contending; but I found my attendance so little encouraged, that neither pride nor modesty would suffer me to continue it. When I had once addressed your Lordship in public, I had exhausted all the art of pleasing which a retired and uncourtly scholar can possess. I had done all that I could; and no man is well pleased to have his all neglected, be it ever so little. Seven years, my lord, have now past since I waited in your outward rooms (ante-room), or was repulsed from your door; during which time I have been pushing on my work through difficulties, of which it is useless to complain, and have brought it, at last, to the verge of publication, without one act of assistance, one word of encouragement, or one smile of favour. Such treatment I did not expect, for I never had a patron' before. The shepherd in Virgil grew at last acquainted with Love, and found him a native of the rocks.2 Is not a patron, my Lord, one who looks with unconcern on a man struggling for life in the water, and, when he has reached ground, encumbers him with help? The notice which you have been pleased to take of my labours, had it been early, had been kind: but it has been delayed till I am indifferent, and cannot enjoy it; till till I am solitary, and cannot impart it; till I am known, and do not want it. I hope it is no very cynical asperity not to confess obligations where no benefit has been received; or to be unwilling that the public should consider me as owing that to a patron, which Providence has enabled me to do for myself. Having carried on my work thus far with so little obligation to any favourer of learning, I shall not be disappointed though I should conclude it, if less be possible, with less; for I have long been wakened from that dream of hope in which I once boasted myself with so much exultation, My Lord, your Lordship's most humble, most obedient servant. (1) Patron. It is amusing to read the definition of a "patron" in "the Dictionary"—" one who countenances, supports, or protects. Commonly a wretch who supports with insolence, and is paid with flattery." (2) The reference is to Virgil's Eclogue, viii. 44. "Nunc scio quid sit Amor; duris in cotibus illum," &c., i.e. "Now I know what Love is; not, as I expected to find him, a being who would sympathise with human passions and feelings, but a savage, a native of the rocks, and deriving his nature from theirs." The application is obvious. (3) He had lost his much-loved wife Tetty, as he affectionately calls her. 3. THE CLAIMS OF SHAKSPERE AS A CLASSIC. (FROM THE "PREFACE TO SHAKESPEARE,”' PUBLISHED IN 1765.) To works, of which the excellence is not absolute and definite, but gradual and comparative; to works not raised upon principles demonstrative and scientific, but appealing wholly to observation and experience; no other test can be applied than length of duration and continuance of esteem. What mankind have long possessed, they have often examined and compared, and if they persist to value the possession, it is because frequent comparisons have confirmed opinion in its favour. As among the works of nature no man can properly call a river deep, or a mountain high, without the knowledge of many mountains and many rivers; so in the productions of genius, nothing can be styled excellent till it has been compared with other works of the same kind. Demonstration3 immediately displays its power, and has nothing to hope or fear from the flux of years; but works tentative and experimental must be estimated by their proportion to the general and collective ability of man, as it is discovered in a long succession of endeavours. Of the first building that was raised, it might be with certainty determined that it was round or square; but whether it was spacious or lofty must have been referred to time. The Pythagorean scale of numbers was at once discovered to be perfect; but the poems of Homer we yet know not to transcend the common limits of human intelligence, but by remarking, that nation after nation, and century after century, has been able to do little more than transpose his incidents, new-name his characters, and paraphrase his sentiments. The reverence due to writings that have long subsisted arises therefore not from any credulous confidence in the superior wisdom of past ages, or gloomy persuasion of the degeneracy of mankind, but is the consequence of acknowledged and indubitable positions, that what has been longest known has been (1) This passage, written ten years after the previous one, shows a great improvement in style, the result of practice in composition. There is less antithesis, and more mental grasp and power. (2) Persist to value. We should now say "persist in valuing." (3) Demonstration, i.e. scientific proof. Demonstration simply means "pointing out; " but as this act distinguishes the object, it next means "to make perfectly clear," and, therefore, applies especially to those subjects, with which positive, as distinguished from speculative, knowledge has to do. most considered, and what is most considered is best understood. Shakespeare may now begin to assume the dignity of an ancient, and claim the privilege of established fame and prescriptive veneration. He has long outlived his century, the term commonly fixed as the test of literary merit. Whatever advantages he might once derive from personal allusions, local customs, or temporary opinions, have for many years been lost; and every topic of merriment or motive of sorrow which the modes of artificial life afforded him, now only obscure the scenes which they once illuminated. The effects of favour and competition are at an end; the tradition of his friendships and his enmities has perished; his works support no opinion with arguments, nor supply any faction with invectives; they can neither indulge vanity nor gratify malignity, but are read without any other reason than the desire of pleasure, and are therefore praised only as pleasure is obtained; yet, thus unassisted by interest or passion, they have passed through variations of taste and changes of manners,1 and, as they devolved from one generation to another, have received new honours at every transmission. Shakespeare is above all writers, at least above all modern writers, the