as in all else: he who is most discerning in the beauties of poetry is the man of taste, the true judge, the only critic. The critic, as he is currently termed, who is discerning in nothing but faults, may care little to be told that this is the mark of unamiable dispositions or of bad passions; but he might not be equally easy were he convinced that he thus gives the most absolute proofs of ignorance and want of taste. DR. J. MACCULLOCH. Get your enemies to read your works, in order to mend them; for your friend is so much your second-self that he will judge too like you. POPE: Thoughts on Various Subjects. You are so good a critic that it is the greatest happiness of the modern poets that you do not hear their works; and, next, that you are not so arrant a critic as to damn them, like the rest, without hearing. POPE. True it is that the talents for criticism (namely, smartness, quick censure, vivacity of remark; indeed, all but acerbity) seem rather the gifts of youth than of old age. POPE. A critic supposes he has done his part if he proves a writer to have failed in an expression: and can it be wondered at if the poets seem resolved not to own themselves in any error? for as long as one side despises a wellmeant endeavour the other will not be satisfied with a moderate approbation. POPE. A jest upon a poor wit at first might have had an epigrammatist for its father, and been afterwards gravely understood by some_painful collector. POPE. It is very much an image of that author's writing; who has an agreeableness that charms us, without correctness; like a mistress whose faults we see, but love her with them all. POPE. This never a companion, but always a censor. makes him earnest upon trifles, and dispute on the most indifferent occasions with vehemence. If he offers to speak or write, that talent, which should approve the work of the other faculties, prevents their operations. SIR R. STEELE: Tatler, No. 29. A thorough Critic is a sort of Puritan in the polite world. As an enthusiast in religion stumbles at the ordinary occurrences of life, if he cannot quote Scripture examples on the occasion; so the Critic is never safe in his speech or writing, without he has, among the celebrated writers, an authority for the truth of his sentence. SIR R. STEELE: Tatler, No. 29. I hope, Sir, you will not take this amiss: I can assure you, I have a profound respect for you, which makes me write this with the same Homer and Plato. When in reading, says he, disposition with which Longinus bids us read any of those celebrated authors, we meet with a passage to which we cannot well reconcile our reasons, we ought firmly to believe, that were those great wits present to answer for themselves, we should to our wonder be convinced that we are only guilty of the mistakes before attributed to them. SIR R. STEELE: Tatler, No. 59. The malignant deity Criticism dwelt on the top of a snowy mountain in Nova Zembla: Momus found her extended in her den upon the spoils of numberless volumes half devoured. At her right hand sat Ignorance, her father and husband, blind with age; at her left, Pride, her mother, dressing her up in the scraps of paper There was Opinion, her sisherself had torn. ter, light of foot, hoodwinked and headstrong, yet giddy and perpetually turning. About her played her children, Noise and Impudence, Dulness and Vanity, Positiveness, Pedantry, and Ill Manners. SWIFT. There is nothing so bad but a man may lay hold of something about it that will afford matter of excuse; nor nothing so excellent but a man may fasten upon something belonging to it whereby to reduce it. TILLOTSON. Good sense is the foundation of criticism; this it is that has made Dr. Bentley and Bp. Hare the two greatest that ever were in the world. Not that good sense alone will be sufficient. For that considerable part of it, emending a corrupt text, there must be a certain sagacity, which is so distinguishing a quality in Dr. Bentley. BISHOP WARBURTON: To Dr. Birch: Nichols's Lit. Anec., ii. 96. Some persons, from the secret stimulations of throw contempt upon it by wholesale. vanity or envy, despise a valuable book, and DR. I. WATTS. Let there be no wilful perversion of another's meaning; no sudden seizure of a lapsed syllaDR. I. WATTS. ble to play upon it. 156 CROAKERS.—CROMWELL.