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mind, then, has but lived in freedom of its powers-if the act of its faculties, in the continual progress of life, has been impelled from within-if it has trusted itself to feel, and rejoiced to know, as its nature led-if it has been true to itself, and cherishing its own inward discernment, and guarding the fountain of light within itself-has been able to shed from that source a pure unfailing light upon its own thought and its own motion,-if it has used intelligence and feeling as gifts made immediately to itself, for its own strength and guidance-it will, in its maturity of thought and power, and in the season of productive genius, perform the works of its great conception in the spirit in which it has lived-it will bring into being, by its operative art, substantial expression and likeness of those peculiar and individual forms of feeling and thought which it has entertained and cherished within itself in its long communion with being; and that peculiar impress on its works, may be regarded as the symbol of an individual nature unfolded in the mind -as evidence of an unoppressed spirit of life in the soul-of a mind maintaining its endowed powers entire in their native liberty.

The character, therefore, of original genius, pure and entire, on the productions of art, is by no means of an importance limited within the plea sures of taste. It has a far higher significance, referring directly to the entire courses of life in the mind, and to the entire condition of the mind in all action, of whatever importance, that springs from itself. It is not to be imagined, therefore, that the sympathy of ordinary men, with that condition, however it may be to a certain degree unconscious and unintelligent, can be unimportant to themselves.

It is an essential quality of genius in the individual mind, perhaps its distinctive and most constituent quality, that it draws its powers from sources within itself that its faculties are but the organs, as it were, of a deeper spirit, residing in, and blended with, its own deepest nature. The man himself, the living being, with all his sensibilities, recollections, loves, powerswith all his experience and all his capacities of life-is the deep and exbaustless source from which his genius draws the materials of its conception-the elements of its ceaseless

creations. It is the expression of his own individual being, the colouring of life derived through his own senses to his work, that makes the impress of genius on the productions of his art.

On the productions of a nation's genius, it may be presumed there will be read the same character-that this collective genius will express itself, will mark its own act, its own work, with the seal of its own individual character; and it may be apprehended, that this expression of an individual character in a people, will imply, as in the individual, some extraordinary self-communion in the spirit of the people.

For the spirit of a people, as that of a single being, entering upon the world of life it is to possess, finds allotted to itself its own peculiar and individual condition of existence, distinguishing it from all others. Á race of men entering upon a land to dwell there, bring with them the spirit of power which is to animate and rule over their existence during the long course of its coming ages; but the life they are to lead dawns on them as they set foot on its soil. The earth itself, and the sky, to which their existence from that hour is committed, are the groundwork of that arising life. Mountains, and waters, and woods, and soil, and the climate, which overhangs them all, give the first determination to their existence, allotting many of their avocations, and holding in themselves the numberless influences which are to be showered continually from the countenance and the hand of nature on their progressive existence. The same change of their place of abode, has drawn around them, still farther, new circumstances of life, allotting to their society its relations with other societies of men. Still more, it has begun, to that society of their own, a new internal social life-as among themselves their own relations begin necessarily to change, and new forms to grow up out of their new condition. Their manners alter to their avocations-their laws relax, or strengthen, or multiply their bonds with the changing necessities of their life; and the powers of men over men, and the affections that mingle with those relations, change the whole aspect and being of society. The memory of their anteri or being soon dies away into faint,

broken, and doubtful reminiscences; but passion cleaves to the memory of the new life they have begun, and the vigour of enjoyment, and the ardour of growing power, shew, in the strong youth of the people, the preparation of their powerful manhood. The ages roll on; and whatever their appointed life may be, it unfolds itself before them under the power of their spirit, while the power itself of their spirit is unfolding in the midst of their changing life. The men to whom they give birth, who rise up in their endowed strength among them, to perform conspicuously the offices of ordinary existence who in war, in the government of men, in the wisdom or sanctity of their lives, in the walks of peaceful genius-who by their achievements, their endurance, or their great affections, signalize the power of human nature, or the peculiar character of their people,-all these, whensoever they appear, springing forth, as they do, out of the heart of the nation, are no other than energies of its own unfoldings, as it were, of their own spirit in their own life-shewings forth of their mind in realized act; and from them, therefore, redounds upon the people, from whom they have arisen, deep-reaching and lasting energy, of the same quality which has been so highly manifested in those particular men. So, too, and in yet higher degree, what the collective people themselves have achieved, or suffered, or greatly felt, in enterprise, in calamity, in peril, in change or revo lution is to themselves at once both a part of that national life of which they are fulfilling the course, and an act of the national spirit, strengthening and exalting itself by its own great acts, and gathering future sentiment and thought from all that it passes through. That the spirit which a people bring with them to the land of their dwelling-that the life to which they are given up, and its manifold events, should form for them a peculiar character, as well as a peculiar history, seems easily to be understood. It is for the sake of examples of these courses of nature, that we read the history of the world. We can often trace, in remarkable ways, this formation of character-this growth of the genius of a people. But what we are better able to do is to observe the results-to know the charac

