8
“Genius and Passion,” The Portico, a Repository of Science and Literature, vol. 3, no. 2 (February 1817), pp. 121–6; “Remarks addressed to the author of the Essay on Genius and Passion, in the last number of the Portico,” The Portico, vol. 3, no. 3 (1 March 1817), pp. 229–32; “Passion the Soul of Genius — (in Reply to ‘R.’),” The Portico, vol. 3, no. 4 (1 April 1817), pp. 297–303; “Reply to the Essay, entitled ‘Genius, the soul of Passion.’ Addressed to ‘S.’,” The Portico, vol. 3, no. 5 (May 1817), pp. 373–6.
“S.N.” and “R.”
The Portico was founded in Baltimore in 1816 and edited by Tobias Watkins (1780–1855) and Stephen Simpson (1789–1854). It was published by Neale Wills & Cole and later by E.J. Coale. Contributors to the Portico were closely affiliated with a literary club in Baltimore, the Delphian Club, and included John Neal (1793–1876), John Pierpont (1785–1866), and H.M. Brackenridge (1786–1871). The exchange of letters between the unidentified “S.N.” and “R.” reprinted below show Hume’s writings, and especially his essay “Of the Delicacy of Taste and Passion,” to be at the center of a controversey over the relationship between genius and passion. On The Portico see Neal L. Edgar, A History and Bibliography of American Magazines, 1810–1820 (Metuchen, N.J., 1975), p. 220; Marshall W. Fishwick, “The Portico and Literary Nationalism After the War of 1812,” William and Mary Quarterly, series 3, vol. 8 (1951), pp. 238–45; Frank Luther Mott, A History of American Magazines, 1741–1850 (Cambridge, 1938), pp. 293–6; John Earl Uhler, “The Delphian Club. A Contribution to the Literary History of Baltimore in the Early Nineteenth Century,” Maryland Historical Magazine, vol. 20 (1925), pp. 305–46.
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Genius and Passion.
———“Glory, the reward
That sole excites to high attempts, the flame
Of most erected spirits, most temper’d pure
Ethereal, who all pleasures else despise,
All pleasures, and all gain esteem as dross,
And dignities and powers all but the highest?”
To dispute the immemorial practice of the world on any subject, is always dangerous; and any attempt to explode confirmed opinions, is apt to procure us the fate of martyrdom, without gaining for us the glory of immortality. Mankind are not only bigotted in religion; but morals, politicks, and even physick, have their disciples, their devotees, and their persecutors. In modern systems of education, the inveterate force of misguided zeal, has never been exceeded by the most furious estuation of a fanatical spirit; and the suggestions of wisdom, respecting the discipline and advancement of youthful intellect, have been treated with alternate ridicule and resentment, and denounced as insidious attempts to subvert the reign of virtue, because unfortunately habited in the garb of a philosophy, which by the epithet of modern, has been made a dreadful phantom to the fears, instead of an inspiring idol, to the reason of mankind. If rightly appreciated, and rationally conceived, little, perhaps nothing, detrimental to human happiness, can be discovered in the systems of philosophy rashly proscribed, as inimical to virtue. But it is the fate of genius to create systems above common apprehension; and to revolve thoughts, or indulge in speculations, too sublime, noble, or refined, for general reception in their original or native form, free from that perversion, and deformity, with which ignorance, prejudice, and superstition, are ever big. Even Voltaire, the most noxious of heretical philosophers, is allowed, by the most refined bigot of the present age, Chateaubriand, to have advanced the cause of morals and felicity. The enemies of Hume are rapidly receding from their hostile position; and begin to confess, that he was right, through [sic] the sphere of his reflection and speculations, was too elevated for common mortals. Yet the truths he unfolds cannot be confuted by those who would believe them, had they courage to repose in their consequences. There are few daring enough to maintain the separate truths, and individual interests of science and religion; as if the petticoat of the monk and priest must necessarily induce correspondent effeminacy of reason, and lay the intellect prostrate at the tremulous command of dread and superstition. If, however, there existed no hypocrites, we should probably find few, if any foes to the divine illumination of philosophy; but as long as men desire to wear an appearance of purity they never can attain, so long must reason suffer from ignorance, and truth from affectation; so long too, must education be perverted; the bold current of the understanding obstructed, and the warm effusions of the heart stifled and chilled by dissembling circumspection.
