to all those finer thoughts and more mysterious processes it is his express business to "let live" and to "make flourish?" 66 - It would be indecent-it would be needlessly wounding-to call the crowd of witnesses who could prove the above assertions to be founded in sad truth- who could demonstrate that the Men of Genius to whom assistance has been the most largely given, have been the least content, the most supine. I cannot admit as valid the argument which some among the considerate are apt, apologetically to make ;-namely, that smallness of amount in production necessarily implies superior quality. I believe it will be found that the most perfect and symmetrical creations are not those to which the process of revision and polish has been again and again applied. There is a self-contemplativeness which becomes morbid -impatient of all individuality—in its agony to produce what never was, and never yet shall be," a "faultless piece,"—fastidiously effacing stroke after stroke, trace after trace, till the result is indeed sometimes wondrously finished but still lacking vitality. Yet this is taking the favourable aspect of Genius at leisure; at ease with regard to its future, content in its present immunity from cares, and willing to devote itself and its powers to their best development. On the other hand, are there no such pitfalls as sloth, sensual indulgence, immoderate desire, into which the Privileged are apt-I will boldly say, are encouraged to fall? Does any plan of Patronage bridge over these, so as to make the pilgrimage in general safer, or more directly tending to its upward goal? I fear the experience of all ages would decide in the negative. It matters little whether the Man of Art or of Letters be dependant on a Buckingham or a Chesterfield, or on that department of government which a Buckingham or a Chesterfield administers (it being admitted, I take for granted, that his election to honours, at least, is not one on which universal popular suffrage can be brought to bear). We may refer to the days amongst us, when dedications earned their guineas, and noble houses maintained their "led authors," without fear of its being proved that Men of Genius, as a class, were either greater, better, happier, or more productive than now. There is yet one more mis-statement of the case so perpetually made, as to be worth looking into. The flimsiness of our current literature and art is mournfully ascribed to this want of Patronage. “O—would not have wasted himself on the Magazines, had literature met due honours among us. What, then, can you prove that would have done any thing better- have become a scholar? From another victim, notable works of Art might have been expected, if like facilities had been granted. Is not the whole World's History at variance with this? I cannot, with all my faith, believe that means to subsist and to enjoy such as had satisfied 0- -'s desires would have made him a great poet, he having never shown himself such already :-that any amount of commissions, with time ad libitum, would convert Stone-Cutter,into a Sculptor! Yet there are many who assert that the writer who has given no signs of depth, remains frivolous because he must work for the market, that the stone-hewer, by the compulsory manufacture of busts, is rendered incapable of Apollo Belvideres and Dancing Fauns. Do we legislate in any other case of social disorder on what might be? Do we not appeal from what is before us to what has been? Reasoning from the past, and seeing that honours, &c., can be at best but limited, what would be the fruits of conjectural Patronage, save further exclusion from kind consideration of the very persons it is meant to serve?-a sadder injustice than any the world has yet seen! Such are some among the difficulties attendant on the soothing and sympathising system, carried out, with regard to People of Genius, by the World undertaking the stewardship of their fortunes. Yet are we, therefore, to sit down and bemoan the woes of the Gifted, as beyond remedy? This is worse than the incomplete attempt at redress made by humane persons, afflicted by the sight of suffering.-But I am firmly convinced that whatever be the measures in relief we obtain from the kindness or wring from the shame of men, they will be all found vain, even hurtful, unless The Artist be first prevailed upon to help himself: to study ere he begins his career, its privileges, its trials-his true calling, his true position,-in brief-to look for his reward within, and not to the outer world; and to preserve as jealously as he would the power of his right hand or the sight of his right eyehis independence. I would say to all about to commence the climbing of the steep, "What is it you do? What seek you ? Would you work out the great ideas and the noble thoughts which God has given you, for the sake of their beauty, and their loftiness, which brings you nearer Heaven than your fellows? Or would you have riches and honours-the praise of men-the acknowledgment in every delicious form, that you are greater and better than they?" The latter motive, believe me, will not carry you far. Fevers, discords, disappointments, jealousies, mean concessions of your own nobility to those who cannot appreciate it thirst for praise, not DESIRE FOR TRUTH, must attend your career-if this be its end and aim. The calling of an Artist is one of as much renunciation as the profession of a Priest. Do the tastes of the former press upon him more vehemently, than the appetites and passions of the latter? Yet, The Priest, because his profession is high, is required to live a life apart and peculiar as an example. Does he murmur at this? Does the World pity him therefore? Why, then, if he is to be sharply visited by public censure should he be covetous, unchaste, slanderous, wrathful,— ought The Artist to fare better: if he, whose express duty it is to keep a serene spirit, by extravagance or licence succeeds in so clouding it with care, that no self-discipline can thenceforth clear it? And that this view of what might be, is not wholly Utopian, we have many examples. It is not, I repeat, by the most self-indulgent, or the most prosperousthat the greatest artistic creations have been