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and Erasmus the wit was born at Rot

terdam.

Education, (of which government forms a considerable part) appears to influence genius far more than climate. Bacon lived under Elizabeth, when science was a fashion, and when people were accustomed to think deeply: Shakspeare also adorned her

reign;

and though endowed with every faculty of mind which could be defined genius, we can scarcely suppose he would have been equally sublime, had he written in the present day.

"Whenever criticism flourishes, a severe

and minute taste will be cultivated, and the luxuriances of imagination lopp'd off."*

The peculiarity of his phrase, in which his genius appears as conspicuously as his thought, the concise amplitude, vigour and boldness of his expressions, are censured by a critic of our own, partial to the French school, who tauntingly observes among the faults of English authors, "that they would be all genius."

Cowley, it must be acknowledged, was a wit: but he lived when the times were not frivolous. The poets of the seventeenth century were nien of learning; and it was essential for the reader to be learned also, to receive any plea sure from their works, or even to understand them. But though the fancy was uncharmed, and the passions unaffected, the understanding was fully exercised, and all the powers of recollection and inquiry awakened by the perusal: we cannot but respect an age (whatever be our opinion of its taste) when a poet distinguished by scholastic speculation, and a wit by metaphysical researches, were held in such high estimation.

Milton wrote when England was a republic, and he was embued with the spirit of his party: we can always discern under republican governments a strength of thought, and energy of expression, in its writers; which are lost under monarchies, in times of refinement.

The genius of a people will have a corresponding language; the Greck was that of a polite people, who cultivated a great taste for arts and sciences: the use of the participles gives it a peculiar force and brevity, without taking any thing from its perspicuity: it is copious, sonorous, and varied. The Latin, which

* Shaftesbury.

has strength and expression, suited the character of the Romans; warlike, and engaged in battles and commotions. It was admirably adapted to history and nervous popular eloquence, in which they excelled; more figurative than the English, less pliant than the French, less copi ous than the Greek, and less melodious than the Italian.

The Italian indeed is a proof that language degenerates with the genius of a nation into effeminacy: its sweetness, smoothness, and harmony, are substituted for strength; and it furnishes an instance that the character of, a peo ple, yet living under that sky where valour once was universal, IS influenced by government than climate.

more

In the east, where temperature and Mahometanism combine to influence the imagination, the human mind has lost much of its capacity and powers. writer, that the Arabic, the sweetest and It has been observed by an admired most copious of the eastern tongues, was peculiarly adapted to charm the shepherd and the soldier, (with whom it was vernacular), in those wild and beau which were celebrated their favourite tiful compositions of their poets, in occupations of love and war; and it became, in the hands of Mahomet, a powerful instrument of fascination to men little qualified to judge of any works fancy and the heart. of genius, but those addressed to the

better government and a better religion, In the west, under the auspices of a the mind attained a vigour in its intellectual exertions, an extent in its intellectual pursuits, and a success in their cultivation, utterly unknown in any other period of their history.

strength: nor is it deficient in harmony, The English has copiousness and as its poetry, without the aid of rhyme, evinces. It derives its very forcible and significant words from the which are formed on the model of the Greek, Greek compounds; it may retain something of the Gothic roughness, and sometimes remind us of those who framed ou language; but we have enriched it with every tongue, and cultivated it with every art. The brightest passages of Milessayist) are so closely connected with ton and Shakspeare, (says an ingenious the genius of our own language, that no foreigner can ever taste them in the original, nor can any translation convey an idea of their beauties: but this is not

defeet,

defect, but excellence; it is the inimitable in poetry, as well as painting,

which is

"The grace beyond the reach of art." Some have supposed the patronage of the great was necessary to bring genius to perfection; but we have many instances of the contrary: the most eminent works have been produced without it; and when it has been bestowed in early youth, it has proved not only injurious, but fatal. The mind, whose powers would stagnate unstimulated by faine and favour, wants that radical principle of vigour which alone can arrive at excellence. Few who obtain distinction at a

juvenile period of life, preserve or merit it long; effort is abated, not by difficulty, but success: indeed it is the obstacles which it overcomes, that evince, the strength of genius.

Praise, till the reasoning faculties are matured, weakens the moral powers (which have a close alliance with the intellectual); and inspires a conceit and self-sufficiency, obstructive of all progress in genius no less than virtue. A great painter and an acknowledged critic, exclusive of his own art, has left on record his opinion of this confidence, in some adınirable lectures to his young pupils. "Have no dependance on your own genius," was his reiterated counsel; indeed he impresses it in a manner that would lead superficial observers to suppose he thought that industry could supply its place; he continually tells them that genius can achieve little without it, and self-sufficiency for ever preclude advancement in their art.