Whoever has observed the characteristicks of genius, or inquired into, and mediated upon the properties that constitute that grandeur of erected spirits, must bow to the conviction, that passion, as it expresses every modification of rapid and tumultuous feeling, chiefly conduces to the existence of this exalted endowment. The misguided zeal of unenlightened piety, insists on the extinguishment of all the passions; and this attempt, comprised in every method of prevailing instruction, invariably induces to stifle and chill them, in place of directing their force to a beneficial purpose. By the prevailing method their creative and inspiring warmth is removed; and the soul is left a damp and dreary void, with no power to generate aught, except clouds and vapours, spleen, prudence, and a debasing superstition; like the caverns of the forest, which denied the renovating beams of the sun, continue for ages, the birth place of reptiles, and the resort for beasts of prey.
Lest the vague meaning of general expressions, however, should lead to a wrong conception of my views, I shall descend to a more particular detail. The education of man commences from his infancy. Without innovating on the principles, or altering the phraseology of morals, pains should early be taken to avoid those invectives against the passions, and those lessons to subdue them, which at present lead to stupify and benumb the noblest faculties. Commands and exhortations to make a proper application of the passions, should be substituted for the fashionable cant; and what objects are proper, and improper for their excitement and exercise, should be discriminated and enforced. It may, perhaps be alleged, that this in effect takes place under the prevailing system; as passion cannot be wholly extinguished. Yet if any good effect results from the established practice, it is left to chance and accident, and not the certain consequence of predestined means. To make that certain, which was before casual, is one of the noblest aims in philosophy; but the system here recommended is fraught with still superiour benefits. It strikes at the vitals of hypocrisy, and dissimulation, vices always dangerous and mean; it cherishes a daring spirit of courage and enterprise; and hinders that tame, creeping, frigid circumspection, which blasts the noble purposes of a predominant intellect. But how, exclaims the advocate of the schools and the pulpit, shall man be restrained from the commission of crimes, when thus encouraged in his passions? I answer, he is only encouraged in the rational application of them; which implies an open discouragement of all vice, and the active influence of the moral and religious principles anciently established. His motives to happiness are rather enhanced than diminished by their fervency; he is more susceptible of pleasure, and more alive to pain; the flame of his imagination burns brighter, the conceptions of his mind swell with a bolder energy, and flow with a more rapid motion; he feels inspired by nature, and mounts with the enthusiasm of one, who disdains to grovel amidst the obscurity and gloom of contented mediocrity.
Such a method is naturally adapted to form a soul of fire, and to create a genius deaf to the admonitions of prudence and prescription. It must be allowed, therefore, that there is the same liability to moral aberration, in this practice, as in that now current, but not more. It is the privilege of passion to be free, to be daring; and whether curbed or cherished, its impetuousity will sometimes lead to precipitate deviation. The permanent advantage, however, flowing from this method, is the entire concentration of the force of the passions, in the cause of intellect. It is said Plato was endued by nature, with the most vehement passions; but in place of stifling them, he changed their direction, and even employed their rational vigour in vanquishing their pernicious effects. Both history and observation inform us, that genius is always a concomitant of the most vehement passions; and philosophy by her inquiries into the mysterious constitution of the human understanding, confirms its truth. Yet it need not be concealed, or palliated, that those geniuses have generally been conspicuous for various moral obliquities. The question, thus impartially opened, resolves itself into the subsequent propositions; and the interests of society, of learning, and of taste, must decide which expediency would adopt, and reason sanction. Shall we encourage the proper direction of the passions, and by that means multiply genius a hundred, or a thousand fold, with the certainty of some trivial sins attending its blessings; — or shall we deaden the sublimest intellects, by chilling all their glowing and violent emotions, for the probable benefit of apparent purity, and the certain evil of dissimulation and hypocrisy? No man will withhold his approbation to the first proposition, who remembers the resplendent glories emitted by ancient genius, and the sudden oblivion of the moral turpitude, which they were guilt of, in their lives and actions. Who feels the evil consequences of, or recollects with displeasure, the amours of Alcibiades, Æschylus, Euripides, Menander, or Pericles; or any of the slight sins that famous men have secretly or openly indulged in? The evils, if any evil ever resulted from them, were confined to a day, or a week, only at the place where they were committed; but the splendour of their genius, and the beneficial effects of their writings have spread through every age, and every nation, exciting emulation, even in dulness, kindling sensibility into rapture, and inspiring sagacity, with the ambition of excellence, and the honours of immortality.
