The powers of genius | ||
APPENDIX, CONTAINING ILLUSTRATIONS OF GENIUS.
At the commencement of the preceding poem, it is asserted that Genius cannot easily be defined; that it can be best discovered by its effects; as a view of the beams of the sun, and of the headlong course of a torrent, will give us a fuller conception of them, than the most accurate description. I had designed, in a note, to have given some illustrations of Genius from authors. But as this design would be too extensive for the limits of a note, I have here attached these illustrations to the poem in an Appendix. If I am not deceived they will answer two purposes—They will, in some measure, discover whether my decision
In the sacred scriptures we meet examples of every excellence and stile of writing. All the boldest attempts of human Genius are eclipsed by comparison with them. From the loud and thrilling harp of Isaiah, of David, of Jeremiah, and of Job have proceeded strains which the most polished age of Greece, or of Rome would have immitated in vain. In the scriptures there appears no bombastic glare, no artificial colourings. Plain, easy and concise, they ascend from the lowest note of simplicity to the loudest thunder of sublimity. We see in them no load of epithets, but language moving along free from incumbrances in its native strength........Horace has said that three essential qualities must combine in the composition of a genuine Poet.
1. Ingenium, or Invention.
2. Mens divinior or a Mind of diviner constitution.
3. Os magna Sonaturum, or a vigour and magnificence of expression.
Longinus has proposed five sources of sublimity in composition.
1. Το περι τας νοησεις αδρεπηβολον, or boldness of conception and adventurous imagination.
2. Το σφοδρον και ενθουσιαστικον....or an Enthusiastic sensibility.
3. Η ποια Των σχηματων πλασις, or a certain conformation of figures.
4. Η γενναια φρασις or a generous character of diction.
5 Η εν αξιωματι και διαρσει συνθεσις, or a dignified and elevated composition.
The following extracts which are offered as illustrations of Genius, will I think be found to flow from each of these sources, and I think it will be acknowledged that their writers possessed those qualities mentioned by Horace.
Isaiah, XIV. 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12. 23. “Thou shalt take up this proverb against the king of Babylon, and say, how hath the oppressor ceased! the golden city ceased! The Lord hath broken the staff of the wicked, and the sceptre of the rulers. He who smote the people in wrath with a continual stroke, he that ruled the nations in anger, is persecuted and none hindereth. The whole earth
This passage is remarkable for sublimity. The doom of the subject of the prophecy, the king of Babylon, is described in every circumstance of
Job, XXXIX, 27, 28, 29, 30. Doth the Eagle mount up at thy command, and make her nest on high. She dwelleth and abideth on the rock, upon the crag of the rock, and the strong place. From thence she seeketh the prey; and her eyes behold afar off. Her young ones also suck up blood: and where the slain are, there is she.
No description could be more concise, more characteristic and striking. The whole of the wonderful chapter from which it is extracted, besides
Job, XXVIII. 20, 22, 23. Whence then cometh wisdom, and where is the place of understanding? 22. Destruction and Death say, we have heard the fame thereof with our ears. 23. God understandeth the way thereof, for he looketh to the ends of the earth, and seeth under the whole heaven.” ....The greatness of the expression in the 22nd verse will escape no accurate observer.
Job, IV. 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17. “Now a thing was secretly brought to me, and mine ear received a little thereof, in thoughts from the visions of the night, when deep sleep falleth upon men. Fear came upon me and trembling, which made all my bones to shake. Then a spirit passed before my face; the hair of my head stood up: It stood still, but I could not discern the form thereof: An image was before mine eyes; there was silence, and I heard a voice saying, Shall mortal man be more just than God? Shall a man be more pure than his Maker?”....Perhaps an instance of more simple, concise, and forcible description than this relation
Psalm, LXVIII. 7, 8, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35. “O God, when thou wentest forth before thy people, when thou didst march through the wilderness; the earth shook, the heavens also dropped at the presence of God: Even Sinai itself was moved at the presence of God, the God of Israel....Princes shall come out of Egypt; Ethiopia shall soon stretch out her hands unto God. Sing unto God ye kingdoms of the Earth; O sing praises unto the Lord: To him that rideth upon the heaven of heavens which were of old; lo he doth send out his voice and that a mighty voice. Ascribe ye strength unto God: his excellency is over Israel, and his strength is in the clouds. O God thou art terrible out of thy holy places: The God of Israel is he that giveth strength and power unto his people. Blessed be God.”
