Ocean and earth, the solid frame of earth, In gladness and deep joy. The clouds were touch'd, Unutterable love. Sound need none, Thought was not; in enjoyment it expired. BEATTIE. Lo! where the stripling wrapt in wonder roves Would Edwin this majestic scene resign For aught the huntman's puny craft supplies? Ah! no, he better knows great Nature's charms to prize! And oft he traced the uplands, to survey, When o'er the sky advanced the kindling dawn, The crimson cloud, blue main, and mountain grey, Far to the west the long, long vale withdrawn, Where twilight loves to linger for a while; And now he fainly kens the bounding fawn, But lo! the sun appears, and heaven, earth, ocean smile. And oft the craggy cliff he loved to climb, In truth he was a strange and wayward wight, In these two quotations we cannot help seeing a resemblance both in the general purpose and in the individual pictures, particularly in that of the rising sun; but I may further ob VOL. XLIV. 44 serve, that while the Doctor has the merit of having led the way, he is in some points also the more accurate of the two. Edwin's country was either Aberdeenshire, or any other place real or imaginary that might suit the poet or the reader. You, Murdoch, are tied down to the district of Atholl, --for this took place before you be came a pedlar, and I request to know from what bold headland in that neighborhood you ever beheld the sun rise while "Ocean's liquid mass beneath you lay ?" I am not aware of any point in the Perthshire Highlands from which the sea is at all visible; and there can be none where Ocean is seen lying in a liquid mass beneath the spectator's eye. When I further consider that the Excursion, in its general plan, is a vindication of those very principles of hope and faith which Beattie so well inculcated in his Minstrel, before a " French Revolution had occurred to frighten him into them, I think it would have been as well if, in the choice of his leading character, Mr. Wordsworth had avoided this additional point of resemblance. If he wished to escape as much as possible the censure of imitation, he should have let alone the herd-boy and taken up the embryo Bagman. Here was scope for a truly creative mind-here was a fresh and virgin sward untrod before by the Muse's foot-here Wordsworth might have boasted with his mighty master of attunting his harp to things unattempted yet in prose and rhyme-here he might have sung with Lucretius Avia Pieridum perago loca, nullius ante But independently, Murdoch, of the want of originality in your supposed story, I beg leave to demur to the philosophical correctness of the principles advanced in it. It is quite clear that individuals reared in the country are not the most distinguished for quickness or experience, and it seems to me a very questionable proposition whether they are even the best and warmest admirers of natural beauty. Certain I am, that among persons of better station, those who have been bred in towns, and have made them their chief residence, are generally much more enthusiastic and enlightened lovers of rural scenery than those to whom the country is their constant domicil: and I don't see why it should not be so likewise with those of humbler condition. By the mere countryman, the country is regarded too much in a professional point of view. It is his place of business his shop-the scene of his daily drudgery-the source of his animal subsistence and commercial profit and its different appearances must therefore strike him more according to their utility than according to their picturesque or imaginative character. A farmer or shepherd looks at the features of nature with reference to questions of crops and stocking and speculates how many returns of wheat the dale may yield-how many head of cattle may be reared on the hill in summer or winter. But to the townsman, visiting the lofty mountain or the blooming valley, amid his intervals of toil and care, they appear entirely in a poetical point of view. They are not in his eyes combined with the prosaic thoughts of usefulness or money-making: they are wholly beautiful or sublime. They are not stained by every-day associations; but rise or expand before him in all the sacredness and purity of an ideal picture. What associations they do bring are in the highest degree pleasurable and endearing. They tell him of freedom newly gained-of health and cheerfulness about to be restored-of misery and weariness left behind. All the elasticity of lightened spirits-all the enchantment of romantic illusion-combine to make him drink in the forms and hues of natural imagery with an avidity and joy unknown to those who are for ever in the midst of them, and who for the most part of their time must regard them with callous indifference while occupied in the tame or vulgar avocations of a work-day world. Hear accordingly what the