ter-to recognise the workings of the genius that has unfolded its strength. Men's observation of men is made intelligent, often not by their power of searching investigation, but by their quick true sympathy; and in virtue of that sympathy, and the light of intelligence which it brings, they read with strong and just interest, the characters of men, singly or in nations, and behold in their works and in their lives the discovery of their inward peculiar spirit. The strong, deep, general interest with which all the memorials of men are considered, that bear strongly impressed a peculiar and specific character, could not be explained, if we were to ascribe the intelligence of character to faculties purely intellectual; but it may be understood, if we can ascribe it to the faculties of sentiment-if we may say, for explanation, that what we call character subsists essentially in relations of the spirit to that life in which all participate, and in so much, is matter of that universal sympathy in which alone men's condition of existence is discoverable to one another-if we are at liberty to comprehend, by character, no more than peculiar modification of our common nature; and by genius itself, not simply the high endowment of intellectual powers, but the blending of intellectual powers, whatever their degree, with the tendencies and workings of each individual nature.

The individual mind, as was observed, will produce its own character in its works, only if that character has been duly unfolded; only if those properties which were strongly implanted by nature, have received due nourishment and free developement from the courses of life. But such nourishment must be self-nourishment; such developement must be self-developement. Life can do no more than lay open its fields before the mind, which must find its own nourishment, and make its own growth. But the essential principle of selfnourishment and self-developement is strong self-consciousness, maintained uniform to itself. It is, that the mind having once felt, retains that feeling; that the pleasure it has felt, from that time belongs to itself, and will recur; that the pain it has felt, from that time belongs to itself, and will recur. There is a personal identity begun and carried on in these uniform recurrences

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of sensation or emotion. The objects
which present themselves to the mind
are continually varying their aspect,
and so far tending to perplex their
own impressions. The weaker mind
is overcome by this variableness of im-
pression, and loses its self-consistency;
but the spirit of stronger quality is
able to maintain its own uniformity of
feeling and belief in the midst of much
variation, and by that means forms its
own strength, making its inherent
qualities more and more predominant
over the impressions, by which they
are continually called into play. But
that continual recollection and recovery
upon itself of former emotion, affec-
tion, and sensation, by which alone this
superiority to present impression can
be maintained, is of the nature of a
self-communion; it is a reflection of
the mind upon itself; it is a self-con-
sciousness prolonged or reproduced; it
is an internal repetition, with consci-
ousness of its own emotion, to which
it attaches itself more and more.

Like this, perhaps, is the formation
of character in a people. There may
be assigned to their spirit such a life
as will quench and destroy it; but if
it find a happier lot, if the ways of
life that are opened before it are such
as strengthen its great qualities and
solicit its gentler ones to gentle action,
then the growth of character will take
place by uniformity of emotion. If
there be a lofty magnanimity in the
spirit, war will strengthen and unfold
it. If that property were less deeply
fixed, the exceeding hazards and the
disasters of war would oppress it; but
if it be indeed in the nature, it rises
from them more glorious. The spirit
has derived from the accidents of life
its occasion of strength, but it has
been by subjugating those accidents to
itself. That proud and stately sa-
tisfaction in its own greatness, by
which its fortitude is sustained, is not
a feeling known only and produced at
the time of need; it must be a habit-
ual temper of the spirit, continually
nourished in the ordinary process of
life. There is implied a conscious and
thoughtful grandeur-a mind turned
back in reflection on former deeds, de-
liberately knowing its own greatness-
ánd, with deliberate purpose, choosing
the virtue of which it has already made
experience.

