great distinction, which really occasions the phenomenon. Strange as it may appear, it is a fact abundantly proved by literary history, and which may be verified by every day's experience, that men are in general insensible to the highest class of intellectual merit when it first appears, and that it is by slow degrees and the opinion oft repeated, of the really superior in successive generations, that it is at length raised to its deserved and lasting pedestal. There are instances to the contrary, such as Scott and Byron: but they are the exception, not the rule. We seldom do justice but to the dead. Contemporary jealousy, literary envy, general timidity, the dread of ridicule, the confusion of rival works, form so many obstacles to the speedy acquisition of a great living reputation. To the illustrious of past ages, however, we pay a universal and willing homage. Contemporary genius appears with a twinkling and uncertain glow, like the shifting and confused lights of a great city seen at night from a distance: while the spirits of the dead shine with an imperishable lustre, far removed in the upper firmament from the distractions of the rivalry of a lower world. THE COPYRIGHT QUESTION.* all ranks, and promises, before a long period has elapsed, to extend through the middle and even the working classes in the state a mass of useful and valuable information to which they have hitherto, in great part at least, been strangers. Not to mention the great extent to which extracts from these more valuable works have appeared in Chambers' Journal, the Penny Magazines, and other similar publications of the day, it is sufficient to mention two facts, which show at once what a thirst for valuable information exists among the middle classes of society. Regularly every two years, there issues from the press a new edition of Gibbon's Rome; and Burke's Works are now published, one year, in sixteen handsome volumes octavo, for the peer and the legislator, and next year in two volumes royal octavo, in double co WHOEVER has contemplated of late years the | dent, from the very different character and state of British literature, and compared it with price of the editions of the older works which the works of other countries who have preceded have been published of late years, that the deEngland in the career of arts or of arms, must sire to possess these standard works, and this have become sensible that some very power-thirst for solid information, is not confined to ful cause has, for a long period, been at work any one class of society; but that it embraces in producing the ephemeral character by which it is at present distinguished. It is a matter of common complaint, that every thing is now sacrificed to the desires or the gratification of the moment; that philosophy, descending from its high station as the instructor of men, has degenerated into the mere handmaid of art; that literature is devoted rather to afford amusement for a passing hour, than furnish improvement to a long life; and that poetry itself has become rather the reflection of the fleeting fervour of the public mind, than the well from which noble and elevated sentiments are to be derived. We have only to take up the columns of a newspaper, to see how varied and endless are the efforts made to amuse the public, and how few the attempts to instruct or improve them; and if we examine the books which lie upon every drawing-room table, or the cata-lumns, for the tradesman and the shopkeeper. logues which show the purchases that have been made by any of the numerous book-clubs or circulating libraries which have sprung up in the country, we shall feel no surprise at the ephemeral nature of the literature which abounds, from the evidence there afforded of the transitory character of the public wishes which require to be gratified. As little is the false and vitiated taste of our general literature the result of any want of ability which is now directed to its prosecution. We have only to examine the periodical literature, or criticism of the day, to be convinced that the talent which is now devoted to literature is incomparably greater than it ever was in any former period of our history; and that ample genius exists in Great Britain, to render this age as distinguished in philosophy and the higher branches of knowledge, as the last was in military prowess and martial renown. If any one doubts this, let him compare the milkand-water pages of the Monthly Review forty years ago, with the brilliant criticisms of Lockhart and Macaulay in the Quarterly or Edinburgh Review at this time; or the periodical literature at the close of the war, with that which is now to be seen in the standard ma It is not to be supposed, however, from this circumstance, which is so well known as to have attracted universal observation, that the taste for standard or more solid literature has either materially declined, or is in any danger of becoming extinct. Decisive evidence to the contrary is to be found in the fact, that a greater number of reprints of standard works, both on theology, history, and philosophy, have issued from the press within the last ten years, than in any former corresponding period of British history. And what is still more re-gazines of the present day. To a person markable, and not a little gratifying, it is evi Blackwood's Magazine, January, 1842.