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radicals set poor human nature on her legs fit him for life. Bah! Tell that to the marines. again, and what would become of them? In Now and then one meets a man eminent in a the French service there is no rising at all, it liberal profession, who has not been at any seems, but by merit; but there is also much place that could easily be called a College. running away; not in a disgraceful style, for But the great streams of talent in England our natural enemies, and artificial friends are keep perpetually flowing from the gates of her a brave race, but in mere indignation and dis- glorious Universities and he who would deny gust to see troops so shamefully ill-officered as it in any mixed company of leading men in ours, which it would be a disgrace to look in London, would only have to open his eyes in the face on the field, either in column or line. the hush that rebuked his folly, to see that he Therefore they never stand a charge, but are was a Cockney, clever enough, perhaps, in off in legions of honour, eagles and all, before his own small way, and the author of some troops that have been so uniformly flogged sonnets, but even to his own feelings painfully from time immemorial, as to have no other out of place among men who had not studied name but raw lobsters, led on by officers all at the Surrey. shivering or benumbed under the “cold shade We cannot say that we have any fears, this of aristocracy,” like Picton and Pack. fine clear September morning, for the Church
We once thought of going ourselves to the of England in England. In Ireland, deserted English Bar, but were dissuaded from doing and betrayed, it has received a dilapidating so by some judicious friends, who assured us shock. Fain would seven millions of “the we should only be throwing away our great finest people on the earth,” and likewise the talents and unexampled eloquence; for that most infatuated, who are so proud of the versuccess depended solely on interest, and we dure of their isle, that they love to make the had none we knew of, either in high places or green one red," see the entire edifice overin low, and had then never seen an attorney. thrown, not one stone left upon another, and We wept for the fate of many dear friends in its very name smothered in a smoky cloud of wigs, and made a pilgrimage to Jerusalem. ascending dust. They have told us so in yells, On our return from Palestine and other foreign over which has still been heard “the wolf's parts, behold them all bending under briefs, long howl,” the savage cry of the O'Connell. bound by retaining fees, or like game-hawks, And Ministers who pretend to be Protestants, wheeling in airy circuits over the rural pro- and in reform have not yet declared against vinces, and pouncing down on their prey, the Reformation, have tamely yielded, recreants away to their eyries with talon-fulls, which from the truth, to brawlers who would pull they devoured at their luxurious leisure, un-down her holiest altars, and given up “pure troubled by any callow young! They now religion, breathing household laws,” a sacrifice compose the Bench.
to superstition. But there is a power enshrined Ere we set off for Salem, we had thoughts in England which no Government dare seek to of entering the Church, and of becoming Bi- desecrate-in the hearts of the good and wise, shops. But 'twas necessary, we were told, grateful to an establishment that has guarded first to be tutor to a lord. That, in our pride, Christianity from corruption, and is venerated we could not stomach; but if ours had not by all the most enlightened spirits who conbeen the sin by which Satan fell, where now scientiously worship without its pale, and had been the excellent Howley? All our know that in the peaceful shadow of its habits in youth led us to associate much with strength repose their own humbler and unintending divines. A few of them are still troubled altars. curates; but 'twere vain to try to count the We have been taking a cheerful--a hopeful vicars, rectors, canons, deans, archdeacons, view of our surrounding world, as it is inand bishops, with whom, when we were all closed within these our seas, whose ideal murunder-graduates together at Oxford, we used to mur seemed awhile to breathe in unison with do nothing but read Greek all day, and Latin our Monologue. We have been believing, that all night. Yet you hear nothing but abuse of in this our native land, the road of merit is such a Church! and are told to look at the the road to success--say happiness. And is Dissenters. We do look at them, and an not the law the same in the world of Literauglier set we never saw; not one in a hundred, ture and the Fine Arts? Give a great genius in his grimness, a gentleman. Not a single any thing like fair play, and he will gain glory, scholar have they got to 'show, and now that nay bread. True, he may be before his age, Hall is mute, not one orator. Their divinity and