—CÚNNING. Another sort of judges will decide in favour of an author, or will pronounce him a mere blunderer, according to the company they have kept. DR. I. WATTS. Every critic has his own hypothesis: if the common text be not favourable to his opinion, a various lection shall be made authentic. DR. I. WATTS. They will endeavour to diminish the honour of the best treatise rather than suffer the little mistakes of the author to pass unexposed. DR. I. WATTS. If the remarker would but once try to outshine the author by writing a better book on the same subject, he would soon be convinced of his own insufficiency. DR. I. WATts. Such parts of writing as are stupid or silly, false or mistaken, should become subjects of occasional criticism. DR. I. WATTS. Show your critical learning in the etymology of terms, the synonymous and the paronymous or kindred names. DR. I. WATTS. by force, it was not till he found that the few CROAKERS. I know, too, the obstinacy of unbelief in those perverted minds which have no delight but in contemplating the supposed distress and predicting the immediate ruin of their country. These birds of evil presage at all times have grated our ears with their melancholy song; and, by some strange fatality or other, it has generally happened that they have poured forth their loudest and deepest lamentations at the periods of our most abundant prosperity. BURKE: CUNNING. At the same time that I think discretion the most useful talent that man can be master of, I of little, mean, ungenerous minds. Discretion look upon cunning to be the accomplishment points out the noblest ends to us, and pursues ing them. Cunning has only private selfish the most proper and laudable methods of attainaims, and sticks at nothing which may make them succeed. Discretion has large and ex Letters on a Regicide Peace, Letter III., 1797. tended views, and, like a well-formed eye, com CROMWELL. Oliver Cromwell united in a very high degree the characters of the politician and general, and occasionally assumed those of the buffoon and the preacher. He is an amazing instance of what ambition, heated by enthusiasm, restrained by judgment, disguised by hypocrisy, and aided by natural vigour of mind, can do. He was never oppressed with the weight, or perplexed with the intricacy, of affairs; but his deep penetration, indefatigable activity, and invincible resolution seemed to render him master of all events. He persuaded without eloquence; and exacted obedience more from the terror of his name than the vigour of his administration. GRANGER. The ambition of Oliver was of no vulgar kind. He never seems to have coveted despotic power. He at first fought sincerely and manfully for the Parliament, and never deserted it till it had deserted its duty. If he dissolved it mands a whole horizon. Cunning is a kind of short-sightedness, that discovers the minutest objects which are near at hand, but is not able to discern things at a distance. ADDISON: Spectator, No. 225. Discretion is the perfection of reason, and a guide to us in all the duties of life: cunning is a kind of instinct, that only looks out after our immediate interests and welfare. . . In short, cunning is only the mimic of discretion, and may pass upon weak men, in the same manner as vivacity is often mistaken for wit, and gravity for wisdom. ADDISON: Spectator, No. 225. wisdom, and certainly there is a great difference We take cunning for a sinister, or crooked, only in point of honesty, but in point of ability. between a cunning man and a wise man, not In things that a man would not be seen in himself, it is a point of cunning to borrow the name of the world; as to say, "The world says," or "There is a speech abroad."... It is a point of cunning to let fall those words in a man's own name which he would have another man learn and use, and thereupon take advantage. . . It is a good point of cunning for a man to shape the answer he would have in his own words and propositions; for it makes the other party stick the less. But these small wares and petty points of cunning are infinite, and it were a good deed to make the best of them; for that nothing doth more hurt in a state than that cunning men pass for wise. LORD BACON : Essay XXIII., Of Cunning. Cunning pays no regard to virtue, and is but the low mimic of wisdom. BOLINGBROKE. Cunning differs from wisdom as twilight from open day. He that walks in the sunshine goes boldly forward by the nearest way; he sees that where the path is straight and even he may proceed in security, and where it is rough and crooked he easily complies with the turns and avoids the obstructions. But the traveller in the dusk fears more as he sees less; he knows there may be danger, and therefore suspects that he is never safe; tries every step before he fixes his foot, and shrinks at every noise, lest violence should approach him. Wisdom comprehends at once the end and the means, estimates easiness or difficulty, and is cautious, or confident, in due proportion. Cunning discovers little at a time, and has no other means of certainty than multiplication of stratagems and superfluity of suspicion. The man of cunning always considers that he can never be too safe, and therefore always keeps himself enveloped in a mist, impenetrable, as he hopes, to the eye of rivalry or curiosity. DR. S. JOHNSON. It is a remarkable circumstance in reference to cunning persons, that they are often deficient, not only in comprehensive far-sighted wisdom, but even in prudent, cautious circumspection. WHATELY: Annot. on Bacon's Essay, Of Cunning. The cunning are often deceived by those who have no such intention. When a plain, straightforward man declares plainly his real motives or designs, they set themselves to guess what these are, and