Whatever quality of the spirit of a people might be brought under con

sideration, the same argument might
be held, that it must be self-nourished
by a reflective consciousness. Can we
conceive otherwise of that beautiful
character of the patriotism of the
Swiss, which we suppose to blend the
love of their native land with the ima-
The love that is
gery of its scenes.
felt in its mountain-vales is a feeling
that has filled all the years of life. It
has returned upon every bosom ten
thousand and ten thousand times-the
peaceful benediction of each successive
day that has risen and set upon the
mighty land,-love swelling the heart,
and drawing from torrent and rock,
from green pasture, and shaggy wood,
and naked sky-piercing peak, the
sights and sounds of its continual
nourishment.

The heart filled with its affections, and the intellectual spirit, have both but one law from nature, by which they may form their strength;-it must be self-cherished.

The character, the genius of a people, if it be great and beautiful, is the result of a life of ages, in which the great and beautiful qualities of their spirit have been exercised and nourished with continual ministries from natural life, and continual indulgence of selfdelight.

In that character subsists the record of the virtue and happiness of successive generations of innumerThat vast immeasurable able men. flood of life has rolled into night, unbeheld, for the greater part, even while the sun shone upon it, and now engulphed in forgetfulness; but a power remains from it-its spirit inhabits the earth, quickening the countless progeny of life in continual renovation.

If we are able to bear sympathy to the departed multitudes of a people, if the imagination or belief of their virtues, their powers, their loves, be any thing to us who now walk on their soil,-then the aspect of the genius, and the character which from them yet subsists amongst us, will be great and dear to us, for the sake of that which has disappeared and left no other memorial. Even the works of skilful art, small as their importance may seem to be, when compared with the living happiness of the millions of a people, will, for their sake, be no longer unimportant, when they bear impressed on them that character, which the life of those millions has brought into being. The works of art of a

7

people become an integral part of their existence, when moulded into being by their spirit. They are all that is durable of that existence. How are they unimportant if they survive to bind together, by venerating love, brotherhoods of men, who are separat ed by the interspace of ages?

But if the genius and character of a people be thus highly derived, is there no corresponding importance to ourselves of our own participation in that character? and what are the means we possess for augmenting its power over ourselves? We know that the character and genius of a people are at all times their most important inheritance from their ancestors. Whatever energies, whatever virtues, whatever capacities and means of happiness we possess, are but in part our own, in greater part they are received by us from those whose offspring we are. But of the importance of those energies, virtues, capacities, there is no question; they are indeed our possession of life, the natural powers that determine to us the good of existence. The obligation therefore which each mind owes to the society from which it is sprung, its connexion with that society, its derivation from it of good, is in kind and degree not appreciable. To the genius, the character of those successive generations to which we succeed, we owe OURSELVES. It may be a question of some interest how far it may be in our power to heighten the beneficial influence which derives to us from those preceding us; rather what power there may be in ourselves to determine the degree of the benefit we will receive.

If our derivation of power, sensibility, and virtue, be from others, it may seem evident that the derivation will be greatest the nearer we approach, in character of mind, to those from whom we inherit. The quality we derive will be transfused in more vigour the more nearly our whole temper of mind, and all that influences it, our whole frame of life approaches to the temper and life of those from whose minds it issues to us. It is known accordingly, that the most powerful derivation of character, from age to age, is among those nations, whose simple forms of life, and purity from foreign intercourse, maintain the nearest a continual uniformity of the state and disposition of the people.

VOL. IV.

But the maintenance of such a continued uniformity seems to be neither in our power, nor according to the course of nature. Rather there seems an adaptation for continual progressive change; and it would appear that by such change only can the greatest good of mankind, or of any nation be attained. It may be said that we hold our welfare under a double law-subjected, in part, to those from whom we descend-in part free, and deriving the good of our existence from ourselves. As far as we are subjected, the law of our life would bind us to continual unchanging uniformity. As far as we are free, having the measure of good in our own intelligence, it leaves us open, and, indeed, conti nually solicits us to change, inasmuch as the possible or imaginable good which lies before us unpossessed, is always great, as well as that which we possess and enjoy. It must be the wisdom of life, it would appear, duly to combine our subjection and our independence, the principle of stability and the principle of change. It is to be desired that the living generation should derive as much as possible of good from those which have preceded, without being so far subjected to them as to lose the good which is open to it to acquire. But it ought not, in eagerness for acquisition of its own, to forego the good which may be inherited. In what manner this difficult combination may be affected, is a distinct question. But it is important towards affecting it, that the danger of deviation either way be distinctly understood. Among ourselves, the tendency of deviation seems to be towards too great relaxation of the subjection of our minds to the great generations from which we spring; and it appears, on that account, of more need to urge the consequences of that deviation.