may have to create his worshippers. But is of the dust—and their discourses dry bones. how few such! And is it a disgrace to an age Down with the old Universities—up with new. to produce a genius whose grandeur it cannot The old are not yet down, but the new are up; all at once comprehend? The works of genius and how dazzling the contrast, even to the are surely not often incomprehensible to the purblind! You may hew down' trees, but not highest contemporary minds, and if they win towers; and Granta and Rhedicyna will show their admiration, pity not the poor Poet. But their temples to the sun, ages after such struc-pray syllable the living Poet's name who has tures shall have become hospitals. They en- had reason to complain of having fallen on lighten the land. Beloved are they by all the evil days, or who is with “darkness and with gentlemen of England. Even the plucked think danger compassed round.” From humblest of them with tears of filial reverence, and birth-places in the obscurest nooks frequently having renewed their plumage, clap their have we seen wings and crow defiance to all their foes. A
“The fulgent head man, you say, can get there no education to Star-bright appear;"
from unsuspected rest among the water-lilies Many a sad and serious hour have we read of the mountain-mere, the snow-white swan in D’Israeli, and many a lesson may all lovers of full plumage soar into the sky. Hush! no literature learn from his well-instructed books. nonsense about Wordsworth. “Far-off his But from the unhappy stories therein so feelcoming shone;" and what if, for a while, men ingly and eloquently narrated, has many “a knew not whether'twas some mirage-glimmer, famous ape” drawn conclusions the very or the dawning of a new “orb of song !"
reverse of those which he himself leaves to be We have heard rather too much even from drawn by all minds possessed of any philosothat great poet about the deafness and blind- phy. Melancholy the moral of these moving ness of the present time. No Time but the tales; but we must look for it, not into the future, he avers, has ears or eyes for divine society that surrounds us, though on it too we music and light. Was Homer in his own day must keep a watchful, and, in spite of all its obscure, or Shakspeare? But Heaven forbid sins, a not irreverent eye, but into our own we should force the bard into an argument; hearts. There lies the source of evil which we allow him to sit undisturbed by us in the some evil power perhaps without us stirs up bower nature delighted to build for him, with till it wells over in misery. Then fiercely small help from his own hands, at the dim end turns the wretch first against the world and of that alley green, among lake-murmur and the world's law,” both sometimes iniquitous, mountain-shadow, for ever haunted by enno- and last of all against the rebellious spirit in bling visions. But we love and respect present his own breast, but for whose own innate corTime--partly, we confess, because he has ruption his moral being would have been vicshown some little kindly feeling for ourselves, torious against all outward assaults, violent or whereas we fear Future Time may forget us insidious, “and to the end persisting safe among many others of his worthy father's arrived." friends, and the name of Christopher North Many men of genius have died without their
fame, and for their fate we may surely mourn, “Die on his ears a faint unheeded sound."
without calumniating onir kind. It was their But Present Time has not been unjust to Wil- lot to die. Such was the will of God. Many liam Wordsworth. Some small temporalities such have come and gone, ere they knew themwere so; imps running about the feet of Pre- selves what they were ; their brothers, and sent Time, and sometimes making him stum- sisters, and friends knew it not; knew it not ble: but on raising his eyes from the ground, their fathers and mothers; nor the village he saw something shining like an Apparition maidens on whose bosoms they laid their dying on the mountain top, and he hailed, and with heads. Many, conscious of the divine flame, a friendly voice, the advent of another true and visited by mysterious stirrings that would Poet of nature and of man.
not let them rest, have like vernal wild-flowers We must know how to read that prophet, be- withered, or been cut down like young trees in fore we preach from any text in his book of the season of leaf and blossom. Of this our revelations.
mortal life what are these but beautiful evan“We poets in our youth begin in gladness, But thereof comes in the end despondency and madness.” Michael Bruce-a fine scholar, who taught a
ishings! Such was our young Scottish Poet, Why spoke he thus? Because a deep dark- little wayside school, and died, a mere lad, of ness had fallen upon him all alone in a mountain-cave, and he quaked before the mystery Stuart was imprisoned, looks not more melan
consumption. Loch Leven Castle, where Mary of man's troubled life.
