character of\nSir Joshua Reynolds.\u2019 The first two of these (Oct. 30 and Nov. 6. 1814)\nwere used in the author\u2019s _Encyclop\u00e6dia Britannica_ essay on \u2018Fine\nArts.\u2019 See vol. IX. of the present edition, pp. 377 _et seq._, and the\nnotes, where the omitted portions of the two articles are supplied. The\nlast four (viz. the present essay and the three succeeding ones) are\nhere reprinted for the first time. Hazlitt afterwards dealt with the\nsame subject in the two essays entitled \u2018On Certain Inconsistencies in\nSir Joshua Reynolds\u2019s Discourses\u2019 (vol. VI. _Table Talk_, pp. 122\u2013145).\n\n 208. Note. For Richardson see vol. VI. (_Table Talk_), p. 10 and note.\n Charles Antoine Coypel (1694\u20131752) was Director of the Academy\n from 1747. His Discourses on Art were republished in 1883 by H.\n Jouin (_Conf\u00e9rences de l\u2019Acad\u00e9mie royale de peinture_).\n\n\n ON GENIUS AND ORIGINALITY\n\n 211. _If Raphael, for instance, had only copied_, _etc._ See\n Reynolds\u2019s Twelfth Discourse.\n\n 212. \u2018_Sole sitting_,\u2019 _etc._ Wordsworth, _Poems on the Naming of\n Places_, IV.\n\n \u2018_Beauty, rendered still more beautiful._\u2019 Cf.\n\n \u2018\u2014\u2014And he would gaze till it became\n Far lovelier, and his heart could not sustain\n The beauty, still more beauteous.\u2019\n Wordsworth, _Lines left upon a Seat in a Yew-tree_, 35\u201337.\n\n \u2018_Thrice happy fields_,\u2019 _etc._ Cf. _Paradise Lost_, III.\n 569\u2013570.\n\n 213. \u2018_The tender mercies._\u2019 \u2018The tender mercies of the wicked are\n cruel.\u2019 _Proverbs_ xii. 10.\n\n \u2018_Wandering through dry places_,\u2019 _etc._ Cf. S. _Matthew_ xii.\n 43.\n\n 213. Note. Claude\u2019s _Liber Veritatis_, now in the possession of the\n Duke of Devonshire, is not a collection of original sketches,\n but a record of his pictures with inscriptions showing for whom\n they were painted.\n\n 215. \u2018_Human face divine._\u2019 _Paradise Lost_, III. 44.\n\n\n ON THE IMITATION OF NATURE\n\n 221. \u2018_Blinking Sam._\u2019 See Mrs. Piozzi\u2019s _Anecdotes_, _etc._\n (_Johnsonian Miscellanies_, ed. G. B. Hill, I. 313).\n\n\n ON THE IDEAL\n\n 223. \u2018_Might ascend_,\u2019 _etc._ _Henry V._ Prologue.\n\n 224. \u2018_Obscurity her curtain_,\u2019 _etc._ From a poem _To the Honourable\n and Reverend F. C._ in Dodsley\u2019s _Collection of Poems_, vol.\n VI. (1758), p. 138. The poem (anonymously published) was\n written by Sneyd Davies (1709\u20131769), and was addressed to\n Frederick Cornwallis, afterwards Archbishop of Canterbury. See\n _The Gentleman\u2019s Magazine_, vol. I. p. 174, and Nichols\u2019s\n _Illustrations of the Literary History of the Eighteenth\n Century_, vol. I.\n\n 226. \u2018_Whose end_,\u2019 _etc._ _Hamlet_, Act III. Sc. 2.\n\n 228. _We have heard it observed_, _etc._ By Coleridge, probably. See\n vol. IV. p. 217.\n\n\n CHARLEMAGNE: OU L\u2019\u00c9GLISE D\u00c9LIVR\u00c9E\n\n 230. _The brother of Buonaparte._ Lucien Buonaparte (1775\u20131840),\n Prince of Canino. The present review of his _Charlemagne_,\n _etc._ is signed \u2018W. H.\u2019\n\n 231. _Henriade._ Voltaire\u2019s epic (1723).\n\n\n THE SAME SUBJECT CONTINUED\n\n 235. _The true Florimel_, _etc._ _The Faerie Queene_, III. viii.\n\n 236. _Another epic poem._ _La Cirn\u00e9ide_ (1819).\n\n\n LUCIEN BUONAPARTE\u2019S COLLECTION, ETC.\n\n This article is signed \u2018W. H.\u2019\n\n 237. \u2018_Vile durance._\u2019 Kenrick\u2019s _Falstaff\u2019s Wedding_ (1766), Act I.\n Sc. 2.\n\n \u2018_The mistress or the saint._\u2019 Cf. Goldsmith, _The Traveller_,\n 152.\n\n _Jocunda._ The portrait of Mona Lisa, wife of Francesco del\n Giocondo.\n\n 239. \u2018_Laborious foolery._\u2019 Hazlitt seems to be quoting from himself.\n See his Letter \u2018On Modern Comedy\u2019 (1813), vol. VIII. p. 554.\n\n 240. \u2018_Come, then, the colours_,\u2019 _etc._ Pope, _Moral Essays_, II.\n 17\u201320.\n\n _Watteau._ Antoine Watteau (1684\u20131721).\n\n _Guerin._ Pierre Narcisse Gu\u00e9rin (1774\u20131833). The picture\n referred to is now in the Louvre.\n\n 241. _The Deluge by Girodet._ This picture of Anne Louis Girodet\u2019s\n (1767\u20131824) is in the Louvre.\n\n 242. _Lefebre._ Hazlitt presumably refers to Robert Le F\u00e8vre\u2019s\n (1756\u20131830) portrait of Napoleon now in the Gallery at\n Versailles.\n\n\n BRITISH INSTITUTION\n\nThese three notices of the Exhibition at the British Institution are\nsigned \u2018W. H.\u2019\n\n 243. _C. L. Eastlake._ Charles Lock Eastlake (1793\u20131865), elected\n President of the Royal Academy and knighted in 1850; Director\n of the National Gallery from 1855.\n\n \u2018_Antique Roman._\u2019 _Hamlet_, Act V. Sc. 2.\n\n _A hint from a high quarter._ Hazlitt presumably refers to the\n fact that Canning had not been in office since his quarrel with\n Castlereagh in 1809.\n\n 244. \u2018_A great book is a great evil._\u2019 A saying of Voltaire\u2019s. Cf.\n vol. V. (_Lectures on the English Poets_), p. 114.\n\n \u2018_It is place_,\u2019 _etc._ _Cymbeline_, Act III. Sc. 3.\n\n 245. _G. Hayter._ George (afterwards Sir George) Hayter (1792\u20131871).\n His \u2018Ezra\u2019 gained a prize of \u00a3200.\n\n _Mr. Harlowe\u2019s Hubert and Arthur._ By George Henry Harlow\n (1787\u20131819), a pupil of Sir Thomas Lawrence.\n\n \u2018_Deep scars_,\u2019 _etc._ _Paradise Lost_, I. 601.\n\n _Miss Geddes._ Margaret Sarah Geddes (1793\u20131872), better known as\n Mrs. Carpenter, and a portrait-painter.\n\n _Chalon._ Alfred Edward Chalon (1781\u20131860).\n\n _Burnetts_, _etc._ James M. Burnet (1788\u20131816) and John Burnet\n (1784\u20131868); Anthony Vandyke Copley Fielding (1787\u20131855);\n Thomas Christopher Hofland (1777\u20131843); John Glover\n (1767\u20131849). Both the Nasmyths, Alexander (1758\u20131840) and Peter\n (1787\u20131831), were represented at the Exhibition.\n\n\n THE SAME SUBJECT CONTINUED\n\n 246. _W. Collins._ William Collins (1788\u20131847).\n\n 247. _Bone._ Robert Trewick Bone (1790\u20131840).\n\n _H. Howard._ Henry Howard (1769\u20131847).\n\n _H. Singleton._ Henry Singleton (1766\u20131839).\n\n _P. H. Rogers._ Philip Hutchins Rogers (1794\u20131853).\n\n _J. Wilson._ John Wilson (1774\u20131855).\n\n 248. _The ablest landscape painter_, _etc._ Turner. Cf. vol. I. (_The\n Round Table_), p. 76 note.\n\n\n THE SAME SUBJECT CONTINUED\n\n 248. _B. Barker._ Benjamin Barker (1776\u20131838).\n\n _Ab. Cooper._ Abraham Cooper (1787\u20131868).\n\n _W. Westall._ William Westall (1781\u20131850).\n\n 249. _J. Stark._ James Stark (1794\u20131859).\n\n _P. Dewint._ Peter De Wint (1784\u20131849).\n\n _A. Sauerweide._ Alexander Sauerweid (1782\u20131844).\n\n \u2018_War is a game_,\u2019 _etc._ Cowper, _The Task_, V. 187\u20138.\n\n\n ON MR. WILKIE\u2019S PICTURES\n\nThis essay is signed \u2018W. H.\u2019\n\n 249. _Archbishop Herring\u2019s letters._ Cf. vol. V. (_Lectures on the\n English Poets_), p. 141 and note.\n\n 250. _The highest authority on art._ From this point the rest of the\n essay was incorporated in the Lecture on Hogarth. See vol.\n VIII. pp. 139\u2013141.\n\n 251. \u2018_To shew vice_ [virtue],\u2019 _etc._ _Hamlet_, Act III. Sc. 2.\n\n \u2018_The very error_,\u2019 _etc._ Cf. \u2018It is the very error of the\n moon.\u2019 _Othello_, Act V. Sc. 2.\n\n 252. \u2018_Your lungs begin to crow_,\u2019 _etc._ _As You Like It_, Act II.\n Sc. 7.\n\n\n [CHARACTER OF MR. WORDSWORTH\u2019S NEW POEM, THE EXCURSION]\n\nUnder this heading Hazlitt contributed to _The Examiner_ three papers\nwhich he afterwards partly republished with omissions and variations in\ntwo essays in _The Round Table_. See vol. I. pp. 111\u2013125. These\nomissions and variations are given below.\n\n At the beginning of the first essay as published in _The Round\n Table_ add from the first (August 21, 1814) of _The Examiner_\n articles the following passage:\u2014\n\n \u2018In power of intellect, in lofty conception, in the depth of\n feeling, at once simple and sublime, which pervades every part\n of it and which gives to every object an almost preternatural\n and preterhuman interest, this work has seldom been surpassed.\n If the subject of the Poem had been equal to the genius of the\n Poet, if the skill with which he has chosen his materials had\n accorded with the power exerted over them, if the objects\n (whether persons or things) which he makes use of as the\n vehicle of his feelings had been such as immediately and\n irresistibly to convey them in all their force and depth to\n others, then the production before us would indeed have \u201cproved\n a monument,\u201d as he himself wishes it, worthy of the author and\n of his country. Whether, as it is, this most original and\n powerful performance may not rather remain like one of those\n stupendous but half-finished structures, which have been\n suffered to moulder into decay, because the cost and labour\n attending them exceeded their use or beauty, we feel it would\n be rather presumptuous in us to determine.\u2019\n\n At the end of the first paragraph on p. 112 add the following\n note:\u2014\n\n \u2018Every one wishes to get rid of the booths and bridges in the\n Park,[68] in order to have a view of the ground and water\n again. Our Poet looks at the more lasting and serious works of\n men as baby-houses and toys, and from the greater elevation of\n his mind regards them much in the same light as we do the\n Regent\u2019s Fair and Mr. Vansittart\u2019s \u201cpermanent erections.\u201d\u2019\n\n For \u2018He sees all things in himself\u2019 (p. 112, l. 28) read \u2018He sees\n all things in his own mind; he contemplates effects in their\n causes, and passions in their principles.\u2019\n\n To the words \u2018our very constitution\u2019 (p. 113, l. 8) Hazlitt in\n _The Examiner_ appends, as a note, \u2018\u201cGod knew Adam in the\n elements of his chaos, and saw him in the great obscurity of\n nothing.\u201d _Sir Thomas Browne._\u2019\n\n For \u2018The general and the permanent\u2019 (p. 113, l. 12) read \u2018The\n common and the permanent.\u2019\n\n The words \u2018interlocutions between Lucius and Caius\u2019 (p. 113, l.\n 19) are not between quotation marks in the magazine.\n\n _The Examiner_ for Aug. 28, 1814 contained a second essay on the\n same subject, republished in _The Round Table_, except that the\n opening paragraph was somewhat curtailed. In place of the\n paragraph in _The Round Table_ \u2018We could have wished,\u2019 etc.\n (vol. I. p. 113) read:\u2014\n\n \u2018We could have wished that Mr. Wordsworth had given to his work\n the form of a philosophical poem altogether, with only\n occasional digressions or allusions to particular instances.\n There is in his general sentiments and reflections on human\n life a depth, an originality, a truth, a beauty, and grandeur\n both of conception and expression, which place him decidedly\n at the head of the poets of the present day, or rather which\n place him in a totally distinct class of excellence. But he\n has chosen to encumber himself with a load of narrative and\n description which, instead of assisting, hinders the progress\n and effect of the general reasoning. Almost all this part of\n the work, which Mr. Wordsworth has inwoven with the text,\n would have come in better in plain prose as notes at the end.\n Indeed, there is something evidently inconsistent, upon his\n own principles, in the construction of the poem. For he\n professes, in these ambiguous illustrations, to avoid all\n that is striking or extraordinary\u2014all that can raise the\n imagination or affect the passions\u2014all that is not every way\n common and necessarily included in the natural workings of\n the passions in all minds and in all circumstances. Then why\n introduce particular illustrations at all which add nothing\n to the force of the general truth, which hang as a dead\n weight upon the imagination, which degrade the thought and\n weaken the sentiment, and the connection of which with the\n general principle it is more difficult to find out than to\n understand the general principle itself? It is only by an\n extreme process of abstraction that it is often possible to\n trace the operation of the general law in the particular\n illustration, yet it is to supply the defect of abstraction\n that the illustration is given. Mr. Wordsworth indeed says\n finely, and perhaps as truly as finely,\u2019 etc.\n\n Instead of saying that Wordsworth\u2019s powers of description and\n fancy seem to be little inferior to those of his classical\n predecessor, Akenside (p. 114), Hazlitt, in _The Examiner_,\n made the very different statement that \u2018his powers of\n description and fancy seem to be little inferior to those of\n thought and sentiment.\u2019\n\n To the quotation on page 116, \u2018Poor gentleman,\u2019 etc. Hazlitt\n adds, as a note, \u2018Love in a Wood.\u2019\n\n After the words \u2018any thing but dull\u2019 (p. 116, l. 22) add, from\n _The Examiner_, \u2018_Rasselas_ indeed is dull; but then it is\n privileged dulness.\u2019\n\n After \u2018natural exercise of others\u2019 (p. 117, l. 7) add \u2018The\n intellectual and the moral faculties of man are different; the\n ideas of things and the feelings of pleasure and pain connected\n with them.\u2019 There are a few other trifling verbal alterations\n in this paragraph. The note on the word \u2018solitary\u2019 on p. 117 is\n not in _The Examiner_.\n\n A third essay on the same subject was published in _The Examiner_\n for October 2, 1814. This was reprinted with a few omissions\n and additions in _The Round Table_ (see vol. I. pp. 120\u2013125).\n\n The opening paragraph in _The Round Table_ is condensed from the\n following:\u2014\n\n \u2018Poetry may be properly divided into two classes; the poetry of\n imagination and the poetry of sentiment. The one consists in\n the power of calling up images of the most pleasing or striking\n kind; the other depends on the strength of the interest which\n it excites in given objects. The one may be said to arise out\n of the faculties of memory and invention, conversant with the\n world of external nature; the other from the fund of our moral\n sensibility. In the combination of these different excellences\n the perfection of poetry consists; the greatest poets of our\n own or other countries have been equally distinguished for\n richness of invention and depth of feeling. By the greatest\n poets of our own country, we mean Chaucer, Spenser, Shakespeare\n and Milton, who evidently possessed both kinds of imagination,\n the intellectual and moral, in the highest degree. Young and\n Cowley might be cited as the most brilliant instances of the\n separation of feeling from fancy, of men who were dazzled by\n the exuberance of their own thoughts and whose genius was\n sacrificed to their want of taste. Mr. Wordsworth, on the other\n hand, whose powers of feeling are of the highest order, is\n certainly deficient in fanciful invention: his writings exhibit\n all the internal power, without the external form of poetry. He\n has none of the pomp and decoration and scenic effect of\n poetry: no gorgeous palaces nor solemn temples awe the\n imagination: no cities rise with glistering spires and\n pinnacles adorned[69]: we meet with no knights pricked forth on\n airy steeds: no hair-breadth scapes and perilous accidents[70]\n by flood or field. Either from the predominant habit of his\n mind, not requiring the stimulus of outward impressions, or\n from the want of an imagination teeming with various forms, he\n takes the common every-day events and objects of nature, or\n rather seeks those that are the most simple and barren of\n effect; but he adds to them a weight of interest from the\n resources of his own mind, which makes the most insignificant\n things serious and even formidable. All other interests are\n absorbed in the deeper interest of his own thoughts, and find\n the same level. His mind magnifies the littleness of his\n subject, and raises its meanness; lends it his strength, and\n clothes it with borrowed grandeur. With him a molehill, covered\n with wild thyme, assumes the importance of \u201cthe great vision of\n the guarded mount\u201d[71]: a puddle is filled with preternatural\n faces, and agitated with the fiercest storms of passion; and to\n his mind, as he himself informs us, and as we can easily\n believe,\n\n \u201c\u2014\u2014The meanest flower that blows can give\n Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.\u201d\u2019[72]\n\n After the words \u2018among these northern Arcadians\u2019 (vol. I. p. 121)\n Hazlitt quotes ll. 411\u2013439 of Book V. of _The Excursion_.\n\n The short paragraph on p. 122 reads in _The Examiner_:\u2014\n\n \u2018We think it is pushing our love or admiration of natural\n objects a good deal too far, to make it a set-off against a\n story like the preceding, which carries that concentration\n of self-interest and callousness to the feelings of others\n to its utmost pitch, which is the general character of\n those who are cut off by their mountains and valleys from\n an intercourse with mankind, even more than of the country\n people.\u2019\n\n In _The Examiner_, after the words \u2018the beautiful poem of _Hart\n Leap Well_,\u2019 the essay concludes as follows:\u2014\n\n \u2018We conceive that about as many fine things have passed through\n Mr. Wordsworth\u2019s mind as, with five or six exceptions, through\n any human mind whatever. The conclusion of the passage we refer\n to is admirable, and comes in like some dying close in\n music:\u2014[_The Excursion_, Book VII., ll. 976\u20131007].\n\n \u2018If Mr. Wordsworth does not always write in this manner, it is\n his own fault. He can as often as he pleases. It is not in our\n power to add to, or take away from, the pretensions of a poem\n like the present, but if our opinion or wishes could have any\n weight, we would take our leave of it by saying\u2014_Esto_\n perpetua!\u2019\n\n The first two of these _Examiner_ articles are referred to by\n Lamb in a letter to Wordsworth of Sept. 19, 1814. See\n _Letters_, ed. W. C. Hazlitt, I. 434\u20135. It is significant of\n Hazlitt\u2019s increasing bitterness (caused mainly, no doubt, by\n the final downfall of Napoleon) that the passages omitted from\n _The Round Table_ are for the most part of a highly eulogistic\n character.\n\n\n ON ROCHEFOUCAULT\u2019S MAXIMS\n\nThis paper is signed \u2018W. H.\u2019 in _The Examiner_.\n\n 254. \u2018_The web of our life_,\u2019 _etc._ _All\u2019s Well that Ends Well_, Act\n IV. Sc. 3.\n\n _The Practice of Piety._ See vol. III. (_Political Essays_), note\n to p. 111.\n\n _Grove\u2019s Ethics._ Henry Grove\u2019s (1684\u20131738) _A System of Moral\n Philosophy_ (1749).\n\n _De l\u2019Esprit._ Helv\u00e9tius\u2019s famous book (1758).\n\n Note. _Lines written while sailing in a boat at evening._\n\n 256. \u2018_Make assurance_,\u2019 _etc._ _Macbeth_, Act IV. Sc. 1.\n\n 257. \u2018_Gets the start_,\u2019 _etc._ _Julius C\u00e6sar_, Act I. Sc. 2.\n\n\n ON THE PREDOMINANT PRINCIPLES, ETC.\n\nThis essay, the title of which has been taken from the Index to _The\nExaminer_, is No. IX. of the _Round Table_ series. It was republished in\n_Winterslow_ under the title of \u2018Mind and Motive.\u2019\n\n 259. \u2018_Friends now fast sworn_,\u2019 _etc._ _Coriolanus_, Act IV. Sc. 4.\n\n 260. \u2018_The servile slave._\u2019 _The Faerie Queene_, II. vii. 33.\n\n 261. \u2018_The toys of desperation._\u2019 _Hamlet_, Act I. Sc. 4.\n\n 262. _A fine observation_, _etc._ Aristotle, _Metaphysics_, A I. 980\n a, 21.\n\n\n THE LOVE OF POWER, ETC.\n\nNo. XIII. of the _Round Table_ series, republished in _Winterslow_ along\nwith the former essay as \u2018Mind and Motive.\u2019\n\n 265. \u2018_But for an utmost end_,\u2019 _etc._ Hobbes, _Human Nature_, VII. 5,\n 6 (_Works_, ed. Molesworth, IV. 33).\n\n 266. \u2018_He courted a statue_,\u2019 _etc._ _Don Quixote_, Part I. Book II.\n Chap. 13.\n\n 267. \u2018_Catch glimpses_,\u2019 _etc._ Cf. Wordsworth\u2019s Sonnet, \u2018The world is\n too much with us,\u2019 etc.\n\n \u2018_I also was an Arcadian._\u2019 Cf. vol. VI. (_Table Talk_), p. 27\n and note.\n\n 268. \u2018_Sithence no fairy lights_,\u2019 _etc._ Sneyd Davies, _To the\n Honourable and Reverend F. C._ See _ante_, note to p. 224.\n\n _Happy are they_, _etc._ Hazlitt seems to have been fond of this\n passage. See vol. IV. (_Reply to Malthus_), p. 104, and vol.\n III. (_Political Essays_), note to p. 266.\n\n\n ESSAY ON MANNERS\n\nThis essay, No. XVIII. of the _Round Table_ series, was republished in\n_Winterslow_. Part of it Hazlitt himself used in the essay \u2018On Manner\u2019\nin _The Round Table_. See vol. I. pp. 44\u20137 and notes.\n\n 269. _The Flower and Leaf._ This poem is not now regarded as\n Chaucer\u2019s. Cf. vol. V. (_Lectures on the English Poets_), p. 27\n and note.\n\n 271. \u2018_The painted birds_,\u2019 _etc._ Dryden, _The Flower and the Leaf_,\n _etc._, ll. 46\u201353, 102\u2013152.\n\n 272. _Lord Chesterfield\u2019s character of the Duke of Marlborough_,\n _etc._ The rest of the essay from this point is in vol. I. (see\n pp. 44\u20137 and notes).\n\n\n KEAN\u2019S BAJAZET, ETC.