hit on every possible solution but the right, taking for granted that he cannot mean what he says. Bacon's remark on this we have already given in the "Antitheta on Simulation openly does not deceive the less; for most per He who acts in all things him." sons either do not understand or do not believe WHATELY: Annot. on Bacon's Essay, of Cunning. CURIOSITY. He that questioneth much shall learn much, and content much; but especially if he apply his questions to the skill of the persons whom he asketh; for he shall give them occasion to please themselves in speaking, and himself shall continually gather knowledge: but let his questions not be troublesome, for that is fit for a poser; and let him be sure to leave other men their turns to speak. LORD BACON : Essay XXXIII., Of Discourse. A wise man is not inquisitive about things impertinent. BROOME. Cunning leads to knavery; it is but a step from one to the other, and that very slippery : The first and the simplest emotion which we lying only makes the difference; add that to discover in the human mind is curiosity. By cunning, and it is knavery. LA BRUYÈRE. curiosity I mean whatever desire we have for, or whatever pleasure we take in, novelty. We see Discourage cunning in a child: cunning is children perpetually running from place to place, the ape of wisdom. LOCKE. By this means it is that a cunning man is so far from being ashamed of being esteemed such, that he secretly rejoices in it. It has been a sort of maxim that the greatest art is to conceal art; but, I know not how, among some people we meet with, their greatest cunning is to appear cunning. There is Polypragon makes it the whole business of his life to be thought a cunning fellow, and thinks it a much greater character to be terrible than to be agreeable. When it has once entered a man's head to have an ambition to be thought crafty, all other evils are necessary consequences. To deceive is the immediate endeavour of him who is proud of the capacity of doing it. SIR R. STEELE: Tatler, No. 191. to hunt out something new; they catch with great eagerness, and with very little choice, at whatever comes before them; their attention is engaged by everything, because everything has, in that stage of life, the charm of novelty to recommend it. But, as those things which engage us merely by their novelty cannot attach us for any length of time, curiosity is the most superficial of all the affections; it changes its object perpetually; it has an appetite which is always an appearance of giddiness, restlessness, very sharp, but very easily satisfied; and it has and anxiety. Curiosity, from its nature, is a very active principle; it quickly runs over the greatest part of its objects; and soon exhausts the variety which is commonly to be met with in nature; the same things make frequent returns, and they return with less and less of any agreeable effect. BURKE: On the Sublime and Beautiful, 1756. Desire to know how and why,-curiosity: so that man is distinguished not only by his reason, but also by this singular passion, from all other animals. T. HOBBES. Essay XXV., Of Innovations. Men's thoughts are much according to their inclination; their discourses are speeches according to their learning and infused opinions; but their deeds are after as they have been accustomed and therefore, as Machiavel well noteth (though in an evil-favoured instance), there is no trusting to the force of nature, nor to the bravery of words, except it be corroborate by custom. Many examples may be put of the force of custom, both upon mind and body: therefore, since custom is the principal magistrate of man's life, let men by all means endeavour to obtain good customs. Certainly, custom is most perfect when it beginneth in young years: this we call education, which is, in effect, but an early custom. LORD BACON : Essay XL., Of Custom and Education. Let not atheists lay the fault of their sins upon human nature, which have their prevalence from long custom and inveterated habit. we are as strongly attached to habit and custom. But it is the nature of things which hold us by custom, to affect us very little whilst we are in possession of them, but strongly when they are absent. I remember to have frequented a cerand I may truly say that, so far from finding tain place every day for a long time together pleasure in it, I was affected with a sort of weariness and disgust; I came, I went, I returned, without pleasure: yet if by any means I passed by the usual time of my going thither, I was remarkably uneasy, and was not quiet till I had got into my old track. BURKE: On the Sublime and Beautiful, 1756. Use makes practice easy: and practice begets custom, and a habit of things, to facilitate what thou couldst not conceive attainable at the first undertaking. T. FULLER. What is early received into any considerable strength of impress grows into our tender natures, and therefore is of difficult remove. GLANVILL. Of all tyrants custom is that which to sustain itself stands most in need of the opinion