MISCELLANY.
In no way, can we so certainly captivate mankind, as by appeals to their senses.
Rich banquets, the singing of eunuchs, riding, dancing, pantomime, ballooning, have a thousand more attractions for the vulgar, than all the didactic lessons of reason and understanding; than all the wit and humour of Cervantes, Sterne, and Wolcott. Such a reproach, is familiar to old governments; we fondly anticipate, that our youthful establishments may, by the timely exertions of men of taste and science, for a long time escape it.
The increased fondness for theatric amusements, for frivolity, noise and show, demands the animadversions of the moralist, and of the friends of literary pursuits.
Under our forms of governments, we may have an opportunity to rival the celebrated schools of Greece. Republics are the peculiar soil of liberty, of genius, of talents; for in them, merit is not exclusively attributed to wealth and birth. How important then, to excite the generous emulation of talents. What mean more effectual, than to encourage literary enterprises, stamped with genius and industry.
Where there is so little leisure, but so much general ease and affluence; they, who can instruct and entertain the public, deserve, and will receive its generous patronage.
The cacoethes scribendi, is as strong as the love of money, and we need not apprehend, but America may produce her Poets, Critics, Historians, if an enlightened and liberal community will, sometimes, wet with Peruvian dew, the tender buds of genius, which poverty often attends, and neglect more frequently blasts.
Need I say, that Genius, like Charity, is timid, not obtrusive---hopeth all things, believeth all things,---That it utterly disclaims all consanguinity with that bronz’d dame, Impudence; but is tenderly knit with its fair counterpart, Modesty. It loves retirement and tranquility; seek it therefore in desarts and cottages, where it is too commonly left to bemoan its untoward fate, where it enjoys now and then, but a few rays of hope through the glimmering lattice or gale: go then quickly and place the pillow of ease and content under its desponding head, and save the child of Fear and Fancy from despair.
But I hesitate and doubt---some Vandal will here reply, that Ignorance is happiest; that Genius is a curse. For some moments I almost surrender my enthusiasm for Genius, and agree with the position, that it is so, that all who wish to be arrayed in scarlet and fine linen, and fare sumptuously every day, who prefer brisk champagne to the Heliconian beverage, and a fat sirloin to a flimsy sonnet, will deprecate it with the Vandal, and strangle in the cradle every future Homer, Virgil, Livy, and Cæsar.
I will not deny that poets are querimonious: after allowing to excessive sensibility a due share of spleen, much is left to lament of real misfortune.
That they frequently enjoy posthumous fame, and justice done to merit, though late.
But yonder ghosts will testify, that when on earth, the flush of health never glowed in their pallid cheeks, the fire wasted in their eyes, and strength in their bodies, when the friendly tomb, received them from a frowning world.
Homer, by his immortal Iliad; Shakespeare, by his Lear, Macbeth, and Hamlet; have enriched, and in the phrase of the world, aggrandised thousands. We buy a bud of the one, and a fragment of the mulberry-tree of the other, and sit down satisfied, that We have amply discharged our duty and conscience.
NEW-YORK.