\n\nThis theatrical notice is proved to be Hazlitt\u2019s by the passage (p. 276)\nbeginning \u2018Happy age, when the utmost stretch of a morning\u2019s study,\u2019\netc., which is repeated in the Lecture \u2018On Wycherley, Congreve,\nVanbrugh, and Farquhar.\u2019 See vol. VIII. p. 70. Rowe\u2019s _Tamerlane_ was\nfirst produced in 1702.\n\n 274. _Miss Stephens\u2019s reappearance in Polly._ Cf. vol. VIII. pp.\n 193\u20135.\n\n 275. \u2018_Full of sound_,\u2019 _etc._ _Macbeth_, Act V. Sc. 5.\n\n \u2018_A load to sink a navy._\u2019 _Henry VIII._ Act III. Sc. 2.\n\n _Ambition as the hunger of noble minds._ See _Tamerlane_, Act II.\n Sc. 2.\n\n 276. _The Country Girl._ Produced originally in 1766, an adaptation by\n Garrick of _The Country Wife_ of Wycherley. Cf. vol. VIII. p.\n 76. Mrs. Mardyn, Mrs. Alsop, and the actors here referred to\n are dealt with by Hazlitt in _A View of the English Stage_.\n\n\n DOCTRINE OF PHILOSOPHICAL NECESSITY\n\nThis paper, signed \u2018W,\u2019 is clearly Hazlitt\u2019s. Cf. the Lecture on the\nsame subject, _ante_, pp. 48\u201374. The essay is No. XXVII. of the _Round\nTable_ series.\n\n 277. \u2018_For I had learnt_,\u2019 _etc._ Cf. Wordsworth, _Lines composed a\n few miles above Tintern Abbey_, 95\u2013102.\n\n 278. \u2018_Threshold of Jove\u2019s throne._\u2019 Cf. \u2018Before the starry threshold\n of Jove\u2019s court,\u2019 _Comus_, I.\n\n 279. \u2018_Praise and blame_,\u2019 _etc._ Cf. _ante_, p. 56.\n\n 280. \u2018_A good favour_,\u2019 _etc._ Loosely quoted from _Much Ado About\n Nothing_, Act III. Sc. 3.\n\n 282. _Marvell and his leg of mutton._ Hazlitt refers to the story of\n Danby\u2019s unsuccessful attempt to win over Marvell to the court.\n One version of the story is that in Danby\u2019s presence Marvell\n summoned his servant and said to him, \u2018Pray, what had I for\n dinner yesterday?\u2019 \u2018A shoulder of mutton.\u2019 \u2018And what do you\n allow me to-day?\u2019 \u2018The remainder hashed.\u2019 Marvell then added to\n Danby, \u2018And to-morrow, my lord, I shall have the sweet\n blade-bone broiled.\u2019\n\n \u2018_Allemagne_,\u2019 _etc._ _De l\u2019Allemagne_, Preface.\n\n \u2018_But there is matter_,\u2019 _etc._ Wordsworth, _Hart-Leap Well_,\n 95\u20136.\n\n\n PARALLEL PASSAGES IN VARIOUS POETS\n\nNo. XXVIII. of the Round Table series, and signed \u2018W.\u2019 The long passages\nfrom Voltaire, etc. have been indicated by the first and last line.\n\n 282. _Zaire._ 1732.\n\n 283. \u2018_Soft you_,\u2019 _etc._ _Othello_, Act V. Sc. 2.\n\n \u2018_Vanished_ [melted] _into thin air_.\u2019 _The Tempest_, Act IV. Sc.\n 1.\n\n _Ducis._ Jean Fran\u00e7ois Ducis (1733\u20131816), who adapted some of\n Shakespeare\u2019s plays for the stage.\n\n 283. _\u2018As flat,\u2019 etc._ Cf. \u2018He has crushed his nose, Susannah says, as\n flat as a pancake to his face.\u2019 _Tristram Shandy_, III. 27.\n\n 284. _Potter._ Robert Potter\u2019s (1721\u20131804) translation of \u00c6schylus\n appeared in 1777.\n\n _\u2018When I had gazed,\u2019 etc._ _Poems on the Naming of Places_, II.\n 51 _et seq._\n\n _We have once already attempted, etc._ In three articles in _The\n Examiner_. Cf. _ante_, pp. 572\u20135, and vol. I. (_The Round\n Table_), pp. 111\u2013125.\n\n _\u2018In my former days of bliss,\u2019 etc._ From \u2018The Shepherd\u2019s\n Hunting\u2019 (1615).\n\n\n _THE DUKE D\u2019ENGHIEN_\n\nIn addition to the essays reprinted in the text from _The Examiner_ of\n1815 there are four letters signed \u2018Peter Pickthank\u2019 on the Duke\nD\u2019Enghien, to which reference should be made. These appeared on\nSeptember 24, October 8, November 19, and December 10, and were written\nin reply to a correspondent signing himself \u2018Fair Play.\u2019 The controversy\narose out of an article (September 3) entitled \u2018Chateaubriand, The\nQuack,\u2019 which contained a casual reference to the Duke D\u2019Enghien, \u2018whom\nBuonaparte is accused of having murdered because he was not willing that\nhe, the said Royal Duke, should assassinate him.\u2019 \u2018Fair Play\u2019 seized on\nthis passage and protested (September 10) against the implied defence of\nthe Duke D\u2019Enghien\u2019s execution. \u2018Peter Pickthank\u2019 replied (September\n24), and the correspondence was kept up till near the end of the year,\n\u2018Fair Play\u2019 contributing letters on October 1, October 29, and November\n26. \u2018Peter Pickthank\u2019s\u2019 letters contain many of Hazlitt\u2019s stock\nquotations and personal allusions (to Dr. Stoddart, for example); they\nembody exactly his political opinions, and altogether the internal\nevidence of their having been written by him is very strong. Inasmuch,\nhowever, as there is not absolute certainty in the matter, and a\nconsiderable part of the letters would have been unintelligible without\nincluding \u2018Fair Play\u2019s\u2019 letters as well, the editors have felt justified\nin omitting the whole correspondence. An editorial note at the end of\n\u2018Peter Pickthank\u2019s\u2019 third letter (November 19) states that \u2018this article\nhas been delayed in order to soften some of the asperities.\u2019\n\n\n MR. LOCKE A GREAT PLAGIARIST\n\n No. XXXI. of the Round Table series, and signed \u2018W.H.\u2019\n\n 285. _\u2018The very head,\u2019 etc._ _Othello_, Act I. Sc. 3.\n\n \u2018_A justly exploded_ [decried] _author_.\u2019 See _ante_, p. 167 and\n note.\n\n _Professor Stewart\u2019s very elegant Dissertation._ Prefixed to the\n Supplement to the 4th and 5th editions of the _Encyclop\u00e6dia\n Britannica_ (1816).\n\n 286. _\u2018Fame is no plant,\u2019 etc._ _Lycidas_ 78\u201382.\n\n 287. _\u2018The greatest and as it were radical distinction,\u2019 etc._ Bacon,\n _Aphorisms_, LV.\n\n \u2018_That strain I heard was of a higher mood._\u2019 _Lycidas_, 87.\n\n 288. _What is most remarkable, etc._ This passage on wit will be found\n in an expanded form in _Lectures on the English Comic Writers_.\n See vol. VIII. pp. 18\u201321.\n\n _Three papers, which we propose to write._ These papers do not\n appear to have been written.\n\n 289. \u2018_The laborious fooleries._\u2019 See _ante_, note to p. 239.\n\n 290. _\u2018The tenth transmitter,\u2019 etc._ Cf. \u2018No tenth transmitter of a\n foolish face.\u2019 Savage, _The Bastard_, 8.\n\n \u2018_The mind alone is formative._\u2019 See _ante_, p. 176.\n\n\n [THE SAME SUBJECT CONTINUED]\n\nIn _The Examiner_ for March 3, 1816 appeared the following note:\u2014\u2018A\ncorrespondent who signs himself J.W. thinks we ought to bring proofs of\nMr. Locke\u2019s want of originality as the founder of a system. We recommend\nhim, if he is curious on this subject, to read the first eighty pages of\nHobbes\u2019s _Leviathan_, if the name does not alarm him. After that, if he\nis not satisfied and repeats his request, perhaps we may attend to it.\u2019\nOn March 31 (Round Table No. XXXIV.) Hazlitt brings forward his proofs\nin a long paper which consists chiefly of extracts from Locke, Hobbes\nand other philosophers. The essay begins as follows:\u2014\n\n\u2018We have been required to give proof of Mr. Locke\u2019s want of originality\nas a metaphysical reasoner, and of the claims of Hobbes to be considered\nas the founder of the modern system of the philosophy of the human mind.\n\n\u2018Here then it is. But at the same time we would observe, that we do not\nthink ourselves bound to give this proof to those who have demanded it\n(somewhat impatiently) at our hands. It was sufficient for us to have\nstated our opinion on this subject, and to have referred the curious\nexpressly to the sources from which they might satisfy themselves of the\ntruth or hollowness of our assertion. To our readers in general we owe\nsome apology for alluding to such subjects at all. But to the point.\u2014We\nhave said that the principles of the modern school of metaphysics are\nall to be found, pure, entire, connected, and explicitly stated, in the\nwritings of Hobbes: that Mr. Locke borrowed the leading principle of\nthat philosophy from Hobbes, without understanding or without admitting\nthe system in general, concerning which he always seems to entertain two\nopinions: that succeeding writers have followed up Mr. Locke\u2019s general\nprinciple into its legitimate consequences, and have arrived at exactly\nthe same conclusions as Hobbes, but that being ignorant of the name and\nwritings of Hobbes, they have with one accord and with great injustice\nattributed the merit of the original discovery of that system to Mr.\nLocke, as having made the first start, and having gone further in it\nthan any one else before him.\n\n\u2018The principles of the modern system, of which Mr. Locke is the reputed\nand Mr. Hobbes the real founder, are chiefly the following:\u2014\n\n1. That all our ideas are derived from external objects, by means of the\nsenses alone, and are merely repetitions of our sensible impressions.\n\n2. That as nothing exists out of the mind but matter and motion, so the\nmind itself, with all its operations, is nothing but matter and motion.\n\n3. That thoughts are single, or that we can have only one idea at a\ntime; in other words, that there are no complex ideas in the mind.\n\n4. That we have no general or abstract ideas.\n\n5. That the only principle of connection between one idea and another is\n_association_, or their previous connection in sense.\n\n6. That reason and understanding are resolvable entirely into the\nmechanism of language.\n\n7. and 8. That the sense of pleasure and pain is the sole spring of\naction, and self-interest the source of all our affections.\n\n9. That the mind acts from necessity, and consequently is not a moral or\naccountable agent.\n\n[_The manner of stating and reasoning on this last point, viz. the moral\nand practical consequences of the doctrine of necessity is the only\ncircumstance of importance, in which the modern philosophers differ from\nHobbes._]\n\n10. That there is no such thing as genius, or a difference in the\nnatural capacities or dispositions of men, the mind being originally\nalike passive to all impressions, and becoming whatever it is from\ncircumstances &c., &c.\n\n\u2018That these are the most striking positions of the moderns with respect\nto the human mind, is what every one, familiar with the writers since\nLocke, as Berkeley, Hartley, Hume, Priestley, Horne Tooke, Beddoes,\namong ourselves, and Helvetius, Condillac, Mirabaud, Condorcet &c.,\namong the French, will readily allow: that most of them are to be found\nin the _Essay on Human Understanding_, mixed up in a state of\ninextricable confusion with common-place and common sense notions, now\nadvanced, now retracted, the arguments on one side of the question now\nprevailing through an endless labyrinth of explanation, now those on the\nother, and now both opinions asserted and denied in the same sentence is\nwhat is equally well known to the readers of Locke and his commentators.\nThat the same system came from the mind of Hobbes, not hesitating,\nstammering, puling, drivelling, ricketty, a sickly half birth, to be\nbrought up by hand, to be nursed and dandled into common life and\nexistence, but just the reverse of all this, full grown, completely\nproportioned and articulated, compact, stamped in all its lineaments,\nwith the vigour and decision of the author\u2019s mind, is what we have now\nto shew.\u2019\n\nThe extracts follow, interspersed with brief comments by Hazlitt, and\nthe essay concludes as follows:\u2014\n\n\u2018To what Mr. Hobbes has written on this subject [Liberty and Necessity]\nnothing has been added nor can be taken away. We agree to every word of\nit, and the more heartily, because it is the only one of all the points\nwhich have been stated on which we do. In speaking of the popular\nnotions of liberty, in his controversy with a foolish Bishop of that day\n(Bramhall), he says, \u201cIn fine, that freedom which men commonly find in\nbooks, that which the poets chaunt in the theatres, and the shepherds on\nthe mountains, that which the pastors teach in the churches, and the\ndoctors in the universities, and that which the common people in the\nmarkets, and all mankind in the whole world do assent unto, is the same\nthat I assent unto, namely, that a man hath freedom to do if he will;\nbut whether he hath freedom to will, is a question which it seems\nneither the Bishop nor they ever thought on.\u201d Hobbes was as superior to\nLocke as a writer, as he was as a reasoner. He had great powers both of\nwit and imagination. In short he was a great man, not because he was a\ngreat metaphysician, but he was a great metaphysician because he was a\ngreat man.\n\n\u2018It has been thought, that the neglect into which Hobbes\u2019s metaphysical\nspeculations have fallen was originally owing to the obloquy excited by\nthe irreligious and despotical tendency of his other writings. But in\nthis he has also been unfairly dealt with. Locke borrowed his\nfundamental ideas of government from him; and there is not a word\ndirectly levelled at religion in any of his works. At least, his\naristocratical notions and his want of religion must have, in some\nmeasure, balanced one another; and Charles II. had his picture hanging\nin his bed-room, though the Bishops wished to have him burnt. The true\nreason of the fate which this author\u2019s writings met with was, that his\nviews of things were too original and comprehensive to be immediately\nunderstood, without passing through the hands of several successive\ngenerations of commentators and interpreters. Ignorance of another\u2019s\nmeaning is a sufficient cause of fear, and fear produces hatred: hence\narose the rancour and suspicion of his adversaries, who, to quote some\nfine lines of Spenser,\n\n \u2014\u2014\u2018Stood all astonished like a sort of steers\n \u2019Mongst whom some beast of strange and foreign race\n Unawares is chanced far straying from his peers;\n So did their ghastly gaze betray their hidden fears.\u2019[73]\n\n\n _COLERIDGE\u2019S \u2018CHRISTABEL\u2019_\n\nOn June 2, 1816, _The Examiner_ published a review of Coleridge\u2019s\n_Christabel_, as to the authorship of which there has been some\ndiscussion. See _Notes and Queries_, 9th Ser. XI. pp. 171 and 271. Mr.\nDykes Campbell (_The Poetical Works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge_, p. 606)\nis disposed to attribute the review to Hazlitt. As in the case of the\n_Edinburgh Review_ notice of _Christabel_ (see vol. X. of the present\nedition, pp. 411\u2013418), Hazlitt\u2019s authorship cannot be regarded as\nabsolutely certain. The review is as follows:\u2014\n\n\u2018The fault of Mr. Coleridge is, that he comes to no conclusion. He is a\nman of that universality of genius, that his mind hangs suspended\nbetween poetry and prose, truth and falsehood, and an infinity of other\nthings, and from an excess of capacity, he does little or nothing. Here\nare two unfinished poems, and a fragment. _Christabel_, which has been\nmuch read and admired in manuscript, is now for the first time confided\nto the public. The _Vision of Kubla Khan_ still remains a profound\nsecret; for only a few lines of it ever were written.[74]\n\n\u2018The poem of _Christabel_ sets out in the following manner:\n\n \u201c\u2019Tis the middle of night by the castle clock,\n And the owls have awaken\u2019d the crowing cock;\n Tu\u2014whit! Tu\u2014whoo!\n And hark, again! the crowing cock,\n How drowsily it crew.\n Sir Leoline, the Baron rich,\n Hath a toothless mastiff bitch;\n From her kennel beneath the rock\n She makes answer to the clock,\n Four for the quarters and twelve for the hour;\n Ever and aye, moonshine or shower,\n Sixteen short howls, not over loud;\n Some say, she sees my lady\u2019s shroud.\u201d\n\n\u2018We wonder that Mr. Murray, who has an eye for things, should suffer\nthis \u201cmastiff bitch\u201d to come into his shop. Is she a sort of Cerberus to\nfright away the critics? But\u2014gentlemen, she is toothless.\n\n\u2018There is a dishonesty as well as affectation in all this. The secret of\nthis pretended contempt for the opinion of the public, is that it is a\nsorry subterfuge for our self-love. The poet, uncertain of the\napprobation of his readers, thinks he shews his superiority to it by\nshocking their feelings at the outset, as a clown, who is at a loss how\nto behave himself, begins by affronting the company. This is what is\ncalled _throwing a crust to the critics_. If the beauties of\n_Christabel_ should not be sufficiently admired, Mr. Coleridge may lay\nit all to two lines which he had too much manliness to omit in\ncomplaisance to the bad taste of his contemporaries.\n\n\u2018We the rather wonder at this bold proceeding in the author, as his\ncourage has cooled in the course of the publication, and he has omitted,\nfrom mere delicacy, a line which is absolutely necessary to the\nunderstanding the whole story. The _Lady Christabel_, wandering in the\nforest by moonlight, meets a lady in apparently great distress, to whom\nshe offers her assistance and protection, and takes her home with her to\nher own chamber. This woman,\n\n \u2014\u2014\u201cbeautiful to see,\n Like a lady of a far countree,\u201d\n\nis a witch. Who she is else, what her business is with _Christabel_,\nupon what motives, to what end her sorceries are to work, does not\nappear at present; but this much we know, that she is a witch, and that\n_Christabel\u2019s_ dread of her arises from her discovering this\ncircumstance, which is told in a single line, which line, from an\nexquisite refinement in efficiency,[75] is here omitted. When the\nunknown lady gets to _Christabel\u2019s_ chamber, and is going to undress, it\nis said\u2014\n\n \u201cThen drawing in her breath aloud\n Like one that shuddered, she unbound\n The cincture from beneath her breast:\n Her silken robe and inner vest\n Dropt to her feet, and full in view\n _Behold! her bosom and half her side_\u2014\n A sight to dream of, not to tell!\n And she is to sleep by Christabel!\u201d\n\n\u2018The manuscript runs thus, or nearly thus:\u2014\n\n \u201cBehold her bosom and half her side\u2014\n _Hideous, deformed, and pale of hue_.\u201d\n\n\u2018This line is necessary to make common sense of the first and second\npart. \u201cIt is the keystone that makes up the arch.\u201d[76] For that reason\nMr. Coleridge left it out. Now this is a greater physiological curiosity\nthan even the fragment of _Kubla Khan_.\n\n\u2018In parts of _Christabel_ there is a great deal of beauty, both of\nthought, imagery, and versification; but the effect of the general story\nis dim, obscure, and visionary. It is more like a dream than a reality.\nThe mind, in reading it, is spell-bound. The sorceress seems to act\nwithout power\u2014Christabel to yield without resistance. The faculties are\nthrown into a state of metaphysical suspense and theoretical imbecility.\nThe poet, like the witch in _Spenser_, is evidently\n\n \u201cBusied about some wicked gin.\u201d[77]\n\nBut we do not foresee what he will make of it. There is something\ndisgusting at the bottom of his subject, which is but ill glossed over\nby a veil of Della Cruscan sentiment and fine writing\u2014like moon-beams\nplaying on a charnel-house, or flowers strewed on a dead body. Mr.\nColeridge\u2019s style is essentially superficial, pretty, ornamental, and he\nhas forced it into the service of a story which is petrific. In the\nmidst of moonlight, and fluttering ringlets, and flitting clouds, and\nenchanted echoes, and airy abstractions of all sorts, there is one\ngenuine outburst of humanity, worthy of the author, when no dream\noppresses him, no spell binds him. We give the passage entire:\u2014\u2019\n\n[Here follow ll. 403\u2013430 of _Christabel_, beginning \u2018But when he heard\nthe lady\u2019s tale.\u2019]\n\n\u2018Why does not Mr. Coleridge always write in this manner, that we might\nalways read him? The description of the Dream of Bracy the bard, is also\nvery beautiful and full of power.\n\n\u2018The conclusion of the second part of _Christabel_, about \u201cthe little\nlimber elf,\u201d is to us absolutely incomprehensible. _Kubla Khan_, we\nthink, only shews that Mr. Coleridge can write better _nonsense_ verses\nthan any man in England. It is not a poem, but a musical composition.\n\n \u201cA damsel with a dulcimer\n In a vision once I saw:\n It was an Abyssinian maid,\n And on her dulcimer she play\u2019d,\n Singing of Mount Abora.\u201d\n\n\u2018We could repeat these lines to ourselves not the less often for not\nknowing the meaning of them.\u2019\n\nIn a sketch of Coleridge which appeared in _The Examiner_ for Oct. 21,\n1821, Leigh Hunt quotes the lines from _Kubla Khan_ (\u2018A damsel with a\ndulcimer,\u2019 etc.) and says: \u2018We could repeat such verses ... down a green\nglade, a whole summer\u2019s morning\u2019; but in spite of this and a few other\nverbal similarities, a comparison of the sketch with the review does not\nsupport the theory that the latter was written by Leigh Hunt. Possibly\nhe wrote a few lines here and there, but the review as a whole is far\nmore suggestive of Hazlitt.\n\n\n SHAKESPEAR\u2019S FEMALE CHARACTERS\n\nNo. XLIII. of the _Round Table_ series. It is partly reproduced in\n_Characters of Shakespear\u2019s Plays_. See especially the essays on\n_Cymbeline_ and _Othello_ (vol. I. 179 _et seq._ and 200 _et seq._ and\nnotes).