choly among the dim waters for her than for “He thought of Chatterton, the marvellous boy, its own Poet's sake! The linnet, in its joy
The sleepless soul that perish'd in his pride; Of him who walk'd in glory and in joy,
among the yellow broom, sings not more Following his plough upon the mountain side;" sweetly than did he in his sadness, sitting
beside his unopened grave, and if they died miserably, “How may I
one song that will perish !" But they wanted wisdom. There- not die,” though the dirge but draw now and fore the marvellous boy drank one bowl drug- then a tear from some simple heart. ged with sudden, and the glorious ploughman "Now spring returns-but not to me returns
The vernal joy my better years have known; many bowls drugged with lingering death. If
Dim in my breast life's dying taper burns, we must weep over the woes of Genius, let us
And all the joys of life with health are flown." know for whom we may rightly shed our tears.
To young Genius to die is often a great With one drop of ink you may write the names gain. The green leaf was almost hidden in of all
blossoms, and the tree put forth beautiful “The mighty Poets in their misery dead."
promise. Cold winds blew, and clouds interWordsworth wrote those lines, as we said, in cepted the sunshine; but it felt the dews of the inspiration of a profound but not permanent heaven, and kept flourishing fair even in the melancholy; and they must not be profaned moonlight, deriving sweet sustenance from the by being used as a quotation in defence of stars. But would all those blossoms have accusations against human society, which, been fruit? Many would have formed, but in some lips, become accusations against more perhaps dropt in unperceived decay, and Providence. The mighty Poets have been the tree which“ all eyes that looked on loved," not only wiser, but happier than they knew; might not have been the pride of the garden. and what glory from heaven and earth was Death could not permit the chance of such dis. poured over their inward life, up to the very appointment, stepped kindly in, and left the moment it darkened away into the gloom of spring-dream“sweet but mournful to the soul," the grave!
among its half-fancied memories. Such was
the fate, perhaps, of Henry Kirke White. His | little essays, clear as wells and deep as tarns, fine moral and intellectual being was not left that so far from their being any thing in the to pine away neglected; and if, in gratitude constitution of genius naturally kindred either and ambition, twin-births in that noble heart, to vice or misery, it is framed of light and love he laid down his life for sake of the lore he and happiness, and that its sins and sufferings loved, let us lament the dead with no passion- come not from the spirit but from the flesh. ate ejaculations over injustice by none com- Yet is its flesh as firm, and perhaps somewhat mitted, console ourselves with the thought, in finer than that of the common clay; but still noways unkind to his merits, that he died in a it is clay--for all men are dust. mild bright spring that might have been suc- But what if they who, on the ground of geceeded by no very glorious summer; and that, nius, claim exemption from our blame, and fading away as he did among the tears of the inclusion within our sympathies, even when good and great, his memory has been em- seen suffering from their own sins, have no balmed, not only in his own gentle inspirations, genius at all, but are mere ordinary men, and but in the immortal eulogy of Southey. But, but for the fumes of some physical excitement, alas ! many thus endowed by nature " have which they mistake for the airs of inspiration, waged with fortune an unequal war;" and are absolutely stupider than people generally pining away in poverty and disappointment, go, and even without any tolerable abilities for have died broken-heartedmand been buried alphabetical education ? Many such run versome in unhonoured-some even in unwept sifying about, and will not try to settle down graves! And how many have had a far more into an easy sedentary trade, till getting thirsty dismal lot, because their life was not so inno- through perpetual perspiration, they take to cent! The children of misfortune, but of error drinking, come to you with subscription-papers too-of frailty, vice, and sin. Once gone for poetry, with a cock in their eye that tells of astray, with much to tempt them on, and no low tippling houses, and, accepting your halfvoice, no hand, to draw them back, theirs has crown, slander you when melting it in the been at first a flowery descent to death, but purling purlieus of their own donkey-browsed soon sorely beset with thorns, lacerating the Parnassus. friendless wretches, till, with shame and re- Can this age be fairly charged—we speak of morse their sole attendants, they have tottered England and Scotland—with a shameful ininto uncoffined holes and found peace.