The Psalmist, after meditating upon the power and goodness of God, breaks forth into this apostrophe, O God when thou wentest forth, &c. The preceding solemnity and grandeur of his description
Exodus, XV. 9, 10. “The enemy said I will pursue, I will overtake, I will divide the spoil: my lust shall be satisfied upon them: I will draw my sword, my hand shall destroy them. Thou didst blow with thy wind, the sea covered them: the sank as lead in the mighty waters.”
The song of Moses is not inferior in sublimity to any portion of the sacred scriptures. The two preceding verses, which I have extracted from it, are a perfect example of condensity, strength and majesty. The words let there be light, and there was light, celebrated by Longinus, and many critics after him, claim no superiority over them in any respect. They bring a vast representation before the mind. He who reads them must behold the
Without giving room to any more quotations from scripture, let me refer the reader to the 51st chapter of Isaiah....to the 18th and 104th Psalm, to the last chapter of Habakuk, to David's elegy over Saul and Jonathan, and to the description, in Job, of the war-horse.
The finest passages in Milton are his picture of Satan....Satan's address to the sun....Adam's and
The secrets of the hoary deep; a dark,
Illimitable ocean, without bound,
Without dimension, where length, breadth and height,
And time, and place are lost; where eldest Night,
And Chaos, ancestors of Nature, hold
Eternal anarchy, amidst the noise
Of endless wars, and by Confusion stand.”
PAR. LOST, B.V. 890.
These lines are a specimen of the sublimity of obscurity.
In the parable of the rich man and Lazarus, Abraham declares, that between heaven and hell there is a great gulf fixed. Observe, in the lines just quoted, how Milton has seized on this hint, and drawn a picture of that gulf, which the painter would attempt in vain. The light of Milton's soul could only lead us in such impenetrable darkness, into that illimitable ocean, without bound, without dimension; where length, breadth, and height, and time, and place are lost.”
Shine not in vain; nor think tho' men were none,
That Heaven would want spectators, God want praise;
Millions of spiritual creatures walk the earth
Unseen, both when we wake and when we sleep:
All these, with ceasless praise, his works behold
Both day and night: how often from the steep
Of echoing hill or thicket, have we heard
Celestial voices, to the midnight air,
Sole, or responsive each to other's note,
Singing their great Creator? oft in bands
With heavenly touch of instrumental sounds,
In full harmonic number join'd, their songs
Divide the night, and lift our thought to heaven.”
In these lines is represented the gloom of night enlightened by the lustre of the heavenly bodies. This picture, without any attending circumstance, is grand and solemn. The view of the skies by night, the moon moving in the brightness of her course, and all the host of heaven performing their determined round, fill the mind with awe and adoration. But how wonderfully is the sublimity of the scene heightened by the introduction of aerial beings, walking their nightly round, contemplating the heavens, and to the “midnight air, sole, or responsive each to other's note, singing their great Creator.” The famous night-scene of Homer, and all the night scenes ever drawn, are inferior to this.
“But see the angry victor hath recall'dThis ministers of vengeance and pursuit,
Shot after us in storm, o'erblown, hath laid
The fiery surge, that from the precipice
Of heaven received us falling; and the thunder,
Wing'd with red lightning and impetuous rage,
Perhaps hath spent his shafts, and ceases now
To bellow thro' the vast and boundless deep.
Let us not slip the occasion, whether scorn
Or satiate fury yield it from the foe.