\n\n 290. _Miss Peggy._ See _ante_, p. 276.\n\n 291. \u2018_Calls true love_,\u2019 _etc._ _Romeo and Juliet_, Act III. Sc. 2.\n\n 295. \u2018_Books, dreams_,\u2019 _etc._ _Personal Talk_, ll. 33 _et seq._\n\n _Tate._ Nahum Tate\u2019s _King Lear_ was brought out in 1681.\n\n \u2018_And her heart beats_,\u2019 _etc._ _Troilus and Cressida_, Act III.\n Sc. 2.\n\n 296. \u2018_Sir, the fairest flowers_,\u2019 _etc._ _A Winter\u2019s Tale_, Act IV.\n Sc. 4.\n\n\n _SKETCHES OF THE HISTORY OF THE GOOD OLD TIMES_\n\nThree papers appeared in _The Examiner_ for April 6, April 13, and April\n20, 1817, under the heading of \u2018Sketches of the History of the Good Old\nTimes before the French Revolution, when Kings and Priests did what they\npleased, by the grace of God.\u2019 In these essays a French anti-Bourbon\nbook, the title of which is not given, is made the text for a most\nunflattering review of the characters of a number of kings, from Hugh\nCapet to Louis XVI. The subject would naturally attract Hazlitt, and\nindeed it may be said that the essays are almost certainly his. As,\nhowever, the internal evidence, though very strong, does not prove his\nauthorship to be absolutely certain, it has been thought better not to\ninclude the essays in the present edition.\n\n\n MISS O\u2019NEILL\u2019S WIDOW CHEERLY\n\nThis and the five succeeding theatrical papers from _The Examiner_ of\n1817 have been inserted in the text because the internal evidence seems\nto leave no room for doubt that they were written by Hazlitt. It is\nclear from _A View of the English Stage_ that he was writing theatrical\nnotices for _The Examiner_ during the whole of the period in question\n(Jan.\u2013May, 1817).\n\n 297. _The best actress ... with one great exception_, _etc._ For this\n comparison of Miss O\u2019Neill with Mrs. Siddons, cf. vol. VIII. p.\n 198, and for Miss O\u2019Neill\u2019s failure in comedy, _ibid._ p. 291.\n\n 297. _The Soldier\u2019s Daughter._ By Andrew Cherry, produced in 1804.\n\n 298. \u2018_The insipid levelling morality_,\u2019 _etc._ See Lamb\u2019s footnote to\n Middleton and Rowley\u2019s _A Fair Quarrel_. Hazlitt quotes the\n passage elsewhere.\n\n\n PENELOPE AND THE DANSOMANIE\n\n 299. \u2018_Like to see the unmerited fall_,\u2019 _etc._ Cf. Burke,\n _Reflections on the Revolution in France_ (_Select Works_, ed.\n Payne, II. 164).\n\n 300. _The Gentleman who is understood_, _etc._ William Ayrton\n (1777\u20131858), who was musical director at the King\u2019s Theatre in\n 1817 and again in 1821.\n\n _Of the Dansomanie_, _etc._ A comparison of this passage with a\n reference to the \u2018Dansomanie\u2019 in vol. VIII. p. 437 is\n conclusive as to Hazlitt\u2019s authorship of this notice.\n\n \u2018_Such were the joys_,\u2019 _etc._ Bickerstaffe, _Love in a Village_,\n Act II. Sc. 1.\n\n \u2018_Roll on_,\u2019 _etc._ Ossian, _The Songs of Selma_.\n\n The notice concludes with a long quotation from Colley Cibber,\n introduced by the following paragraph: \u2018As the present season\n may be considered as a sort of revival of the Opera, the\n following particulars of its first introduction into this\n country may not be unacceptable to the reader. They are taken\n from _Colley Cibber\u2019s Memoirs of himself_, p. 316.\u2019\n\n\n OROONOKO\n\nThis tragedy by Thomas Southerne (1660\u20131746) was produced in 1696. See\n_post_, note to p. 303 (on _Imogine_), for conclusive proof of Hazlitt\u2019s\nauthorship of this notice.\n\n 301. _The success of his Richard II._ This passage, though the\n conclusion drawn by Hazlitt is somewhat different, may be\n compared with his notice of Kean\u2019s Richard II. (vol. VIII. p.\n 223).\n\n \u2018_The melting mood._\u2019 _Othello_, Act V. Sc. 2.\n\n 302. \u2018_The devil has not_,\u2019 _etc._ Cf. _Macbeth_, Act V. Sc 3.\n\n 303. _Imogine._ In Maturin\u2019s _Bertram_. Cf. the notice of that play in\n _A View of the English Stage_ (vol. VIII. p. 307). In one of\n Hazlitt\u2019s theatrical papers in _The London Magazine_ (_ibid._\n p. 391), he says of Miss Somerville\u2019s (Mrs. Bunn\u2019s) voice that\n \u2018it resembles the deep murmur of a hive of bees in spring-tide,\n and the words drop like honey from her lips.\u2019\n\n \u2018_The music of her honey-vows._\u2019 Cf. \u2018That suck\u2019d the honey of\n his music vows.\u2019 _Hamlet_, Act III. Sc. 1.\n\n \u2018_He often has beguiled us_,\u2019 _etc._ Cf. _Othello_, Act I. Sc. 3.\n\n _Gray, the poet_, _etc._ See a letter to Horace Walpole,\n September, 1737 (_Letters_, ed. Tovey, i. 8).\n\n\n THE PANNEL AND THE RAVENS\n\nA comparison of this paper with _A View of the English Stage_ and the\nother dramatic essays in vol. VIII., makes it perfectly clear that\nHazlitt is the writer.\n\n 304. _The Pannel._ By John Philip Kemble, produced at Drury Lane in\n 1788.\n\n \u2018_Balsam of fierabras._\u2019 Described by Don Quixote. See _Don\n Quixote_, I. I. 2.\n\n 304. _The howling of the rabble._ The Regent had been attacked on his\n return to St. James\u2019s Palace after opening Parliament on March\n 28, 1817.\n\n _The wax figures at Mrs. Salmon\u2019s._ See _ante_, p. 175.\n\n \u2018_Circe and the Sirens three._\u2019 _Comus_, 253.\n\n _Miss Stephens._ Hazlitt had noticed her first appearance. See\n vol. VIII. p. 192.\n\n _Mr. Fawcett._ John Fawcett (1768\u20131837) was manager of Covent\n Garden theatre.\n\n _Till Miss O\u2019Neill is tired_, _etc._ See vol. VIII. note to p.\n 308.\n\n \u2018_The ravens are hoarse_,\u2019 _etc._ Cf. _Macbeth_, Act I. Sc. 5.\n\n _Toujours perdrix._ See vol. IV. (_The Spirit of The Age_), p.\n 275 and note.\n\n _Mr. Canning._ Cf. _post_, p. 336 note.\n\n _The Ravens_, _etc._ See vol. VIII. note to p. 353.\n\n _The Maid and Magpie_, _etc._ See vol. VIII. pp. 244 and 279.\n\n \u2018_And choughs_,\u2019 _etc._ Cf. _Macbeth_, Act III. Sc. 4.\n\n _The Maid of Palisseau._ _The Magpie, or the Maid of Palaiseau_,\n a version attributed to T. J. Dibdin of _La Pie Voleuse_,\n produced at Dury Lane, Sept. 12, 1815.\n\n _Reminded us of her mother\u2019s._ Mrs. Alsop was daughter of Mrs.\n Jordan.\n\n\n JOHN GILPIN\n\n 305. \u2018_And when he next_,\u2019 _etc._ _John Gilpin_, St. 63.\n\n 306. \u2018_The turnpike men_,\u2019 _etc. Ibid._ St. 29 and 30.\n\n \u2018_First, last, and midst._\u2019 Cf. _Paradise Lost_, V. 165. Quoted\n by Hazlitt more than once.\n\n \u2018_That ligament_,\u2019 _etc._ Hazlitt elsewhere quotes this passage\n from _Tristram Shandy_ (Book VI. Chap. 10).\n\n 307. _Mrs. Hill._ \u2018From Belfast,\u2019 her first appearance.\n\n\n DON GIOVANNI AND KEAN\u2019S EUSTACE DE ST. PIERRE\n\nWith this notice compare Hazlitt\u2019s article on _Don Juan_ in _A View of\nthe English Stage_, vol. VIII. pp. 362\u2013366.\n\n 307. _Spenser\u2019s description of Belphebe._ In his former notice Hazlitt\n had compared Madame Fodor with Spenser\u2019s Belphebe. See vol.\n VIII. p. 364 and note.\n\n 308. _The Surrender of Calais._ By George Colman, Junior, originally\n produced at the Haymarket in 1791, and described by Genest as\n \u2018a jumble of Tragedy, Comedy, and Opera.\u2019\n\n \u2018_A clout upon that head_,\u2019 _etc._ _Hamlet_, Act. II. Sc. 2.\n\n \u2018_Though we have seen this_,\u2019 _etc. Ibid._\n\n \u2018_Thunder, nothing but thunder._\u2019 _Measure for Measure_, Act II.\n Sc. 2.\n\n _A new character_, _etc._ Achmet in _Barbarossa_. See vol. VIII.\n p. 372.\n\n\n CHARACTER OF THE COUNTRY PEOPLE\n\nThe internal evidence of Hazlitt\u2019s authorship of this paper is\noverwhelmingly strong. Some of the main points are referred to in the\nfollowing notes. The essay was probably written at Winterslow.\n\n 309. \u2018_Here be truths._\u2019 This is a saying, not of Dogberry, but of\n Pompey, in _Measure for Measure_, Act II. Sc. 1.\n\n 309. \u2018_Mountain foreigner._\u2019 _The Merry Wives of Windsor_, Act I. Sc.\n 1.\n\n \u2018_Retired from public haunts._\u2019 Cf. \u2018This our life exempt from\n public haunt,\u2019 etc. _As You Like It_, Act II. Sc. 1.\n\n _Lord Foppington._ In Vanbrugh\u2019s _The Relapse_.\n\n _A philosophical poet_, _etc._ Coleridge, probably.\n\n \u2018_Pelting villages._\u2019 _King Lear_, Act II. Sc. 3.\n\n \u2018_A crew of patches_,\u2019 _etc._ _A Midsummer\u2019s Night\u2019s Dream_, Act\n III. Sc. 2.\n\n _P\u2014tt\u2014n._ Probably Pitton, a small village near Winterslow.\n\n _My friend C\u2014\u2014 L\u2014\u2014._ Lamb, no doubt, who went with Hazlitt from\n Winterslow to Oxford in August, 1810. Cf. vol. VI. (_Table\n Talk_), p. 188.\n\n \u2018_Fearing no colours._\u2019 _Twelfth Night_, Act I. Sc. 5.\n\n 310. _They are fer\u00e6 natur\u00e6_, _etc._ Cf. a sentence in vol. I. (_The\n Round Table_), p. 124: \u2018They [country people] are taken out of\n a state of nature, without being put in possession of the\n refinements of art.\u2019\n\n 311. \u2018_Be trampled in the mire_,\u2019 _etc._ A favourite quotation of\n Hazlitt\u2019s from Burke, _Reflections on the Revolution in France_\n (_Select Works_, ed. Payne, II. 93).\n\n _A mischievous wag_, _etc._ Perhaps Lamb\u2019s schoolfellow, Bobbie\n Allen, who visited Scotland and the Lakes with Dr. Stoddart in\n 1802. Lamb describes him in \u2018Christ\u2019s Hospital Five and Thirty\n Years Ago.\u2019 See also Lamb\u2019s _Letters_ (ed. Ainger), I. 188.\n\n \u2018_The spinsters_,\u2019 _etc._ _Twelfth Night_, Act II. Sc. 4.\n\n \u2018_May I not take mine ease at mine inn?_\u2019 _1 Henry IV._, Act III.\n Sc. 3.\n\n _A few odd volumes of old plays and novels._ It is known that\n Hazlitt was at the Hut at Winterslow during the summer and\n autumn of 1819, and that he had taken with him some volumes of\n the old dramatists in order to prepare for the course of\n lectures \u2018On the Dramatic Literature of the Age of Elizabeth,\u2019\n delivered in the following year. See Barry Cornwall\u2019s\n _Autobiographical Fragment_.\n\n \u2018_Fleet the golden time_,\u2019 _etc._ Cf. _As You Like It_, Act I.\n Sc. 1.\n\n Note 1. Salisbury is only six miles from Winterslow.\n\n 312. \u2018_Giving to airy nothing_,\u2019 _etc._ _A Midsummer Night\u2019s Dream_,\n Act V. Sc. 1.\n\n _To elevate and surprise._ Frequently quoted by Hazlitt from the\n Duke of Buckingham\u2019s _The Rehearsal_, Act I. Sc. 1.\n\n \u2018_But I told him_,\u2019 _etc._ _Henry V._, Act II. Sc. 3.\n\n 313. \u2018_Sufficient to the day_,\u2019 _etc._ _S. Matthew_, vi. 34.\n\n \u2018_\u2019Twould thin the land_,\u2019 _etc._ _The Beggar\u2019s Opera_, Act III.\n Sc. 4.\n\n 314. \u2018_Anon as patient_,\u2019 _etc._ Cf. _Hamlet_, Act V. Sc. 1.\n\n\n MR. MACREADY\u2019S MACBETH\n\nMacready played Macbeth for the first time on June 9, 1820. Cf. this\nwith the notice of Kean\u2019s Macbeth (vol. VIII. p. 204).\n\n 315. \u2018_Air-drawn dagger_,\u2019 _etc._ _Macbeth_, Act III. Sc. 4.\n\n \u2018_Thick-coming fancies._\u2019 _Ibid._ Act V. Sc. 3.\n\n \u2018_Docked and curtailed._\u2019 Cf. \u2018We know that they [bishops] hate\n to be dockt and clipt.\u2019 Milton, _Reformation in England_, I.\n\n \u2018_Twa lang Scotch miles._\u2019 Cf. \u2018We think na on the lang Scots\n miles.\u2019 _Tam O\u2019Shanter_, 7.\n\n \u2018_Oh Hell-kite, all?_\u2019 _Macbeth_, Act IV. Sc. 3.\n\n _David Rizzio._ See vol. VIII. p. 459.\n\n 315. _The Lord of the Manor._ A comic opera by General John Burgoyne\n (1722\u20131792), produced in 1780.\n\n _The Libertine._ An opera attributed to Isaac Pocock, produced in\n 1817. See vol. VIII. p. 370.\n\n _Mr. Contrast._ In _The Lord of the Manor_.\n\n \u2018_A speaking face._\u2019 Hazlitt was perhaps thinking of the lines in\n _Bombastes Furioso_ (Sc. 1):\n\n \u2018\u2014\u2014Fusbos, give place,\n You know you haven\u2019t got a singing face.\u2019\n\n _Moll Flagon._ In _The Lord of the Manor_.\n\n \u2018_Let those laugh_,\u2019 _etc._ Cf.\n\n \u2018Let those love now, who never lov\u2019d before;\n Let those who always lov\u2019d, now love the more.\u2019\n Parnell, Catullus, _The Vigil of Venus_.\n\n 317. _Mrs. Salmon._ Eliza Salmon (1787\u20131849), a well-known concert and\n oratorio singer. The references in this paragraph to Miss\n Stephens and the quotations are conclusive evidence of\n Hazlitt\u2019s authorship of the notice.\n\n _D\u2019une path\u00e9tique_, _etc._ Rousseau, _Confessions_, Liv. I.\n\n \u2018_Thoughts of which_,\u2019 _etc._ Cf. \u2018Yet loss of thee would never\n from my heart,\u2019 _Paradise Lost_, IX. 912.\n\n \u2018_With other notes_,\u2019 _etc._ _Paradise Lost_, III. 17.\n\n _The voice of Liberty_, _etc._ The Revolution in Spain had broken\n out early in 1820, and on March 10 King Ferdinand had\n proclaimed the Liberal Constitution of 1812.\n\n \u2018_Had three ears again._\u2019 Cf. \u2018Had I three ears, I\u2019d hear thee.\u2019\n _Macbeth_, Act IV. Sc. 1.\n\n \u2018_Know the return of spring._\u2019 _The Beggar\u2019s Opera_, Act II. Sc.\n 1.\n\n\n GUY FAUX\n\nSee vol. IV. (_The Spirit of the Age_), p. 365 and note, and the essay\n\u2018On Persons One Would Wish to Have Seen\u2019 (republished in vol. XII. of\nthe present edition), from which it appears that the subject was\nsuggested to Hazlitt by Lamb. Lamb himself wrote an essay (not\nrepublished by him) on the same subject in _The London Magazine_ for\nNovember 1823. This essay, in which a chaffing reference is made to\nHazlitt\u2019s three papers, was partly founded on an earlier essay \u2018On the\nProbable Effects of the Gunpowder Treason,\u2019 published in _The\nReflector_, 1811. See _The Works of Charles and Mary Lamb_, ed. E. V.\nLucas, I. 236 and notes.\n\n 317. _Mr. Hogg\u2019s Jacobite Relics._ Published in 2 vols. in 1819. In\n the Introduction Hogg says, \u2018And now, when the horrors of the\n Catholic religion have ceased to oppress the minds of men,\n there is but one way of thinking on the rights of the Stuarts\n throughout the realm.\u2019\n\n _A Popish Priest._ Guy Fawkes (1570\u20131606) was not a priest.\n\n 318. _Which Mr. Hogg treats_, _etc._ Hazlitt seems to be referring to\n the general sense of the Introduction to _The Jacobite Relics_.\n\n \u2018_The best of cut-throats._\u2019 _Macbeth_, Act III. Sc. 4.\n\n 319. _Regulus._ The stories of the self-sacrifice of Regulus and of\n Codrus, the last King of Athens, are familiar.\n\n 320. \u2018_The compunctious visitings of nature._\u2019 _Macbeth_, Act I. Sc.\n 5.\n\n \u2018_The spirit is willing_,\u2019 _etc._ _S. Matthew_ xxvi. 41.\n\n 320. _The keys of the House of Commons_, _etc._ The allusion is to a\n passage in John Cam Hobhouse\u2019s pamphlet, _A Trifling Mistake_,\n for which as a breach of privilege he was committed to Newgate\n in 1819.\n\n _Margaret Lambrun._ This story is told as a \u2018popular historical\n tradition\u2019 by Miss Strickland in her _Lives of the Queens of\n England_.\n\n 321. _Sandt._ Karl Ludwig Sand (1795\u20131820), who had assassinated\n Kotzebue the dramatist (March 23, 1819).\n\n \u2018_Well done_,\u2019 _etc._ _S. Matthew_, xxv. 21.\n\n \u2018_No dim doubts alloy._\u2019 Lamb, Lines _On the Celebrated Picture\n by Lionardo da Vinci, called the Virgin of the Rocks_.\n\n \u2018_Quiring_,\u2019 _etc._ _The Merchant of Venice_, Act V. Sc. 1.\n\n 322. \u2018_This night_,\u2019 _etc._ Cf. _S. Luke_ xxiii. 43.\n\n \u2018_Dross compared_,\u2019 _etc._ Cf. _Romans_ viii. 18.\n\n \u2018_Disembowelled_,\u2019 _etc._ Burke, _Reflections on the Revolution\n in France_ (_Select Works_, ed. Payne, II. 101).\n\n _The Constitutional Association._ See vol. VI. (_Table Talk_),\n note to p. 190.\n\n _The concealed Editor of Blackwood\u2019s Magazine._ This question of\n the editorship of _Blackwood_ had recently (Feb. 16, 1821) led\n to the fatal duel between John Scott and Lockhart\u2019s friend,\n Christie.\n\n\n THE SAME SUBJECT CONTINUED\n\n 323. \u2018_The infinite agitation of wit._\u2019 Bacon, _Advancement of\n Learning_, Book I. iv. 5.\n\n \u2018_The soul of goodness_,\u2019 _Henry V._, Act IV. Sc. 1.\n\n 324. \u2018_According to knowledge_,\u2019 _Romans_ x. 2.\n\n \u2018_A consummation_,\u2019 _etc._ _Hamlet_, Act III. Sc. 1.\n\n \u2018_A king is but a king_ [man],\u2019 _etc._ _Reflections on the\n Revolution in France_ (_Select Works_, ed. Payne, II. 90).\n\n \u2018_As the vine_,\u2019 _etc._ _Paradise Lost_, IV. 307.\n\n 325. \u2018_Through the airy region_,\u2019 _etc._ _Romeo and Juliet_, Act II.\n Sc. 2.\n\n 326. Note. \u2018_As men should serve a cucumber_,\u2019 _etc._ _The Beggar\u2019s\n Opera_, Act I. Sc. 1.\n\n 327. \u2018_Bears a charmed life._\u2019 _Macbeth_, Act V. Sc. 8.\n\n \u2018_All mortal consequences._\u2019 _Ibid._ Act V. Sc. 3.\n\n \u2018_Set duty in one eye_,\u2019 _etc._ _Julius C\u00e6sar_, Act I. Sc. 2.\n\n \u2018_Set but a Scotsman_,\u2019 _etc._ Burns, _The Author\u2019s Earnest Cry\n and Prayer_, _etc._, Postscript.\n\n \u2018_Happy warrior._\u2019 See Wordsworth\u2019s _Character of a Happy\n Warrior_ (1807).\n\n\n THE SAME SUBJECT CONCLUDED\n\n 328. _The Cid._ Southey\u2019s translation of the _Chronicle of the Cid_\n was published in 1808.\n\n 332. _Mr. Kean._ An American lion was presented to Kean by Sir Edward\n Tucker. Barry Cornwall (_Life of Edmund Kean_, II. 135) says\n that \u2018it amused the tragedian (who was fond of simple\n pleasures) to allure his acquaintance into the room, and set\n them face to face with the beast.\u2019\n\n \u2018_Masterless passion_,\u2019 _etc._ Cf. _The Merchant of Venice_, Act\n IV. Sc. 1.\n\n \u2018_The shot of accident_,\u2019 _etc._ _Othello_, Act IV. Sc. 1.\n\n 333. _Like Hotspur._ _1 Henry IV._, Act II. Sc. 4.\n\n _Regnault de St. Jean Angely._ Michel Louis \u00c9tienne, Comte\n Regnaud de Saint Jean D\u2019Angely (1762\u20131819), a well-known\n politician of the Revolution and under Buonaparte. The\n reference seems to be to his conduct in 1814 when in command of\n the National Guard at Paris.\n\n 333. \u2018_Be mine to read_,\u2019 _etc._ Gray, Letter to West (_Letters_, ed.\n Tovey, I. 97).\n\n \u2018_From worldly care_,\u2019 _etc._ _The Faerie Queene_, I. IV. 20.\n\n\n CHARACTER OF MR. CANNING\n\nThis essay was included in the Paris edition (1825) and subsequent\neditions of _The Spirit of the Age_. See vol. IV. p. 186.\n\n 334. \u2018_The child_,\u2019 _etc._ Wordsworth, \u2018My heart leaps up,\u2019 etc.\n\n \u2018_Like as the sun-burnt Indians_,\u2019 _etc._ _The Faerie Queene_,\n III. XII. 8.\n\n 336. \u2018_Like the morn_,\u2019 _etc._ _Paradise Lost_, V. 310\u2013311.\n\n \u2018_Scylla heard_,\u2019 _etc._ Cf. _Comus_, 257\u2013259.\n\n \u2018_The nation\u2019s Great Divan._\u2019 Cf. \u2018August divan of the British\n Senate.\u2019 H. Walpole, Letters (1857), IV. 130.\n\n 337. _Reply to Sir John Coxe Hippesley._ On March 11, 1813.\n _Speeches_, ed. Therry, III. 396.\n\n 338. \u2018_The worse the better reason._\u2019 _Paradise Lost_, II. 113\u20134.\n\n \u2018_That makes these odds all even._\u2019 _Measure for Measure_, Act\n III. Sc. 1.\n\n \u2018_He aggravates_,\u2019 _etc._ _A Midsummer Night\u2019s Dream_, Act I. Sc.\n 2.\n\n \u2018_Quite chopfallen._\u2019 Cf. _Hamlet_, Act V. Sc. 1.\n\n 339. \u2018_The inimitable satire of Cervantes._\u2019 See Canning\u2019s Plymouth\n speech, October 1823.\n\n 340. \u2018_Pluck out the heart_,\u2019 _etc._ _Hamlet_, Act III. Sc. 2.\n\n \u2018_The deliverance of mankind._\u2019 Cf. Southey, _Carmen Triumphale_.\n\n \u2018_Of his port_,\u2019 _etc._ Chaucer, _The Canterbury Tales_,\n Prologue, 69.\n\n \u2018_Freezes his spirits up_,\u2019 _etc._ Cf. _2 Henry IV._, Act I. Sc.\n 1.\n\n 341. _Described so well_, _etc._ In his speech on receiving the\n freedom of Plymouth, October 1823.\n\n \u2018_The golden round_,\u2019 _etc._ Cf. _Richard II._, Act III. Sc. 2.\n\n \u2018_And to call evil good_,\u2019 etc. _Isaiah_ v. 20.\n\n \u2018_Revered and ruptured Ogden._\u2019 For this famous phrase, used\n during the debates on the Indemnity Bill, 1818, see _Hansard_,\n XXXVII. 1026, and Stapleton\u2019s _Political Life of Canning_, I.\n 86.\n\n _Rejected Addresses._ By James and Horace Smith, published in\n 1812.\n\n \u2018_Poetry of the Anti-Jacobin._\u2019 Republished (1801) from _The\n Anti-Jacobin_.\n\n 342. \u2018_To turn what is serious_,\u2019 _etc._ Cf. \u2018What should be great,\n you turn to farce.\u2019 Prior, _The Ladle_, 139.\n\n Note. See _The Three Trials of William Hone_ (1818, First Trial,\n pp. 38\u20139), where a verse of Jekyll\u2019s parody is quoted from _The\n Spirit of the Journals_.\n\n Note. \u2018_A wit\u2019s a feather_,\u2019 _etc._ Pope, _An Essay on Man_, IV.\n 247\u20138.\n\n\n THE DANDY SCHOOL\n\nThis essay, now republished for the first time, is attributed to Hazlitt\nby Mr. W. C. Hazlitt (_Memoirs_, _etc._, I. xxix) and by Ireland (_List\nof the Writings of William Hazlitt and Leigh Hunt_, p. 76). The MS., in\nHazlitt\u2019s hand-writing, is still in existence.\n\n 343. _Vivian Grey._ Disraeli\u2019s first novel, published 1826\u20137. The\n dedication was as follows: \u2018To the best and greatest of men I\n dedicate these volumes. He, for whom it is intended, will\n accept and appreciate the compliment: those, for whom it is not\n intended, will\u2014do the same.\u2019\n\n 344. _Long\u2019s._ A well-known hotel in Bond Street.