it was given to the public, and was received with praise: had he lived, it was his intention to have printed a continuation. The original MS. is now, by the favour of his son, in the possession of the present writer; and it has been his aim to extract from the large mass of its materials those parts which he considers will be most interesting to the Public: had Mr. Green lived to superintend his own work, undoubtedly it would have gone through a careful revision; but it is simply the duty of the Editor, to adhere faithfully to that part of the original, which he may think fit to select for publication. DIARY. 1800. (Continuation.) July 25. I was this day led to maintain in conversation that HUME'S History was mischievous, not so much for insinuating what was false, as from insisting too strenuously on what is probably true. It may be true that the House of Stuart derived their high notions of the royal prerogative from the unbounded power which their predecessors exercised: but the spirit of liberty requires that such notions should be held in reprobation. Now it is morally impossible cordially to reprobate a character and conduct flowing from motives which we must regard with complacency. I ventured to go further, and ask whether a history which should unmask completely all the motives of the actors in the scene, by diminishing our respect for the best characters and our reprobation of the worst, would not be productive of much harm? History, in a popular point of view, may unquestionably be regarded as a mere drama, or romance, of which the moral influence on the mind must essentially depend on the mode of treating it. Its influence extends to multitudes; to how few does the information it communicates, furnish any greater benefit, than the mere amusement of acquiring it. July 28. Read Miss Baillie's Introduction to her Dramas. She derives our appetite for the drama from the master propensity of the human heart-"a curiosity to become acquainted with the human character, derived from our strong sympathy with the feelings of our fellow-crea tures." But surely it is a delight arising from the exercise of sympathy itself, which is the moving principle on these occasions; and not that undistinguishing appetite for novelty which curiosity properly indicates. This mistake led Miss Baillie into the fundamental error of her plan, which is to trace the history of each passion, for the purpose of gratifying this curiosity, in a separate drama, from its cradle to its tomb. Such a succession of regular, monotonous, long-drawn vistas is not very inviting : nor does there appear any advantage which should compensate that varied and free play of the passions which we look for in dramatic exhibitions. So far as the rise of any passion contributes to awaken our sympathy, the plan has been acted on by the dramatic writers: in any other view it is mere idle pedantry. Who may hope to pourtray with increased effect the growth of ambition, from heroic feeling into hardened cruelty; of jealousy, from ardent attachment into murderous revenge; or the transition of boundless confidence and profuse generosity into a deadly hatred of our species; after the vivid and stupendous scenes of Othello, and Macbeth, and Timon? July 29. Began D'Alembert's Posthumous Works. His portrait of himself is highly finished. I am unable indeed at present to judge of the likeness; but the features, though delicately touched, have that marked and determined character which induces us to infer a resemblance, even when we are unacquainted with the original. The freedom, equally removed from arrogant presumption and false shame, with which he paints his own good qualities, is particularly admirable. In his dialogue between Poetry and Philosophy, he ascribes the remarkable fact, that good poets have usually proved good prose writers, to the energy which the mind acquires from conquering a difficulty, and which imparts a corresponding vigour of thought and expression to literary composition. This solution appears perfectly just, and will account for the superior spirit which rhyme possesses over blank verse, and sonnets over Pindarics. The rigid rules by which the latter species of poetry (sonnets) are circumscribed, have always appeared to me, in any other point of view, senseless and absurd. D'Alembert's judgment on Rousseau's Eloise and Emile strikes me as perfectly just though I suspect he wanted constitutional warmth fully to relish the beauties of the former. He gives as the characteristics of Rousseau's Works, "Chaleur,-un chaleur qui me paroit tenir plus aux sens qu'à l'ame:" and he calls him, "de tous les philosophes le plus concupiscent." Of the Emile he speaks nearly as I have done; and says, almost in the same words, "Qu'elle n'aboutisse qu'à former une espèce de sauvage très-instruit, et très-éclairé." But the