-Written when Lord Mahon's Copyright Bill, since passed into a law, was before Parliament. habituated to the dazzling conceptions of the periodical writers in these times, the corresponding literature in the eighteenth century appears insupportably pedantic and tedious. Nobody now reads the Rambler or the Idler; and the colossal reputation of Johnson rests almost entirely upon his profound and caustic sayings recorded in Boswell. Even the Spectator itself, though universally praised, is by no means now generally read; and nothing but the exquisite beauty of some of Addison's papers, prevents the Delias and Lucindas, who figure in its pages, from sinking them into irrecoverable obscurity. Here then is the marvel of the present time. We have a population, in which, from the rapid extent of knowledge among all classes, a more extended class of readers desiring information is daily arising; in which the great and standard works of literature in theology, philosophy, and history, are constantly issuing in every varied form from the press; in which unparalleled talent of every description is constantly devoted to the prosecution of literature; but in which the new works given forth from the press are, with very few exceptions, frivolous or ephemeral, and the greater part of the serious talents of the nation is turned into the perishable channels of the daily, weekly, monthly, or the quarterly press. That such a state of things is anomalous and extraordinary, few probably will doubt; but that it is alarming and prejudicial in a national point of view, and may, if it continues unabated, produce both a degradation of the national character, and, in the end, danger or ruin to the national fortunes, though not so generally admitted, is not the less true, nor the less capable of demonstration. In the first place, this state of things, when the whole talent of the nation is directed to periodical literature, or works of evanescent interest, has a tendency to degrade the national character, because it taints the fountains from which the national thought is derived. We possess, indeed, in the standard literature of Great Britain, a mass of thoughts and ideas which may well make the nation immortal, and which, to the end of time, will constitute the fountains from which grand and generous thoughts will be drawn by all future races of men. But the existence of these standard works is not enough; still less is it enough in an age of rapid progress and evident transition, such as the present, when new interests are everywhere arising, new social and "political combinations emerging, new national dangers to be guarded against, new national virtues to be required. For a nation in such a state of society to remain satisfied with its old standard literature, and not to aspire to produce any thing which is at once durable and new, is the same solecism as it would be for a man to remain content with a wardrobe of fifty years' standing, and resolutely to resist the introduction of any of the fashions or improvements of later times. A nation which aspires to retain its eminence either in arts or in arms, must keep abreast of its neighbours; if it does not advance, it will speedily fall behind, be thrown into the shade, and decline. It is not sufficient for England to refer to the works of Milton, Shakspeare, Johnson, or Scott; she must prolong the race of these great men, or her intellectual career will speedily come to a close. Short and fleeting indeed is the period of transcendant greatness allotted to any nation in any branch of thought. The moment it stops, it begins to recede; and to every empire which has made intellectual triumphs, is prescribed the same law which was felt by Napoleon in Europe and the British in India, that conquest is essential to existence. But if the danger to our national literature is great, if the intellect and genius of Britain do not keep pace with the high destinies to which she is called, and the unbounded mental activity with which she is surrounded, much more serious is the peril thence inevitably accruing to the national character and the public fortunes. Whence is it that the noble and generous feelings are derived, which in time past have animated the breasts of our patriots, our heroes, and our legislators? Where, but in the immortal pages of our poets, our orators, and historians? What noble sentiments has the air of "Rule Britannia" awakened; how many future Nelsons may the "Mariners of England," or Southey's inimitable "Lives of our Naval Heroes" produce? Sentiments such as these immortal works imbody, "thoughts that breathe, and words that burn," are the true national inheritance; they constitute the most powerful elements of national strength, for they form the character, without which all others are unavailing; they belong alike to the rich and to the poor, to the prince and to the peasant; they form the unseen bond which links together the high and the low, the rich and the poor; and which, penetrating and pervading every class of society, tend both to perpetuate the virtues which have brought us to our present greatness, and arrest the decline, which the influx of wealth, and the prevalence of commercial ideas, might otherwise have a. tendency to produce. What would be the effect upon the fortunes of the nation, if this pure and elevated species of literature were to cease amongst us; if every thing were to be brought down to the cheapest market, and adapted to the most ordinary capacity; if cutting articles for reviews, or dashing stories for magazines, were henceforth to form our staple literature; and the race of the Miltons, the Shakspeares, the Grays, and the Campbells, was to perish under the cravings of an utilitarian age? We may safely say that the national character would decline, the national spirit become enfeebled; that generous sentiments would be dried up under the influence of transient excitement, and permanent resolve be extinguished by the necessity of present gain; and that the days of Clive and Wellesley in India, and of Nelson and Wellington in Europe, would be numbered among the things that have been. But if such dangers await us from the gradual extinction of the higher and nobler branches of our literature, still more serious are the eyils which are likely to arise from the termination of the more elevated class of works in history, philosophy, and theology, which are calculated and are fitted to guide and direct the national thought. The dangers of such a calamity, though not so apparent at first sight, are, in reality, still more serious. For whence is the thought derived which governs the world; the spirit which guides its movements; the rashness which mars its fortunes; the wisdom which guards against its dangers? Whence but from the great fountains of original thought, which