\n\n _Almack\u2019s._ Assembly Rooms (now known as \u2018Willis\u2019s Rooms\u2019), in\n King Street, St. James\u2019s.\n\n _Mr. Martin\u2019s bill_, _etc._ Richard Martin\u2019s (1754\u20131834) efforts\n on behalf of animals were bitterly opposed on all sides.\n\n _Mr. Croker_, _etc._ \u2018The Dulwich collection ... was quite as\n distant as Russell Square, though he did not profess to know\n exactly where Russell Square was.\u2019 March 28, 1825. _Hansard_,\n New Series, XII. 1266.\n\n 345. _Sir Sedley Clarendels_, _etc._ In _Camilla_.\n\n _Meadowses._ In _The Wanderer_.\n\n 346. \u2018_The Court_,\u2019 _etc._ Cf. _A Midsummer Night\u2019s Dream_, Act III.\n Sc. 2.\n\n _Sayings and Doings._ The first series appeared in 1824, the\n second in 1825 and the third in 1828.\n\n 348. _Mr. Vivacity Dull._ A character in _Vivian Grey_, said to\n represent Horace Twiss.\n\n\n ACTORS AND THE PUBLIC\n\nThis and the eleven following papers from _The Examiner_ of 1828 have\nbeen included in the text mainly on account of the strong internal\nevidence they bear of Hazlitt\u2019s authorship. One of the papers is signed\n\u2018W. H.,\u2019 the rest are unsigned. During the period covered by these\nessays other _Theatrical Examiners_ appeared, signed \u2018X\u2019 or \u2018Q.\u2019 So far\nas the editors are aware, it has not been hitherto known that Hazlitt\nresumed regular theatrical criticism so late as 1828, but they feel that\nno reasonable doubt can exist with regard to his authorship of these\ntwelve essays.\n\n 349. _Bate Dudley._ Sir Henry Bate Dudley (1745\u20131824), the notorious\n clergyman and journalist discussed by Johnson and Boswell\n (_Life_, ed. G. B. Hill, IV. 296). He was for a time editor of\n _The Morning Post_.\n\n \u2018_Fall into misfortune._\u2019 Cf. _post_, note to p. 533.\n\n \u2018_To tatters_,\u2019 _etc._ _Hamlet_, Act III. Sc. 2.\n\n 350. _Who has praised Sir Walter_, _etc._ The failure of Constable and\n of Ballantyne and Co., involving Scott\u2019s financial ruin, had\n occurred in 1826.\n\n _A vulgar crim. con._ In January 1825, a verdict of \u00a3800 was\n given against Kean in an action, Cox v. Kean, for criminal\n conversation. In consequence of this he was for a time \u2018hooted\n from the stage.\u2019\n\n \u2018_The spells_,\u2019 _etc._ Cf. _Othello_, Act I. Sc. 3.\n\n _If an actor is indeed six feet high_, _etc._ Hazlitt probably\n refers to Conway. See vol. VIII. p. 200, and _post_, p. 361.\n\n 351. \u2018_The fiery soul_,\u2019 _etc._ Dryden _Absalom and Achitophel_,\n 156\u20138.\n\n \u2018_The envy_,\u2019 _etc._ _Richard II._, Act II. Sc. 1.\n\n _Madame Catalani._ Angelica Catalani had retired from the stage\n in 1827.\n\n _It was some time since we had seen Mr. Kean\u2019s Shylock_, _etc._\n This paragraph makes Hazlitt\u2019s authorship of this _Theatrical\n Examiner_ quite certain. Cf. vol. VIII. p. 179.\n\n\n FRENCH PLAYS\n\n 352. _Monsieur Perlet._ Adrien Perlet (1795\u20131850), a well-known French\n comedian, who had made his first appearance in 1814.\n\n \u2018_Upturned eyes_,\u2019 _etc._ Cf. _Romeo and Juliet_, Act II. Sc. 2.\n\n 352. _Madame Pasta._ Cf. vol. VII. (_The Plain Speaker_), pp. 324 _et\n seq._\n\n \u2018_A friend of ours_,\u2019 _etc._ See Patmore\u2019s _My Friends and\n Acquaintance_ (vol. III. pp. 32\u20135). According to Patmore, the\n following passage was intended by Hazlitt to form part of the\n _Conversations with Northcote_ in _The New Monthly Magazine_,\n but was suppressed by the editor:\u2014\n\n \u2018He then asked me if I had seen anything of H\u2014\u2014?[78] I said, yes;\n and that he had vexed me; for I had shown him some fine heads\n from the Cartoons, done about a hundred years ago (which\n appeared to me to prove that since that period those noble\n remains have fallen into a state of considerable decay), and\n when I went out of the room for a moment, I found the prints\n thrown carelessly on the table, and that he had got out a\n volume of Tasso, which he was spouting, as I supposed, to let\n me understand that I knew nothing of art, and that he knew a\n great deal about poetry.\n\n \u2018I said I never heard him speak with enthusiasm of any painter\n or work of merit, nor show any love of art, except as a\n puffing-machine for him to get up into to blow a trumpet in\n his own praise. Instead of falling down and worshipping such\n names as Raphael and Michael Angelo, he is only considering\n how he may, by storm or stratagem, place himself beside them,\n on the loftiest seats of Parnassus, as ignorant country\n squires affect to sit with judges on the bench. He told me he\n had had a letter from Wilkie, dated Rome, with three marks of\n admiration, and that he had dated his answer \u201cBabylon the\n Great,\u201d with four marks of admiration. Stuff! Why must he\n always \u201cout-Herod Herod?\u201d[79] Why must the place where he is\n always have one note of admiration more than any other? He\n gave as his reasons, indeed, our river, our bridges, the\n Cartoons, and the Elgin Marbles\u2014the two last of which,\n however, are not our own. H. should have been the boatswain\n of a man-of-war: he has no other ideas of glory than those\n which belong to a naval victory, or to vulgar noise and\n insolence; not at all as something in which the whole world\n may participate alike. I hate \u201cthis stamp exclusive and\n professional.\u201d[80] He added that Wilkie gave a poor account\n of Rome, and seemed, on the whole, disappointed. He (Haydon)\n should not be disappointed when he went, for his expectations\n were but moderate. \u201cAy,\u201d said Northcote, \u201cthat is like the\n speech of a little, crooked, conceited painter of the name of\n Edwards, who went to Italy with Romney and Humphreys, and\n when they looked round the Vatican, he turned round to Romney\n and said, \u2018Egad, George, we\u2019re bit.\u2019\u201d\n\n \u2018I said that when I heard stories of this kind, of even clever\n men who seemed to have no idea or to take no interest except in\n what they themselves could do, it almost inclined me to be of\n Peter Pindar\u2019s opinion, who pretended to prefer taste to\n genius: \u201cGive me,\u201d said he, \u201cone man of taste, and I will find\n you twenty men of genius.\u201d N. replied, \u201cIt is a pity you should\n be of that opinion, for all your acquaintances are great\n geniuses; and yet, I fancy, they have no admiration for anybody\n but themselves.\u2019\u201d\n\n 352. _Sir William Curtis\u2019s._ Sir William Curtis (1752\u20131829), Lord\n Mayor of London (1795) and for long M.P. for the City.\n\n 353. \u2018_Our Cupid_,\u2019 _etc._ Cf. The Earl of Dorset\u2019s song, _Dorinda_.\n\n 354. _The age of Louis XIV._, _etc._ Cf. a passage in vol. IX. (_Notes\n of a Journey_, _etc._), p. 150.\n\n 354. \u2018_New manners_,\u2019 _etc._ Thomas Warton, Sonnet \u2018Written in a Blank\n Leaf of Dugdale\u2019s Monasticon.\u2019\n\n 355. \u2018_Unmixed with baser matter._\u2019 _Hamlet_, Act I. Sc. 5.\n\n _A certain happy-spirited writer._ Leigh Hunt, no doubt, whose\n recently published _Lord Byron and Some of his Contemporaries_\n had created some sensation.\n\n\n FRENCH PLAYS (_continued_)\n\nThis article in _The Examiner_ begins with a long editorial passage\nwritten in a chaffing spirit and praising the former notice of the\nFrench Plays.\n\n 356. \u2018_That soul of pleasure_,\u2019 _etc._ Cf. Pope, _Moral Essays_, III.\n 306.\n\n 357. l. 15. _Ariste._ This should be Val\u00e8re.\n\n 358. _There is a credulous and unqualified assent_, _etc._ Cf. a\n passage in vol. VIII. (_English Comic Writers_), p. 29, where\n almost the same words are used.\n\n \u2018_To the woods_,\u2019 _etc._ Quoted elsewhere by Hazlitt.\n\n\n THE THEATRES AND PASSION WEEK\n\nThis paper is signed \u2018W. H.\u2019\n\n 358. \u2018_Because thou art virtuous_,\u2019 _etc._ _Twelfth Night_, Act II.\n Sc. 3.\n\n 359. \u2018_Seizing_ [tear] _their pleasures_,\u2019 _etc._ Marvell, _To his Coy\n Mistress_.\n\n 360. _Ranting Croly._ The Rev. George Croly (1780\u20131860), a contributor\n to _Blackwood\u2019s Magazine_, and to Jerdan\u2019s _Literary Gazette_.\n\n \u2018_Stretched upon the rack_,\u2019 _etc._ Cf.\n\n \u2018Than on the torture of the mind to lie\n In restless ecstasy.\u2019 _Macbeth_, Act III. Sc. 2.\n\n \u2018_All the natural ills_ [shocks], _etc._ _Hamlet_, Act III. Sc.\n 1.\n\n \u2018_To jest_,\u2019 _etc._ _Love\u2019s Labour\u2019s Lost_, Act V. Sc. 2.\n\n 361. \u2018_What is set down for them._\u2019 _Hamlet_, Act III. Sc. 2.\n\n\n CHARLES KEAN\n\n 362. _Young Mr. Kean._ Charles John Kean (1811?\u20131868), second son of\n Edmund Kean. He had made his first appearance at the opening of\n the Drury Lane season, October 1, 1827.\n\n _Lovers\u2019 Vows._ Mrs. Inchbald\u2019s adaptation from Kotzebue (1798).\n\n _The Marquis of Douro._ Arthur Richard (1807\u20131884), eldest son of\n the Duke of Wellington, afterwards second Duke.\n\n 363. _We do not presume_, _etc._ This adaptation of a passage from\n Burke\u2019s _A Letter to a Noble Lord_ (_Works_, Bohn, V. 114) is\n quoted elsewhere by Hazlitt.\n\n _The Dumb Savoyard._ By Thompson, acted thirty-eight times.\n\n 364. _Mrs. W. West._ Mrs. W. West (1790\u20131876) who first appeared (as\n Miss Cooke) in London in 1812. She married William West in\n 1815.\n\n _Meggy Macgilpin._ Maggy Macgilpin in O\u2019Keeffe\u2019s _Highland Reel_\n (1788).\n\n _Keeley._ Robert Keeley (1793\u20131869). His height was five feet two\n inches.\n\n 365. \u2018_A man made after supper_,\u2019 _etc._ _2 Henry IV._, Act III. Sc.\n 2.\n\n \u2018_Vice to be hated_,\u2019 _etc._ Cf. Pope, _Essay on Man_, II.\n 217\u201318.\n\n 366. _Ecole des Veillards._ By Casimir Delavigne (1823).\n\n\n SOME OF THE OLD ACTORS\n\nThis notice is full of favourite quotations and of sentiments which\nHazlitt had expressed elsewhere. See specially the Dramatic Essays in\nvol. VIII.\n\n 366. \u2018_Warbles_,\u2019 _etc._ _L\u2019 Allegro_, 134.\n\n \u2018_Fierce extremes._\u2019 _Paradise Lost_, II. 599.\n\n _The Invincibles._ A musical farce, acted 34 times.\n\n \u2018_Our mind\u2019s eye._\u2019 Cf. _Hamlet_, Act I. Sc. 2.\n\n \u2018_Our heart\u2019s core._\u2019 Cf. _Ibid._ Act III. Sc. 2.\n\n 367. \u2018_Fancy\u2019s midwife._\u2019 Cf. \u2018The fairies\u2019 midwife.\u2019 _Romeo and\n Juliet_, Act I. Sc. 4.\n\n \u2018_Gay creatures_,\u2019 _etc._ Comus, 299\u2013301.\n\n \u2018_Tears_,\u2019 _etc._ _Paradise Lost_, I. 620.\n\n 368. \u2018_Mr. Kean\u2019s Othello_,\u2019 _etc._ From The _Times_. See _post_, p.\n 406, and vol. VIII. p. 414 and notes.\n\n \u2018_With kindliest change._\u2019 _Paradise Lost_, V. 336.\n\n\n THE COMPANY AT THE OPERA\n\n 369. _Mr. Peake._ Richard Brinsley Peake (1792\u20131847). The farce here\n noticed is called by Genest \u2018Little Offerings.\u2019\n\n \u2018_Crabbed age_,\u2019 _etc._ _The Passionate Pilgrim_, Stanza XII.\n\n _Miss Goward._ Mary Ann Goward (1805?\u20131899), who afterwards\n became so well known as Mrs. Keeley. She married Keeley in\n 1829.\n\n 370. _Madame Caradori._ Madame Caradori-Allan (1800\u20131865), who made\n her d\u00e9but at the Italian Opera in London in 1822.\n\n _Mademoiselle Sontag._ Henriette Sontag (1806\u20131854). She married\n Count Rossi in 1828 and retired from the stage till near the\n end of her life.\n\n 371. _Brocard._ Suzanne Brocard (1798\u20131855), whose first appearance at\n the Com\u00e9die Fran\u00e7aise was in 1817 and who retired in 1839.\n\n 372. _Lord Byron and his Contemporaries._ Cf. _ante_, note to p. 355.\n\n \u2018_The mob_,\u2019 _etc._ Pope, _Imitations of Horace_, Book II. Ep. I.\n 108.\n\n\n THE BEGGAR\u2019S OPERA\n\n 373. \u2018_Vanity, chaotic Vanity._\u2019 Hazlitt may have had in mind the\n lines in _Romeo and Juliet_ (Act I. Sc. 1), \u2018O heavy lightness!\n serious vanity! misshapen chaos!\u2019\n\n 374. \u2018_Waste her sweetness_,\u2019 _etc._ Cf. Gray\u2019s _Elegy_, 56.\n\n _Splenetic_ \u2018[splenitive] _and rash_.\u2019 _Hamlet_, Act V. Sc. 1.\n\n _Blanchard._ William Blanchard (1769\u20131835), for long a member of\n the Covent Garden Company.\n\n \u2018_And when the date_,\u2019 _etc._ Butler, _Hudibras_, Part I. Canto\n 1. 285\u20136.\n\n _De Vere._ By Robert Plumer Ward (1765\u20131846), published in 1827.\n It was supposed by some, though denied by the author, that De\n Vere was intended to represent Canning.\n\n \u2018_We have heard_,\u2019 _etc._ _2 Henry IV._, Act III. Sc. 2.\n\n 375. _Sir John Sylvester._ Sir John Silvester (1745\u20131822), Recorder of\n London.\n\n \u2018_The thief_,\u2019 _etc._ _Leviathan_, Part I. Chap. 3.\n\n _A Race for Dinner._ By G. H. B. Rodwell (1800\u20131852).\n\n \u2018_And Birnam wood_,\u2019 _etc._ _Macbeth_, Acts IV. and V.\n\n _The Poor Gentleman._ By George Colman the Younger (1801).\n\n 375. \u2018_To advantage dressed._\u2019 Pope, _An Essay on Criticism_, 297.\n\n 376. _Miss Ellen Tree._ Ellen Tree (1805\u20131880), who married Charles\n Kean in 1842. She was a younger sister of Mrs. Bradshaw, the\n actress and singer.\n\n 377. _Miss Love._ Emma Love, afterwards Mrs. Calcroft, had made her\n first appearance on the stage in 1817 at the English Opera\n House.\n\n\n THE TAMING OF THE SHREW AND L\u2019AVARE\n\n 377. \u2018_The lungs of others_,\u2019 _etc._ Cf. _As You Like It_, Act II. Sc.\n 7.\n\n 378. _Mr. Wilkie failed_, _etc._ See _ante_, p. 252.\n\n \u2018_Warble, warble._\u2019 _As You Like It_, Act II. Sc. 5.\n\n 379. _Mademoiselle Mars._ For Mademoiselle Mars in \u2018a sort of shadowy\n _Catherine and Petruchio_,\u2019 see vol. IX. p. 151.\n\n 380. _Ninette \u00e0 la cour._ By Charles Simon Favart (1710\u20131792).\n\n 381. _Seraglio._ An opera by Dimond, produced in 1827.\n\n _Charles the Second._ By Howard Payne, produced in 1824.\n\n\n MRS. SIDDONS\n\n 381. _Pie Voleuse._ See _ante_, note to p. 304.\n\n \u2018_Born to converse_,\u2019 _etc._ Cf. Pope, _Prologue to the Satires_,\n 196.\n\n _The Fall of Nineveh._ By John Martin (1789\u20131854). The painting\n was being exhibited in Bond Street.\n\n 382. _Abridged Paradise Lost._ Mrs. Siddons published _The Story of\n our First Parents selected from Milton\u2019s Paradise Lost for the\n use of young persons_, 1822.\n\n _A triumphant peroration_, _etc._ Hazlitt no doubt refers to\n Scott\u2019s _Life of Napoleon_, published in 1827.\n\n \u2018_The worst, the second fall of man._\u2019 Cf. William Windham,\n _Speeches_, II. 47 (Nov. 4, 1801).\n\n 384. \u2018_Barren spectators._\u2019 _Hamlet_, Act III. Sc. 2.\n\n _Mr. Stanfield\u2019s landscape back-grounds._ William Clarkson\n Stanfield (1793\u20131867).\n\n _Veluti in speculum._ Cf. \u2018Inspicere tamquam in speculum in vitas\n omnium,\u2019 etc. Terence, _Adelphi_, Act III. Sc. 3.\n\n\n THE THREE QUARTERS, ETC.\n\n 384. _The new comedy._ _Ups and Downs, or the Ladder of Life_ was the\n title of the piece here noticed by Hazlitt. It was acted eight\n times.\n\n _The secretary of the Admiralty_, _etc._ Croker. Cf. _ante_, p.\n 344.\n\n 385. _A nice distinction in Miss Burney._ See her _Cecilia_.\n\n _Killing no Murder._ A farce by Theodore Hook, produced in 1809.\n\n 386. \u2018_Like dew-drops_,\u2019 _etc._ _Troilus and Cressida_, Act III. Sc.\n 3.\n\n \u2018_Fine by degrees_,\u2019 _etc._ Prior, _Henry and Emma_, 430.\n\n \u2018_They best can paint them_,\u2019 _etc._ Pope, _Eloisa to Abelard_,\n 366.\n\n _Lord Porchester\u2019s tragedy._ _Don Pedro, King of Castile_, by\n Lord Porchester, afterwards 3rd Earl of Carnarvon (1800\u20131849)\n was produced at Drury Lane on March 10, 1828.\n\n _Lord Morpeth\u2019s._ Lord Morpeth, afterwards 7th Earl of Carlisle\n (1802\u20131864) published in 1828 _The Last of the Greeks; or the\n Fall of Constantinople_, a tragedy in verse.\n\n 386. _The Sphynx_, _etc._ _The Sphynx_ (1827) and _The Athen\u00e6um_\n (1828) were started, and _The Argus_ (1828) was projected by\n James Silk Buckingham (1786\u20131855).\n\n 387. \u2018_Oh! dearest Ophelia_,\u2019 _etc._ _Hamlet_, Act II. Sc. 2.\n\n 388. \u2018_He knows his cue_,\u2019 _etc._ Cf. _Othello_, Act I. Sc. 2.\n\n\n MR. KEAN\n\n 389. _We do not wonder_, _etc._ Kean had played Richard III. at the\n Th\u00e9\u00e2tre Fran\u00e7ais in May 1828.\n\n _Voltaire has borrowed_, _etc._ Cf. _ante_, p. 282.\n\n \u2018_The poet\u2019s eye_,\u2019 _etc._ _A Midsummer Night\u2019s Dream_, Act V.\n Sc. 1.\n\n 390. \u2018_Should be as a book_,\u2019 _etc._ _Macbeth_, Act I. Sc. 5.\n\n _The Hetman Platoff._ The Russian general, Matvei Ivanovich\n Platoff (1757\u20131818), Hetman of the Cossacks of the Don. See\n vol. IX. p. 465.\n\n 391. \u2018_Give us pause._\u2019 _Hamlet_, Act III. Sc. 1.\n\n _Miss Smithson._ Harriet Constance Smithson (1800\u20131854), who\n played frequently in France and married Hector Berlioz in 1833.\n\n _A series of elegant bas-reliefs_, _etc._ Cf. vol. VIII. p. 456,\n where the same comparison is made.\n\n 392. _Little Bartolozzi._ Miss Bartolozzi made her first appearance\n (at the Haymarket) on June 17, 1828. She was a sister of Madame\n Vestris.\n\n\n MUNDEN\u2019S SIR PETER TEAZLE\n\nFor Hazlitt\u2019s connection with The _Times_ as dramatic critic see vol.\nVIII. p. 512. The fifteen articles reprinted for the first time in the\npresent volume have been included upon internal evidence of Hazlitt\u2019s\nauthorship. No reasonable doubt can be felt with regard to any of them.\n\n 392. _Past Ten O\u2019clock._ \u2018A moderate farce\u2019 by Dibdin, produced March\n 11, 1815. See Genest. In another account of Munden (vol. VIII.\n p. 270) Hazlitt had referred to his \u2018broad shining face\u2019 and\n \u2018the alarming drop of his chin.\u2019\n\n\n YOUNG\u2019S HAMLET\n\nCf. this paper with the account of _Hamlet_ in _Characters of\nShakespear\u2019s Plays_, vol. I. p. 237.\n\n 394. _The Miller and his Men._ A successful melodrama by Pocock,\n produced in 1813.\n\n 395. \u2018_The paragon of animals._\u2019 _Hamlet_, Act II. Sc. 2.\n\n \u2018_Peaked or pined._\u2019 _Macbeth_, Act I. Sc. 3.\n\n \u2018_Oh that this too, too solid flesh_,\u2019 _etc._ _Hamlet_, Act I.\n Sc. 2.\n\n \u2018_The pretty Ophelia._\u2019 _Ibid._ Act IV. Sc. 5.\n\n\n DOWTON IN THE HYPOCRITE\n\nCf. the notice of _The Hypocrite_ in _A View of the English Stage_, vol.\nVIII. pp. 245\u20137.\n\n 395. \u2018_Very craftily qualified._\u2019 _Othello_, Act II. Sc. 3.\n\n\n MISS BRUNTON\u2019S ROSALIND\n\nCf. the notices of two other Rosalinds in _A View, etc._, vol. VIII. pp.\n252 and 336.\n\n 397. _Miss Brunton._ Elizabeth Brunton (1799\u20131860), who in 1823\n married Frederick Henry Yates, the actor.\n\n \u2018_Good emphasis and discretion._\u2019 Cf. \u2018With good accent and good\n discretion,\u2019 _Hamlet_, Act II. Sc. 2.\n\n \u2018_The gods_,\u2019 _etc._ _As You Like It_, Act III. Sc. 3.\n\n\n MAYWOOD\u2019S ZANGA\n\nHazlitt had noticed Maywood\u2019s Shylock. See _A View_, _etc._ vol. VIII.\np. 374. In 1821 Maywood wrote to Hazlitt from New York introducing a Mr.\nGreenhow, who was entrusted to present to Hazlitt a morsel of George\nCooke\u2019s liver. See Mr. W. C. Hazlitt\u2019s _Memoirs_, _etc._, II. 1\u20132.\n\n 398. \u2018_From the sound_,\u2019 _etc._ Cf. Collins, Ode, _The Passions_,\n 19\u201320.\n\n \u2018_Distilling them_,\u2019 _etc._ Cf. _Hamlet_, Act I. Sc. 5.\n\n \u2018_Too tame._\u2019 _Ibid._, Act III. Sc. 2.\n\n \u2018_\u2019Twas I that did it._\u2019 _The Revenge_, Act V. Sc. 2.\n\n \u2018_Forced gait._\u2019 _1 Henry IV._, Act III. Sc. 1.\n\n\n KEAN\u2019S RICHARD III.\n\nCf. the essay on Richard III. in _Characters of Shakespear\u2019s Plays_\n(vol. I. pp. 298\u2013303), where Hazlitt speaks of the \u2018miserable medley\nacted for Richard III.\u2019 and gives some of the omitted passages as being\n\u2018peculiarly adapted for stage effect.\u2019 Shakespeare\u2019s _Richard III._ was\nrevived at Covent Garden on March 12, 1821, Macready playing Richard and\nMrs. Bunn Queen Margaret.\n\n 399. \u2018_Now is the winter_,\u2019 _etc._ _Richard III._, Act I. Sc. 1.\n\n \u2018_Even so!_\u2019 _etc. Ibid._\n\n 400. \u2018_They do me wrong_,\u2019 _etc. Ibid._ Act I. Sc. 3.\n\n \u2018_His grace looks cheerfully_,\u2019 _etc. Ibid._ Act III. Sc. 4.\n\n\n THE WONDER\n\nCf. _A View_, _etc._, vol. VIII. p. 332.\n\n 402. \u2018_Snatch a grace_,\u2019 _etc._ Pope, _An Essay on Criticism_, 155.\n\n \u2018_Catch ere she falls_,\u2019 _etc._ Pope, _Moral Essays_, II. 20.\n\n\n VENICE PRESERVED\n\nCf. the account of Kemble\u2019s Pierre, vol. VIII. p. 378.\n\n 403. \u2018_The most replenished_,\u2019 _etc._ _Richard III._, Act IV. Sc. 3.\n\n\n SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER\n\n 403. _Borrowed from Fielding\u2019s Joseph Andrews._ Cf. vol. III. p. 115.\n\n 404. \u2018_His singularity_,\u2019 _etc._ Johnson frequently denounced\n singularity. The instances are collected in Boswell\u2019s _Life_,\n ed. G. B. Hill, II. 74\u20135.\n\n\n KEAN\u2019S MACBETH\n\n 405. _Except in the murder scene._ Cf. vol. VIII. p. 207.\n\n \u2018_Proud and lion-hearted_,\u2019 _etc._ Cf. \u2018Be lion-mettled, proud,\n and take no care,\u2019 etc. _Macbeth_, Act IV. Sc. 1.\n\n\n KEAN\u2019S OTHELLO\n\n 405. _This young debutante._ Her name was Mrs. Robinson.