poets say on this theme. Hear Horace. "O rus, quando ego te aspiciam!" Such is the aspiration of the man surrounded by the vexations of urban life. Hear Milton As one who long in populous city pent, So much for ordinary or direct perceptions of nature. Then as to the poetical vision of her charms, the case is perhaps still stronger against the mere native. In addition to the disturbing effect of those associations, which in his thoughts cling to all natural objects as interwoven with his daily routine of employments, the education of his mind seems to be unfavourable for lofty or inspired conceptions. If poetic power consists in clothing external objects with human or spiritual life, we must inquire where this creative and intelligent principle is best to be fostered. It appears to me, that the spirit of intelligence must be first caught, not from a visual perception of rocks, or fields, or groves, but from a contemplation of the human face divine, and a sympathetic contact with that world of wonders, the human heart. This feeling I should think must be gained in society, and is naturally thence transferred to the great or graceful features of natural imagery, which we feel to be beautiful or sublime as we are enabled to animate them with emotions or influences analogous to those of spiritual beings. I am not sure that I have either demonstrated the truth of this view, or made it very intelligible; but if not, it will be more nearly on a par with some of your own speculations. This I feel quite sure of, that the perfect developement of the human heart and intellect, whether in wisdom or in taste, is to be discerned, not in him who dreams away his days on a hillside as a herdsman or a herdsman's master, but in him who opens his senses and feelings to all the varieties of natural objects and suggestions, rural or urban, moral or physical, solitary or social. But waving the further debate of this more difficult controversy, I demand next whether, if a country boy is to be made the hero of a philosophical poem, the locality of BlairAtholl is the best that can be chosen for the place of his birth and nurture. I opine not. I have always considered it essential to the free developement of the higher faculties that the lower appetites and necessities should first be reasonably well provided for. Neither the rational nor the imaginative powers can begin to act with effect until the stomach shall have previously received a regular supply of nutritious food, and the surface of the body have been comfortably protected from the external air. This last prerequisite I consider of peculiar importance. The connection of the intellect with the posterior portions of the human form has been long recognized both in private families and in public schools; and no channel of instruction more direct and efficacious has yet been discovered. But with this view it is necessary that the cuticle should be preserved in a state of considerable sensibility. The constant exposure therefore of those important regions to the biting blast or the damp soil must be attended with a corresponding callosity in the intellectual susceptibilities. Hence it happens that, so far as I have heard, there is no well authenticated example on record of any considerable progress in mental refinement in the case of an individual who has long worn the kilt or philabeg; and I am disposed to ascribe to this rather than to any other cause, the general inferiority of the Celtic tribes to those of Gothic origin. I may observe in passing, that the late Sir James Mackintosh affords no contradiction to this remark, as it is well known that he was early put into breeches. Samuel Boyse is the only poet, so far as I remember, who is said to have appeared in public without that article of attire. But this singularity was in him only occasional, and must doubtless have impaired the man's genius, such as it was. Altogether it appears to me that your friend Mr. Wordsworth has here fallen into the common error of many foreigners with reference to Scotland, in overlooking the distinction between the different divisions of that country. The occurrence of intellect or poetry in an Ayrshire ploughman, or a Selkirkshire shepherd, is as different a phenomenon as possible from a miracle of the same kind springing up in a Highland parish, where the inhabitants are wholly unaccustomed to clothe either their thoughts or their thighs in a Saxon dress. It appears therefore perfectly plain, that as to the history and locality of your early years, Mr. Wordsworth has committed an egregious blunder in trying to make a philosopher of you. How much more suitably would the lot have lighted upon me. In what scenes or circumstances could a youth be more effectually trained to a knowledge of men and things than in those which I have generally described as surrounding me in my boyhood? Not