Seest thou yon dreary plain, forlorn and wild,
The seat of Desolation, void of light,
Save what the glimmering of these livid flames
Casts pale and dreadful? thither let us tend
From off the tossing of these fiery waves;
There rest, if any rest can harbour there,
And reassembling our afflicted powers,
Consult how we may henceforth most offend
Our enemy, our own loss how repair,
How overcome this dire calamity,
What reinforcement we may gain from hope;
If not, what resolution from despair.
“Thus Satan, talking to his nearest mate
With head uplift above the waves; and eyes
Prone on the flood, extended long and large
Lay floating many a rood.”
This passage is throughout sublime. The grandeur and correspondent harmony of the numbers are wonderful. No comment is necessary to point out its particular excellence. We see in it all the fallen greatness of “the Arch-angel,” and the inventive rebellion of his heart.
Though Paradise Regained is eclipsed by the superior lustre of Paradise Lost; yet it contains many eminent beauties. Had it been written by any other pen than Milton's, it would perhaps have been more read, and been more celebrated: But the voice of criticism, having ranked it far beneath the other great work of its author, it is now doomed, with Homer's Odyssey, to a partial oblivion. It deserves not this fate; for it is still the strain of Milton, which, like Apollo's lyre, has descended from the heavens. The following passage will shew if these remarks be just. It presents a picture of our Saviour, amid the terrors of the wilderness,
Though the whole of the passage is highly admirable, yet there are two lines, marked in italics, in which centres its principal grandeur.
------“Darkness now rose,As day-light sunk, and brought in low'ring night
Her shadowy offspring, unsubstantial both,
Privation mere of light and absent day.
Our Saviour meek and with untroubled mind
After his airy jaunt, tho' hurry'd sore,
Hungry and cold betook him to his rest,
Wherever, under some concourse of shades
Whose branching arms thick intertwin'd might shield,
From dews and damps of night, his shelter'd head,
But shelter'd slept in vain; for at his head
The tempter watch'd and soon with ugly dreams
Disturb'd his sleep; and either topic now
'Gan thunder, and both ends of heaven the clouds
From many a horrid rift abortive pour'd
Fierce rain with lightning mixt, water with fire
Within their stony caves, but rush'd abroad
From the four hinges of the world, and fell
On the vex'd wilderness, whose tallest pines,
Tho' rooted deep as high, and sturdiest oaks
Bow'd their stiff necks, loaden with stormy blasts,
Or torn up sheer: Ill wast thou shrouded then,
O patient son of God, yet only stood'st
Unshaken; nor yet staid the terror there,
Infernal ghosts, and hellish furies, round
Environ'd thee, some howl'd some yell'd, some shriek'd.
Some bent at thee their fiery darts; while thou
Sat'st unappall'd in calm and sinless peace.
Thus pass'd the night so foul, till morning fair
Came forth with pilgrim steps in amice gray;
Who with her radiant fingers still'd the roar
Of thunder, chas'd the clouds, and laid the winds,
And grisly spectres, which the fiend had rais'd
To tempt the son of God with terrors dire.
PARADISE REGAINED, B. IV.
Homer in age and sublimity in action, approaches nearer than any other poet to the inspired
His limbs in arms divine Achilles drest;
Arms which the Father of the fire bestowed,
Forg'd on the eternal anvils of the God.
His glowing eye-balls roll with living fire.
The silver cuishes first his thighs enfold;
Then o'er his breast was brac'd the hollow gold.
The brazen sword a various baldric ty'd
That, starr'd with gems, hung glittering at his side;
And, like the moon, the broad refulgent shield,
Blaz'd with long rays, and gleam'd athwart the field.
So to night-wand'ring sailors pale with fears,
Wide o'er the watry waste a light appears,
Which on the far-seen mountain blazing high,
Streams from some lonely watch-tower to the sky:
With mournful eyes they gaze and gaze again:
Loud howls the storm and drives them o'er the main.