\n\n 406. _Mr. Kean\u2019s Othello_, _etc._ This passage, to the end of the\n notice, was quoted more than once by Hazlitt. Cf. _ante_, p.\n 368 and vol. VIII. p. 414 and notes.\n\n\n KEAN AND MISS O\u2019NEILL\n\nCf. this with Hazlitt\u2019s appreciation of Miss O\u2019Neill in _The London\nMagazine_, vol. VIII. of the present edition, pp. 392 _et seq._\n\n 407. \u2018_O\u2019erstep the modesty_,\u2019 _etc._ _Hamlet_, Act III. Sc. 2.\n\n 408. \u2018_As one in suffering all_,\u2019 _etc. Ibid._\n\n \u2018_Abide the beating_,\u2019 _etc._ _Twelfth Night_, Act II. Sc. 4.\n\n\n THE HONEY MOON\n\n 409. \u2018_What is set down for him._\u2019 _Hamlet_, Act III. Sc. 2.\n\n \u2018_Plautus was too light_,\u2019 _etc._ Cf. _Hamlet_, Act II. Sc. 2.\n\n \u2018_And near him_,\u2019 _etc._ Collins, _Ode on the Poetical\n Character_, 43\u20134.\n\n \u2018_Grew sharp as a pen._\u2019 _Henry V._, Act II. Sc. 3.\n\n 410. \u2018_Go thou_,\u2019 _etc._ _S. Luke_ x. 37.\n\n\n MR. KEAN\n\n 410. \u2018_Not Fate itself could awe._\u2019 _Richard III._ (Cibber\u2019s version),\n Act V. Sc. 3.\n\n\n KING JOHN\n\n 411. \u2018_To me_,\u2019 _etc._ _King John_, Act III. Sc. 1.\n\n\n THE PRESS, ETC.\n\nHazlitt was a very frequent contributor to John Hunt\u2019s \u2018Weekly\nMiscellany,\u2019 _The Yellow Dwarf_, which ran from Jan. 1 to May 23, 1818.\nMost of his contributions were included in _Political Essays_. See vol.\nIII. pp. 254 _et seq._ Of those included in the present volume \u2018The\nOpera\u2019 was reprinted with some omissions and variations in _Literary\nRemains_, the rest are now republished for the first time, on the\nstrength of what the editors regard as the conclusive internal evidence\nof Hazlitt\u2019s authorship. All the essays are reprinted _verbatim_ from\nthe Magazine.\n\n 411. _M. Jollivet._ Jean Baptiste Mo\u00efse, Comte Jollivet (1753\u20131818), a\n prominent French politician.\n\n 412. \u2018_Had\u2019st thou believed_,\u2019 _etc._ _Zapolya_, Prelude, Sc. 1.\n\n 413. _Was one of the passages, etc._ See the last chapter of\n Coleridge\u2019s _Biographia Literaria_.\n\n _\u2018Restored,\u2019 etc._ _Carmen Triumphale_, St. XVIII.\n\n \u2018_A full solemne man._\u2019 _Canterbury Tales_, Prologue, 209.\n\n 414. _Odes on Hoffer, etc._ Hazlitt refers to some of Wordsworth\u2019s\n \u2018Poems dedicated to National Independence and Liberty.\u2019\n\n _\u2018A dateless bargain,\u2019 etc._ Cf. _Romeo and Juliet_, Act V. Sc.\n 3.\n\n _\u2018Stretching out,\u2019 etc._ _Macbeth_, Act IV. Sc. 1.\n\n _\u2018The same,\u2019 etc._ Hazlitt is no doubt quoting from Southey\u2019s\n _Carmen Nuptiale_, St. 52.\n\n _Mrs. Tofts._ See Hogarth\u2019s \u2018Credulity, Superstition, and\n Fanaticism,\u2019 where the well-known imposture of Mary Tofts\n (1701?\u20131763) is ridiculed.\n\n 415. _\u2018Charm these deaf adders,\u2019 etc._ Cf. _Psalms_, lviii. 4, 5.\n\n _\u2018Drops which sacred pity,\u2019 etc._ _As You Like It_, Act II. Sc.\n 7.\n\n _\u2018Which knaves,\u2019 etc._ Butler, _Hudibras_, I. i. 35\u20136.\n\n 416. _\u2018The Gods,\u2019 etc._ Cf. _As You Like It_, Act III. Sc. 3.\n\n \u2018_A mingled_ [medley] _air,\u2019 etc._ Wordsworth, _Peter Bell_,\n 304\u20135.\n\n\n MR. COLERIDGE\u2019S LECTURES\n\nThis course of Lectures began on Jan. 27, and ended on March 13, 1818.\nHazlitt was lecturing on Poetry at the same time. For Coleridge\u2019s\nprospectus see _Lectures on Shakespeare_ (ed. Ashe), 170.\n\n 416. _\u2018Those fair parts,\u2019 etc._ Cf. _Romeo and Juliet_, Act II. Sc. 1.\n\n 417. \u2018_Unhouselled_,\u2019 [unhoused] _etc._ _Othello_, Act I. Sc. 2.\n\n _\u2018This island\u2019s mine,\u2019 etc._ _The Tempest_, Act I. Sc. 2.\n\n _\u2018Independently of his conduct,\u2019 etc._ Cf. vol. III. (_Political\n Essays_), p. 285.\n\n _\u2018He had peopled else,\u2019 etc._ _The Tempest_, Act I. Sc. 2.\n\n \u2018_Lunes and abstractions._\u2019 Cf. _The Merry Wives of Windsor_, Act\n IV. Sc. 2.\n\n 418. \u2018_Conquering and to conquer._\u2019 _Revelation_ vi. 2.\n\n _Bertram._ Cf. vol. X. p. 158, and _ante_, pp. 412\u20133.\n\n \u2018_Tedious and brief._\u2019 _A Midsummer Night\u2019s Dream_, Act V. Sc. 1.\n\n _\u2018The man may indeed be a reviewer,\u2019 etc._ This saying does not\n seem to have been reported elsewhere. Coleridge and Wordsworth\n were often accused of ridiculing Southey\u2019s poetical genius.\n\n 419. _\u2018Fie, Sir!\u2019 etc._ Milman, _Fazio_, Act II. Sc. 1.\n\n _\u2018To leave this keen encounter,\u2019 etc._ _Richard III._, Act I. Sc.\n 2.\n\n \u2018_Reason_ [reasons] _as plenty,\u2019 etc._ _1 Henry IV._, Act II. Sc.\n 4.\n\n \u2018_The inconstant moon._\u2019 _Romeo and Juliet_, Act II. Sc. 2.\n\n 420. _\u2018His large discourse of reason,\u2019 etc._ _Hamlet_, Act IV. Sc. 4.\n\n\n CHILDE HAROLD\u2019S PILGRIMAGE\n\n 420. _\u2018I do perceive a fury,\u2019 etc._ Cf.\n\n \u2018I do understand a fury in your words,\n But not the words.\u2019 _Othello_, Act IV. Sc. 2.\n\n 421. _\u2018And as the soldiers\u2019 bare dead bodies lay,\u2019 etc._ _1 Henry\n IV._, Act I. Sc. 3.\n\n _\u2018The very age,\u2019 etc._ \u2018The very age and body of the time.\u2019\n _Hamlet_, Act III. Sc. 2.\n\n _\u2018An understanding,\u2019 etc._ \u2018Give it an understanding, but no\n tongue.\u2019 _Hamlet_, Act I. Sc. 2.\n\n 421. _\u2018They are begot,\u2019 etc._ Hazlitt was perhaps thinking of \u2018Begot\n upon itself, born on itself.\u2019 _Othello_, Act III. Sc. 4.\n\n _\u2018He has tasted,\u2019 etc._ Lamb\u2019s version (as given by Coleridge) of\n Thekla\u2019s song in Act II. Sc. 6 of _The Piccolomini_. See\n Coleridge\u2019s _Poetical Works_ (ed. J. D. Campbell), p. 648. Lamb\n himself printed the song differently. See _The Works of Charles\n and Mary Lamb_, ed. E. V. Lucas, v. 27 and notes.\n\n 422. _\u2018The man whose eye,\u2019 etc._ Wordsworth, _Lines left upon a Seat\n in a Yew-tree, etc._, 55\u201359.\n\n _Hogarth\u2019s famous print._ Hazlitt perhaps refers to Hogarth\u2019s\n frontispiece to Kirby\u2019s \u2018Perspective.\u2019\n\n \u2018_As \u2019twere in spite of scorn._\u2019 Cf. _Paradise Lost_, I. 619.\n\n _\u2018The child and champion,\u2019 etc._ See vol. III. p. 99 and note.\n\n 424. _\u2018The statue,\u2019 etc._ Thomson, _The Seasons_, Summer, 1346.\n\n \u2018_The starry Galileo._\u2019 _Childe Harold\u2019s Pilgrimage_, Canto IV.\n 54.\n\n _\u2018Now in glimmer,\u2019 etc._ Coleridge, _Christabel_, 169.\n\n _\u2018Moving wild laughter,\u2019 etc._ _Love\u2019s Labour\u2019s Lost_, Act V. Sc.\n 2.\n\n _\u2018The double night\u2019, etc._ _Childe Harold\u2019s Pilgrimage_, Canto\n IV. 81.\n\n 425. \u2018_Seen of all eyes._\u2019 Cf. _Revelation_, i. 7.\n\n\n THE OPERA\n\n 426. _\u2018The glass of fashion,\u2019 etc._ _Hamlet_, Act III. Sc. 1.\n\n \u2018_The fool of the senses._\u2019 _Macbeth_, Act II. Sc. 1.\n\n _\u2018How happy,\u2019 etc._ _The Beggar\u2019s Opera_, Act II. Sc. 2.\n\n 428. _\u2018With some sweet,\u2019 etc._ _Macbeth_, Act V. Sc. 3.\n\n _\u2018The cloister\u2019d heart,\u2019 etc._ Cf. _ante_, p. 268 and note.\n\n 429. _\u2018The flower of Britain\u2019s warriors,\u2019 etc._ Southey, _Carmen\n Nuptiale_, 16.\n\n 430. _A contemporary critic._ Hazlitt perhaps refers to Schlegel. See\n vol. VIII. (_A View, etc._) p. 324.\n\n\n ON THE QUESTION WHETHER POPE WAS A POET\n\nHazlitt was for a time a fairly frequent contributor to _The Edinburgh\nMagazine_ (New Series), otherwise known as _The New Scots Magazine_. Two\nof his contributions, \u2018Remarks on Mr. West\u2019s Picture of Death on the\nPale Horse,\u2019 and \u2018On the Ignorance of the Learned,\u2019 have been published\nin vols. IX. and VI. respectively. The essays \u2018On Fashion,\u2019 \u2018On\nNicknames\u2019 and \u2018Thoughts on Taste\u2019 in the present volume were first\nreprinted with omissions and variations in _Sketches and Essays_ (1839);\nthose \u2018On the Question whether Pope was a Poet,\u2019 (signed W. H.), and \u2018On\nRespectable People,\u2019 are now reprinted for the first time.\n\n 431. \u2018_The pale reflex._\u2019 _Romeo and Juliet_, Act III. Sc. 5.\n\n 432. _\u2018In fortune\u2019s ray,\u2019 etc._ _Troilus and Cressida_, Act I. Sc. 3.\n\n \u2018_Gnarled oak._\u2019 Shakespeare uses this phrase (_Measure for\n Measure_, Act II. Sc. 2), but Hazlitt probably meant a \u2018knotted\n oak\u2019 which is the expression used in the passage he had just\n written down.\n\n _\u2018Calm contemplation,\u2019 etc._ Thomson, _The Seasons_, Autumn,\n 1277.\n\n\n ON RESPECTABLE PEOPLE\n\nSigned \u2018A. Z.\u2019 in the Magazine.\n\n 434. \u2018_Buys golden opinions._\u2019 _Macbeth_, Act I. Sc. 7.\n\n _\u2018The learned pate,\u2019 etc._ _Timon of Athens_, Act IV. Sc. 3.\n\n 435. _Otway, etc._ Otway, according to the familiar but probably\n untrue account first given by T. Cibber in _The Lives of\n the Poets_, was choked by the first mouthful of a roll\n which he bought with money given to him by a gentleman in a\n coffee-house.\n\n \u2018_For a song._\u2019 The story of Lord Burghley\u2019s ungenerous treatment\n of Spenser was first recorded by Fuller.\n\n \u2018_The time gives evidence of it._\u2019 Cf. \u2018This was sometime a\n paradox, but now the time gives it proof.\u2019 _Hamlet_, Act III.\n Sc. 1.\n\n 436. _\u2018What can ennoble sots,\u2019 etc._ Pope, _An Essay on Man_, IV.\n 215\u20136.\n\n \u2018_All honourable men._\u2019 _Julius C\u00e6sar_, Act III. Sc. 2.\n\n 437. \u2018_Lives and fortunes men._\u2019 For the old formula of \u2018lives and\n fortunes\u2019 see Burke\u2019s _Reflections on the Revolution in France_\n (_Select Works_, ed. Payne, II. 18 and note.)\n\n\n ON FASHION\n\n 437. _\u2018Born of nothing,\u2019 etc._ Cf. _ante_, note to p. 421.\n\n _\u2018His garment,\u2019 etc._ _The Faerie Queene_, III. xii. 8.\n\n \u2018_The great vulgar and the small._\u2019 Cowley, Horace\u2019s _Odes_, III.\n 1.\n\n 439. _\u2018The sign of an inward,\u2019 etc._ Misquoted from the Catechism.\n\n 440. _\u2018And are, when unadorned,\u2019 etc._ Thomson, _The Seasons_, Autumn,\n 206.\n\n \u2018_The city madam_\u2019 [woman], _etc._ _As You Like It_, Act II. Sc.\n 7.\n\n _\u2018The age is grown so picked,\u2019 etc._ _Hamlet_, Act V. Sc. 1.\n\n 441. _The story in Peregrine Pickle._ Chap, lxxxvii.\n\n _\u2018Lisping and ambling,\u2019 etc._ Cf. _Hamlet_, Act III. Sc. 1.\n\n 442. \u2018_In a high or low degree._\u2019 Cf. Pope, _Epilogue to the Satires_,\n 1. 137.\n\n _\u2018And thin partitions,\u2019 etc._ Dryden, _Absalom and Achitophel_,\n 1. 164.\n\n \u2018_Kings are naturally,\u2019 etc._ Burke, _Speech on Economical\n Reform_ (_Works_, Bohn, II. 106).\n\n\n ON NICKNAMES\n\n 442. _\u2018H\u00e6 nug\u00e6,\u2019 etc._ Cf. Horace, _Ars Poetica_, 451\u20132.\n\n 443. _\u2018The priest,\u2019 etc._ _The Beggar\u2019s Opera_, Act I. Sc. 1.\n\n _\u2018As infidels,\u2019 etc._ Hazlitt alludes to a note in the \u2018Beauties\n of the Anti-Jacobin,\u2019 denouncing Coleridge, Lamb, and Southey.\n See vol. X. (_Contributions to the Edinburgh Review_), p. 139.\n\n 444. _\u2018Sound them,\u2019 etc._ _Julius C\u00e6sar_, Act I. Sc. 2.\n\n _An eminent character._ Probably Stoddart, late editor of _The\n Times_. See _post_, p. 448.\n\n _\u2018Hath Britain all the sun,\u2019 etc._ _Cymbeline_, Act III. Sc. 4.\n\n 445. \u2018_Brevity is the soul of wit._\u2019 _Hamlet_, Act II. Sc. 2.\n\n _\u2018The unbought grace of life,\u2019 etc._ Burke, _Reflections on the\n Revolution in France_ (_Select Works_, ed. Payne, II. 89).\n\n 446. _\u2018Leave the will puzzled,\u2019 etc._ _Ibid._, II. 103.\n\n _\u2018Bring but a Scotsman,\u2019 etc._ Burns, _The Author\u2019s Earnest Cry\n and Prayer, etc._ Postscript, St. 4.\n\n 447. _\u2018As rage,\u2019 etc._ _Troilus and Cressida_, Act I. Sc. 3.\n\n _\u2018A nickname is the heaviest stone,\u2019 etc._ Cf. \u2018It is the\n heaviest stone that melancholy can throw at a man, to tell\n him he is at the end of his nature.\u2019 Sir Thomas Browne,\n _Hydriotaphia_, IV. 23. See also vol. III. (_Political\n Essays_), p. 261.\n\n _As Canning pelted a noble lord, etc._ Canning ridiculed Henry\n Addington (afterwards Lord Sidmouth) under the title of the\n \u2018Doctor.\u2019 His father was well known as a \u2018mad\u2019 doctor.\n\n 448. _\u2018With so small a web,\u2019 etc._ _Othello_, Act II. Sc. 1.\n\n _\u2018A starling,\u2019 etc._ _1 Henry IV._, Act I. Sc. 3.\n\n 449. _Stat nominis umbra._ Lucan, _Pharsalia_, I. 135.\n\n\n THOUGHTS ON TASTE\n\n 450. _\u2018He had found a few pearls,\u2019 etc._ _\u0152uvres_, L. 58. July 19,\n 1776.\n\n _\u2018Rich as the oozy bottom,\u2019 etc._ _Henry V._, Act I. Sc. 2.\n\n _\u2018Or like a gate of steel,\u2019 etc._ _Troilus and Cressida_, Act\n III. Sc. 3.\n\n 451. \u2018_Damns_ [condemns] _him,\u2019 etc._ _Much Ado About Nothing_, Act\n IV. Sc. 3.\n\n _\u2018Lay their choppy fingers,\u2019 etc._ _Macbeth_, Act I. Sc. 3.\n\n 452. _\u2018Have built high towers,\u2019 etc._ _Paradise Lost_, I. 749.\n\n _\u2018Majestic though in ruin.\u2019_ _Paradise Lost_, II. 305.\n\n _Innocence \u2018likest heaven.\u2019_ \u2018O innocence deserving Paradise.\u2019\n _Ibid._, V. 445\u20136.\n\n _\u2018In tones,\u2019 etc._ _Paradise Regained_, IV. 255.\n\n _The author of the \u2018Friend,\u2019 etc._ Coleridge may have said this\n to Hazlitt himself. He described Pope\u2019s writings as \u2018a\n conjunction disjunctive of epigrams\u2019 (_Biographia Literaria_,\n chap. I.). For his views on French Tragedy, see _ibid._,\n Satyrane\u2019s _Letters_, Letter II.\n\n _The author of the \u2018Excursion,\u2019 etc._ See _The Excursion_, II.\n 484. Cf. vol. I. (_The Round Table_), p. 116 and note.\n\n Note. _Non satis est, etc._ Horace, _Ars Poetica_, 99.\n\n 453. _\u2018Not to admire,\u2019 etc._ \u2018Not to admire is all the art I know,\u2019\n quoted by Pope from Creech\u2019s translation of Horace. See\n _Imitations of Horace_, Book I. Epistle vi. I.\n\n\n THE SAME SUBJECT CONTINUED\n\n 454. \u2018_Hope told a flattering tale._\u2019 An anonymous song sung to\n Paisiello\u2019s famous air, \u2018Nel cor pi\u00f9 non mi sento,\u2019 from _La\n Molinara_.\n\n 455. \u2018_Pierceable._\u2019 \u2018Not perceable with any power of any starr\u2019 (_The\n Faerie Queene_, I. I. 7) is quoted elsewhere by Hazlitt.\n\n _\u2018The drops,\u2019 etc._ _As You Like It_, Act. II. Sc. 7.\n\n 456. \u2018_Swept and garnished._\u2019 _S. Matthew_ xii. 44.\n\n _\u2018Knowledge at each entrance,\u2019 etc._ _Paradise Lost_, III. 50.\n\n Note. _Mr. Allston._ See _ante_, note to p. 189.\n\n Note. _\u2018A temple,\u2019 etc._ Cf. _2 Corinthians_, v. 1.\n\n 457. \u2018_Nor seem\u2019d_\u2019 [appeared], _\u2018etc._ _Paradise Lost_, I. 592\u20134.\n\n _Better than nothing._ At this point in the Magazine there is a\n footnote by the editor, protesting against the view that\n Rogers\u2019s _Human Life_ is \u2018nothing,\u2019 and the _Lyrical Ballads_\n only \u2018something.\u2019 He adds \u2018Who told this lively writer that Mr.\n Southey ever preferred the _Excursion_ to _Paradise Lost_?\u2019\n\n _The preference given, etc._ A review of _Human Life_ by Jeffrey\n in _The Edinburgh Review_ (XXXI. 325) contains a contemptuous\n reference to \u2018a Lakish ditty.\u2019\n\n 457. _\u2018Carnation,\u2019 etc._ _Henry V._, Act II. Sc. 3.\n\n 458. _I know an admirer of Don Quixote, etc._ This was Lamb. See vol.\n VII. (_The Plain Speaker_), p. 36.\n\n\n THE SAME SUBJECT CONTINUED\n\nThis conclusion of \u2018Thoughts on Taste\u2019 does not appear to have been\npublished in the _Edinburgh Magazine_, or, so far as the editors have\nbeen able to discover, in any Magazine. In the _Edinburgh Magazine_ the\n_second_ essay is described as \u2018a conclusion of some thoughts on the\nsame subject, in our Number for October 1818.\u2019 This third essay is\nreprinted from _Sketches and Essays_, where it was perhaps printed from\na MS. or proof.\n\n 460. _Mr. Pratt._ Samuel Jackson Pratt (1749\u20131814), whose \u2018Sympathy, a\n Poem,\u2019 was published anonymously in 1788.\n\n _\u2018That come\u2019 etc._ _A Winter\u2019s Tale_, Act IV. Sc. 4.\n\n 461. _\u2018And fit audience find,\u2019 etc._ _Paradise Lost_, VII. 31.\n\n\n [HISTORICAL ILLUSTRATIONS OF SHAKESPEARE]\n\n(1) Two letters from Hazlitt under the heading \u2018Historical Illustrations\nof Shakespeare\u2019 appeared in the number for January 1819 (vol. IV. p. 39)\nand ran as follows: \u2018Mr. Editor, I daresay you will agree with me in\nthinking, that whatever throws light on the dramatic productions of\nShakespeare, deserves to be made public. I have already, in the volume\ncalled _Characters of Shakespeare\u2019s Plays_,[81] shewn, by a reference to\nthe passages in North\u2019s translation of Plutarch, his obligations to the\nhistorian in his Coriolanus, and the noble way in which he availed\nhimself of the lights of antiquity in composing that piece. I shall,\nwith your permission, pursue the subject in the present and some future\narticles. The parallel is even more striking between the celebrated\ntrial-scene in Henry VIII., and the following narrative of that event,\nas it actually took place, which is to be found in Cavendish\u2019s\nNegociations of Cardinal Wolsey,\u2019 [a long quotation from that work\nfollows, and Hazlitt concludes]: \u2018In another article I shall give some\nremarks on this subject, and the passages in Holingshed on which Macbeth\nis, in a great measure, founded. I am, Sir, your humble servant, W.\nHazlitt. London, Nov. 13, 1818.\u2019 Another letter on the same subject\nappeared in September 1819 (vol. V. p. 262): \u2018Mr. Editor, The following\npassage in North\u2019s translation of Plutarch will be found to have been\nclosely copied in the scene between Brutus and his wife in Julius C\u00e6sar\u2019\n[a long quotation from Plutarch\u2014see Temple Classics edition, vol. IX.\npp. 256\u2013258\u2014follows, and Hazlitt continues]: Again, the following\ncurious account, extracted from Magellan\u2019s Voyage to the South Seas, may\nthrow light on the origin of the Tempest, and the character of Caliban.\nThe mention of the god Setebos seems decisive of the identity of the\nsource from which he borrowed.\u2019 The letter concludes with an extract\nfrom Magellan\u2019s Voyage.\n\n\n ON THE PRESENT STATE OF PARLIAMENTARY ELOQUENCE\n\nMany of Hazlitt\u2019s numerous contributions to _The London Magazine_ have\nbeen included in former volumes of the present edition. Of those printed\nin this volume, the essay \u2018On the Spirit of Partisanship\u2019 was reprinted\nin _Sketches and Essays_ (1839), that \u2018On Consistency of Opinion\u2019 in\n_Winterslow_ (1850). The remaining five are now republished for the\nfirst time.\n\nSome interesting particulars about _The London Magazine_ will be found\nin Mr. Bertram Dobell\u2019s _Sidelights on Charles Lamb_ (1903).\n\nThe essay \u2018On the Present State of Parliamentary Eloquence\u2019 is signed\n\u2018T.\u2019 and is No. IV. of the series entitled \u2018Table Talk.\u2019 Cf. the\nBibliographical and Critical Notes to _The Eloquence of the British\nSenate_, vol. III. p. 389, to which this essay may be regarded as\nsupplementary. Hazlitt had been a parliamentary reporter on _The Morning\nChronicle_ in 1813. The exact period does not seem to be ascertainable,\nbut the present essay shows that he heard Plunket\u2019s great speech on\nCatholic Emancipation (Feb. 25, 1813), and Sir James Mackintosh\u2019s maiden\nspeech (Dec. 14, 1813). With regard to Plunket\u2019s speech there is a\ntradition that Hazlitt was so fascinated by it that he omitted to take\nany notes of it. See _Memoirs, etc._ (1867), I. 196. Most of the\nspeakers here described are referred to more than once by Hazlitt\nelsewhere.\n\n 464. _\u2018Such a one,\u2019 etc._ The Letters of the younger Pliny, I. 20.\n\n 465. _\u2018Domestic treason,\u2019 etc._ Cf. _Macbeth_, Act III. Sc. 2.\n\n 466. \u2018_Make a wanton._\u2019 _Hamlet_, Act V. Sc. 2.\n\n 468. _\u2018Plays round the head,\u2019 etc._ Pope, _An Essay on Man_, IV. 254.\n\n 469. _\u2018Kindle them,\u2019 etc._ _Comus_, 794\u20135.\n\n 470. _\u2018Ample scope,\u2019 etc._ Cf. Gray, _The Bard_, 51.\n\n 471. \u2018_Would lengthen_ [stretch] _out,\u2019 etc._ _Macbeth_, Act IV. Sc.\n 1.\n\n 472. _\u2018Grove nods to grove,\u2019 etc._ Pope, _Moral Essays_, IV. 117\u20138.\n\n _Roubilliac._ Louis Fran\u00e7ois Roubiliac (1695\u20131762), many of whose\n monuments are in Westminster Abbey. His remark quoted by\n Hazlitt was made to Reynolds. See Northcote\u2019s _Life of Sir J.\n Reynolds_, p. 44.\n\n Note 1. _\u2018It is a custom,\u2019 etc._ _Hamlet_, Act I. Sc. 4.\n\n Note 2. _Mr. Phillips._ Hazlitt presumably refers to Charles\n Phillips (1787?\u20131859), a florid Irish barrister, called to the\n English bar in 1821.\n\n Note 3. _\u2018Like Juno\u2019s swans,\u2019 etc._ _As You Like It_, Act I. Sc.\n 3.\n\n 473. _Mr. Banks._ Henry Bankes (1757\u20131834), M.P. for Corfe Castle\n (1780\u20131826).\n\n _Mr. Charles Yorke._ Charles Philip Yorke (1764\u20131834), who had\n been conspicuous in the stormy privilege debates of 1810. He\n was at this time M.P. for Liskeard.\n\n _Mr. Secretary Peele._ Sir Robert Peel (1788\u20131850), then Chief\n Secretary for Ireland and a strong opponent of Catholic\n Emancipation.