No one had better opportunities than sir Joshua Reynolds, of observing the effects of resolute perseverance, even with moderate talents; and the perfection it might attain when operating with a mind potent and original.

Without industry, knowledge cannot be acquired: genius will soon be exhausted if the soil is unenriched by foreign stores; it will have no materials to work upon, no ideas for imagination to combine; and it can become fruitful only in proportion to its resources.

The treasures of ancient and modern art are essential to its fertility, and industry alone can collect them."

I acknowledge that genius seizes and combines, with a rapidity inconceivable to slower capacities; and this is one of its most striking characteristics: but this quickness of apprehension is com

monly accompanied by an impatience of
labour; and if it inspire confidence
that the intricacies of art and depths of
science can be penetrated by a careless
glance (which seems what sir Joshua
ineant when he guarded against depen-
dance upon genius), if application cease,
improvement ends, and nothing which it
produces will ever have a permanent
ich in the temple of fame.

To close these observations with the

opinion of the first ancient, and the first
modern, critic:

"Genius is that energy which collects,
combines, amplifies, and animates; active,
ambitious, enterprising; always imagining
something greater than is known; always
endeavouring something better than
forms; that power without which judgment
is cold, and knowledge inert."-Johnson.

per

"To attain excellence in any art, three things are necessary: nature, study, and practice."-Aristotle.

To the Editor of the Monthly Magazine:

SIR,

Magazine for the inclosed letter, VENTURE to solicit a place in your written by Mr. Mathias upon the death of his friend, the Rev. Norton Nichols; feeling as I do, that by admitting it you will gratify many of your readers, who, though acquainted with the deceased, may not have had an opportunity of seeing this tribute to his memory. Few men have had the happiness of enjoying, during their lives, a more extensive circle of refined and elegant society, than Mr. Nicholls; few have been gifted with an equal share of those polished manners and that engaging benevolence, which cause their company to be universally courted; and few have by their death created a greater vacuum, or been more generally lamented; so that, though Mr. Mathias, having been induced by the pressing solicitations of his friends, pri vately to print a few copies of the letter, has endeavoured to distribute these copies wherever he thought the memory of the deceased was cherished with esteem, it is scarcely possible but that he must have overlooked many, by whom it would have been prized and valued. I feel therefore, sir, that in sending it to you I am performing an acceptable service to numbers, though I may not be fulfilling the wishes of the author; and I beg leave, not only to add my tribute of respect, however inconsiderable, to the memory of a man whom, when alive, I was allowed to call my friend, and whose loss

I most

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MY DEAR SIR,

London, Dec. 10, 1809.

It is my melancholy office to inform you of the death of our friend, the rev. Norton Nicholls, LL.B. rector of Lound and Bradwell, in the county of Suffolk, who died at his house at Blandeston, near Lowestoft, in that county, on Wednesday the 22d of Noveinber 1809, in the 68th year of his age. As you well knew the genius, the accomplishments, the learning, and the virtues, of this rare and gifted man, your gene. rous nature must think that some little memorial of him should be recorded, however frail and perishable in my delineation. To be born and to die did not make up all the history of our friend. Many of the chief ends of our being, which he fulfilled during the placid and even tenor of a long and exemplary life, proved that he had been; and they fully evinced that he had deserved well of all who had enjoyed the intercourse of his society. Many were enlivened by the cheerfulness of his disposition, and all partook of his benevolence. His chosen companions were delighted and improved by his reading-s to communicate the rich treasures of his cultivated mind, in all the bright diversities of erudition and of taste. Indeed those studies which can alone be the aliment of youth and the consolation of our declining days, engaged his attention from his carliest years. "Amplissimam illam omnium artium benè vivendi disciplinam, non vitâ magis quam litteris feliciter persecutus."

Even when a school-boy, he was never desultory in his application; and he was distinguished for those exercises which mark strength of understanding and solidity of judgment. He wandered not in vam among those fields and hills, so justly sty ed 'happy' by our greatest lyric poet; and he left Eton for the university of Cambridge, with a mind prepared for greater attainments, and capable of that

excellence which is the reward of ability when fostered by application. In addition to the attentions which he experienced from the celebrated Dr. Barnard, then master of the school, I have heard him frequently express his grateful sense of the assistance he received at Eton from the voluntary private instruction of Dr. Summer, whose classical erudition was deep and extensive. By such men he was formed for the intercourse of those

highly cultivated minds, educated in the groves of our Academe, which were destined to be the future ornaments and the supports of literature, of the church, and of the state.