Next his high head the helmet grac'd; behind
The sweepy crest hung floating in the wind;
Like the red star that from his flaming hair,
Shakes down diseases pestilence and war;
So stream'd the golden honours from his head,
Trembled the sparkling plumes, and the loose glories shed.
His arms, he poises and his motions tries:
Buoy'd by some inward force he seems to swim,
And feels a pinion lifting every limb.
And now he shakes his great paternal spear,
Pond'rous and huge! which not a Greek could rear.
From Pelion's cloudy top an ash entire,
Old Chiron fell'd and shap'd it for his sire;
A spear which stern Achilles only wields,
The death of heroes, and the dread of fields.”
BOOK XIX.390.
The most striking beauties of Shakspeare, have been so often noticed, and so often brought into view, that were those repeated here which have received most praise, though they might serve as illustrations, they would have no charms of novelty. I have therefore selected one passage from Henry VI. which I have never seen quoted, and which I think, in the united qualities of pathos and sublimity, Shakspeare has never surpassed.
And tell me who is victor, York or Warwick?
Why ask I that? my mangled body shews;
My blood, my want of strength, my sick heart shews
That I must yield my body to the earth,
And, by my fall, the conquest to my foe;
Thus yields the cedar to the axe's edge,
Whose arms gave shelter to the princely eagle;
Under whose shade the ramping lion slept;
Whose top-branch overpeer'd Jove's spreading tree,
And kept low shrubs from Winter's powerful wind.
These eyes that now are dimm'd with Death's black veil,
Have been as piercing as the mid-day sun
To search the secret treasons of the world.
The wrinkles in my brow, now fill'd with blood,
Were likened oft to kingly sepulchres;
For who liv'd king but I could dig his grave?
And who durst smile when Warwick bent his brow?
Lo! now my glory, smear'd in dust and blood,
My parks, my walks, my manors that I had,
Ev'n now forsake me; and, of all my lands,
Is nothing left me but my body's length.”
....That the greatness of this dying speech of the earl of Warwick, may be more fully seen, it must be remembered that he was the most powerful subject that surrounded the English throne....that he was unrivalled in the annals of chivalry, and from the excess of his power, was, in those times, called, the king maker and the king destroyer. He was, as he says, the shade beneath which the lion slept, and where the people sought protection and safety. His sword defended his king, and his arm was a bulwark to the nation. Whether this speech is most sublime or most pathetic is difficult to be determined. It is, however, unquestionably both. All the dignity of Warwick remains and increases at his death; but the death of so great a character is followed by sadness....as the shadows of night come after the descent of the sun.
When we open Ossian we are immediately introduced into fairy regions. In the days of this bard, superstition prevailed. Every dusky hill was believed to be the abode of a spirit, who mingled his shriek with the voice of the blast. It is unaccountable, that men of literature should deny the authenticity
“Who is that, like a cloud, at the rock of the roaring stream? He cannot bound over its course; yet stately is the chief! his bossy shield is on his side; and his spear, like the tree of the desert. Youth of the dark-brown hair art thou of Fingal's foes?” “I am a son of Lochlin,” he cries “and strong is mine arm in war. My spouse is weeping at home; but Orla will never return.” “Or fights or yields the hero,” said Fingal of the noble deeds....“foes do not conquer in my presence: but my friends are renowned in the hall. Son of the wave follow me; partake of the feast of my shells; pursue the deer of my desert; and be the friend of Fingal.” “No,” said the hero “I assist the feeble; my strength shall remain with the weak in arms. My sword has been always unmatched, O warrior; let the king of Morven yield.” “I never yielded Orla, Fingal never yielded to man,
This extract, as the preceding, is both pathetic and grand. It is one of the poems held in remembrance in its original language, by many in the north of Scotland, and is considered by them as uncommonly beautiful and affecting. The heroism and generosity of Fingal are finely contrasted with the fortitude of Orla, in misfortune. Fingal appears
The Germans have obtained an high literary character among the nations of Europe....In the various departments of Science, in the diversified walks of Poesy they have produced several writers of eminence. In the roll of Genius, Gesner, Klopstock, Goethe, Wieland, Herder, Schiller and the author of Alf von Deulmen claim a distinguished place. Very few writers have possessed talents more versatile than those of Wieland. With the inquisitive Philosopher he has searched into the depths of science. In the gravity of Fiction he has travelled through the shades of mystery and of terror; and in indulgence to the spirit of Gaiety and Love he has wantoned on the wings of the most sportive fancy. His “Oberon” is a performance which discovers, in an eminent degree, the powers of Invention, and the elegance and
Grandeur beneath a cowl that mildly gleam'd;
His eye a smile on all creation beam'd.