\n\n \u2018_Without o\u2019erflowing, full._\u2019 Sir John Denham, _Cooper\u2019s Hill_,\n 192.\n\n _It was but indifferently reported, etc._ As to Hazlitt\u2019s own\n difficulty in reporting it, see _ante_, introductory note to\n the essay.\n\n 474. _\u2018Come then, expressive silence,\u2019 etc._ Thomson, _A Hymn_, 118.\n\n Note 2. _\u2018That speech,\u2019 etc._ This famous saying is usually\n credited to Talleyrand, but Voltaire had said much the same\n thing (_Dialogues_, XIV. _Le Chapon et la Poularde_).\n\n Note 2. _Isabey._ Jean Baptiste Isabey\u2019s (1767\u20131855) picture of\n The Congress of Vienna is at Windsor Castle.\n\n 475. _\u2018In many a winding bout,\u2019 etc._ _L\u2019Allegro_, 139\u2013140.\n\n _\u2018But \u2019tis the fall,\u2019 etc._ Pope, _Epilogue to the Satires_, I.\n 144\u20135.\n\n 476. \u2018_Out upon such half-faced fellowship._\u2019 _1 Henry IV._, Act I.\n Sc. 3.\n\n _Summum jus, etc._ Cicero, _De Officiis_, I. 10.\n\n 477. _\u2018The punto,\u2019 etc._ Cf. _The Merry Wives of Windsor_, Act II. Sc.\n 3, and Act II. Sc. 1; and _Romeo and Juliet_, Act II. Sc. 4.\n\n _\u2018No further seek,\u2019 etc._ Misquoted from Gray\u2019s _Elegy_, 125\u20136.\n\n 478. _\u2018Hear him\u2019s that now rise,\u2019 etc._ Cf. Burke, _Speech on American\n Taxation_, 1774 (_Works_, Bohn, I. 429).\n\n _\u2018Swinging slow,\u2019 etc._ _Il Penseroso_, 76.\n\n _\u2018Mother-wit,\u2019 etc._ Cf. Dryden, _Alexander\u2019s Feast_, 166.\n\n _\u2018Sole sovereign sway,\u2019 etc._ Cf. _Macbeth_, Act I. Sc. 5.\n\n 479. _\u2018What\u2019s serious,\u2019 etc._ Cf. _ante_, p. 342.\n\n _\u2018A windy fan,\u2019 etc._ Cf. _The Faerie Queene_, III. xii. 8.\n\n 480. _\u2018Trifles,\u2019 etc._ _Othello_, Act III. Sc. 3.\n\n _\u2018To make the worse,\u2019 etc._ _Paradise Lost_, Book II. 113\u20134.\n\n _\u2018Takes the rose,\u2019 etc._ _Hamlet_, Act III. Sc. 4.\n\n \u2018_In the extremity of an oath._\u2019 Probably an adaptation of a\n common Shakesperian expression.\n\n\n [MR. CRABBE]\n\nTo _The London Magazine_ for May 1821, Hazlitt contributed an essay on\nCrabbe, under the heading \u2018Living Authors, No. V.\u2019 The greater part of\nthis essay was republished in _The Spirit of the Age_ (see vol. IV. pp.\n348 _et seq._), but some passages were omitted which are here supplied.\n\nIn the Magazine the first paragraph (which differs to some extent from\nthe opening of the _Spirit of the Age_ essay) runs as follows:\n\n \u2018The object of Mr. Crabbe\u2019s writings seems to be, to show what\n an unpoetical world we live in: or rather, perhaps, the very\n reverse of this conclusion might be drawn from them; for it\n might be said, that if this is poetry, there is nothing but\n poetry in the world. Our author\u2019s style might be cited as an\n answer to Audrey\u2019s inquiry, \u201cIs poetry a true thing?\u201d If the\n most feigning poetry is the truest, Mr. Crabbe is of all poets\n the least poetical. There are here no ornaments, no flights of\n fancy, no illusions of sentiment, no tinsel of words. His song\n is one sad reality, one unraised, unvaried note of unavailing\n woe. Literal fidelity serves him in the place of invention; he\n assumes importance by a number of petty details; he rivets\n attention by being prolix. He not only deals in incessant\n matters of fact, but in matters of fact of the most familiar,\n the least animating, and most unpleasant kind; but he relies for\n the effect of novelty on the microscopic minuteness with which\n he dissects the most trivial objects\u2014and, for the interest he\n excites on the unshrinking determination with which he handles\n the most painful. His poetry has an official and professional\n air. He is called out to cases of difficult births, of fractured\n limbs, or breaches of the peace; and makes out a parish register\n of accidents and offences. He takes the most trite, the most\n gross and obvious, and revolting part of nature, for the subject\n of his elaborate descriptions; but it is nature still, and\n Nature is a great and mighty goddess. \u201cGreat is Diana of the\n Ephesians.\u201d[82] It is well for the reverend author that it is\n so. Individuality is, in his theory, the only definition of\n poetry. Whatever is, he hitches into rhyme. Whoever makes an\n exact image of any thing on the earth below, however deformed or\n insignificant, according to him, must succeed and he has\n succeeded. Mr. Crabbe is one of the most popular and admired of\n our living writers. That he is so, can be accounted for on no\n other principle than the strong ties that bind us to the world\n about us and our involuntary yearnings after whatever in any\n manner powerfully and directly reminds us of it. His Muse is not\n one of the daughters of Memory, but the old toothless mumbling\n dame herself, doling out the gossip and scandal of the\n neighbourhood, recounting, _totidem verbis et literis_, what\n happens in every place in the kingdom every hour in the year,\n and fastening always on the worst as the most palatable morsels.\n But she is a circumstantial old lady, communicative, scrupulous,\n leaving nothing to the imagination, harping on the smallest\n grievances, a village oracle and critic, most veritable, most\n identical, bringing us acquainted with persons and things just\n as they happened, and giving us a local interest in all she\n knows and tells. The springs of Helicon are, in general,\n supposed to be a living stream, bubbling and sparkling, and\n making sweet music as it flows; but Mr. Crabbe\u2019s fountain of the\n Muses is a stagnant pool, dull, motionless, choked up with weeds\n and corruption; it reflects no light from heaven, it emits no\n cheerful sound:\u2014his Pegasus has not floating wings, but feet,\n cloven feet that scorn the low ground they tread upon;\u2014no\n flowers of love, of hope, or joy spring here, or they bloom only\n to wither in a moment; our poet\u2019s verse does not put a spirit of\n youth in every thing, but a spirit of fear, despondency and\n decay; it is not an electric spark to kindle and expand, but\n acts like the torpedo touch to deaden and contract: it lends no\n rainbow tints to fancy, it aids no soothing feelings in the\n heart; it gladdens no prospect, it stirs no wish; in its view\n the current of life runs slow, dull, cold, dispirited,\n half-underground, muddy, and clogged with all creeping things.\n The world is one vast infirmary; the hill of Parnassus is a\n penitentiary; to read him is a penance; yet we read on! Mr.\n Crabbe is a _fascinating_ writer. He contrives to \u201cturn diseases\n to commodities,\u201d and makes a virtue of necessity. He puts us out\n of conceit with this world, which perhaps a severe divine should\n do; yet does not, as a charitable divine ought, point to\n another. His morbid feelings droop and cling to the earth;\n grovel, where they should soar; and throw a dead weight on every\n aspiration of the soul after the good or beautiful. By degrees,\n we submit and are reconciled to our fate, like patients to a\n physician, or prisoners in the condemned cell. We can only\n explain this by saying, as we said before, that Mr. Crabbe gives\n us one part of nature, the mean, the little, the disgusting, the\n distressing; that he does this thoroughly, with the hand of a\n master; and we forgive all the rest!\u2019\u2014\n\nThe essay then proceeds as in _The Spirit of the Age_, with a few\ntrifling variations, down to the words \u2018inscribed to the Rutland\nfamily!\u2019 (vol. IV. p. 351, last line), after which there is the\nfollowing long passage, omitted from that work [the quotations are\nindicated in brackets]:\n\n \u2018But enough of this; and to our task of quotation.\u2019 The poem of\n _The Village_ sets off nearly as follows:\n\n \u2018\u201cNo; cast by Fortune on a frowning coast,\u201d etc. [_The Village_,\n i. 49\u201362].\n\n \u2018This plea, we would remark by the way, is more plausible than\n satisfactory. By associating pleasing ideas with the poor, we\n incline the rich to extend their good offices to them. The\n cottage twined round with real myrtles, or with the poet\u2019s\n wreath, will invite the hand of kindly assistance sooner than\n Mr. Crabbe\u2019s \u201cruin\u2019d shed\u201d; for though unusual, unexpected\n distress excites compassion, that which is uniform and\n remediless produces nothing but disgust and indifference.\n Repulsive objects (or those which are painted so) do not\n conciliate affection, or soften the heart.\u2019\n\n \u2018\u201cLo! where the heath with withering brake grown o\u2019er,\u201d etc.\n [_The Village_, i. 63\u201384].[83]\n\n \u2018This is a specimen of Mr. Crabbe\u2019s taste in landscape-painting,\n of the power, the accuracy, and the hardness of his pencil. If\n this were merely a spot upon the canvas, which might act as a\n foil to more luxuriant and happier scenes, it would be well. But\n our valetudinarian \u201ctravels from Dan to Beersheba, and cries it\n is all barren.\u201d Or if he lights \u201cin a favouring hour\u201d on some\n more favoured spot, where plenty smiles around, he then turns\n his hand to his human figures, and the balance of the account is\n still very much against Providence, and the blessings of the\n English Constitution. Let us see.\n\n \u2018\u201cBut these are scenes where Nature\u2019s niggard hand,\u201d etc. [_The\n Village_, I. 131\u2013153.][84]\n\n \u2018Grant all this to be true; nay, let it be told, but not told in\n \u201cmincing poetry.\u201d[85] Next comes the WORKHOUSE, and this, it\n must be owned, is a master-piece of description, and the climax\n of the author\u2019s inverted system of rural optimism.\n\n \u2018\u201cThus groan the Old, till by disease opprest,\u201d etc. [_The\n Village_, I. 226 to the end of Book I.][86]\n\n \u2018To put our taste in poetry, and the fairness of our opinion of\n Mr. Crabbe\u2019s in particular, to the test at once, we will\n confess, that we think the two lines we have marked in italics:\n\n \u2018\u201cHim now they follow to his grave, and stand\n Silent and sad, and gazing, hand in hand\u201d\u2014\n\n worth nearly all the rest of his verses put together, and an\n unanswerable condemnation of their general tendency and spirit.\n It is images, such as these, that the polished mirror of the\n poet\u2019s mind ought chiefly to convey; that cast their soothing,\n startling reflection over the length of human life, and grace\n with their amiable innocence its closing scenes; while its less\n alluring and more sombre tints sink in, and are lost in an\n absorbent ground of unrelieved prose. Poetry should be the\n handmaid of the imagination, and the foster-nurse of pleasure\n and beauty: Mr. Crabbe\u2019s Muse is a determined enemy to the\n imagination, and a spy on nature.\n\n \u2018Before we proceed, we shall just mark a few of those\n quaintnesses of expression, by which our descriptive poet has\n endeavoured to vary his style from common prose, and so far has\n succeeded. Speaking of Quarle he says:\n\n \u2018\u201cOf Hermit Quarle we read, in island rare,\n Far from mankind and seeming far from care;\n Safe from all want, and sound in every limb;\n Yes! there was he, and there was care with him.\u201d[87]\n\n \u00b7 \u00b7 \u00b7 \u00b7 \u00b7\n\n \u2018\u201cHere are no wheels for either wool or flax,\n But packs of cards\u2014made up of sundry packs.\u201d[88]\n\n \u00b7 \u00b7 \u00b7 \u00b7 \u00b7\n\n \u2018\u201cFresh were his features, his attire was new;\n Clean was his linen, and his jacket blue:\n Of finest _jean_, his trowsers, tight and trim,\n Brush\u2019d the large buckle at the silver rim.\u201d[89]\n\n \u2018To compare small things with great, this last touch of minute\n description is not unlike that in Theseus\u2019s description of his\n hounds:\n\n \u2018\u201cWith ears that sweep away the morning dew.\u201d[90]\n\n \u00b7 \u00b7 \u00b7 \u00b7 \u00b7\n\n \u2018\u201cAlas! your reverence, wanton thoughts, I grant,\n Where once my motive, now the thoughts of want.\n Women like me, as ducks in a decoy,\n Swim down a stream, and seem to swim in joy.\u201d[91]\n\n \u00b7 \u00b7 \u00b7 \u00b7 \u00b7\n\n \u2018\u201cBut from the day, that fatal day she spied\n The pride of Daniel, Daniel was her pride.\u201d[92]\n\n \u2018As an instance of the _curiosa felicitas_ in descriptive\n allusion (among many others) take the following. Our author,\n referring to the names of the genteeler couples, written in the\n parish register, thus \u201cmorals\u201d on the circumstance:\n\n \u2018\u201cHow fair these names, how much unlike they look,\u201d etc. [_The\n Parish Register_, II. 283\u2013300.]\n\n \u2018The _Library_ and the _Newspaper_, in the same volume, are\n heavy and common-place. Mr. Crabbe merely sermonises in his\n didactic poetry. He must pierce below the surface to get at his\n genuine vein. He is properly himself only in the petty and the\n painful. The _Birth of Flattery_ is a homely, incondite lay. The\n author is no more like Spenser than he is like Pope. The ballad\n of Sir Eustace Grey is a production of great power and genius.\n The poet, in treating of the wanderings of a maniac, has given a\n loose to his conception of imaginary and preternatural evils.\n But they are of a sort that chill, rather than melt the mind;\n they repel instead of haunting it. They might be said to be\n square, portable horrors, physical, external, not shadowy, not\n malleable; they do not arise out of any passion in the mind of\n the sufferer, nor touch the reader with involuntary sympathy.\n Beds of ice, seas of fire, shaking bogs, and fields of snow, are\n disagreeable matters of fact; and though their contact has a\n powerful effect on the senses, we soon shake them off in fancy.\n Let any one compare this fictitious legend with the unadorned,\n unvarnished tale of Peter Grimes, and he will see in what Mr.\n Crabbe\u2019s characteristic strength lies. He is a most potent\n copyist of actual nature, though not otherwise a great poet. In\n the case of Sir Eustace, he cannot conjure up any phantoms from\n a disordered imagination; but he makes honest Peter, the\n fisherman of the Borough, see visions in the mud where he had\n drowned his \u2019prentice boys, that are as ghastly and bewitching\n as any mermaid. We cannot resist giving the scene of this\n striking story, which is in our author\u2019s exclusive manner.\n \u201cWithin that circle none durst walk but he.\u201d[93]\n\n \u2018\u201cThus by himself compell\u2019d to live each day,\u201d etc. [_The\n Borough_, Letter XXII. 171\u2013204.]\u2019\n\nThe last paragraph, following this quotation, is the same as in _The\nSpirit of the Age_ (vol. IV. pp. 352\u20133).\n\n\n HAYDON\u2019S CHRIST\u2019S AGONY IN THE GARDEN\n\n 483. _Matthews._ Charles Mathews (1776\u20131835), the comedian, whose\n famous \u2018At Homes\u2019 Hazlitt refers to.\n\n \u2018_Sea, earth, and air._\u2019 Cf. \u2018And shot my being through earth,\n sea, and air.\u2019 Coleridge, _France, An Ode_, 103.\n\n _He bestrides his art, etc._ Haydon was pleased with these words\n which he quoted in a letter to a friend extracted in Mr. W. C.\n Hazlitt\u2019s _Four Generations of a Literary Family_ (I. 234).\n Haydon wrongly refers to Hazlitt\u2019s article as having appeared\n in _The New Monthly Magazine._ See also Haydon\u2019s _Life, etc._\n (ed. T. Taylor, I. 418), where, speaking of this picture,\n Haydon says \u2018Except the Christ\u2019s head and the St. John sleeping\n it was the worst picture ever escaped my pencil.\u2019\n\n _\u2018Ample room,\u2019 etc._ Gray, _The Bard_, 51.\n\n 484. _\u2018A hand,\u2019 etc._ Donne, _The Storm_, 3\u20134.\n\n 485. _The celebrated Madonna, etc._ See vol. IX. p. 67.\n\n\n POPE, LORD BYRON, AND MR. BOWLES\n\nFor Byron\u2019s Letters to Murray \u2018On the Rev. Wm. L. Bowles\u2019s Strictures on\nthe Life and Writings of Pope\u2019 and a full account of the controversy see\nByron\u2019s _Letters and Journals_ (ed. Prothero), V. Appendix iii. Cf. a\npassage in Hazlitt\u2019s essay \u2018On the Aristocracy of Letters,\u2019 vol. VI.\n(_Table Talk_), pp. 210, 223, and notes.\n\n 487. _Jem Belcher._ James Belcher (1781\u20131811), who defeated Andrew\n Gamble in 1800.\n\n _In the Preface to his Tragedy._ _Marino Faliero._\n\n \u2018_A tale of bawdry._\u2019 _Hamlet_, Act II. Sc. 2.\n\n 488. \u2018_Our sweet voices._\u2019 _Coriolanus_, Act II. Sc. 3.\n\n 489. \u2018_Most small faults._\u2019 Cf. _King Lear_, Act I. Sc. 4.\n\n _\u2018Ends of verse,\u2019 etc._ Butler, _Hudibras_, I. iii. 1011\u20132.\n\n 490. \u2018_Sternhold and Hopkins had great qualms._\u2019 The Earl of\n Rochester, _On a Parish Clerk with a bad voice._\n\n 492. _\u2018Full of wise saws,\u2019 etc._ _As You Like It_, Act II. Sc. 7.\n\n 494. _\u2018So perfumed,\u2019 etc._ _Antony and Cleopatra_, Act II. Sc. 2.\n\n 495. \u2018_Roaming the illimitable ocean wide._\u2019 Cf. \u2018Roaming the\n illimitable waters round.\u2019 Wordsworth, _The Female Vagrant_,\n 175.\n\n \u2018_Ill at these numbers._\u2019 _Hamlet_, Act II. Sc. 2.\n\n \u2018_Damnable iteration in him._\u2019 _1 Henry IV._, Act I. Sc. 2.\n\n \u2018_Keeps distance due._\u2019 _Paradise Lost_, III. 578.\n\n 496. _\u2018Luscious,\u2019 etc._ _Othello_, Act I. Sc. 3.\n\n _The grand-daughters of Mr. Coutts._ The two Misses Burdett,\n presumably the daughters of Sir Francis Burdett and therefore\n grand-daughters of Thomas Coutts the banker, were presented at\n court on May 3, 1821, but Hazlitt\u2019s meaning is a little\n obscure.\n\n _The Editor of the New Monthly Magazine._ Campbell, the poet.\n\n _\u2018High arbiter,\u2019 etc._ _Paradise Lost_, II. 908\u20139.\n\n \u2018_All the art of art is flown._\u2019 Cf. the note on \u2018all the life of\n life was flown\u2019 in vol. VI. (_Table Talk_), p. 24.\n\n 497. _\u2018The stones and tower,\u2019 etc._ Cf. _Peter Bell_, 856 _et seq._\n\n 497. \u2018_Host of human life._\u2019 Byron in his Letter speaks of having met\n Bowles at the house \u2018of our venerable host of _Human Life_,\u2019\n _i.e._ Rogers, the Poet.\n\n 498. _\u2018Of amber-headed snuff-box,\u2019 etc._ Pope, _The Rape of the Lock_,\n IV. 123\u20134.\n\n 499. \u2018_Denote no foregone conclusion._\u2019 _Othello_, Act III. Sc. 3.\n\n _\u2018How far,\u2019 etc._ _The Merchant of Venice_, Act V. Sc. 1.\n\n 500. _\u2018So was it,\u2019 etc._ Cf. Wordsworth\u2019s \u2018My heart leaps up,\u2019 etc.\n\n 501. _Almanach des gourmands._ See _The Edinburgh Review_, XXXV. 53.\n\n 502. \u2018_Circumscription and confine_,\u2019 _Othello_, Act I. Sc. 2.\n\n \u2018_The poor man\u2019s only music._\u2019 Coleridge, _Frost at Midnight_,\n 29.\n\n 503. _\u2018The earth hath bubbles,\u2019 etc._ _Macbeth_, Act I. Sc. 3.\n\n \u2018_Loud-hissing urn._\u2019 Cowper, _The Task_, The Winter Evening, 38.\n\n _\u2018Enforc\u2019d to seek,\u2019 etc._ _The Faerie Queene_, I. i. 7 and 8.\n\n 504. \u2018_A thing of life._\u2019 \u2018She walks the waters like a thing of life.\u2019\n Byron, _The Corsair_, I. iii.\n\n _\u2018Behold the lilies,\u2019 etc._ Cf. _S. Matthew_, vi. 28\u20139.\n\n _\u2018Daffodils,\u2019 etc._ _A Winter\u2019s Tale_, Act IV. Sc. 4.\n\n 505. _\u2018Hail, adamantine steel,\u2019 etc._ Erasmus Darwin, _The Botanic\n Garden_, Part I, II. 201\u20136.\n\n _\u2018Launched,\u2019 etc._ _The Rape of the Lock_, II. 4.\n\n _\u2018Strange that such difference,\u2019 etc._ Byrom, \u2018On the Feuds\n between Handel and Bononcini.\u2019\n\n 506. _\u2018Let me not,\u2019 etc._ _The Canterbury Tales_, The Clerke\u2019s Tale,\n 880.\n\n _\u2018Pope was not assuredly,\u2019 etc._ The rest of the essay is quoted\n from a former paper \u2018On the question whether Pope was a poet.\u2019\n See _ante_, pp. 431\u20132 and notes.\n\n\n ON CONSISTENCY OF OPINION\n\nPublished with some omissions in _Winterslow_ (1850).\n\n 508. _\u2018Servetur ad imum,\u2019 etc._ Horace, _Ars Poetica_, 126\u20137.\n\n 509. _\u2018It is the eye of childhood,\u2019 etc._ _Macbeth_, Act II. Sc. 2.\n\n _\u2018Where the treasure is,\u2019 etc._ _S. Matthew_ vi. 21.\n\n _\u2018To be wise,\u2019 etc._ Cf. \u2018Let it be virtuous to be obstinate.\u2019\n _Coriolanus_, V. 3.\n\n _Mr._ \u2014\u2014. Northcote, no doubt, who told Haydon that he was so\n delighted with the _Catalogue_ that he \u2018ordered a long candle\n and went to bed to read it in ecstasy.\u2019 _Life of Haydon_ (ed.\n T. Taylor), I. 376.\n\n 511. _\u2018Sots,\u2019 etc._ Pope, _An Essay on Man_, IV. 215.\n\n _\u2018I had rather hear,\u2019 etc._ Cf. _1 Henry IV._, Act III. Sc. 1.\n\n _\u2018Amaze the very faculties,\u2019 etc._ _Hamlet_, Act II. Sc. 2.\n\n 512. _Mr. Wordsworth has hardly, etc._ This passage, down to\n \u2018Constitutional Association-monger\u2019 (p. 513) was omitted from\n _Winterslow_.\n\n _\u2018So small a drop,\u2019 etc._ _Cymbeline_, Act IV. Sc. 2.\n\n _Applied for an injunction, etc._ A hit at Southey. See vol. III.\n (_Political Essays_), pp. 192 _et seq._ and notes.\n\n _One stroke of his prose-pen, etc._ Hazlitt probably refers\n to Wordsworth\u2019s _Two Addresses to the Freeholders of\n Westmoreland_, published in 1818.\n\n _\u2018The wreck of matter,\u2019 etc._ Addison, _Cato_, v. I.\n\n 514. _Contra audentior ito._ _\u00c6neid_, VI. 95.