These two kinds of genius require different and peculiar faculties. In philosophy, where the great end proposed is the discovery of truth, the coloring of imagination should be carefully avoided as useless and deceptive. It is necessary to divest the mind as far as possible of all pre-conceived opinions, that so the proofs presented may make just the impression which their character and importance demand. No prejudice or association of former ideas must be allowed to bias the judgment; but the question should be decided in strict accordance with the deductions of the sternest reason. And yet this perfect freedom from prejudice, however necessary to the proper use of right reason, is perhaps the most difficult effort of the human mind. "Nemo adhuc," says Lord Bacon, in a passage quoted by Stewart in the introduction to his mental philosophy, "Nemo adhuc tanta mentis constantia inventus est, ut decreverit et sibi imposuerit theorias et notiones communes penitus abolere, et intellectum abrasum et æquum ad particularia de integro applicare. Itaque illa ratio humana quam habemus ex multa fide et multo etiam casu, necnon ex puerilibus quas primo hausimus notionibus, farrago quædam est et congeries. Quod si quis, ætate matura et sensibus integris et mente repurgata, se ad experientiam et ad particularia de integro applicet, de eo melius sperandum est." Such was the opinion of the great father of modern philosophy.
On the other hand these vulgar errors and superstitions, these "theoriæ et notiones communes," supply the means of producing the strongest effect of poetry. The dull scenes of real life can never be suffered to chill the ardor of a romantic imagination. And as the poet finds truth too plain and unadorned to satisfy his enthusiastic fancy, he is compelled to seek subjects and scenery of more faultless nature and brighter hues than this world affords. He delights in combinations of the most striking images. The grand and imposing, the dark and terrific, the furious and desolating—whatever serves to fill the mind with awe and wonder, are his favorite subjects of contemplation. The legends of superstition contribute largely to the effect of poetical composition. The enthusiast loves to fancy the agency of supernatural beings, and endeavors to feel the influence of those emotions which such a belief is suited to inspire. This seems to be the spirit of Collins in the following lines of his ode to fear.
| "Dark power, with shuddering meek submitted thought, Be mine to read the visions old Which thy awakening bards have told; And lest thou meet my blasted view, Hold each strange tale devoutly true." |
In combinations of poetical images, no regard is had to their consistency with truth and reason. It is the part of philosophy to discover relations as they exist in nature; but to search out and combine into one glowing and harmonious whole the brightest and grandest images which art or nature supplies—this is the province of poetry. The utmost calmness and most collected thought are necessary to that patient and laborious reasoning by which progress is made in the science of truth. The fury of impassioned feeling, on the other hand, supports the loftier flights of poetry. Hence philosophy and poetry rarely meet in the same individual. Yet the smallness of the number of those who have gained renown both as poets and philosophers, is to be ascribed less to any incompatibility between the habits of mind peculiar to each, than to the fact that the short space of human life will not allow to both the attention necessary for their highest attainments. I speak now of poetical and philosophical genius, not of poetry and philosophy. Between the two last there is an incompatibility, as may easily be shown. Euclid's elements, for example, contain as pure specimens of mere reasoning as can be conceived; but in them simplicity, clearness and precision of terms are all the ornament they need or will admit: nor can poetical language be used by any arrangement without producing obscurity and disgust. And the wild conceptions of unbridled fancy will as little brook the restraint of heartless reason. In short, poetry and philosophy are so distinct and opposed in character, that neither can ever be used to heighten the proper effect of the other.
A most extraordinary combination of poetical and philosophical talent in one individual was displayed by Lucretius. I might challenge the whole circle of science or literature to furnish examples of clearer, closer and more irrefutable argument than his work presents. And for purity, sublimity, delicacy, strength and feeling, passages of his poetry might be selected scarcely inferior to any effort of ancient or modern times. Yet his work may well be chosen to furnish proof that even the brightest genius cannot combine austere logic and gorgeous poetry, so as that each shall produce its due effect. For although where the reasoning is not deep the embellishments of fancy may be borne and even relished, yet where the argument requires close and laborious thought, the reader is willing to sacrifice all the ornaments of poetry to the simpler grace of perspicuity. But it is mostly in episodes and illustrations that the fire of his poetic genius burns so brightly; and here we see him throw off the fetters of truth to wander in the haunted fields of fiction. And although his work displays intense thought and burning poetry, we rarely find them united in the same passage.
Confirmed habits of philosophical reflection, it is not improbable, will in time give a character of sobriety and apathy to the mind. Quick susceptibility of impressions is one mark of a poetical temperament; and of course if habits of calm reasoning destroy this sensibility, philosophy and poetry cannot exist in perfection in the same mind. But this apathetic coldness appears not to be the immediate effect of philosophical habits, but rather to result from disuse of the imagination while the attention is turned to graver studies. Lucretius has shown what attainments may be made in pure philosophy without lessening the strength and grace of fancy. He was a man of the most acute and accurate observation, and of the most rigid and cautious reasoning, yet possessed a quick perception of the grand and beautiful, and had imbibed the warmest spirit of poetic enthusiasm.
Poetry delights in personifications. According to Dryden,
| "Each virtue a divinity is seen: Prudence is Pallas, beauty Paphos' queen; 'Tis not a cloud from which swift lightnings fly, But Jupiter that thunders from the sky; Nor a rough storm that gives the sailor pain, But angry Neptune ploughing up the main; Echo's no more an empty, airy sound, But a fair nymph that weeps her lover drown'd: Thus in the endless treasure of his mind, The poet does a thousand figures find." Art of Poetry, Canto 3. |
Philosophy on the contrary seeks to disrobe the subject of every factitious charm, and present it to the mind in its naked simplicity. It dispels the clouds of error, though gilded with the bright colors of fancy; and boldly brings even objects of superstitious veneration to the light of reason.
These conflicting qualities are eminently shown in Lucretius; and it is not without interest to mark how he contrives to blend in the same work the solid simplicity of argument with the lighter graces of imagination. As a poet he opens his work with an address to Venus the mother and guardian of the Roman people, whose aid he invokes as the companion of his song. He prays her to avert the frowns of rugged war from the nation by the softening power of her charms. He tells her that she alone governs the universe; that nothing springs into the light of day without her; and ascribes to her, as the source of all pleasure, whatever is joyous or lovely.