In no way, can we so certainly captivate mankind, as by appeals to their
senses.
Rich banquets, the singing of eunuchs, riding, dancing, pantomime,
ballooning, have a thousand more attractions for the vulgar, than all
the didactic lessons of reason and understanding; than all the wit and
humour of Cervantes, Sterne, and Wolcott. Such a reproach, is familiar
to old governments; we fondly anticipate, that our youthful
establishments may, by the timely exertions of men of taste and science,
for a long time escape it.
The increased fondness for theatric amusements, for frivolity, noise and
show, demands the animadversions of the moralist, and of the friends of
literary pursuits.
Under our forms of governments, we may have an opportunity to rival the
celebrated schools of Greece. Republics are the peculiar soil of
liberty, of genius, of talents; for in them, merit is not exclusively
attributed to wealth and birth. How important then, to excite the
generous emulation of talents. What mean more effectual, than to
encourage literary enterprises, stamped with genius and industry.
Where there is so little leisure, but so much general ease and
affluence; they, who can instruct and entertain the public, deserve, and
will receive its generous patronage.
The _cacoethes scribendi_, is as strong as the love of money, and we
need not apprehend, but America may produce her Poets, Critics,
Historians, if an enlightened and liberal community will, sometimes, wet
with _Peruvian dew_, the tender buds of genius, which poverty often
attends, and neglect more frequently blasts.
Need I say, that GENIUS, like Charity, is timid, not obtrusive---hopeth
all things, believeth all things,---That it utterly disclaims all
consanguinity with that bronz’d dame, Impudence; but is tenderly knit
with its fair counterpart, Modesty. It loves retirement and tranquility;
seek it therefore in desarts and cottages, where it is too commonly left
to bemoan its untoward fate, where it enjoys now and then, but a few
rays of hope through the glimmering lattice or gale: go then quickly and
place the pillow of ease and content under its desponding head, and save
the child of Fear and Fancy from despair.
But I hesitate and doubt---some Vandal will here reply, that Ignorance
is happiest; that Genius is a curse. For some moments I almost surrender
my enthusiasm for Genius, and agree with the position, that it is so,
that all who wish to be arrayed in scarlet and fine linen, and fare
sumptuously every day, who prefer brisk champagne to the Heliconian
beverage, and a fat sirloin to a flimsy sonnet, will deprecate it with
the Vandal, and strangle in the cradle every future Homer, Virgil, Livy,
and Cæsar.
I will not deny that poets are querimonious: after allowing to excessive
sensibility a due share of spleen, much is left to lament of real
misfortune.
That they frequently enjoy posthumous fame, and justice done to merit,
though late.
But yonder ghosts will testify, that when on earth, the flush of health
never glowed in their pallid cheeks, the fire wasted in their eyes, and
strength in their bodies, when the friendly tomb, received them from a
frowning world.
Homer, by his immortal Iliad; Shakespeare, by his Lear, Macbeth, and
Hamlet; have enriched, and in the phrase of the world, aggrandised
thousands. We buy a bud of the one, and a fragment of the mulberry-tree
of the other, and sit down satisfied, that We have amply discharged our
duty and conscience.
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