\n\n _\u2018Whose genius,\u2019 etc._ Cowper, _The Task_, The Garden, 255\u20136.\n\n _\u2018Like a worm,\u2019 etc._ Cf. _ante_, note to p. 506.\n\n \u2018_There\u2019s sympathy._\u2019 _The Merry Wives of Windsor_, Act II. Sc.\n 1.\n\n 515. \u2018_Ancestral voices._\u2019 Coleridge, _Kubla Khan_, 29.\n\n 515. _\u2018He looks up with awe,\u2019 etc._ Cf. Burke, _Reflections on the\n Revolution in France_ (_Select Works_, ed Payne, II. 101).\n\n _\u2018I\u2019ve heard of hearts unkind,\u2019 etc._ Wordsworth, _Simon Lee_,\n 93\u20136.\n\n _\u2018Every thing by turns,\u2019 etc._ Cf. Dryden, _Absalom and\n Achitophel_, I. 548.\n\n _A young student, etc._ This passage, to the end of the\n paragraph, was omitted in _Winterslow_. It would seem from the\n last sentence that Sir John Stoddart is referred to.\n\n _\u2018Perpetual volley,\u2019 etc._ Cf. \u2018Arrowy sleet, skin-piercing\n volley.\u2019 Cowper, _The Task_, The Winter Morning Walk, 140\u20131.\n\n 516. _\u2014\u2014 always sets himself, etc._ The reference seems clearly to be\n to Northcote.\n\n _\u2018Though truth be truth,\u2019 etc._ Cf. _Othello_, Act I. Sc. 1.\n\n 517. _\u2018Pride elevates,\u2019 etc._ Cf. \u2018Hope elevates, and joy brightens\n his crest.\u2019 _Paradise Lost_, IX. 633\u20134.\n\n _\u2018From morn to noon,\u2019 etc._ _Ibid._ I. 742\u20134.\n\n 518. _\u2018In all things,\u2019 etc_. Cf. Burke\u2019s Speech on Economical Reform\n (Feb. 11, 1780), _Works_, Bohn, II. 105.\n\n _\u2018To have done,\u2019 etc._ _Troilus and Cressida_, Act III. Sc. 3.\n\n _\u2018With one consent,\u2019 etc._ _Ibid._\n\n \u2018_Like a fashionable host_,\u2019 _Ibid._\n\n 519. _\u2018Noise,\u2019 etc._ Cf. _Hamlet_, Act III. Sc. 2.\n\n _\u2018Tell me your company,\u2019 etc._ Cf. the well-known proverb quoted\n in _Don Quixote_, Part II. chap. xxiii.\n\n 520. \u2018_Linked_ [bound] _each to each,\u2019 etc._ Wordsworth, \u2018My heart\n leaps up,\u2019 etc., 9.\n\n\n ON THE SPIRIT OF PARTISANSHIP\n\nPublished in _Sketches and Essays_ (1839).\n\n 521. _\u2018Ever strong,\u2019 etc._ _King John_, Act III. Sc. 1.\n\n 522. _\u2018In their generation,\u2019 etc._ Cf. _S. Luke_ xvi. 8.\n\n \u2018_The milk of human kindness._\u2019 _Macbeth_, Act I. Sc. 5.\n\n \u2018_Stuff o\u2019 the conscience._\u2019 _Othello_, Act I. Sc. 2.\n\n _\u2018Turned to the stroke,\u2019 etc._ Cowper, _The Task_, The\n Time-Piece, 324\u20135.\n\n 523. _\u2018Though sun and moon,\u2019 etc._ _Comus_, 374\u20135.\n\n _\u2018To do a great right,\u2019 etc._ _The Merchant of Venice_, Act IV.\n Sc. 1.\n\n 524. _\u2018The very arm,\u2019 etc._ Cf. _Antony and Cleopatra_, Act I. Sc. 5.\n\n \u2018_Entire affection scorneth_ [hateth],\u2019 _etc._ _The Faerie\n Queene_, I. VIII. 40.\n\n _\u2018Our bane,\u2019 etc._ Addison, _Cato_, V. 1.\n\n \u2018_Screwed to the sticking place._\u2019 Cf. _Macbeth_, Act I. Sc. 7.\n\n _\u2018Away to Heaven,\u2019 etc._ _Romeo and Juliet_, Act III. Sc. 1.\n\n 525. \u2018_To grinning scorn._\u2019\n\n \u2018To bitter Scorn a sacrifice,\n And grinning infamy.\u2019\n Gray, _On a Distant Prospect of Eton College_, 73\u20134.\n\n 526. _\u2018In peace,\u2019 etc._ _Henry V._, Act III. Sc. 1.\n\n _\u2018Those who are not for us,\u2019 etc._ Cf. _S. Matthew_, xii. 30.\n\n 527. _\u2018Letting our frail thoughts,\u2019 etc._ Cf. _Lycidas_, 153.\n\n _\u2018Nothing but vanity,\u2019 etc._ Cf. _ante_, note to p. 373.\n\n 530. \u2018_Our withers are unwrung._\u2019 _Hamlet_, Act III. Sc. 2.\n\n _\u2018Green-eyed,\u2019 etc._ Cf. Burke, _A Letter to a Noble Lord_\n (_Works_, Bohn, V. 142).\n\n\n THE PIRATE\n\nNow republished for the first time on the strength of the internal\nevidence of Hazlitt\u2019s authorship.\n\n 531. \u2018_So potent art._\u2019 _The Tempest_, Act V. Sc. 1.\n\n \u2018_A far war-cry to Lochiel._\u2019 \u2018It is a far cry to Lochow\u2019 is the\n old saying.\n\n 532. _That described by Mr. Coleridge._ See _Selections from Mr.\n Coleridge\u2019s Literary Correspondence_, No. I. Letter IV., \u2018To a\n Junior Soph. at Cambridge,\u2019 (_Blackwood\u2019s Magazine_, Oct. 1821,\n X. 256), republished in _Miscellanies, etc._ (Bohn, ed. Ashe),\n pp. 246 _et seq._\n\n _\u2018Guns,\u2019 etc._ Pope, _Imitations of Horace_, I. 26.\n\n _\u2018Hell itself,\u2019 etc._ Cf. _The Tempest_, Act I. Sc. 2.\n\n \u2018_There be land pirates, etc._\u2019 Cf. _The Merchant of Venice_, Act\n I. Sc. 3.\n\n _Multum abludit imago._ Horace, _Satires_, II. iii. 320.\n\n 533. \u2018_A brave man in distress._\u2019 Macheath is described by Lucy as \u2018a\n great man in distress.\u2019 _The Beggar\u2019s Opera_, Act III. Sc. 4.\n\n\n PEVERIL OF THE PEAK\n\nNow republished for the first time, as it appeared in the first copies\nof _The London Magazine_ for February 1823. Before fifty copies had been\nsold, the second and third paragraphs,\u2014from \u2018There were two things that\nwe used to admire,\u2019 etc. to \u2018Might not such a man have written the\nScotch Novels?\u2019 (see post, p. 538)\u2014were suppressed. Shortly afterwards a\nwriter in _Blackwood\u2019s Magazine_, having obtained possession of one of\nthe original copies, published this passage together with indignant\ncomments. See _Blackwood\u2019s Magazine_, August 1824, XVI. 180\u20131. The\neditor of _The London Magazine_ replied to this attack in the number for\nOctober 1824, and stated that the review was by \u2018a celebrated critic,\u2019\nand that the passage had been withdrawn out of respect, not fear. See\nMr. Bertram Dobell\u2019s _Sidelights on Charles Lamb_ (pp. 205 _et seq._).\nThe suppressed passage is here reprinted from _Blackwood\u2019s Magazine_.\n\n 538. _\u2018Thinly scattered,\u2019 etc._ _Romeo and Juliet_, Act V. Sc. 1.\n\n _\u2018He knows all qualities,\u2019 etc._ _Othello_, Act III. Sc. 3.\n\n _\u2018The wisest,\u2019 etc._ Cf. Pope, _An Essay on Man_, IV. 282.\n\n\n COMMON PLACES\n\nThese were first republished by Mr. W. C. Hazlitt in Bohn\u2019s Standard\nLibrary (1871) in the volume containing _The Round Table_, etc. They\noriginally appeared in _The Literary Examiner_ on the following dates in\n1823, viz.: Nos. I.\u2013XVIII., September 6; Nos. XIX.\u2013XLV., September 13;\nNos. XLVI.\u2013LIII., October 11; Nos. LIV.\u2013LIX., October 25; Nos. LX.\u2013LXI.,\nNovember 8; Nos. LXII.\u2013LXXIII., November 15; Nos. LXXIV.\u2013LXXV., November\n22; Nos. LXXVI.\u2013LXXXII., November 29; Nos. LXXXIII.\u2013LXXXVII., December\n13.\n\n 547. _\u2018According to our own deserts,\u2019 etc._ _Hamlet_, Act II. Sc. 2.\n\n _\u2018The true fuller\u2019s earth,\u2019 etc._ Cf. \u2018For time, like fuller\u2019s\n earth, takes out each stain.\u2019 Peter Pindar, _Lyric Odes_, VII.\n 14.\n\n _The taste of the great in pictures, etc._ Cf. vol. VII. (_The\n Plain Speaker_) pp. 292\u20134, where the whole paragraph is\n repeated.\n\n 549. _\u2018Were I as tedious,\u2019 etc._ _Much Ado About Nothing_, Act III.\n Sc. 5.\n\n 550. _\u2018I am Misanthropos,\u2019 etc._ _Timon of Athens_, Act IV. Sc. 3.\n\n _\u2018The cruel sunshine,\u2019 etc._ Cf. Armstrong, _The Art of\n Preserving Health_, IV.\n\n 551. \u2018_In its vacant interlunar cave._\u2019 _Samson Agonistes_, 89.\n\n _Slop._ Sir John Stoddart, no doubt. Cf. vol. III. p. 158 and\n note.\n\n 552. _\u2018In spite of pride,\u2019 etc._ Pope, _An Essay on Man_, I. 293.\n\n 553. _Mr. Martin\u2019s picture._ By John Martin (1789\u20131854).\n\n l. 9. _Bowers._ Query, a misprint for \u2018flowers.\u2019\n\n _\u2018The earth spins round,\u2019 etc._ Cf. _Paradise Lost_, VIII. 164\u20135.\n\n 555. _\u2018A gentle Husher,\u2019 etc._ _The Faerie Queene_, I. IV. 13.\n\n 556. _Mr. Cobbett alone was not invited._ The editor of _The Literary\n Examiner_ says, in a note, \u2018This is _bien trouv\u00e9_, but not\n quite correct.\u2019\n\n _\u2018What went they forth,\u2019 etc._ Cf. _S. Matthew_ xi. 7.\n\n _The author of the love-letters, etc._ Cf. vol. III. (_Political\n Essays_) p. 218 and note.\n\n \u2018_Oh, the wonderful works of nature._\u2019 Farquhar, _The Recruiting\n Officer_, Act II. Sc. 3.\n\n 557. _\u2018The primrose path,\u2019 etc._ _Hamlet_, Act I. Sc. 3.\n\n 559. _\u2018Via Goodman Dull,\u2019 etc._ _Love\u2019s Labour\u2019s Lost_, Act V. Sc. 1.\n\n\n Printed by T. and A. CONSTABLE, Printers to His Majesty at the Edinburgh\n University Press\n\n-----\n\nFootnote 1:\n\n Those essays which are now republished for the first time are\n indicated by an asterisk.\n\nFootnote 2:\n\n These two essays were published together in _Winterslow_ as \u2018Mind and\n Motive.\u2019\n\nFootnote 3:\n\n Published in _Winterslow_ as \u2018Matter and Manner.\u2019\n\nFootnote 4:\n\n This paper did not appear in _The Edinburgh (New Scots) Magazine_. See\n _post_, note to p. 459.\n\nFootnote 5:\n\n The passage in Locke is as follows:\n\n \u2018If in having our ideas in the memory ready at hand, consists\n quickness of parts, in this of having them unconfused and being able\n nicely to distinguish one thing from another, where there is but the\n least difference, consists in a great measure the exactness of\n judgment and clearness of reason, which is to be observed in one man\n above another. And hence perhaps may be given some reason of that\n common observation that men who have a great deal of wit and prompt\n memories, have not always the clearest judgment, or deepest reason.\n For wit lying most in the assemblage of ideas, and putting them\n together with quickness and variety, wherein can be found any\n resemblance or congruity, thereby to make up pleasant pictures and\n agreeable visions in the fancy; judgment on the contrary lies quite on\n the other side, in separating carefully one from another ideas wherein\n can be found the least difference, thereby to avoid being misled by\n similitude and by affinity to take one thing for another.\u2019\u2014_Locke\u2019s\n Essay_, vol. i. p. 143.\n\nFootnote 6:\n\n This relates to what Mr. Locke says of unity, whom all succeeding\n writers have made a point of bringing forward on all occasions, merely\n for the purpose of differing from him. They set him up as the\n standard, or _ne plus ultra_ of profound wisdom, and yet they always\n contrive to go beyond him. I will just add, by the bye, on this\n argument about number, that the fair way of putting it is by asking\n whether one combination of ideas is not different from another, or\n whether one foot or one inch is the same with thirty-six feet, or\n thirty-six inches, not whether one foot is the same as thirty-six\n inches. Otherwise there will remain a real distinction of number, both\n in idea and in fact.\n\nFootnote 7:\n\n The two men of the greatest ability in modern times as metaphysicians,\n that is, with the greatest power of seeing things in the abstract, and\n of pursuing a principle into all its consequences, are in my opinion\n Hobbes and Berkeley: after them come Hume and Hartley. Compared with\n these Locke was a mere common practical man: of the four, I think\n Hobbes was at the head, as the others only worked out the materials\n with which he furnished them.\n\nFootnote 8:\n\n This, if the translation is correct, is proving a great deal more than\n Leibnitz\u2019s restriction of Locke\u2019s doctrine requires, and is, as it\n appears to me, the great stumbling block in Kant\u2019s Philosophy. It is\n quite enough to shew, not that there are certain notions _\u00e0 priori_ or\n independent of sensation, but certain faculties independent of the\n senses or sensible objects, which are the intellect itself, and\n necessary, after the objects are given, to form _ideas_ of them. That\n is to say, ideas are the result of the action of objects on such and\n such faculties of the mind. Kant\u2019s notions _\u00e0 priori_, seem little\n better than the innate ideas of the schools, or the Platonic ideas or\n forms, which are to me the forms of _nothing_. The sole and simple\n question is, whether there are not certain intellectual faculties\n distinct from the senses, which exist before any ideas can be formed,\n as it is not denied by any one, that there are certain sensitive\n faculties which must exist before any sensations can be received. The\n one supposition no more implies innate ideas, than the other implies\n innate sensations.\n\nFootnote 9:\n\n Now Kant, by thus classing, as he apparently does, the representations\n of space and time as forms of the sensitive faculty, throws up the\n whole argument: for if these very complex (not to say distracted)\n ideas, can be referred to mere sensation, I do not see why all the\n rest may not. Time is obviously an idea of succession or memory, and\n cannot be the result of an immediate sensible impression. The only\n power of the sensitive faculty is to receive blind, unconscious,\n unconnected impressions; the only category of the understanding is to\n perceive the _relations between these impressions_, so as to connect\n them consciously together, or to form ideas. To this category of\n relation, all the other general categories of quantity, totality,\n cause and effect, etc. as well as the ideas of space and time, are\n necessarily consequent and subordinate.\n\nFootnote 10:\n\n See to the same purpose Hobbes\u2019s Human Nature, p. 25, and Leviathan,\n p. 14. Berkeley\u2019s Principles of Human Knowledge, p. 15 and 24. Hume\u2019s\n Treatise, p. 46. Helvetius on the Mind, p. 10, and Condillac\u2019s Logic,\n p. 54.\n\nFootnote 11:\n\n \u2018Lastly, that there is some one principle or substance, absolutely\n simple in its nature, and distinct from every composition of matter,\n which is the seat of thought, the soul of man, and the bond of our\n existence, will appear evident to any one who considers the nature of\n judgment and comparison: where both terms of the one, and both\n branches of the other must be apprehended together, in order to\n determine between them. Let one man be ever so well acquainted with\n St. Peter\u2019s at Rome, and another with St. Paul\u2019s in London, they can\n never tell which is the larger, the handsomer, or make any other\n comparison between the two buildings by virtue of this knowledge. But\n you will say, the one may communicate his knowledge to the other: but\n then that other has the idea of both before him in his imagination,\n and it is from this that he forms his judgment. Nor is the case\n different with respect to the parts of a percipient being: let the\n idea of an elephant be impressed upon particle _a_, and that of a\n mouse upon particle _b_, they can never know either jointly or\n separately which is the larger creature: nor can a judgement be formed\n till the ideas of both coincide in one and the same individual. This\n is the common sense of mankind. For when we make use of the pronouns,\n I, He, You, &c. and say, _I heard such a sound_; _I saw such a sight;\n or felt such a sensation_; are not these different impressions all\n referred by implication to the same simple individual? Or were I to\n say, that in looking at a chess-board for instance, one part of me saw\n the yellow king, another the black, another the queen, another the\n bishop, and so on, should I not be laughed at by every body as not\n knowing what I was talking about?\u2019\u2014Tucker\u2019s Light of Nature pursued,\n chapter on the Independent Existence of Mind. See also Rousseau\u2019s\n reasoning in Answer to Helvetius, Emile, tom. 3. And Bentley\u2019s Sermons\n at the Boyle Lecture.\n\nFootnote 12:\n\n So little has this principle of the unity of thought and consciousness\n been understood, that even Professor Stewart, the great champion of\n the intellectual philosophy, utterly rejects it, and supposes that the\n idea which the mind forms of any visible figure is nothing but a rapid\n succession of the ideas of the several parts. See his reasoning on\n this subject most ably confuted in a work lately published, entitled\n \u2018An Essay on Consciousness, by John Fearn.\u2019\u2014This Essay, in spite of\n the disadvantage of the mechanical hypothesis with which it is\n encumbered, and the technical obscurity of the style, contains, I\n think, more close and original observation on the individual processes\n of the human mind, than any work published in this country in the last\n fifty years.\n\nFootnote 13:\n\n The faces of N. Poussin want expression, as his figures want grace;\n but the landscape part of his historical compositions was never\n surpassed. In his plague of Athens the buildings seem stiff with\n horror. His Giants seated on the tops of their fabled mountains, and\n playing on their Pan\u2019s pipes are as natural and familiar as \u2018silly\n shepherds sitting in a row.\u2019 The finest of his landscapes is his\n picture of the Deluge. The sun is just seen wan and drooping in his\n course, the sky is bowed down with a weight of waters, and heaven and\n earth seem commingling.\n\nFootnote 14:\n\n The reader is referred to an elegant and beautiful description of\n Claude, in Mr. Northcote\u2019s Dream of a Painter.\n\nFootnote 15:\n\n The idea of the necessity of tampering with nature, or giving what is\n called _a flattering likeness_, was universal in this country fifty\n years ago. This would no doubt be always easy, if the whole of the art\n consisted in leaving out, and not putting in, what is to be found in\n nature. It may not be improper to add here, that, in our opinion,\n Murillo is at the head of the class of painters, who have treated\n subjects of common life. There is something in his pictures which is\n not to be found at all in the productions of the Dutch school. After\n making the colours on the canvass feel and think, the next best thing\n is to make them breathe and live. But there is in Murillo\u2019s pictures a\n look of real life, a cordial flow of animal spirits, to be met with no\n where else. We might here particularly refer to his picture of the\n _Two Spanish Beggar-boys_ in Mr. Desenfans\u2019 collection, which cannot\n be forgotten by those who have ever seen it.\n\nFootnote 16:\n\n This theory will be found contained in Richardson\u2019s Essay on Painting,\n and in Coypel\u2019s Discourses to the French Academy.\n\nFootnote 17:\n\n This painter\u2019s book of studies from nature, commonly called _Liber\n Veritatis_, disproves the truth of Sir Joshua\u2019s assumption, that his\n landscapes are mere general compositions, for the finished pictures\n are nearly fac-similes of the original sketches, and what is added to\n them in point of regularity (if this addition was any advantage) was\n at least the result of his own genius.\n\nFootnote 18:\n\n Sir Joshua considers it as a great disadvantage to Raphael in studying\n from the antique, that he had not the facilities afforded by modern\n prints, but was forced to seek out, and copy them one by one with\n great care. We should be disposed to reverse this conclusion.\n\nFootnote 19:\n\n The pictures of Rubens at Blenheim are another proof of this, and\n certainly finer than the Luxembourg gallery.\n\nFootnote 20:\n\n Michael Angelo took his ideas of painting from sculpture, and Sir\n Joshua from Michael Angelo.\n\nFootnote 21:\n\n Why fabulous or obscure?\n\nFootnote 22:\n\n The personification of the Deity is another instance of critical\n contradiction and conceit. Objecting to the figures of Raphael and\n Michael Angelo as mythological and sensible, he introduces a little\n golden triangle behind a cloud (_triangulum in nube_) as a\n philosophical emblem of the Trinity!\n\nFootnote 23:\n\n When the writer of this article was in France twelve years ago, a\n young French artist began to copy in pencil a figure of the Virgin by\n Leonardo da Vinci. He returned to it day after day, and week after\n week. He was always there. He would first retouch an eyebrow or an\n eyelash, then do something to one of the fingers, then mark in a bit\n of the drapery, and then return to the face again. All this he did,\n sometimes leaning over the railing before the picture, sometimes\n sitting on a stool, mechanically screwed on to it, sometimes standing\n on one leg. He also relieved the monotony of his undertaking, by\n retiring to a small distance to compare his copy with the original, or\n shewed it to some one near him, or went round to look over others who\n were copying, or stood at the fire for an hour together, or loitered\n into the sculpture room, or walked round the gallery, and generally\n observed at his return that Poussin was excellent \u2018pour la\n composition,\u2019 Raphael \u2018pour l\u2019expression,\u2019 Titian \u2018pour les beaux\n coloris,\u2019 but that David and his pupils united all these qualities to\n the fine forms of the antique. At the end of eleven weeks, we left him\n perfecting his copy. For anything we know, he may be at it still.\n\nFootnote 24:\n\n It is not correct to say that the French always colour from their\n casts. They sometimes rouge them over with a beautiful rose-colour, or\n cover their lay-figures with flesh-coloured Nankin, like that which\n adorns the bodies of their opera dancers. We were at a loss to account\n for the colouring of David, till we heard of this contrivance. It is\n thus that these accomplished persons think to rival the hues of Titian\n and Correggio!