At the time when Mr. Nicholls became a student in Trinity Hall, the university of Cambridge was the chosen residence of Mr. Gray :

A sì gran nome sorga

Tutto il coro à inchinarsi del Parnaso ! It was natural to feel a gratification in being a member of the same learned society with him; and it was natural also to aspire (if possible) even to a distant intercourse with such a man.

To see Mr. Gray was desirable; to speak to him was honourable; but to he admitted to his acquaintance or to his familiarity, was the height of youthful, or indeed of any, ambition. By the intervention of a common friend, Mr. Nicholls, when between eighteen and nineteen years of age, was introduced to Mr. Gray. I remember he told me, what an awe he felt at the time, at the lightning of his eye; at that "folgorante sguardo," as the Tuscans term it; but Mr. Gray's courtesy and encouraging affability soon dispersed every uneasy sensation, and gave him confidence.

Shortly after this Mr N. was in a select company, of which Mr. Gray was one; and, as it became his youth, he did not enter into the conversation, but listened with attention. The subject however being general and classical, and as Mr. Nicholls, even at that early period, was acquainted not only with the Greek and Latin, but with many of the best Italian poets, he ventured with great dindence to offer a short remark; and happened to illustrate what he said by an apposite citation from Dante. At the name of Dante, Mr. Gray (and I wish every young man of genius might hear and consider the value of a word spoken in due seasou, with modesty and propriety, in the highest, I mean in the most learned and virtuous, company) suddenly turned round to him, and said, "Right: but

have you read Dante, sir?" "I have endeavoured to understand him,” replied Mr. N. Mr. Gray, being much pleased with the illustration, and with the taste which it evinced, addressed the chief of his discourse to him for the remainder of the evening, and invited him to his rooms in Pembroke ball.

Mr. Gray found in his young acquaintance a ready and a docile disposition, and he became attached to him. He then gave him instruction for the course of his studies, which he directed entirely, even to the recommendation of every author, and to the very order in which they should be read, which happily continued till the time of Mr. Gray's death. Mr. N. might well say to the poet, in the words of his favourite Florentine: "Tu sei lo mio maestro." To this incident, so rare and so honourable to Mr. Nicholls, and to the improvement which was the consequence of it, I attribute not only the extent and the value of his knowledge, but the peculiar accuracy and eorrect taste which distinguished him throughout his life, and which I have seldom observed in any man in a more eminent degree.

The letters of Mr. Gray to Mr. Nicholls, preserved by Mr. Mason in his Memoirs of the poet, sufficiently prove the intimacy between them; and it is my opinion that, with the single exception of his earliest and most accomplished friend the hon. Richard West, Mr. Gray was more affectionately attached to him than to any other person.

By the advice of Mr. Gray, Mr. Nicholls visited France, Swisserland, and Italy. He there found scenes and persons congenial to his taste and to his faculties. In Swisserland he looked abroad through nature, from every "ice-built mountain" and rugged cliff; and by the lakes and valleys of that once envied country, he felt the truth of Rousseau's inimitable remark, “ qu'il y a des moments où il suffit du sentiment de son existence." In Italy he found all which could capti. vate and enchain his attention among the most finished works of art; and under the soft but animating influence of climate, of scenery, and of classic imagery, he improved his talents; and, by his conversation and knowledge of the language, he was peculiarly acceptable in the most select assemblies. When Italy is the theme, it is difficult to restrain our sensations: but in this place I would only

Dante. Inf. c. 1.

MONTHLY M▲e. No. 199,

add, that Mr. Nicholls, in an elegant and interesting narrative of his travels (which he never intended to make public), has privately recorded whatever fixed his mind, exalted his imagination, and refined his judgment. The celebrated and learned count Firmian, the Austrian minister at Milan, to whom he was introduced, noticed him, and became his intimate friend. From count Firmian's powerful recommendation Mr. Nicholls had access to every circle of distinction in every foreign country which he visited; and no man ever profited more from the advantages which were so singularly and so happily offered to him.

On his return from the continent, he found that he had sustained a loss which was irreparable. Mr. Gray was no more. Ilis friend, his companion and enlightened guide, was no longer to contribute to his happiness, and to animate his studies; and to this irreversible doom he submitted, quiet, though sad.

