y a supposed
necessity which he tolerates by shortness or torpidity of sight. The
soul lets no man go without some visitations and holydays of a diviner
presence. It would be easy to show, by a narrow scanning of any man's
biography, that we are not so wedded to our paltry performances of
every kind but that every man has at intervals the grace to scorn
his performances, in comparing them with his belief of what he should
do;--that he puts himself on the side of his enemies, listening gladly
to what they say of him, and accusing himself of the same things.
What is it men love in Genius, but its infinite hope, which degrades all
it has done? Genius counts all its miracles poor and short. Its own idea
it never executed. The Iliad, the Hamlet, the Doric column, the Roman
arch, the Gothic minster, the German anthem, when they are ended, the
master casts behind him. How sinks the song in the waves of melody which
the universe pours over his soul! Before that gracious Infinite out of
which he drew these few strokes, how mean they look, though the praises
of the world attend them. From the triumphs of his art he turns with
desire to this greater defeat. Let those admire who will. With silent
joy he sees himself to be capable of a beauty that eclipses all which
his hands have done; all which human hands have ever done.
Well, we are all the children of genius, the children of virtue,--and
feel their inspirations in our happier hours. Is not every man sometimes
a radical in politics? Men are conservatives when they are least
vigorous, or when they are most luxurious. They are conservatives after
dinner, or before taking their rest; when they are sick, or aged: in the
morning, or when their intellect or their conscience has been aroused;
when they hear music, or when they read poetry, they are radicals. In
the circle of the rankest tories that could be collected in England, Old
or New, let a powerful and stimulating intellect, a man of great heart
and mind, act on them, and very quickly these frozen conservators will
yield to the friendly influence, these hopeless will begin to hope,
these haters will begin to love, these immovable statues will begin to
spin and revolve. I cannot help recalling the fine anecdote which Warton
relates of Bishop Berkeley, when he was preparing to leave England
with his plan of planting the gospel among the American savages. "Lord
Bathurst told me that the members of the Scriblerus club being met at
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