poet of nature, the poet that holds up to his readers a faithful mirror of manners and of life. His characters are not modified by the customs of particular places, unpractised by the rest of the world; by the peculiarities of studies or professions, which can operate but upon small numbers; or by the accidents of transient fashions, or temporary opinions: they are the genuine progeny of common humanity, such as the world will always supply, and observation will always find. His persons act and speak by the influence of those general passions and principles by which all minds are agitated, and the whole system of life is continued in motion. In the writings of other poets a character is too often an individual; in those of Shakespeare it is commonly a species.2 It is from this wide extension of design that so much instruction is derived. It is this which fills the plays of Shakespeare (1) Changes of manners, .e. the fashions both of literature and society. The idea conveyed in this long sentence appears to be admirably conceived, and cortespondingly expressed. (2) In other words, he does not exhibit eccentrics or monstrosities, whose peculiarities are known only to a few, but general features of character, which are easily recognised by all. with practical axioms and domestic wisdom. It was said of Euripides, that every verse was a precept; and it may be said of Shakespeare, that from his works may be collected a system of civil and economical prudence. Yet his real power is not shown in the splendour of particular passages, but by the progress of his fable, and the tenor of his dialogue; and he that tries to recommend him by select quotations, will succeed like the pedant in "Hierocles," who, when he offered his house to sale, carried a brick in his pocket as a specimen. 4. ION A.2 (FROM "A JOURNEY TO THE WESTERN ISLES OF SCOTLAND," We were now treading that illustrious island, which was once the luminary of the Caledonian regions, whence savage clans and roving barbarians derived the benefits of knowledge and the blessings of religion. To abstract the mind from all local emotion would be impossible if it were endeavoured, and would be foolish if it were possible. Whatever withdraws us from the power of our senses, whatever makes the past, the distant, or the future, predominate over the present, advances us in the dignity of thinking beings. Far from me and from my friends be such frigid philosophy as may conduct us indifferent and unmoved over any ground which has been dignified by wisdom, bravery, or virtue. That man is little to be envied, whose patriotism would not gain force upon the plain of Marathon, or whose piety would not grow warmer among the ruins of Iona. (1) It is said, that when a volume, entitled "The Beauties of Shakspere," was shown to a famous critic, he remarked, "Yes, this is very well; but where are the other seven volumes ?" (2) Sir Joseph Banks, on reading this passage-characterised, not unfitly, by Boswell as "sublime "--was so much affected by it, that he clasped his hands together, and remained for some time in an attitude of silent admiration. It is, indeed, an epitome of the faults and beauties of Johnson's style. We see the oscillatory trick in the first sentence-" savage clans-roving barbarians; benefits of knowledge-blessings of religion," &c. But then we see, as the earnestness of the writer deepens, the noble thought breaking asunder the "green withes" of his system, and asserting itself with a force and beauty which command universal admiration. We sometimes hear Johnson very unfairly disparaged. We ought, as Englishmen, to be very proud of him. With all his faults, he is the nearest approach to a reproduction of Socrates that we have ever had amongst us. 5. PARALLEL BETWEEN POPE AND DRYDEN.1 (FROM THE "LIVES OF THE POETS," PUBLISHED IN 1779.) POPE professed to have learned his poetry from Dryden, whom, whenever an opportunity was presented, he praised through his whole life with unvaried liberality; and perhaps his character may receive some illustration, if he be compared with his master. Integrity of understanding and nicety of discernment were not allotted in a less proportion to Dryden than to Pope. The rectitude of Dryden's mind was sufficiently shown by the dismission of his poetical prejudices, and the rejection of unnatural thoughts and rugged numbers. But Dryden never desired to apply all the judgment that he had. He wrote, and professed to write, merely for the people; and when he pleased others, he contented himself. He spent no time in struggles to rouse latent powers; he never attempted to make that better which was already good, nor often to mend what he must have known to be faulty. He wrote, as he tells us, with very little consideration; when occasion or necessity called upon him, he poured out what the present moment happened to supply, and, when once it had passed the press, ejected it from his mind; for, when he had no pecuniary interest, he had no further solicitude. Pope was not content to satisfy; he desired to excel, and therefore always endeavoured to do his best: he did not court the candour, but dared the judgment of his reader, and, expecting no indulgence from others, he showed none to himself. He examined lines and words with minute and punctilious observation, and retouched every part with indefatigable diligence, till he had left nothing to be forgiven. For this reason he kept his pieces very long in his hands, while he considered and reconsidered them. The only poems (1) This brilliant critique, in Johnson's best manner, has ever been much admired for its acuteness and sound judgment. Cowper, in one of his letters, professes his adherence to it. He says of Pope, "Never, I believe, were such talents and such drudgery united. But I admire Dryden most, who has succeeded by mere dint of genius, and in spite of a laziness and carelessness almost peculiar to himself. His faults are numberless, but so are his beauties." (2) Integrity, rectitude. Neither of these words is used appropriately here. They both properly characterise a moral, not a mental condition, and should not be diverted from their proper subject. The former seems to mean here simply "soundness," and the latter "good taste." |