which is entertained of its power; its only strength lies in that which is attributed to it. A single attempt to break the yoke soon shows us its fragility. But the chief property of custom is to contract our ideas, like our movements, within the circle it has traced for us; it governs us by the terror it inspires for any new and untried condition. It shows us the walls of the prison within which we are enclosed, as the boundary of the world; beyond that, all is undefined, confusion, chaos; it almost seems as though we should not have air to breathe. Women espe cially, liable to that fear which springs from ignorance, rather than from knowledge of what one has to fear, easily allow themselves to be governed by custom; but when once broken they also as easily forget it. A man has less trouble in making up his mind to a change of condition; a woman has less in supporting it; she accustoms herself to it for the same reason that she has hitherto done so, and will still con tinue to do so. In the total overthrow which has produced so many changes of fortune among us, we have seen men extricate themselves by their courage and industry; and some by unremitting exertion have been able to return to nearly their former position; but nearly all the women, almos without exception, accommodated themselves to their new situation, and they have been quite astonished to learn so quickly and so easily that what one woman has done another is able to do also. GUIZOT. That which wisdom did first begin, and hath been with good men long continued, challengeth allowance of them that succeed, although it plead for itself nothing. HOOKER. The custom of evil makes the heart obdurate against whatsoever instructions to the contrary. HOOKER. In all the serious and important affairs of life men are attached to what they have been used to; in matters of ornament they covet novelty; in all systems and institutions-in all the ordinary business of life-in all fundamentalsthey cling to what is the established course; in matters of detail-in what lies as it were on the surface-they seek variety. Man may, in reference to this point, be compared to a tree, whose stem and main branches stand year after year, but whose leaves and flowers are fresh every season. WHATELY: Annot. on Bacon's Essay, Of Innovations. It is to be observed that at the present day it is common to use the words custom" and the latter where Bacon would have used the "habit" as synonymous, and often to employ former. But, strictly speaking, they denote respectively the cause and the effect. Repeated acts constitute the "custom;" and the "habit” is the condition of mind or body thence resulting. For instance, a man who has been accustomed to rise at a certain hour will have acquired the habit of waking and being ready to rise as soon as that hour arrives. And one who has made it his custom to drink drams will have fallen into the habit of craving for that stimulus, and of yielding to that craving; and so of the rest. WHATELY : Annot. on Bacon's Essay, of Custom and Custom will often blind one to the good as well as to the evil effects of any long-established system. WHATELY: Lects. on Polit. Econ., Appendix E. DANTE. The style of Dante is, if not his highest, perhaps his most peculiar excellence. I know nothing with which it can be compared. The noblest models of Greek composition must yield to it. His words are the fewest and the best which it is possible to use. The first expression in which he clothes his thoughts is always so energetic and comprehensive that amplification would only injure the effect. There is probably no writer in any language who has presented so many strong pictures to the mind. Yet there is probably no writer equally concise. This perfection of style is the principal merit of the Paradiso, which, as I have already remarked, is by no means equal in other respects to the two preceding parts of the poem. The force and felicity of the diction, however, irresistibly attract the reader through the theological lectures and the sketches of ecclesiastical biography with which this division of the work too much abounds. It may seem almost absurd to quote particular specimens of an eloquence which is diffused over all his hundred cantos. I will, however, instance the third canto of the Inferno, and the sixth of the Purgatorio, as passages incomparable in their kind. The merit of the latter is, perhaps, rather oratorical than poetical; nor can I recollect anything in the great Athenian speeches which equals it in force of invective and bitterness of sarcasm. I have heard the most eloquent statesman of the age remark that, next to Demosthenes, Dante is the writer who ought to be most attentively studied by every man who desires to attain oratorical excel lence. LORD MACAULAY: Criticisms on the Principal Italian Writers; No. 1, Dante; Jan. 1824. Othello is perhaps the greatest work in the world! From what does it derive its power? From the clouds? From the ocean? From the mountains? Or from love strong as death, and |