are never unlocked in any age but to the few master-spirits thrown at distant intervals by God among mankind. The press, usually and justly deemed so powerful; the public voice, whose thunders shake the land; the legislature, which imbodies and perpetuates, by legal force, its cravings, are themselves but the reverberation of the thought of the great of the preceding age. The tempests sweep round and agitate the globe; but it is to the wisdom of Juno alone that Eolus opens the cavern of the winds. This truth is unpalatable to the masses; it is distasteful to legislators; it is irksome to statesmen, who conceive they enjoy, and appear to have, the direction of affairs; but it is illustrated by every page of history, and a clear perception of its truth constitutes one of the most essential requisites of wise government. In vain does the ruling power, whether monarchical, aristocratic, or republican, seek to escape from the government of thought: it is itself under the direction of the great intellects of the preceding age. When it thinks it is original, when it is most fearlessly asserting its boasted inherent power of self-government, it is itself obeying the impulse communicated to the human mind by the departed great. All the marked movements of mankind, all the evident turns or wrenches communicated to the current of general opinion, have arisen from the efforts of individual genius. The age must have been prepared for them, or their effect would have been small; but the age without them would never have discovered the light: the reflected sunbeams must have been descending on the mountains, but his earliest rays strike first on the summit.. which, veiled in philanthropy, redolent of be nevolence, was so soon to be extinguished in the blood of the French Revolution? Rousseau and Voltaire. Who discovered the miracle of steam, and impelled civilization, as by the force of central heat, to the desert places of the earth? James Watt. What unheeded power shook even the solid fabric of the British constitution, and all but destroyed, by seeking unduly to extend, the liberties of England? Lord Brougham, and the Edinburgh Reviewers. Whose policy has ruled the commercial system of England for twenty years, and by the false application of just abstract principles overthrew the Whig ministry? Adam Smith. Whose spirit arrested the devastation of the French Revolution, and checked the madness of the English reformers? Edmund Burke. Who is the real parent of the blind and heartless delusion of the New Poor-Law Bill? Malthus. Who have elevated men from the baseness of utilitarian worship to the grandeur of mental elevation? Coleridge and Wordsworth. All these master-spirits, for good or for evil, communicated their own impress to the generation which succeeded them; the seed sown took often many years to come to maturity, and many different hands, often a new generation, were required to reap it; but when the harvest appeared, it at once was manifest whose hand had sown the seed. "Show me what one or two great men, detached from public life, but with minds full, which must be disburdened, are thinking in their closets in this age, and I will tell you what will be the theme of the orator, the study of the philosopher, the staple of the press, the guide of the statesman, in the next." Observe, too-and this is a most essential point in the present argument-that all these great efforts of thought which have thus given a mighty heave to human affairs, and, in the end, have fairly turned aside into a new I channel even the broad and varied stream of Who turned mankind from the abuses of the general thought, have been in direct contradic Roman Catholic church, and preserved the tion to the spirit of the age by which they primeval simplicity of Christianity from the were surrounded, and which swayed alike the pernicious indulgences of the Church of Rome, communities, the press, and the government, and opened a new era of religious light to both under the influence of which they were placed. hemispheres? Martin Luther. Who fearlessly Action and reaction appear to be the great led his trembling mariners across the seem-law, not less of the moral than the material ingly interminable deserts of the Atlantic wave, world; the counteracting principles, which, and discovered at length the new world, which like the centripetal and centrifugal force in had hauuted even his infant dreams? Chris- physics, maintain, amid its perpetual oscillatopher Columbus. Who turned mankind aside tion, the general equilibrium of the universe. from the returning circle of syllogistic argu- But whence is to come the reaction, if the ment to the true method of philosophic inves- human mind, influenced by the press, is itself tigation? Lord Bacon. Who introduced a retained in a self-revolving circle? if reviews, new code into the contests of nations, and sub- magazines, and journals, all yielding to, or jected even the savage passions of war to a falling in with, the taste of the majority, direct human code? Grotius. The influence of Mon- and form public opinion: if individual thought tesquieu has been felt for above a century in is nothing but the perpetual re-echo of what it every country of Europe, in social philosophy. hears around it? It is in the solitary thought Who discovered the mechanism of the uni- of individual greatness that this is found. It verse, and traced the same law in the fall of is there that the fountains are unlocked which an apple as the giant orbit of the comets? Sir let in a new stream on human affairs-which Isaac Newton. Who carried the torch of communicate a fresh and a purer element to severe and sagacious inquiry into recesses of the flood charged with the selfishness and vices the human mind, and weaned men from the of the world; it is there that the counteracting endless maze of metaphysical scepticism? force is found, which, springing from small Dr. Reid. Who produced the fervent spirit | beginnings, at length converts a world in error. Archimedes was physically wrong, but he was | tendency in the public mind, which evidently