“Of fate, and chance, and change in human life,
High actions and high passions best describing.” — Milton.
The amorous disposition of Milton; his furious zeal, sullen discontent, and rebellious plots, all found an early grave, in the everlasting monument of his fame, erected by his passions and his genius. What are the crimes of Voltaire and Rousseau, of lord Bacon and Chatterton, compared to their productions, and their animating influence on science and intellect? He who can advocate dulness for moral deficiencies such as these, is surely entitled to no praise for his wisdom, or veneration for his virtue!
That neither ignorance nor affected sanctity may find an excuse for invective in the ambiguity of the preceding observations, I here explicitly deny all encouragement to crime, or approbation of licentiousness. The accidental deviations of the passions, only, do I represent as unimportant, when compared with the stupendous performances of the same mind. But confirmed depravity, or premeditated licentiousness, is totally incompatible with the grandeur of genius, and the advancement of art or science. In the disgrace and infamy of dulness mingled with vice, crime must ever have a check and corrective in the bosom of ambition and of genius, panting for distinction; for no man abandoned to vice can become illustrious for intellect, and industry, fancy and invention, science or arts.
In this theory, I neither assume the principle of an equality of passion, nor of intellect in mankind; for in whatever portions either is dispensed to different individuals, the same consequences will attend a rational culture of the passions; for history and daily experience evince that of those who have become eminent for any superiour skill in art, or extraordinary attainments in science and erudition; the far greater number have been endowed with vehement and commanding passions, that obviously led them to the fame and honours they acquired. At present I shall conclude with this remark, that if those impassioned minds now paralysed by the lessons of prudence, and the terrours of punishment, and by consequence condemned to everlasting mediocrity, had been allowed to mature that generous glow of soul, which illjudged zeal subdued, we should have been richer in genius, and more advanced in letters; more profound in science, and more refined in taste.
S. N.
NOTE. — We may remark that none of the passions are in themselves vicious, or detrimental; their excess or perversion, only, being pernicious. Thus it is difficult to conceive how the morals can be corrupted, by cherishing the passions; or the passions rendered sinful by directing them to excellence in any art or profession. A man devoid of any one of the passions, wants a sense; and is as intellectually imperfect as he would be corporeally deformed by the loss of an ear, an arm, or a leg; or any body member or function.
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Remarks addressed to the author of the Essay on Genius and Passion, in the last number of the Portico.
“Passion,” you say, “chiefly conduces to the existence” of Genius; and Passion you have admirably defined, to be “every modification of rapid and tumultuous feeling.” If this be the character of Passion, and if Passion be productive of such magnificent effects as we all ascribe to Genius, then, every effort that succeeds in directing it, must at the same time so far succeed in destroying its distinguishing properties of rapidity and tumult, and must necessarily produce a corresponding effect on their consequences.
Every attempt to direct its impetuosity through any particular channel, to any particular purpose, is an effort to confine it; and so far as it succeeds must be productive of the very evils, which you charge the common system of education with effecting.
I admit that tumult is but another name for passion. It is a cataract, and it loses the only properties that distinguish it from sluggish waters, the very moment that it ceases to toss its foam to the heavens in its own way. You can never make a mill stream of such a power, or even a canal without destroying its native character.
The essence of Passion is its freedom: it must have no master, or it ceases to produce its phenomena. If it can be beneficial to obtain the mastery over it that you recommend, it must be still more so, to subjugate it entirely, to render it completely obedient, as attempted by the common system of education, of which you complain.
If unfettered Passion, or Genius, no matter which, for you maintain that they are inseparable — will always in its wildest moments, be productive of more benefits than injuries to science and philosophy, it must be madness to shackle them at all — for every opposition to their spirit, and every attempt to control them so far as it is successful, will go just so far in chilling the pulse of the soul — smothering the aspirings of their free spirit, and exciting “dissimulation and hypocrisy.”
What! you may ask “shall Passion be left completely unrestrained?” — Certainly, I reply, if Passion and Genius are twin flames from the same censer, encourage their ascent to the skies — if they are more dangerous, will they not give the more light? — If Passion be the fountain that supplies to Genus all that ungovernable tide to which you attribute such fertilizing properties — you must encourage its tumultuous overflow.