Upon the best motives he retired, and resided constantly with his mother in the cheerless depth, and then uncultivated solitude, of his Suffolk livings, where he passed his time in continued study and in the exercise of his professional duties. But I must observe that, since his resi dence there, the country and the neighbourhood have assumed another aspect. As there was no rectorial house upon either of his livings, he fixed upon a place, which I could wish that future travellers might visit and speak of as we do of the Leasowes: I mean his villa at Blundeston, which, (if barbarous taste should not improve it, or some more barbarous land-surveyor level with the soil its beauties and its glories,) will remain as one of the most finished scenes of cultivated sylvan delight which this island can offer to our view. It was his owIL and his appropriate work; for scarcely a trace of its uncouth original features can be found or pointed out to the visitant. But to the eye of a mind like Mr. Nicholls's, the possible excellences of a place yet unadorned, were visible; and even as it then was, there were to be found in it walks and recesses, in which Mr. Gray observed, in his sublime conciseness, “that a man who could think, might think."

By perseverance and skill, he at last surinounted every diffi. culty which was opposed to him through a long scries of years, and he formed and left the scene as it now is.* Throughout

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the whole, and in every part of it, the
marks of a judgment which cannot be
questioned, and of an unerring taste,
which was regulated by discreet expence,
are so eminently conspicuous, as to pro-
claim Mr. Nicholls to have been, what
a kindred poet so happily terms

Un artiste qui pense,
Prodigue de génie et non pas de dépense.

To be a visitor and an inmate guest to
Mr. Nicholls at Blundeston in the gay
season, when his lake was illuminated by
suminer suns, and rippled by the breeze;
when every tree and shrub, in its chosen
position, seemed to wave in homage to
its possessor and cultivator; when a
happy and youthful company of either
sex, distinguished by their talents and
accomplishments, was enlivened by the
good humour and spirit which presided
over the whole; with the charm of music,
and with every well-tempered recreation
which the season could present, and with
all the elegance of the domestic internal
arrangements; it was difficult indeed, I
say, to be a visitor and a guest at Blun-
deston in that gay season, and not to be
reminded of Spenser's imagination:
"For all that pleasing is to eye or ear,
Was there consorted in one harmony;
Birds, voices, instruments, winds, waters, all
agree!"

Whoever have been witnesses of the scene will know that I speak of it as they have seen it, and that I have set down nothing in fiction. I had fondly hoped that I should have revisited this favourite spot, and its beloved and accomplished master, for many a year with increasing pleasure. But what are the prospects of mau! The mind which presided over it is fled; and the scene is solitary :

for painting or for rural scenery, even he has declared, that "some praise must be allowed to him who does best, what such multitudes are contending to de well." To say this, is something; yet it is to be a niggard of our speech to say no more, when such liberal delight is the object of communication.

In every department of elegant literature Mr. Nicholls displayed the same correct taste. His knowledge of history was copious but chosen; in ancient and in modern writers he was accuratel versed, and in all subjects he had recourse to the original springs of knowledge. In the French and Italian lan guages, as well as in the particular mode of the life and manners of those countries, he was eminently instructed; and the merits of every author and poet of dis tinction were familiar to him. In the most polished society of unrevolutionized France, and in the Tuscan conversations, he was received as a native. He seemed, indeed, to have transfused into his habits and manners such a portion of their spirit, that many persons were inclined to think, that either the Seine or the Arno might have claimed him for their own. In Italy, during his short sojourn among the unrivalled remains of genius and of art, he accurately studied and comprehended the works of the greatest masters of the pencil. He did this not with the idle spirit of a loitering traveller, but with the unremitting application of a man who knew the value of his time and of his talents. He felt and prosecuted the desire of improving them by an honourable familiarity with the designs of great painters and sculptors; and of fixing in his own mind those forms of excellence by which his judgment might be guided, and his recollection gratified, in the future course of his life, among its choicest and most liberal amusements.

Secca è la vena dell' usato ingegno: Vedove l'erbe, e torbide son l'acque ! If Mr. Nicholls indeed had devoted his time and talents exclusively to the ornamental laying out of grounds, and Mr. Nicholls was by nature commahad originally made it his profession, it nicative," and his spirit was not finely might be said with truth, in the diction touched but to fine issues." His younger of poetry, that Pactolus might have roll- friends will be gratefully alive to my ed through his own domains. But to words, when I allude to his willingness, embellish the form of rural nature was and even his eagerness, to impart infor only his amusement. In his own neigh-mation, and to diffuse rational pleasure. bourhood there could be no emulation nor vanity; for where could he discover a competitor? His villa at Blundeston was an Oasis. Even the severe but dig nified moralist, to whom nature had denied an ear for harmony, and an eve

Delille, les Jardins, 1. 4. + Dr. S. Johnson

Such indeed were his good manners, his benevolence, and his hospitality, that his spirits might be said to shine through him and in the reception of friends, of acquaintances, and of strangers, under his roof, were shewn that readiness and urbanity which announced the gentleman of birth and the man of breeding. I am indeed convinced, that there is not a

scholar,

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