most curious and characteristic piece I have met with in these works, is a proposed substitute for Beverley's last soliloquy in the Gamester. This, it seems, as it stands in the original drama, was much too "déchirant" for the delicate nerves of a Parisian parterre, and accordingly another is given-a well-reasoned dying speech, but so remote from the heart-rending ejaculations which we should expect to burst from the wretch himself, that an English audience would scout such a sophistication from the stage with derision and disgust. July 31. Finished the first volume of D'Alembert's Posthumous Works, consisting of letters to and from his friends. The King of Prussia, in a letter dated Sept. 7, 1776, adopts the same beautiful and expressive image which Blackstone had before employed in his Commentaries: "Nous sommes comme les rivières, qui conservent leur nom, mais dont les eaux changent toujours." There is an affectation of philosophy which is particularly disgusting. Some of Caraccioli's letters exhibit a melancholy it was given to the public, and was received with praise: had he lived, it was his intention to have printed a continuation. The original MS. is now, by the favour of his son, in the possession of the present writer; and it has been his aim to extract from the large mass of its materials those parts which he considers will be most interesting to the Public: had Mr. Green lived to superintend his own work, undoubtedly it would have gone through a careful revision; but it is simply the duty of the Editor, to adhere faithfully to that part of the original, which he may think fit to select for publication. July 25. I was this day led to maintain in conversation that HUME'S History was mischievous, not so much for insinuating what was false, as from insisting too strenuously on what is probably true. It may be true that the House of Stuart derived their high notions of the royal preroga tive from the unbounded power which their predecessors exercised: but the spirit of liberty requires that such notions should be held in reprobation. Now it is morally impossible cordially to reprobate a character and conduct flowing from motives which we must regard with complacency. I ventured to go further, and ask whether a history which should unmask completely all the motives of the actors in the scene, by diminishing our respect for the best characters and our reprobation of the worst, would not be productive of much harm? History, in a popular point of view, may unquestionably be regarded as a mere drama, or romance, of which the moral influence on the mind must essentially depend on the mode of treating it. Its influence extends to multitudes; to how few does the information it communicates, furnish any greater benefit, than the mere amusement of acquiring it. July 28. Read Miss Baillie's Introduction to her Dramas. She derives our appetite for the drama from the master propensity of the human heart-"a curiosity to become acquainted with the human character, derived from our strong sympathy with the feelings of our fellow-creatures." But surely it is a delight arising from the exercise of sympathy itself, which is the moving principle on these occasions; and not that undistinguishing appetite for novelty which curiosity properly indicates. This mistake led Miss Baillie into the fundamental error of her plan, which is to trace the history of each passion, for the purpose of gratifying this curiosity, in a separate drama, from its cradle to its tomb. Such a succession of regular, monotonous, long-drawn vistas is not very inviting: nor does there appear any advantage which should compensate that varied and free play of the passions which we look for in dramatic exhibitions. So far as the rise of any passion contributes to awaken our sympathy, the plan has been acted on by the dramatic writers: in any other view it is mere idle pedantry. Who may hope to pourtray with increased effect the growth of ambition, from heroic feeling into hardened cruelty; of jealousy, from ardent attachment into murderous revenge; or the transition of boundless confidence and profuse generosity into a deadly hatred of our species; after the vivid and stupendous scenes of Othello, and Macbeth, and Timon? July 29. Began D'Alembert's Posthumous Works. His portrait of himself is highly finished. I am unable indeed at present to judge of the likeness; but the features, though delicately touched, have that marked and determined character which induces us to infer a resemblance, even when we are unacquainted with the original. The freedom, equally removed from arrogant presumption and false shame, with which he paints his own good qualities, is particularly admirable. In his dialogue between Poetry and Philosophy, he ascribes the remarkable fact, that good poets have usually proved good prose writers, to the