(_For the Mirror_.)
It has been somewhere asserted, that "no one is idle who can do any
thing. It is conscious inability, or the sense of repeated failures,
that prevents us from undertaking, or deters us from the prosecution
of any work." In answer to this it may be said, that men of very great
natural genius are in general exempt from a love of idleness, because,
being pushed forward, as it were, and excited to action by that _vis
vivida_, which is continually stirring within them, the first effort,
the original impetus, proceeds not altogether from their own voluntary
exertion, and because the pleasure which they, above all others,
experience in the exercise of their faculties, is an ample
compensation for the labour which that exercise requires. Accordingly,
we find that the best writers of every age have generally, though not
always, been the most voluminous. Not to mention a host of ancients, I
might instance many of our own country as illustrious examples of this
assertion, and no example more illustrious than that of the immortal
Shakspeare. In our times the author of "Waverley," whose productions,
in different branches of literature, would almost of themselves
fill a library, continues to pour forth volume after volume from his
inexhaustible stores. Mr. Southey, too, the poet, the historian,
the biographer, and I know not what besides, is remarkable for his
literary industry; and last, not least, the noble bard, the glory and
the regret of every one who has a soul to feel those "thoughts that
breathe and words that burn," the mighty poet himself, notwithstanding
the shortness of his life, is distinguished by the number, as well as
by the beauty and sublimity of his works. Besides these and other
male writers, the best of our female authors, the boast and delight
of the present age, and who have been compared to "so many modern
Muses"--Miss Landon, Mrs. Hemans, Miss Edgeworth, Miss Mitford,
&c.--have they not already supplied us largely with the means of
entertainment and instruction, and have we not reason to expect still
greater supplies from the same sources?
But although it may be easily allowed that men of very great natural
genius are for the most part exempt from a love of idleness, it ought
also to be acknowledged that there are others to whom, indeed, nature
has not been equally bountiful, but who possess a certain degree of
talent which perseverance and study (if to study they would apply
themselves) might gradually advance, and at last carry to excellence.
With the exception of a few master spirits of every age and nation,
genius is more equally distributed among mankind than many suppose.
Hear what Quintilian says on the subject; his observations are
these:--"It is a groundless complaint, that very few are endowed with
quick apprehension, and that most persons lose the fruits of all their
application and study through a natural slowness of understanding. The
case is the very reverse, because we find mankind in general to be
quick in apprehension, and susceptible of instruction, this being the
characteristic of the human race; and as birds have from nature a
propensity to fly, horses to run, and wild beasts to be savage, so is
activity and vigour of mind peculiar to man; and hence his mind is
supposed to be of divine original. But men are no more born with minds
naturally dull and indocile, than with bodies of monstrous shapes, and
these are very rare."
From what has been premised, this conclusion may be drawn--that it is
not "conscious inability" alone, but often a love of leisure, which
prevents us from undertaking any work. Many, to whom nature had
given a certain degree of genius, have lived without sufficiently
exercising that genius, and have, therefore, bequeathed no fruits
of it to posterity at their death.