made. There is something in self-sacrifice steadily, not fanatically pursued, which strengthens every nerve and muscle, and deepens every thought,-which, by invigorating the mind, enhances all its powers of abstraction. If sharp trial and emergency have been known to wring from the gifted some of their most precious creations,-a life of simple habits, and the self-respect insured by honourable toil for independence, cannot surely do otherwise than maintain The Artist's thoughts at that exalted point,-where the opinions of Man become of little consequence, Heaven is so near! And I firmly believe that independence consistent with a certain leisure, enough for any Genius that WILL to work its purposes out-is at the command of every artist: without indignity or needless degradation. Nay, while he is subduing himself, to toil for his daily bread-he has a chance in that very toil to raise the taste of the Many. Be he a sign-painter with his historical treasure in the garret-or a penny-a-liner (like your humble servant, the writer,) with his treatise on Philo sophy, or his tragedy in his trunk,-or a music-master compelled to find a capacity for dull children, when his dreams are of Operas and Symphonies such as Beethoven wrote,-if the Spirit of High Art be with him, he will perform what seem at times repul sive mechanical tasks, with an habitual truth and conscience. He will throw the poetry of his soul, and the honour of his virtue, into the driest and most frivolous of his occupations-so that they whom he nourishes shall be aware of more health in the food which comes from his hand, though they know not in what its peculiarity consists. To point to the worldly chances, which such a highminded view of the aspirings and condescensions of Genius, if practised, is sure to bring in its train, is no purpose of mine. It is The Artist's happiness which is in question-a busy youth for hima placid manhood—an old age not soured by perpetual consciousness of injustice; not soiled by a perpetual contact with those jealous thoughts, those humiliating concessions, which those supported on alms, or pensioned beneath their own self-estimate, must needs become familiar with. It is his influence, in all its force and brightness, I would fain see secured; it is the greatness of his calling I would maintain among those to whom he should be a Prophet and a Teacher not a Fool to be exhibited-not a child to be coerced-not a diseased man to be charitably laid on soft pillows in an hospital, with a brief read on Sundays for his benefit! And-seeing that there is nothing in such a picture of life, as I would draw for him, to allure the weak, the sensual, or those whose vocation is not real— were the view I propose more generally taken, whether by the Gifted, or the World, how vast would be the gain, in the falling off of pretenders, in the army being deprived of all save fighting men! It would then mean something in a man to announce himself as a Poet, a Painter, a Musician, in place of, as now, being too often justifiably read, as a sign that all labour and self-control are distasteful, and that to scramble on, railing the while at Lady Fortune, or wasting strength in efforts which have no proportion and coherence, is more congenial than a life of Duty, and a death of calm hope in the Future! O let the Men of Genius give themselves the patronage of discipline!—the support of an unlimited reverence to their own mission on earth!-the enjoyments of geniality of appreciation, without Luxury in possession! Let them remember how much richer are they in tastes, fancies, perceptions, than the richest Croesus,-let them feed themselves on these-in place of struggling for that which no success can enable them to compass completely and a life is before them, of such content and usefulness and exertion,-that the world shall envy, rather than pity them! Beyond the power of vicissitude no man can place himself, but one shall court the storm, and another shall be found when it comes, in armour of proof. Which is the wiser? 253 YOUNG SQUIRE BENLOW. THE social miseries of the rich will afford a theme for many illustrations, if we ever exhaust the interest belonging to the sufferings of the poor. The splendidly-disguised monotony of town life and the ennui that hides itself among green shades in the country; the hollowness of a great part of " respectable education; the want of noble thoughts and purposes for mind and soul; the sacrifice of heart to cant and fashion; - these are miseries, though less obvious than the want of bread. As an instance of some of the evils to which I refer, I may tell a story of misdirected education. Old Squire Benlow, of Copseley, was worth something less than a thousand a year. I knew young Tom Benlow well. If he had not been led out of the right way by cant, he would have been a good specimen of a country squire. He had good faculties and a strong but not a bad temper. At school he was a fearless fellow in every description of row, and had no malice about him. At home he was the hero of the village cricket-club, and his presence gave animation to the sports of Copseley Green. He was noted for his droll, extemporaneous puns, and delighted to indulge in a vein of humourous exaggeration in his stories of field sports and other matters. But let it not be thought that Tom was essentially a vulgar character. He had little learning; but he was no dolt : though he seldom talked of books, he sometimes read. I remember that he once surprised me by expressing even an enthusiastic admiration of Goldsmith's " Vicar of Wakefield," which he declared to be "worth a waggon-load of the trash in our circulating libraries." Tom had a superior mind in some respects, and this was especially the case in music. He played a little on the organ; and, though his execution was limited, he delighted in the true style of that instrument. He would often express, in a humourous way, his contempt of the trivial music,"ti-tum-ti-tum-tilly-tilly,' as he called it,—strummed upon so many pianofortes. Yes; in some points Tom was even in advance of his age. He led the sports on the green before D'Israeli and Lord John Manners had pronounced it orthodox for young squires to do so. But a higher |