y frequently continue to be vain
of those which are doubtful. Where mankind have not confirmed their
own judgment, they are restless, and continually aim either at
convincing others, or themselves, that they are in the right. Hogarth,
who invented a new and original manner of satirizing the follies of
mankind, was not vain of this talent, but was extremely vain of his
historical paintings, which were indifferent performances. Men of
acknowledged literary talents, are seldom fond of amateurs; but, if
they are but half satisfied of their own superiority, they collect the
tribute of applause with avidity, and without discrimination or
delicacy. Voltaire has been reproached with treating strangers rudely
who went to Ferney, to see and admire a philosopher as a prodigy.
Voltaire valued his time more than he did this vulgar admiration; his
visiters, whose understanding had not gone through exactly the same
process, who had not, probably, been satisfied with public applause,
and who set, perhaps, a considerable value upon their own praise,
could not comprehend this appearance of indifference to admiration in
Voltaire, especially when it was well known that he was not insensible
of fame. He was, at an advanced age, exquisitely anxious about the
fate of one of his tragedies; and a public coronation at the theatre
at Paris, had power to inebriate him at eighty-four. Those who have
exhausted the stimulus of wine, may yet be intoxicated by opium. The
voice of numbers appears to be sometimes necessary to give delight to
those who have been fatigued with the praise of individuals; but this
taste for _acclamation_ is extremely dangerous. A multitude of good
judges seldom meet together.

By a slight difference in their manner of reasoning, two men of
abilities, who set out with the same desire for fame, may acquire
different habits of pride, or of vanity; the one may value the number,
the other may appreciate the judgment of his admirers. There is
something not only more wise, but more elevated, in this latter
species of select triumph; the noise is not so great; the music is
better. "If I listened to the music of praise," says an historian, who
obviously was not insensible to its charms, "I was more seriously
satisfied with the approbation of my _judges_. The candour of Dr.
Robertson embraced his disciple. A letter from Mr. Hume overpaid the
labour of ten years."[93] Surely no one can be displeased with this
last generous expression