\n\nFootnote 25:\n\n A radical objection to it, in point of composition, is, that it is\n addressing the spectator, and has its back turned to the audience.\n\nFootnote 26:\n\n The waiter drawing the cork in the Rent-day, is another exception, and\n quite Hogarthian.\n\nFootnote 27:\n\n Mr. Wilkie\u2019s pictures are in general much better painted than\n Hogarth\u2019s: but the Marriage a-la-mode is superior both in colour and\n execution to any of Wilkie\u2019s.\n\nFootnote 28:\n\n \u2018And see! how dark the backward stream\n A little moment past how smiling!\n And still perhaps, with faithless gleam,\n Some other loiterer beguiling.\u2019\n _Wordsworth._\n\nFootnote 29:\n\n Mr. Southey is, it is hoped, politically reconciled to Mr. Dryden,\n since his succession to the Laureatship. Which of these two writers is\n the better poet, it would be presumptuous in us to determine. We could\n sooner determine which was the honester man. Mr. Dryden, we believe,\n never wrote Regicide Sonnets, Jacobin Odes, or Revolutionary Epic\n Poems. How the Prince must laugh, if he can laugh at any thing. He\n might as well have made his chaplain his historical painter!\n\nFootnote 30:\n\n As a contrast to the story at the beginning of this article, it will\n be not amiss to mention that of Sir Isaac Newton, on a somewhat\n similar occasion. He had prepared some papers for the press with great\n care and study, but happening to leave a lighted candle on the table\n with them, his dog Diamond overturned the candle, and the labour of\n several years was destroyed. This great man, on seeing what was done,\n only shook his head, and said with a smile, \u2018Ah, Diamond, you don\u2019t\n know what mischief you have done!\u2019\n\nFootnote 31:\n\n We have an instance in our own times of a man, equally devoid of\n understanding and principle, but who manages the House of Commons by\n his _manner_ alone.\n\nFootnote 32:\n\n Sheer impudence answers almost the same purpose. \u2018Those impenetrable\n whiskers have confronted flames.\u2019 Many persons, by looking big and\n talking loud, make their way through the world without any one good\n quality. We have here said nothing of mere personal qualifications,\n which are another set-off against sterling merit. Fielding was of\n opinion that \u2018the more solid pretensions of virtue and understanding\n vanish before perfect beauty.\u2019 \u2018A certain lady of a manor\u2019 (says _Don\n Quixote_ in defence of his attachment to _Dulcinea_, which however was\n quite of the Platonic kind), \u2018had cast the eyes of affection on a\n certain squat, brawny lay brother of a neighbouring monastery, to whom\n she was lavish of her favours. The head of the order remonstrated with\n her on this preference shown to one whom he represented as a very low,\n ignorant fellow, and set forth the superior pretensions of himself,\n and his more learned brethren. The lady having heard him to an end,\n made answer: All that you have said may be very true; but know, that\n in those points which I admire, Brother Chrysostom is as great a\n philosopher, nay greater than Aristotle himself!\u2019 So the _Wife of\n Bath_:\n\n \u2018To church was mine husband borne on the morrow\n With neighbours that for him maden sorrow,\n And Jenkin our clerk was one of tho:\n As help me God, when that I saw him go\n After the bier, methought he had a pair\n Of legs and feet, so clean and fair,\n That all my heart I gave unto his hold.\u2019\n\n \u2018All which, though we most potently believe, yet we hold it not\n honesty to have it thus set down.\u2019\n\nFootnote 33:\n\n At Salisbury, which is a cathedral and county town, you cannot get a\n copy of Congreve or Wycherley at any of the shops.\n\nFootnote 34:\n\n The knack of off-hand, unprincipled, idle fabrication is not assisted,\n but the contrary, by general knowledge or regular education. Women,\n for this reason, have the better of their husbands in trumping up\n sudden excuses and contrivances that have no foundation in fact or\n reason; and their servant maids, who are more uneducated still, beat\n them hollow at the same paltry game of cross-purposes.\n\nFootnote 35:\n\n It is observed and perhaps justly that the members of the Established\n Church are the pleasantest sort of people to deal with. Dissenters are\n more soured by the leaven of religion. The others do not trouble\n themselves enough about it to come to a conclusion of their own, or to\n quarrel with other people who do. They are religious merely out of\n conformity to the practice of the age and country in which they live,\n and follow that which has authority and numbers on its side.\n\nFootnote 36:\n\n There is a common inversion of this opinion, which is _desperation_;\n or the becoming reckless of all consequences, poverty, disease, or\n death, from disappointment in some one thing that the mind is set\n upon, no matter what. A man who has been jilted of his first choice\n marries out of spite the first woman he meets. A girl, whose\n sweetheart goes to sea, because she will not have him, as soon as he\n is gone, and she is baulked of her fancy, runs a-muck at ruin and\n infamy\u2014\n\n \u2018As men should serve a cucumber,\n She throws herself away!\u2019\n\n Losing gamesters act nearly on the same infatuated principle. Harrel,\n in _Cecilia_, makes a fine hair-brained mock-heroic exit. I declare I\n prefer it to the termination of Gray\u2019s Bard. Gamesters and highwaymen\n are so far heroes that it is neck or nothing with them: they set\n consequences at defiance. Their actions are disinterested; but their\n motives are not so. A fortune-hunting General stands much in the same\n predicament. The abstracted, the _ideal_, is necessary to the true\n heroic. But before a man can fight for an idea, he must have an idea\n in his head to fight for. Now there are some Generals that are not\n understood to possess this qualification of the heroic character.\n\nFootnote 37:\n\n It has been suggested whether this phrase \u2018insulted\u2019 is not too\n modern.\n\nFootnote 38:\n\n Mr. Canning, when on a tour to the Lakes, did Mr. Wordsworth the\n honour of paying him a visit. The favour was duly appreciated, but\n quite unexpected. Really, we do not know any one so little capable of\n appreciating the _Lyrical Ballads_.\n\nFootnote 39:\n\n We once heard it said, that \u2018Mr. Canning had the most elegant mind\n since Virgil.\u2019 But we could not assent to this remark, as we just then\n happened to think of Claude Lorraine.\n\nFootnote 40:\n\n We have said nothing here of the impiety of Mr. Canning\u2019s parodies,\n though a great deal has been said of the impiety of Mr. Hone\u2019s, which\n unfortunately happen to be on the other side of the question. It is\n true that _one man may steal a horse sooner than another can look over\n a hedge_. Mr. Hone is not a Cabinet Minister, and therefore is not\n allowed to take liberties with the Liturgy. It is to no purpose to\n urge that Mr. Hone is a very good-natured man, that he is mild and\n inoffensive in his manners, that he is utterly void of guile, with a\n great deal of sincere piety, and that his greatest vice is that he is\n fond of a joke, and given to black-letter reading. The answer is\u2014\u2018But\n he has written parodies\u2019\u2014and it is to no purpose to reply\u2014So has Mr.\n Canning! He is a Cabinet Minister, and therefore incapable of any\n thing vulgar or profane. One would think that the triumphant question\n put by Mr. Hone to his Jury, \u2018Whether Mr. Jekyll\u2019s Parody on\n Black-eyed Susan was meant to ridicule Sir William Curtis or the\n Ballad of Black-eyed Susan?\u2019 would have put an end for ever to the\n cant on this subject, if reason could put an end to cant on any\n subject. The fate of different men is curious. Mr. Canning, who has\n all his life been defending the most odious and mischievous men and\n measures, passes, on that very account, for a most amiable character\n and an accomplished statesman. Mr. Hone, who defended himself against\n a charge of blasphemy for a parody on the _Church Service_ of which\n Mr. Canning had furnished him with a precedent, rose from the attack\n by the force of good-nature, and by that noble spirit of freedom and\n honesty in which to be unjustly accused is to be superior to all fear,\n and to speak truth is to be eloquent\u2014but that he did not suffer\n himself to be crushed to atoms, and made a willing sacrifice to the\n prejudice, talent, and authority arrayed against him, is a resistance\n to the opinions of the world and the insolence of power, that can\n never be overlooked or forgiven.\n\n \u2018A wit\u2019s a feather, and a chief\u2019s a rod:\n An honest man\u2019s the noblest work of God!\u2019\n\nFootnote 41:\n\n It is amusing to see an English woman in the streets of Paris looking\n like a dowdy, and scarcely able to put one foot before another for\n very awkwardness and shame, who but a week before she left home had\n perhaps trampled on a dress brought home to her, in a fit of\n uncontrollable rage, thrown a cap into the fire, and kicked her\n milliner down stairs for bringing her such unfashionable trumpery. One\n would scarcely believe that a mere change of place would make such an\n alteration in behaviour. When we see our country-women so unpleasantly\n situated, we are naturally both ashamed and sorry for them: but, as in\n this case, we pity many of them more than they deserve.\n\nFootnote 42:\n\n Lady Byron, when a girl, was so affected at seeing Mrs. Siddons as\n _Isabella_, in the _Fatal Marriage_, that she was carried out fainting\n into the lobbies, and kept sobbing and exclaiming involuntarily \u2018Oh,\n Byron, Byron!\u2019 Egad, she had enough of Byron afterwards. This\n good-natured remark is not ours. Whose, reader, do you suppose it is?\n We have heard the late Mr. Curran say, that when he was a young man\n studying the law at the Temple, his supreme delight was to see Mrs.\n Siddons in her great parts, and all he wanted was a couple of _pails_\n on each side of him to fill them with his tears! Such things have\n been.\n\nFootnote 43:\n\n \u2018Lodging-houses for the Universe,\u2019 and \u2018Stage-coaches of the\n Universe.\u2019\n\nFootnote 44:\n\n In this sort of representative Government the utility of the Press\n seems by no means superseded.\n\nFootnote 45:\n\n Papers on Codification. What an odd title. Mr. Bentham writes a style\n of his own, and in his titlepages he puts his best foot foremost.\n\nFootnote 46:\n\n Venice.\n\nFootnote 47:\n\n There is a false concord here.\n\nFootnote 48:\n\n This word is not English, nor its meaning clear.\n\nFootnote 49:\n\n Why is the word _portion_ here used, as if it were a portion of\n Scripture?\n\n \u2018Those strains that once did sweet in Zion glide,\n He wales a _portion_ with judicious care.\u2019\n _Cottar\u2019s Saturday Night._\n\n Now, Mr. Wordsworth\u2019s poems, though not profane, yet neither are they\n sacred, to deserve this solemn style, though some of his admirers have\n gone so far as to compare them for primitive, patriarchal simplicity,\n to the historical parts of the Bible. Much has been said of the merits\n and defects of this large poem, which is \u2018portion of a\n larger;\u2019\u2014perhaps Horace\u2019s rule has been a double bar to its\n success\u2014_Non satis est pulchra poemata esse, dulcia sunto_. The\n features of this author\u2019s muse want sweetness of expression as well as\n regularity of outline.\n\nFootnote 50:\n\n A French teacher, in reading Titus and Berenice with an English pupil,\n used to exclaim, in raptures, at the best passages, \u2018What have you in\n Shakespeare equal to this?\u2019 This showed that he had a taste for\n Racine, and a power of appreciating his beauties, though he might want\n an equal taste for Shakespeare.\n\nFootnote 51:\n\n It is a fashion among the scientific or pedantic part of the musical\n world to decry Miss Stephens\u2019s singing as feeble and insipid. This it\n is to take things by their contraries. Her excellence does not lie in\n force or contrast, but in sweetness and simplicity. To give only one\n instance. Any person who does not feel the beauty of her singing the\n lines in Artaxerxes, \u2018What was my pride is now my shame,\u2019 &c., in\n which the notes seem to fall from her lips like languid drops from the\n bending flower, and her voice flutters and dies away with the expiring\n conflict of passion in her bosom, may console himself with the\n possession of other faculties, but assuredly he has no ear for music.\n\nFootnote 52:\n\n There is a very striking and spirited picture of this subject by an\n ingenious living artist (Mr. Alston), in the present exhibition of the\n Royal Academy. The academic skill in it is admirable, and many of the\n forms are truly elegant and beautiful; but I may be permitted to add,\n that the scene (as he represents it) too much resembles the courtly\n designs of Vitruvius or Palladio, rather than \u2018a temple not made with\n hands, eternal in the heavens\u2019; and that the angels seem rather\n preparing to dance a minuet or grand ballet on the marble pavement\n which they tread, than descending the air in a dream of love, of hope,\n and gratitude.\n\nFootnote 53:\n\n I apprehend that natural is of more importance than acquired\n sensibility. Thus, any one, without having been at an opera, may judge\n of opera dancing, only from having seen (with judicious eyes) a stag\n bound across a lawn, or a tree wave its branches in the air. In all,\n the general principles of motion are the same.\n\nFootnote 54:\n\n In answer to a criticism by Mr. Godwin on his poem called _Sympathy_.\n\nFootnote 55:\n\n \u2018Liberty is a custom of England,\u2019 said a Member of Congress; who seems\n also to be of opinion, that _it is a custom more honoured in the\n breach than the observance_.\n\nFootnote 56:\n\n I by no means wish to preclude Mr. Phillips from trying annually to\n naturalize his favourite mode of oratory at watering-places in this\n country, or in Evangelical Societies held at the Egyptian-hall, where\n it is not out of character. He may there assure his hearers, with\n great impunity, that Dr. Franklin\u2019s orthodoxy was never called in\n question; and rank Moses and Mahomet together as true prophets, (by\n virtue of the first letter of their names) in opposition to the\n infidelity of Paine and Priestly, who go together for the same reason\u2014\n\n Like Juno\u2019s Swans, link\u2019d and inseparable.\n\nFootnote 57:\n\n The best speeches are the worst reported, the worst are made better\n than they are. They both find a convenient newspaper level.\n\nFootnote 58:\n\n His Lordship is said to speak French with as little hesitation as he\n does his native tongue; and once made a speech in that language to the\n Congress for three hours without interruption. The sentiments, we may\n be sure, were not English. Or was it on that occasion that Prince\n Tallyrand made his observation, \u2018that speech was given to man to\n conceal his thoughts\u2019? I cannot agree with Mr. Hobhouse in his\n compliment to the expression which Isabey has given to Lord\n Castlereagh\u2019s face in the _insulated_ figure of him in the picture of\n the Congress. An old classical friend of Mr. Hobhouse\u2019s would have\n supplied a better interpretation of it. But I do not think the French\n artist has done his Lordship justice. His features are marked, but the\n expression is dormant.\n\nFootnote 59:\n\n See his panegyric on the late King, his defence of the House of\n Commons, and his eulogy on the practical liberty of the English\n Constitution in his Liverpool Dinner Speech.\n\nFootnote 60:\n\n Letter to **** ****** on the Rev. W. L. Bowles\u2019s Strictures on the\n Life and Writings of Pope. By the Right Hon. Lord Byron. Third\n Edition. Murray.\n\nFootnote 61:\n\n We have \u2018purest architecture\u2019 just before; and \u2018the prior fabric which\n preceded,\u2019 is rather more than an inelegant pleonasm.\n\nFootnote 62:\n\n See Mr. Bowles\u2019s Two Letters.\n\nFootnote 63:\n\n Coleridge.\n\nFootnote 64:\n\n Most people have felt the _ennui_ of being detained under a gateway in\n a shower of rain. Happy is he who has an umbrella, and can escape when\n the first fury of the storm has abated. Turn this gateway into a\n broker\u2019s shop, full of second-hand furniture\u2014tables, chairs,\n bedsteads, bolsters, and all the accommodations of man\u2019s life,\u2014the\n case will not be mended. On the other hand, convert it into a wild\n natural cave, and we may idle away whole hours in it, marking a streak\n in the rock, or a flower that grows on the sides, without feeling time\n hang heavy on us. The reason is, that where we are surrounded with the\n works of man\u2014the sympathy with the art and purposes of man, as it\n were, irritates our own will, and makes us impatient of whatever\n interferes with it: while, on the contrary, the presence of nature, of\n objects existing without our intervention and controul, disarms the\n will of its restless activity, and disposes us to submit to accidents\n that we cannot help, and the course of outward events, without\n repining. We are thrown into the hands of nature, and become converts\n to her power. Thus the idea of the artificial, the conventional, the\n voluntary, is fatal to the romantic and imaginary. To us it seems,\n that the free spirit of nature rushes through the soul, like a stream\n with a murmuring sound, the echo of which is poetry.\n\nFootnote 65:\n\n This, we are sorry to say, relates only to the three first volumes.\n The fourth is in a very mixed style indeed. It looks as if the author\n was tired, and got somebody to help him.\n\nFootnote 66:\n\n See Mackenzie\u2019s Life of Home, the author of Douglas.\n\nFootnote 67:\n\n The Duke of Wellington, it is said, cannot enter into the merits of\n Raphael, but he admires \u2018the spirit and fire of Tintoret.\u2019 I do not\n wonder at this bias. A sentiment, probably, never dawned upon his\n Grace\u2019s mind; but he may be supposed to relish the dashing execution\n and _hit or miss_ manner of the Venetian artist. Oh, Raphael! well is\n it that it was one who did not understand thee that blundered upon the\n destruction of humanity!\n\nFootnote 68:\n\n Hazlitt refers to what _The Examiner_ calls the \u2018regal raree-show\u2019 in\n the Parks at the beginning of August 1814. A sham fight on the\n Serpentine was one of the features.\n\nFootnote 69:\n\n _Paradise Lost_, III. 550.\n\nFootnote 70:\n\n Wordsworth himself says (_Hart-Leap Well_) \u2018The moving accident is not\n my trade.\u2019\n\nFootnote 71:\n\n _Lycidas_, 161.\n\nFootnote 72:\n\n Wordsworth\u2019s Ode, _Intimations of Immortality_, 206\u20137.\n\nFootnote 73:\n\n See _ante_, note to p. 48.\n\nFootnote 74:\n\n This opening paragraph is certainly very like Hazlitt. Cf. the review\n by anticipation of Coleridge\u2019s _Lay Sermon_ in _Political Essays_,\n vol. III. pp. 138\u2013142.\n\nFootnote 75:\n\n Query, a misprint for \u2018delicacy.\u2019\n\nFootnote 76:\n\n Ben Jonson\u2019s _Underwoods_, XXX., \u2018An Epistle to Sir Edward Sackville.\n A favourite quotation of Hazlitt\u2019s.\n\nFootnote 77:\n\n _The Faerie Queene_, III. VII. 7.\n\nFootnote 78:\n\n Haydon.\n\nFootnote 79:\n\n _Hamlet_, Act III. Sc. 2.\n\nFootnote 80:\n\n Leigh Hunt, _The Story of Rimini_, III. 32.\n\nFootnote 81:\n\n See vol. I. p. 218\u2013221.\n\nFootnote 82:\n\n Acts xix. 28.\n\nFootnote 83:\n\n To the line \u2018And to the ragged infant threaten war,\u2019 Hazlitt appends\n the footnote, \u2018This is a pleasing line; because the unconsciousness to\n the mischief in the child is a playful relief to the mind, and the\n picturesqueness of the imagery gives it double point and _naivet\u00e9_.\u2019\n\nFootnote 84:\n\n To the line \u2018See them beneath the dog-stars raging heat,\u2019 Hazlitt has\n a footnote: \u2018This seems almost a parody on the lines in Shakespeare.\n \u201cNot all these, laid in bed majestical,\u201d etc. [_Henry V._, Act IV. Sc.\n 1, ll. 284\u2013297.] Who shall decide where two such authorities\n disagree!\u2019\n\nFootnote 85:\n\n _1 Henry IV._, Act III. Sc. 1.\n\nFootnote 86:\n\n To the line \u2018Or wipes the tear that stagnates in his eyes,\u2019 Hazlitt\n adds a footnote: \u2018And the motion unsettles a tear.\u2014Wordsworth.\u2019 [_The\n Convict_, (Lyrical Ballads) l. 42.]\n\nFootnote 87:\n\n _The Parish Register_, I. 107\u201310.\n\nFootnote 88:\n\n _Ibid._ I. 230\u20131.\n\nFootnote 89:\n\n _The Parish Register_, I. 301\u20134.\n\nFootnote 90:\n\n _A Midsummer Night\u2019s Dream_, Act IV. Sc. 1.\n\nFootnote 91:\n\n _The Parish Register_, I. 454\u20137.\n\nFootnote 92:\n\n _Ibid._ II. 319\u201320.\n\nFootnote 93:\n\n Dryden, Prologue to _The Tempest_, 20.\n\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n\n\n\n TRANSCRIBER\u2019S NOTES\n\n\n 1. Silently corrected obvious typographical errors and variations in\n spelling.\n 2. Retained archaic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings as printed.\n 3. Enclosed italics font in _underscores_.","title":"The collected works of William Hazlitt, Vol. 11 (of 12)","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":294881}