But, I would ask you seriously, is it your deliberate opinion, notwithstanding all that “history” and “observation” may say on the subject, that the Passions and Genius of a man are always in proportion to each other?
History and observation have hallowed innumerable errours that we are hourly detecting, as we continue to think for ourselves. Do you not know men who are passionate — who have uncontrollable passions, and yet, no Genius; who have not even uncommon sensibility? Petulance is the offspring of the passions, and yet, I believe, that just in proportion to a man’s petulance is his want of all that distinguishes Genius.
Would you call Newton a Genius? No, if he had been a Genius, he would have gone crazy or hanged himself, when the fruit of so much labour was destroyed by a favourite puppy in the manner that is related. If he had Genius, where was his Passion then? Animals have Passions as strong as men — have they Genius? Children that are very passionate, frequently become the most orderly members of society — does their Genius disappear with their Passions? You may reply, that they have learned to direct their Passions; but if their Passions do not show themselves, how are you certain that they are not vanquished or utterly destroyed?
For my own part I do know that passion may not only be increased at pleasure, but that it is the very creation of the will. Who cannot assume passion? — And who can assume genius? When I was a boy, I learned that the character of having a bad temper, or what is the same thing, of being implacable, was the best protection in the world, and, therefore, I feigned violent rage whenever I found it convenient; what was then affectation, is now habit; I was passionate from policy then, and now I am from character. I do not fear that I shall be disbelieved; for every man will find some testimony to the truth of the remark in his own experience. But who would not laugh at me if I should pretend that genius was the creation of the will?
It will be but fair for me to expose myself at the same time that I assail you, and, therefore, I will declare that the passions should be rendered entirely and completely subservient to the judgment, not because they have a necessary connexion with Genius, any more than fevers, madness, peculiar proportion of form, or colour of hair; but because they always do more injury than benefit to society.
And I will venture further, and say that even Genius is as far removed from utility, as Poetry is from Mathematicks. That, as for strong passions, or great genius being an advantage to vigorous literature, or useful science; it is so problematical that the very supposition is what I should call poetry, for I believe it to be a fact that most writers appear before the publick as at a masquerade, and generally choose a character the most opposite to their own. That those who strut most in the terrours of passion before the publick, are generally the most quiet and inoffensive behind the scenes. That all attempts to control or direct Genius are merely idle and useless; it is a flame that continually mounts to the Heavens — no efforts of man can ever extinguish or suppress it — it never dies — but may be hunted till it escapes — and when a great Genius behaves like a common man, and becomes useful, depend upon it, he has not learned to direct his powers in any new channels; he has only driven them abroad.
I have only one or two remarks to add, respecting the manner in which you have spoken of Voltaire and Hume; whatever may have been your opinion it was not generous or fair to say that their enemies were so, because their capacities were more limited — there [sic] sphere of observation less — or because they were hypocrites, and dared not avow their real sentiments; you have unnecessarily expressed an opinion on subjects that are always apt to excite asperity, and subjects that might have been avoided without weakening your arguments.
Men who may think very differently from Mr. Hume on the most important of all subjects, are not necessarily fools, or hypocrites. They may be as willing as yourself to admit all the greatness of any such sneering infidels, without seeing the necessity of your unqualified approbation, in such an argument as yours.
R.
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Passion the Soul of Genius — (in Reply to “R.”)
NOTHING is so inimical to philosophical disquisition, as the brevity which a miscellaneous magazine, constrains you to observe, in your expressions, arguments and allusions. As far, however, as this brevity will admit, I shall attempt, not to vindicate my opinions, but to remove misconceptions, explain what is ambiguous, and elucidate what may appear obscure, to your correspondent “R;” who, in your last number, endeavoured to controvert, what I shall now also endeavour to confirm.