morally right, when he said, "Give me a fulcrum, and I will move the whole earth." Give me the fulcrum of a great mind, and I will turn aside the world. It is always in resisting, never by yielding to public opinion, that these great masterspirits exert their power. The conqueror, indeed, who is to act by the present arms of men; the statesman who is to sway by present measures the agitated masses of society, have need of general support. Napoleon said truly that he was so long successful, because he always marched with the opinions of five millions of men. But the great intellects which are destined to give a permanent change to thought-which are destined to act generally, not upon the present but the next generation are almost invariably in direct opposition to general opinion. In truth, it is the resistance of a powerful mind to the flood of error by which it is surrounded, which, like the compression that elicits the power of steam, creates the moving power which alters the moral destiny of mankind. tend to express, and may, ere long, altogether extinguish these great and creative conceptions? Yet, that such is the evident tendency of society and public opinion around us, is obvious, and universally observed. "The time has come," says Sir Edward Bulwer, one of the brightest ornaments of the liberal school, "when nobody will fit out a ship for the intellectual Columbus to discover new worlds, but when everybody will subscribe for his setting up a steamboat between Dover and Calais. The immense superficies of the public, as it has now become, operates two ways in detracting from the profundity of writers-it renders it no longer necessary for an author to make himself profound before he writes; and it encourages those writers who are profound, by every inducement, not of lucre merely, but of fame, to exchange deep writing for agreeable writing. The voice which animates the man ambitious of wide fame, does not, according to the beautiful line in Rogers, whisper to him, 'Aspire, but descend.' He must 'stoop to conquer.' Thus, if we look abroad Was it by yielding to public opinion that in France, where the reading public is much Bacon emancipated mankind from the fetters less numerous than in England, a more subtle of the Aristotelian philosophy? Was it by and refined tone is prevalent in literature; yielding to the Ptolemaic cycles that Coperni- while in America, where it is infinitely larger, cus unfolded the true mechanism of the hea- the literature is incomparably more superfivens? Was it by yielding to the dogmas of cial. Some high-souled literary men, indeed, the church that Galileo established the earth's desirous rather of truth than of fame, are acmotions? Was it by yielding to the Romish tuated unconsciously by the spirit of the times; corruptions that Luther established the Re- but actuated they necessarily are, just as the formation? Was it by concession that Lati- wisest orator who uttered only philosophy to mer and Ridley "lighted a flame which, by a thin audience of Sages, and mechanically the grace of God, shall never be extinguished?" abandons his refinements and his reasonings, Was it by conceding to the long-established and expands into a louder tone and more famisystem of commercial restriction, that Smith liar manner as the assembly increases, and unfolded the truths of the wealth of nations? the temper of the popular mind is insensibly -or by chiming in with the deluge of infideli- communicated to the mind that addresses it." ty and democracy, with which he was sur-"There is in great crowds," says Cousin, “an rounded, that Burke arrested the devastation of the French Revolution? What were the eloquence of Pitt, the arms of Nelson and Wellington, but the ministers of those principles which, in opposition to general opinion, he struck out at once, and with a giant's arm? "Genius creates by a single conception; in a single principle, opening, as it were, on a sudden to genius, a great and new system of things is discovered. The statuary conceives a statue at once, which is afterwards slowly executed by the hands of many." If such be the vast and unbounded influence of original thought on human affairs, national character, public policy, and national fortunes, what must be the effect of that state of things which goes to check such original conception?-to vulgarize and debase genius, and turn aside the streams of first conception into the old and polluted channels? If the reaction of originality against common-place-of freedom against servility-of truth against falsehood-of experience against speculation is the great steadying power in human affairs, and the only safe regulator of the oscillations of public thought, what are we to say to that direction of literary effort, and that *D'Israeli's Essay on Lit. Char. ascendant which is almost magical, which subdues at once the strongest minds; and the same man who had been a serious and instructive professor to a hundred thoughtful students, soon becomes light and superficial where he is called to address a more extended and superficial audience." There can be no doubt of the justice of the principles advanced by these profound writers: in truth, they are not new; they have been known and acted upon in every age of mankind.