difference-or worse-a cruel scorn--or worse With sorrows and sufferings like these, it still-a barbarous persecution of young perwould be hardly fair to blame society at large sons of humble birth, in whom there may apfor having little or no sympathy; for they are, pear a promise of talent, or of genius? Many in the most affecting cases, borne in silence, are the scholars in whom their early benefacand are unknown even to the generous and tors have had reason to be proud of themselves, humane in their own neighbourhood, who while they have been happy to send their sons might have done something or much to afford to be instructed in the noblest lore, by men encouragement or relief. Nor has Charity whose boyhood they had rescued from the always neglected those who so well deserved darkness of despair, and clothed it with the her open hand, and in their virtuous poverty warmth and light of hope. And were we to might, without abatement of honourable pride speak of endowments in schools and colleges, in themselves, have accepted silent succour to in which so many fine scholars have been silent distress. Pity that her blessings should brought up from among the humbler classes, be so often intercepted by worthless applicants, who but for them had been bred to some mean on their way, it may be said, to the magnani- handicraft, we should show better reason still mous who have not applied at all, but spoken for believing that moral and intellectual worth to her heart in a silent language, which was is not overlooked, or left to pine neglected in not meant even to express the penury it be- obscure places, as it is too much the fashion trayed. But we shall never believe that dew with a certain set of discontented declaimers twice blessed seldom descends, in such a land to give out; but that in no other country has as ours, on the noble young head that else had such provision been made for the meritorious sunk like a chance flower in some dank shade, children of the enlightened poor as in England. left to wither among weeds. We almost ven- But we fear that the talent and the genius ture to say, that much of such unpitied, be- which, according to them, have been so often cause often unsuspected suffering, cannotcease left or sent to beggary, to the great reproach to be without a change in the moral govern- even of our national character, have not been ment of the world.
of a kind which a thoughtful humanity would Nor has Genius a right to claim from Con- in its benefactions have recognised; for it science what is due but to Virtue. None who looks not with very hopeful eyes on mere irlove humanity can wish to speak harshly of regular sallies of fancy, least of all when spurnits mere frailties or errors--but none who ing prudence and propriety, and symptomatic Tevere morality can allow privilege to its of a mental constitution easily excited, but sins. All who sin suffer, with or without averse to labour, and insensible to the delight genius; and we are nowhere taught in the labour brings with it, when the faculties are all New Testament, that remorse in its agony, devoted in steadfastness of purpose to the acand penitence in its sorrow, visit men's ima- quisition of knowledge and the attainment of ginations only; but whatever way they enter, truth. their rueful dwelling is in the heart. Poets 'Tis not easy to know, seeing it so difficult shed no bitterer tears than ordinary men; and to define it, whether this or that youth who Fonblanque finely showed us, in one of his late I thinks he has genius, has it or not; the only
proof he may have given of it is perhaps a and are happy in the sight of “the beauty still few copies of verses, which breathe the animal more beauteous” revealed to their fine percepgladness of young life, and are tinged with tions, though to them was not given the faculty tints of the beautiful, which joy itself, more that by combining in spiritual passion creates. imaginative than it ever again will be, steals But what has thither brought the self-deceived, from the sunset; but sound sense, and judg- who will not be convinced of their delusion, ment, and taste, which is sense and judg- even were Homer or Milton's very self to ment of all finest feelings and thoughts, and frown on them with eyes no longer dim, but the love of light dawning on the intellect, and angry in their brightness like lowering stars? ability to gather into knowledge facts near and But we must beware--perhaps too late-of from afar, till the mind sees systems, and in growing unintelligible, and ask you, in plainer them understands the phenomena which, when terms, if you do not think that by far the greatlooked at singly, perplexed the pleasure of the est number of all those who raise an outcry sight—these, and aptitudes and capacities and against the injustice of the world to men of powers such as these, are indeed of promise, genius, are persons of the meanest abilities, and more than promise; they are already per- who have all their lives been foolishly fighting formance, and justify in minds thus gifted, and with their stars? Their demons have not in those who watch their workings, hopes of a whispered to them “ have a taste,” but “you wiser and happier future when the boy shall have genius," and the world gives the demons be a man.