staring for days at a bleak mountain or a swampy glen, but looking sharp about me in large cities and crowded streets-not poring over the stupid features of wedders and black cattle as my only companions and acquaintance, but gathering a reciprocity of intelligence from the eyes of my fellow-men, ready to take every advantage of me if I did not anticipate them in the attempt-not starving upon oatmeal porridge and shivering in a scanty petticoat, but well fed and warmly clothed, yet fully apprised that the continuance of those comforts from day to day depended on my own vigilance and activity-not moping my solf dumb in solitude, or jabbering in a barbarous tongue, but practised to atter or disguise my thoughts as expediency might prompt, and never at a loss either for wit or words. Whether the object was to describe the progress of a poet or of a philosopher, of a man of reflection or a man of experience, here was the shop in which his apprenticeship should have been served. The opening which W. W. could not here see, we, I. T., may some day soon demonstrate by practical proofs, to be the right road at once to popularity and fame. equally original and more to the pur pose. Let us consider this matter a little in detail. One of the most important elements of wisdom is experience. Now here ! have clearly the advantage of you in several ways. I have already admit ted that you had the means of be coming acquainted with a few indivi. duals of your species, and of picking up several family anecdotes. But rate your observations in this way as highly as you please, I undertake to centuple them. I have had a wider field than you. Quæ regio in terris nostri non plena aboris! What cor ner of the island, from Gosport to John-o'-Groats, from Penzance to Peterhead, has not been delighted and benefited by the visits of Tomkins? Then again, my observations have been much more multifarious. I move at a more rapid pace than you pedestrians, and consequently must see ten times as much in the same time. I travel over more popu lous districts, and consequently must see twenty times as much as you in the same space. What ups and downs, what choppings and changes have I witnessed in my day, in com mon as well as in commercial life. How many feasts and frays-how many births and marriages-how many breaches of promise, crim. cons., and separate maintenances how many fortunes made and spenthow many imprisonments, fieri faciases, insolvencies, and bankrupt commissions. If I were to tell you a hundredth part of these last, it would make your hair stand on end. Then, Murdoch, consider that a Bagman is not, like a Pedlar, a solitary, but a gregarious animal. The proverb with you is, Two of a trade-with us, Birds of a feather. You have nothing like our Commercial Room, where we enjoy the benefit of the traditionary wisdom of ages, and the accumulated knowledge of the whole profession. To this hive the whole bees of our commonwealth contribute their ho 11. Profession and Pursuits of ma- ney. This of itself would place us a ture years. Here I confess the originality of Mr. Wordsworth's adoption of your story. I know of no previous attempt to dignify the destinies of a Pedlar. But the question is, whether the Bagman would not have been thousand miles in advance of you and your limited individual gleanings. "O! noctes cænæque Deum!" O the three D's! as Sprigs used to say-Dinners, Drink, and Devils! O! if you heard us in a winter's night with song upon song, and story upon story. Mr. Wordsworth says that you sing a good stave yourself. He says that, at his request, you would sing "Old songs-the product of your tive hills; na A skilful distribution of swect sounds, It does not strike me that this is the description which a person of very musical ear would give of very good music. Is your friend, pray, not a little timber-tuned? But what were these songs of yours? The Flowers of the Forest, or Auld Robin Gray? Neither; They were the product of your native hills. Gaelic, therefore; Achin frome, frome: or Machinahourich, that Jenkins used to sing far better than you could ever do; and no great shakes after all. Then as to stories what is all the prosy stuff that a parson may tell you, about the people lying in a churchyard among the mountains, compared with what I have seen and heard. By the by, in that chapter, one of the parson's stories seems to me to have a very immoral tendency. I mean, where a girl, that has a natural child, is taken out as a wet-nurse. This is a thing I never would permit Mrs. "You all have heard," Enriched his crowded stores; deep laden ships, His shares were countless as the stars of Heaven: But chiefly was his name and honour known As the first partner of a banking firm. High was their credit in the mouths of men, The mystic shadows of substantial gold. "Such was the merchant, and the man still more |