energy which the mind. acquires from conquering a difficulty, and which imparts a corresponding vigour of thought and expression to literary composition. This solution appears perfectly just, and will account for the superior spirit which rhyme possesses over blank verse, and sonnets over Pindarics. The rigid rules by which the latter species of poetry (sonnets) are circumscribed, have always appeared to me, in any other point of view, senseless and absurd. D'Alembert's judgment on Rousseau's Eloise and Emile strikes me as perfectly just though I suspect he wanted constitutional warmth fully to relish the beauties of the former. He gives as the characteristics of Rousseau's Works, "Chaleur,-un chaleur qui me paroit tenir plus aux sens qu'à l'ame:" and he calls him, "de tous les philosophes le plus concupiscent." Of the Emile he speaks nearly as I have done; and says, almost in the same words, "Qu'elle n'aboutisse qu'à former une espèce de sauvage très-instruit, et très-éclairé." But the most curious and characteristic piece I have met with in these works, is a proposed substitute for Beverley's last soliloquy in the Gamester. This, it seems, as it stands in the original drama, was much too "déchirant" for the delicate nerves of a Parisian parterre, and accordingly another is given-a well-reasoned dying speech, but so remote from the heart-rending ejaculations which we should expect to burst from the wretch himself, that an English audience would scout such a sophistication from the stage with derision and disgust. July 31. Finished the first volume of D'Alembert's Posthumous Works, consisting of letters to and from his friends. The King of Prussia, in a letter dated Sept. 7, 1776, adopts the same beautiful and expressive image which Blackstone had before employed in his Commentaries: "Nous sommes comme les rivières, qui conservent leur nom, mais dont les eaux changent toujours." There is an affectation of philosophy which is particularly disgusting. Some of Caraccioli's letters exhibit a melancholy picture of D'Alembert, as doomed to despondency by disease, and the thoughts of death. The consolation he administers is very poor, and only deepens the horror of the spectacle. There is something too of hardheartedness in the tone in which his consolation is given, that must, I should suppose, in D'Alembert's miserable state, have been particularly galling. Rousseau, praising D'Alembert's idea of musical imitation as very just, and quite new, observes: "In truth, with a very slight exception, the art of the musician consists, not in painting objects directly, and immediately, but in bringing the mind into a disposition like to that which their presence would give." Adam Smith, I think, has this idea. Aug. 1. What has pleased me most in this volume are D'Alembert's letters to Madame Geoffrin and Milord Marechal, displaying great tenderness and goodness of heart, and communicating little anecdotes with most engaging simplicity. D'Alembert's effusion on the tomb of Mademoiselle de L'Espinasse, his mistress, exhibits a heart-rending spectacle of grief, deepened to despair by the gloom of atheism. He does not hesitate to cry out with Brutus-"O Vertu, nom sétrile et vain, à quoi m'as tu servi durant les soixante anneés que j'ai trainées sur la terre, puisque tu n'as pu me faire aimer que pendant quelques instans de cette longue durée, dont la triste fin va me paroître si languissante et si vide." Aug. 9. Read Corneille's Cinna. The interest of the piece is well kept up; but the Roman manners are in many instances grossly violated, and Augustus has too much the air of the Grand Monarque. Corneille's grand characteristic is fire and animation; but he sometimes puts his sentiments into something like conceits, and often paints, glowingly indeed, but still paints, the passion which it was his office to exhibit. Sept. 26. In dipping into the Spectator this morning, I lighted on a passage (no. 210) so strikingly resembling Pope's celebrated simile in his Essay on Criticism, as makes it evident that one must have borrowed from the other. "Our case is like that of a traveller upon the Alps, who should fancy that the next hill must end his journey, because it terminates his prospect; but he no sooner arrives at it, than he sees new ground and other hills beyond it, and continues to travel on as before." "So pleas'd at first the towering Alps we try, The eternal snows appear already past, And the first woods and mountains seem the last; But, these attained, we tremble to survey, The growing labours of the lengthen'd day, The increasing prospect tires our wand'ring eyes, By all the canons of criticism, here is plagiarism somewhere! and who, from the improvements, would not have suspected Pope? Yet the Paper of the Spectator bears date Oct. 30, 1711, and it appears from Warton GENT. MAG. VOL. I. B |