the lie. Thence anger, spite, rancour, and Perhaps too much honour, rather than too envy eat their hearts, and they “rail against little, has been shown by his age to mediocre the Lord's anointed." They set up idols of poetry and other works of fiction. A few clay, and fall down and worship them—or idols gleams of genius have given some writers of brass, more worthless than clay; or they of little worth a considerable reputation; and perversely, and in hatred, not in love, pretend great waxed the pride of poetasters. But true reverence for the Fair and Good, because, forpoetry burst in beauty over the land, and we sooth, placed by man's ingratitude too far in became intolerant of "false glitter.” Fresh the shade, whereas man's pity has, in deep sprang its flowers from the “ dædal earth," or compassion, removed the objects of their love, seemed, they were so surpassingly beautiful, because of their imperfections not blameless, as if spring had indeed descended from heaven, back in among that veiling shade, that their “ veiled in a shower of shadowing roses,” and beauty might still be visible, while their deno longer could we suffer young gentlemen and formities were hidden in “a dim religious ladies, treading among the profusion, to gather light.” the glorious scatterings, and weaving them into Let none of the sons or daughters of genius fantastic or even tasteful garlands, to present hearken to such outcry but with contemptthem to us, as if they had been raised from and at all times with suspicion, when they finů the seed of their own genius, and entitled themselves the objects of such lamentations. therefore “to bear their name in the wild The world is not at least does not wish to be, woods.” This flower-gathering, pretty pas- an unkind, ungenerous, and unjust world time though it be, and altogether innocent, fell Many who think themselves neglected, are far into disrepute; and then all such florists be- more thought of than they suppose; just as gan to complain of being neglected, or de- many, who imagine the world ringing with their spised, or persecuted, and their friends to la- name, are in the world's ears nearly anonyment over their fate, the fate of all genins, “in mous. Only one edition or two of your poems amorous ditties all a summer's day."
have sold—but is it not pretty well that five Besides the living poets of highest rank, hundred or a thousand copies have been read, are there not many whose claims to join the or glanced over, or looked at, or skimmed, or sacred band have been allowed, because their skipped, or fondled, or petted, or tossed aside, lips, too, have sometimes been touched with a “ between malice and true love,” by ten times fire from heaven? Second-rate indeed! Ay, that number of your fellow-creatures, not one well for those who are third, fourth, or fifth- of whom ever saw your face; while many milrate—knowing where sit Homer, Shakspeare, lions of men, nearly your equals, and not a few and Milton. Round about Parnassus run many millions your superiors far, have contentedly parallel roads, with forests “of cedar and dropt into the grave, at the close of a long life, branching palm between,” overshadowing the without having once “invoked the Muse," and sunshine on each magnificent level with a who would have laughed in your face had you sense of something more sublime still nearer talked to them, even in their greatest glee, the forked summit; and each band, so that about their genius. they be not ambitious overmuch, in their own There is a glen in the Highlands (dearly beregion may wander or repose in grateful bliss. loved Southrons, call on us, on your way Thousands look up with envy from “the low-through Edinburgh, and we shall delight to lying fields of the beautiful land” immediately instruct you how to walk our mountains) without the line that goes wavingly asweep called Glencro—very unlike Glenco. A good round the base of the holy mountain, separating road winds up the steep ascent, and at the it from the common earth. What clamour and summit there is a stone seat, on which you what din from the excluded crowd! Many are read, “ Rest and be thankful." You do somand heard there to whom nature has been kind, but are not a little proud-if pedestrians-of your they have not yet learned “to know them- achievement. Looking up, you see cliffs high selves," or they would retire, but not afar off, above your head, (not the Cobbler,) and in the and in silence adore. And so they do erelong, clear sky, as far above them, a balanced birdo ny
You envy him his seemingly motionless wings, soar,”—and wish you were a great Poet. But and wonder at his air-supporters. Down he you are no more a great Poet than an Eagle darts, or aside he shoots, or right up he soars, eight feet from wing-tip to wing-tip--and will and you wish you were an Eagle. You have not rest-and-be-thankful that you are a man reached Rest-and-be-thankful, yet rest you will and a Christian. Nay, you are more, an author not, and thankful you will not be, and you scorn of no mean repute; and your prose is allowed the mean inscription, which many a worthier to be excellent, better far than the best parawayfarer has blessed, while sitting on that graph in this our Morning Monologue. But stone he has said, "give us this day our daily you are sick of walking, and nothing will sabread,” eat his crust
, and then walked away tisfy you but to fly. Be contented, as we are, contented down to Cairndow. Just so it has with feet, and weep not for wings; and let us been with you sitting at your appointed place take comfort together from a cheering quota---pretty high up-on the road to the summit tion from the philosophic Grayof the Biforked Hill. You look up and see “For they that creep, and they that fly, Byron—there “sitting where you may not
Just end where they began.
