"Hamlet," iii, 1, 67.

_The self-applauding bird_. Cowper's "Truth," 58.

P. 222. _New-born gauds_ and _give to dust_. "Troilus and Cressida," iii,
3, 176-79.

_do not in broad rumor lie_, and the two following quotations are free
renderings of "Lycidas," 78-82.

_Mr. Lamb rather affects_. Hazlitt had Lamb in his eye when he described
the Occult School in the essay "On Criticism" ("Table Talk"): "There is
another race of critics who might be designated as the _Occult
School--vere adepti_. They discern no beauties but what are concealed from
superficial eyes, and overlook all that are obvious to the vulgar part of
mankind. Their art is the transmutation of styles. By happy alchemy of
mind they convert dross into gold--and gold into tinsel. They see farther
into a millstone than most others. If an author is utterly unreadable,
they can read him for ever: his intricacies are their delight, his
mysteries are their study. They prefer Sir Thomas Brown to the Rambler by
Dr. Johnson, and Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy to all the writers of the
Georgian Age. They judge of works of genius as misers do of hid
treasure--it is of no value unless they have it all to themselves. They
will no more share a book than a mistress with a friend. If they
suspected their favourite volumes of delighting any eyes but their own,
they would immediately discard them from the list. Theirs are
superannuated beauties that every one else has left off intriguing with,
bed-ridden hags, a 'stud of night-mares.' This is not envy or affectation,
but a natural proneness to singularity, a love of what is odd and out of
the way. They must come at their pleasures with difficulty, and support
admiration by an uneasy sense of ridicule and opposition. They despise
those qualities in a work which are cheap and obvious. They like a
monopoly of taste, and are shocked at the prostitution of intellect
implied in popular productions. In like manner, they would chuse a friend
or recommend a mistress for gross defects; and tolerate the sweetness of
an actress's voice only for the ugliness of her face. Pure pleasures are
in their judgment cloying and insipid--

'An ounce of sour is worth a pound of sweet!'

Nothing goes down with them but what is _caviare_ to the multitude. They
are eaters of olives and readers of black-letter. Yet they smack of
genius, and would be worth any money, were it only for the rarity of the
thing!"

P. 223. _fine fretwork_. "Essays of