It seems of necessity, if we hold at all in our hands the courses of our own minds, the prospects of our own welfare, that we should understand how much of our welfare, or of that character in which our welfare is determined, depends on our adherence to the spirit and life of our forefathers. To possess and to enjoy life as it arises before us, is not all that is required of us. We must look reflectingly, not on ourselves merely, but on generations that have preceded us. We must know, from thoughtful examination, 3 B

what there is great, good, beautiful, that has descended to us in their line, and which it is in our power to possess or to forego; and once enlightened to an intelligent love and veneration of that excellence in any kind, which has been in such transmission tendered to our acceptance, it only remains for us, so far as the moulding of our minds is in our own hands, to frame them to that excellence we love and admire. But that is the less difficult, because love and admiration do of themselves, by their own strong affection, produce in the mind the qualities on which they fix their impassioned contemplation.

It would be interesting to consider in what way the derivation of good from one generation to another, in the ordinary course of nature, is effected. Indeed, without such a consideration, even much at large, all the preceding observations and suggestions of argument must be very imperfectly intelligible. Yet it is itself an argument of far too great extent to be merely involved in the discussion of other questions. It would be curious and important in such an inquiry, if there were here room to enter upon it, to observe in things of the greatest and the least magnitude the same derivation; to behold it in the great national virtues and powers by which a people subsists, and to trace it in its minuter currents, in the smaller pleasures of life, and the subtlest play of intellect. The question that has been brought forward, more or less, in all that has been said above-" of the influence upon a people of adherence in the productions of genius in the arts, to the character of preceding times,"-holds somewhat of a middle place of importance amongst such topics. What belongs to virtues of public action-what belongs to the virtues of domestic life, is far greater. These are the great substantial parts of our inheritance, with the loss of which we forfeit ourselves. But connected with these, and participating even in their importance, is the character which genius maintains in the works it brings forth to adorn and delight a country.

The human intellect, searching life, nature, and itself, and re-moulding what it has seen into forms of its own, is not an unfettered intelligence, ranging through absolute existence, and creating ideal form. It is the power of a being who in all parts of his na

ture is subjected to conditions of life, who, in his sensibilities, his knowledge, his productions, is under restraint and limitation of his individual nature, and of his place among mankind. What it requires for its most perfect energy, is, that its free and ideal intelligence and conception should be blended in the highest degree with its individual constitution or character. He who, in consciousness of the powers that are discovered to him in his manhood, slights and foregoes the sensibilities of his earlier life, rejects the best half of his power; and he who, in the pride of his own age, believes himself independent of the ages to which he succeeds, shuts out from himself the highest influences under which it was given to his mind to live. To each nation to each individual, there is given peculiar good. That is their felicity, Sua si bona nôrint. To intellectual genius there is given its own discernment of the nature and qualities of things.

He who belongs to a people of thoughtful moral spirit, will, by his place among them, possess peculiar moral insight. He lives in a world which to many is unrevealed; and if his subtle and searching intellect-if his mighty and creative soul delight itself in such knowledge-in such imagination, he derives a power to himself out of the blood from which he springs, which he could have found in no other sphere of thought. Is his work in vain? or does he exalt and prolong to his people that moral thought which he has embodied in most beautiful and unperishing forms? If the people of a country are endowed with peculiar sensibility to the beautiful face of existence; if their exquisite sense apprehends, with a delight known only to themselves, the beauty with which shape and colour have invested all living and insensate things, and the harmonies that breathe in sound, shall genius, by intellectual pride, separate itself from the lot of its people, refuse the bounty of nature, and imagine to itself sources of power opened up to it in its own bosom alone? It cannot shake off the nature in which it lives; it cannot hold its power in independence of the bounty that nourished it up. pathy alone of the people for whom it exists, requires of it the recognition and acceptance of their own common

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