THE FIELD OF FLOWERS.
A MAY-MORNING on Ulswater and the banks of the Lake with all its ranges of mountains of Ulswater-commingled earth and heaven! every single tree, every grove, and all the Spring is many-coloured as Autumn; but now woods seeming to show or to conceal the scene Joy scatters the hues daily brightening into at the bidding of the Spirit of Beauty--reclined greener life, then Melancholy dropt them daily two Figures—the one almost rustic, but venedimming into yellower death. The fear of rable in the simplicity of old age-the other Winter then-but now the hope of Summer; no longer young, but still in the prime of lifeand Nature rings with hymns hailing the visi- and though plainly apparelled, with form and ble advent of the perfect year. If for a mo- bearing such as are pointed out in cities, ment the woods are silent, it is but to burst because belonging to distinguished men. The forth anew into louder song. The rain is over old man behaved towards him with deference and gone-but the showery sky speaks in the but not humility; and between them toomin streams on a hundred hills; and the wide many things unlike it was clear even from mountain gloom opens its heart to the sun- their silence that there was Friendship. shine, that on many a dripping precipice burns A little way off, and sometimes almost runlike fire. Nothing seems inanimate. The ning, now up and now down the slopes and very clouds and their shadows look alive—the hollows, was a girl about eight years old trees, never dead, are wide-awakened from whether beautiful or not you could not know, their sleep-families of flowers are frequenting for her face was either half-hidden in golden all the dewy places--old walls are splendid hair, or when she tossed the tresses from her with the light of lichens and birch-crowned brow, it was so bright in the sunshine that you cliffs up among the coves send down their fine saw no features, only a gleam of joy. Now fragrance to the Lake on every bolder breath she was chasing the butterflies, not to hurt that whitens with breaking wavelets the blue them, but to get a nearer sight of their delicate of its breezy bosom. Nor mute the voice of gauze wings--the first that had come-she
The shepherd is whooping on the hill wondered whence-to waver and wanton for a the ploughman calling to his team some- little while in the spring-sunshine, and then, where among the furrows in some small late she felt, as wondrously, one and all as by confield, won from the woods; and you hear the sent, to vanish. And now she stooped as if to laughter and the echoes of the laughter-one pull some little wild-flower, her hand for a sound-of children busied in half-work, half-moment withheld by a loving sense of its play; for what else in vernal sunshine is the loveliness, but ever and anon adding some new occupation of young rustic life?, 'Tis no colour to the blended bloom intended to gladArcadia-no golden age. But a lovelier scene den her father's eyes--though the happy child
-in the midst of all its grandeur-is not in knew full well, and sometimes wept to know, merry and majestic England; nor did the hills that she herself had his entire heart. Yet of this earth ever circumscribe a pleasanter gliding, or tripping; or dancing along, she dwelling for a nobler peasantry, than these touched not with fairy foot one white cloverCumbrian ranges of rocks and pastures, where flower on which she saw working the silent the raven croaks in his own region, unre- bee. Her father looked too often sad, and she garded in theirs by the fleecy flocks. How feared—though what it was, she imagined not beautiful the Church Tower!
even in dreams that some great misery must On a knoll not far from the shore, and not have befallen him before they came to live in nigh above the water, yet by an especial feli- the glen. And such, too, she had heard from ołty of plase gently commarding all that reach a chance whisper, was the belief of their neigh