And tho' the touch of time had gently prest
His neck, soft bow'd beneath the weight of years,
Sublimely rais'd to heaven his brow appears,
The shrine of peace; and like a sun-gilt height,
Where never earthly mist obscur'd the light,
Above the stormy world its tranquil summit rears.
The rust of earth and Passion's gloomy frown,
He would not stoop to grasp a falling crown,
Nor bend the sceptre of the world to sway.
Free from the vain desires that earth inthral,
Free from vain terrors that mankind appal,
Untouch'd by pain and unassail'd by fear
To Truth alone he turn'd his mental ear,
Alone to Nature tun'd and her sweet simple call.
These illustrations, with the observations connected with them have proceeded to a length so far beyond that which I expected; that I shall omit several passages, I had marked in other poets; and shall only further offer the following instances in prose.
“Truth is compared in scriptures to a streaming fountain; if her waters flow not in perpetual progression, they sicken into a muddy pool of conformity and tradition.
“Truth came once into our world with her divine master, and was a perfect shape, most glorious
“Methinks I see in my mind a noble and puissant nation, rousing herself like a strong man after sleep, and shaking her invincible locks: methinks I see her as an eagle muing her mighty young, and kindling her undazzled eyes at the full mid-day beam; purging and unscaling her long abused sight at the fountain itself of heavenly radiance; while the whole noise of timorous and flocking birds, with those also that love the twilight, flutter about amaz'd at what she means, and in their envious gabble, would prognosticate a year of sects and schisms.”
Milton's Speech for the Liberty of unlicensed Printing.“Wisdom hath always a good conscience attending it, that purest delight and richest cordial of the soul; that brazen wall and impregnable fortress
“If a fool prosper, the honour is attributed to propitious chance; if he miscarry to his own ill management: but the entire glory of happy undertakings, crowns the head of wisdom; while the disgrace of unlucky events falls otherwhere. His light like that of the sun, cannot totally be eclipsed; it may be dimmed but never extinguished, and always maintains a day though overclouded with misfortune. Who less esteems the famous African captain for being overthrown in that last famous battle, wherein he is said to have shewn the best skill, and yet endured the worst success? Who contemns Cato, and other the grave citizens of Rome, for embracing the just, but unprosperous cause of the commonwealth? A wise man's circumstances may vary and fluctuate, like floods about a rock; but he persists unmoveably the same, and his reputation unshaken: for he can always render a good account of his actions, and by reasonable apology, elude the assaults of reproach.”
Barrow.These passages which I have quoted, are selected from numbers in the same authors equally solid and lustrous. The expressions which appeared to me most striking, are designated by italics. The political and miscellaneous productions of the writer of Paradise Lost, are mines of intellectual gold; they contain perhaps as many burning thoughts of Genius as his poems. Barrow, the predecessor of the great Newton, in the mathematic chair of Cambridge, is justly entitled to a rank among the most copious and energetic divines of the Christian church. There is a remnant of antiquity in the stile and manner of both these original authors, which may displease the ear, attuned to the lulling harmony of the periods of the present day: but the strength and spirit of their figures, their boldness and elevation of thought, no one can mistake.
