painted on his fine imagination, poor Chatterton sunk in despair? Alas! ye knew him not then, and now it is too late, For now he is dead; All under the willow tree. So sang the sweet youth, in as tender an elegy as ever flowed from a feeling heart. In return for the pleasure I have received from thy poems, I pay thee, poor boy, the trifling tribute of my praise. Thyself thou hast emblazoned; thine own monument thou hast erected. But they whom thou hast delighted feel a pleasure in vindicating thine honours from the rude attacks of detraction. Thy sentiments, thy verse, thy rhythm, all are modern, all are thine. By the help of glossaries and dictionaries, and the perusal of many old English writers, thou hast been able to translate the language of the present time into that of former centuries. Thou hast built an artificial ruin. The stones are mossy and old, the whole fabric appears really antique to the distant and the careless spectator; even the connoisseur, who pores with spectacles on the single stones, and inspects the mossy concretions with an antiquarian eye, boldly authenticates its antiquity; but they who examine without prejudice, and by the criterion of common sense, clearly discover the cement and the workmanship of a modern mason. But though I cannot entertain a doubt but that the poems were written by Chatterton, yet I mean not to dictate to others, nor will I engage in controversy. I have expressed my feelings as those of a reader, who, though he respects the study of antiquities, dislikes the blind prejudices of the mere an wielded by those powerful champions in the cause of Chatterton, a Tyrwhit and a Wharton. I give a single vote for Chatterton; but I can make no interest in his favour. No. CXLV. On the Moral Tendency of the Writings of Sterne. IT is the privilege of genius, like the sun, to gild every object on which it emits its lustre. If the influence of its light and heat be directed on deformity itself, something of an agreeable tinge is communicated; and that which naturally excites horror and aversion begins at last to please. Genius, like the fabulous power of a Midas, seems to convert all it touches into gold, and with the wonderful property of the philosopher's stone to transmute the basest to the purest metal. Hence it has happened, that doctrines, which common sense and common prudence have repudiated, are no sooner recommended by writers of genius, than they are received without debate, and admired as the ultimate discoveries of improved philosophy. Let the same opinions be advanced by a dull writer, and even the vain and the vicious, whom they tend to encourage, will refute and disavow them from principles of pride and of shame. That Sterne possessed a fine particle of real genius, if our reason were disposed to deny it, our sensations on perusing him will fully evince. It is, I think, an infallible proof of real genius, when a writer possesses the power of shaking the nerves, or of affecting the mind in the most lively manner, in a few guage. Such a power conspicuously marks both a Shakspeare and a Sterne; though Sterne is far below. Shakspeare in the scale of genius. I am ready to allow to Sterne another and a most exalted merit besides, and above the praise of genius. There never was a heathen philosopher of any age or nation, who has recommended, in so affecting a manner, the benignant doctrines of a general philanthropy. He has corrected the acrimony of the heart, smoothed the asperities of natural tempers, and taught the milk of human kindness to flow all cheerily (it is his own expression) in gentle and uninterrupted channels. To have effected so amiable a purpose is a great praise, a distinguished honour. I lament that the praise is lessened and the honour sullied by many faults and many follies, which render the writings of Sterne justly and greatly reprehensible. If we consider them as compositions, and are guided in our judgment by the dictates of sound criticism, and by those standards of excellence, the rectitude of which has been decided by the testimony of the politest ages, it will be necessary to pronounce on them a severe sentence. The great critic of antiquity required, as the necessary constituents of a legitimate composition, a beginning, a middle,, and an end. I believe it will be difficult to find. them in the chaotic confusion of Tristram Shandy.. But, disregarding the tribunal of Aristotle, to which the modern pretenders to genius do not consider themselves as amenable, it will still be true, even by: the decisions of reason and common sense, that his writings abound with faults. Obscurity has always been deemed one of the greatest errors of which a writer can be guilty; and there have been few readers, except those who thought that the acknowledgment would derogate plained that Tristram Shandy is in many places disgustfully obscure. The admirers of Sterne extol his wit. But I believe it will be found that his wit is of the lowest kind, and the easiest of invention; for is it not for the most part allusive obscenity? a species of wit to be found in its fullest perfection in the vulgarest and vilest haunts of vice. It is, indeed, easy to attract the notice and the admiration of the youthful and the wanton, by exhibiting loose images under a transparent veil. It is true indeed there is usually a veil, and the decent are therefore tempted to read; but the veil, like the affected modesty of a courtezan, serves only as an artifice to facilitate corruption. The praise of humour has been lavished on him with peculiar bounty. If quaintness is humour, the praise is all his own, and let Cervantes and Fielding bow their heads to Sterne. They who admire Uncle Toby, Doctor Slop, and Corporal Trim, as natural characters, or as exhibiting true humour in their manners and conversations, are little acquainted with nature, and have no just taste for genuine humour. It is evident enough that the author meant to be humorous and witty, and many of his readers, in the abundance of their good nature, have taken the will for the deed. But till obscurity, till obscenity, till quaintness, till impudence, till oddity, and mere wantonness, wildness, and extravagance, are perfections in writing, Tristram Shandy cannot justly claim the rank to which it has been raised by folly and fashion, by caprice, libertinism, and ignorance. I know that this censure will be considered as blasphemy by the idolaters of Sterne; but I hope it will not sour that milk of human kindness which they may have imbibed from his writings; and to an excessive de guage. Such a power conspicuously marks both a Shakspeare and a Sterne; though Sterne is far below. Shakspeare in the scale of genius. I am ready to allow to Sterne another and a most exalted merit besides, and above the praise of genius. There never was a heathen philosopher of any age or nation, who has recommended, in so affecting a manner, the benignant doctrines of a general philanthropy. He has corrected the acrimony of the heart, smoothed the asperities of natural tempers, and taught the milk of human kindness to flow all cheerily (it is his own expression) in gentle and uninterrupted channels. To have effected so amiable a purpose is a great praise, a distinguished honour. I lament that the praise is lessened and the honour sullied by many faults and many follies, which render the writings of Sterne justly and greatly reprehensible. If we consider them as compositions, and are guided in our judgment by the dictates of sound criticism, and by those standards of excellence, the rectitude of which has been decided by the testimony of the politest ages, it will be necessary to pronounce on them a severe sentence. The great critic of antiquity required, as the necessary constituents of a legitimate composition, a beginning, a middle, and an end. I believe it will be difficult to find. them in the chaotic confusion of Tristram Shandy. But, disregarding the tribunal of Aristotle, to which the modern pretenders to genius do not consider themselves as amenable, it will still be true, even by: the decisions of reason and common sense, that his writings abound with faults. Obscurity has always been deemed one of the greatest errors of which a writer can be guilty; and there have been few readers, except those who thought that the acknowledgment would derogate |