-"You are wrong to pride yourself," said the Grecian sage to an Athenian orator, who first delivered a speech amidst the thundering acclamations of his audience; "if you had spoken truly, these men would have given no signs of approbation." It is in the extension of the power of judging of literary compositions--of conferring wealth and bestowing fame on their authors-to the vast and excitable, but superficial mass of mankind, that the true cause of the ephemeral and yet entrancing and exciting character of the literature of the present-age is to be found. Some superficial observers imagine that the taste for novels and romances will wear itself out, and an appreciation of a * England and English, p. 446. higher class of literature spread generally among the middle classes. They might as well suppose that all men are to become Homers, and all women Sapphos. It is in this fact, the immense number of mankind in every age who are influenced by their passions or their feelings, compared with the small portion who are under the influence of their reason, that the true cause and extraordinary multitude of a certain class of novels in the present day is to be found. Without depreciating the talent of many of these writers -without undervaluing the touching scenes of pathos, and admirable pictures of humour which they present-it may safely be affirmed, that they exhibit a melancholy proof of the tendency of our lighter literature; and that if such works were to become as general in every succeeding age as they have been in the present, a ruinous degradation both to our literary and national character would ensue. The cause which has led to their rapid rise and unprecedented success, is obvious. It is, that the middle classes have become the most numerous body of readers; and therefore, the humour, the incidents, the pathos, which are familiar to them, or excite either amusement or sympathy in their breasts, constitute the surest passports to popularity. It was the same cause which produced the boors of Ostade, or the village wakes of Teniers in republican Holland, and the stately declamations of Racine and Corneille in monarchical France. expect that the patronage or support of the middle or working classes is ever to afford a sufficient inducement to secure works either of profound or elevated thought, or of the highest excellence in any branch either of poetry, philosophy, history, or economics. The reason is, that it is only by appealing to principles or ideas already in some degree familiar to the great body of the people, that you can ever succeed in making any impression upon them. Truth, if altogether new, is, in the first instance at least, thrown away upon them; it is of exceeding slow descent, even through the most elevated intellects of the middle classes; upon the working it produces at first no effect whatever. The reason is, that the great majority of them have not intellects sufficiently strong to make at once the transition from long cherished error to truth, unless the evils of their former opinions have been long and forcibly brought before their senses. If that be the case, indeed, the humblest classes are the very first to see the light. Witness the Reformation in Germany, or the Revolution in France. They are so, because they are less interested than their superiors in the maintenance of error. But if the new discoveries of thought relate not to present but remote evils, and do not appeal to what is universally known to the senses, but only to what may with difficulty be gathered from study or reflection, nothing is more certain than that the progress even of truth is exceedingly slow-that the human mind is to the last degree reluctant to admit any great change of opinion; and that, in general, at least one generation must descend to their graves before truths, ultimately deemed the most obvious, are gradually forced upon the reluctant consent of mankind. Mr. Burke's speeches never were popular in the House of Commons, and his rising up acted like a dinner-bell in thinning the benches. Now his words are dwelt on by the wise, quoted by the eloquent, diffused among the many. Oratory, to be popular, must be in advance of the audience, and but a little in advance; profound thought may rule mankind in future, but unless stimulated by causes obvious to all, will do little for present reputation. Hence it was that Bacon bequeathed his reputation to the generation after the next. It is nevertheless perfectly true, as has been well remarked hy Lord Brougham, that there never was such a mistake as to imagine that mob oratory consists only in low buffoonery, quick repartee, or happy personal hits. On some occasions, and certainly on the hustings, it generally does. But there are other occasions on which the middle and even the working classes are accessible to the most noble and elevated sentiments; and exhibit an aptitude both for the quick apprehension of an argument, and the due appreciation of a generous sentiment, which could not be surpassed in any assembly in the kingdom. The higher class of operatives, moreover, especially in the manufacturing districts, are so constantly in contact with each other, and are so much habituated to the periodical press, that they have acquired an extraordinary quickness of As little is there any reason to hope that the perception in matters which fall within their obvious and gratifying return to serious and observation; while the numerous vicissitudes standard publications, evinced by the numerto which they are exposed by commercial dis-ous reprints of our classical writers that issue tress, have, in many places, given a serious and reflecting turn to their minds, which will rarely be met with amidst the frivolities of the higher, or the selfish pursuits of the middle ranks. In assemblies of the working classes, brought together by the call for some social, and not political object, as the promotion of emigration, the extension of education, or the arresting the evils of pauperism, no one can have addressed them without observing that he cannot state his argument too closely, enforce it with facts too forcibly, or attend to the graces of composition with too sedulous care. But all this notwithstanding, it is in vain to from the press, can be taken as any sufficient indication that there exists in the public mind an adequate antidote to these evils. The fact of these reprints of standard works issuing from the press, certainly proves sufficiently that there is a class, and a numerous one too, of persons who, however much they may like superficial literature as an amusement for the hour, yet look to our standard works for the volumes which are to fill their libraries. But that by no means affords a sufficient guarantee that the public will give any encouragement to the composition or publication of standard works at the present time, and with the present temper of the national mind. There is a most |