Let the reader of discernment and feeling examine particularly the prosaic works of Milton ....let him become familiarised with his manner.... let him learn to follow his vigorous and ascending wings....and he will probably say that he is not only the first poet, but one of the most eloquent
“In our little journey up to the grande chartreuse, I do not remember to have gone ten paces without an exclamation, that there was no restraining: not a precipice, not a torrent, not a cliff, but is pregnant with religion and poetry. There are certain scenes that would awe an atheist into belief, without the help of other argument, one need not have a very fantastic imagination to see spirits there at noon-day: you have death perpetually before your eyes, only so far removed as to compose the mind without frighting it. I am well persuaded St. Bruno was a man of no common Genius, to choose such a situation for his retirement; and I perhaps should have been a disciple of his, had I been born in his time. You may believe Abelard and Heloise were not forgot on this occasion: if I do no mistake I saw you too every now and then at a distance among the trees; you seemed to call me from the other side of the precipice, but the noise of the river below was so great that I really could not distinguish what you said; it seemed to have a cadence like verse.”
Gray.This extract from one of Gray's letters to his friends West, exhibits a painting exquisite, and sublime. It discovers the vigour and imagination of the Poet without his numbers.
“Many works of genius and learning, have been performed in states of life, that appear very little favourable to thought or inquiry: so many that he who considers them, is inclined to think that he sees enterprise and perseverance predominating over all external agency, and bidding help and hindrance vanish before them. The Genius of Shakspeare was not to be depressed by the weight of poverty, nor limited by the narrow conversation to which men in want are inevitably condemned; the incumbrances of his fortune were shaken from his mind, as dew-drops from a lion's mane.”
Johnson.“He, whose soul reposes on his firm trust in God, like the halcyon that builds on the waves, if storms arise, may be tossed, but not endangered. Or, grant the worst, those tumultuous billows that devour others, rock him to rest eternal.”
Young.“While your majesty looks down from that eminence to which Providence has raised you: while you behold all your flourishing provinces, reaping the harvest of happiness, and enjoying the blessings of peace; while you behold your throne encompassed with the affections of a loyal people....what have you to fear? Where is that enemy who can injure your felicity? Yes Sir! there is an enemy who can injure your felicity; that enemy is yourself; that enemy is the situation you adorn; that enemy is the glory which encircles you! It is no easy task to submit to the rule that seems to submit to us. Where is the canopy of sufficient texture to screen you from the penetrating and scorching beams of unbounded prosperity.”
Bossuet.“Religious truth was exiled from the earth, and idolatry sat brooding over the moral world. The Egyptians, the fathers of philosophy, the Grecians, the inventors of the fine arts, the Romans, the conquerors of the universe, were all unfortunately celebrated for the perversion of religious worship,
“The mystery of the crucifixion was the remedy the almighty ordained for this universal idolatry. He knew the mind of man, and knew that it was not by reasoning an error must be destroyed which reasoning had not established. Idolatry prevailed by the suppression of reason, by suffering the senses to predominate, which are apt to clothe every thing with the qualities with which they are affected. Men gave the divinity their own figure, and attributed to him their vices and passions. Reasoning had no share in so brutal an error. It was the subversion of reason, a delirium, a phrenzy. Argue with a phrenetic person, you do but the more
“Go to your natural religion: lay before her Mahomet and his disciples arrayed in armour and
“Sire, if the poison of ambition reach and infect the heart of the prince; if the sovereign forgetting that he is the protector of the public tranquillity, prefer his own glory to the love and to the safety of his people; if he would rather subdue provinces than reign in their hearts; if it appear to him more glorious to be the destroyer of his neighbours, than the father of his people; if the voice of grief and desolation be the only sound that attends his victories; if he use that power which is only given him for the happiness of those he governs, to promote his own passions and interest; in a word if he be a king solely to spread misery, and like the monarch of Babylon, erect the idol of his greatness on the wreck of nations;
If these copious extracts are admired as much by the reader as they deserve, I will not have
The powers of genius | ||