It is remarked by Dr. Reid, that the ambiguity of the term Passion gave birth to the controversy between the ancient Stoicks, and Peripateticks; and the differences even between modern philosophers, as to the nature of Passion, have been the chief cause of the prevalent outcry against Mr. Hume’s system. According to the latter author, every principle of action in the human mind, is properly termed a Passion; and hence his inference, so frightful to the timid and the weak, that we should be governed by our passions. Without going at present into this discussion, I shall remark only, that the same ambiguity has exposed me to misrepresentation, in my first paper; as appears, by this very unphilosophical question of “R.” — “Do you not know men who are passionate, who have uncontrollable passions, and yet, no genius; who have not even uncommon sensibility?” I am extremely indebted to the liberality of “R,” for supposing me guilty of a rank absurdity, where the passage was susceptible of a better interpretation. Do you seriously suppose, sir, (to imitate your Socratick method,) that I am so childish a theorist, as this implies? There are, perhaps, men, within the circle of your acquaintance, who are called fanciful; yet you would not, surely, for that reason, pronounce them poets? Yet this is a fair parallel to your argument and you are willing to think me guilty of a folly, that you would yourself blush to commit.
By a passionate man, I understand one, who is subject to violent bursts of anger, upon trifling occasions, or from improper objects. The adjectives, amorous, fearful, fretful, &c. likewise give me a conception of man, in whom one of those passions is supposed to predominate. When I use the word passion, in a general sense, the natural meaning cannot be mistaken, but by design; it signifies all those sensations, both of pleasure, and of pain, which not being calm, are properly styled rapid and tumultuous; and are not, even in general, accompanied by excessive gesture, or violent action. Of the truth of this, numberless examples might be cited. Every philosophical discourse upon the nature of the Human Mind, that touches upon the passions, speaks of them generally, and abstractedly. I believe Passion to be the very Soul of Genius; but I should shrink from the folly of maintaining, that an amorous, an angry, or a proud or a vain man, was necessarily a Genius.
It is universally admitted, that the Imagination holds a very close relation to every kind of Genius. It is the Imagination that selects, combines, and in a manner creates, the most pleasing and sublime images. The Imagination too, excites the most violent passions, and the most active and beneficent ones, which lead immediately to excellence, grandeur and renown. But without the Passions, the Imagination would be inefficient, and incapable of the least creation: hence I conclude, they are not only favourable, but essential to Genius. A conclusive attestation of this opinion, is to be found in an old-fashioned writer, by no means favourable to Mr. Hume, or his metaphysical friends. “Every Passion,” observes Dr. Reid, “naturally draws our attention to its object, and interests us in it. The mind of man is naturally desultory, and when it has no interesting object in view, roves from one to another, without fixing its attention upon any one. A transient and careless glance is all that we bestow upon objects, in which we take no concern. It requires a strong degree of curiosity, or some more important passion, to give us that interest in an object which is necessary to our giving attention to it.” “Take away the Passions, and it is not easy to say, how great a part of mankind would resemble those frivolous mortals, who never had a thought that engaged them in good earnest,” &c. &c. Essay 3. ch. vi.
After these extracts, it is easy to suggest all the collateral facts, which confirm our position. The passion of fame is consequently conspicuous, in the grand achievements of Genius. Vanity, envy, fear, gain, and many other passions, are also entitled to the gratitude of mankind, for driving them to excellence. I therefore answer one of the questions of “R,” in the affirmative. Newton was a Genius, but his Passions made him such. An objection may perhaps be started to this position, on the ground of Passion being the propelling force, and not the intrinsick quality that constitutes Genius. I answer, that I know of no Genius, unless it is manifested in some creation, production, or discourse; and as the latter cannot be attained with the moving power, Passion, so Passion is the soul of Genius; and the mind is the object that it animates.
Much more, however, may still be said, upon this interesting subject. There is a delicacy of Passion, as well as of Taste, which Mr. Hume has admirably painted; this refines and polishes Genius, to the utmost point of beauty, and of brilliance; and augments a thousand fold, the vivid impression of every object. The same philosopher observes, that “the delicacy of Taste has the same effect as delicacy of Passion; it enlarges the sphere both of our happiness and misery, and makes us sensible to pains, as well as pleasures, which escape the rest of mankind.”
The boisterous passions of the vulgar, have no part in this intellectual inquiry. It is the finer emotions of the Soul, to which we must look for this beneficent effect; to those melting and vivid feelings, which fire the fancy, swell the heart, and invigorate the understanding; which exalt us to higher conceptions, and beget in us, the most liberal sentiments, and extensive views, so subversive of prejudice, and conducive to reason. — This is commonly termed Sensibility; and the succeeding quotation from Dugald Stewart, will evince whether my position is erroneous: “What we commonly call sensibility,” says he, “depends, in a great measure, on the power of Imagination. Point out to two men any object of distress; a man, for example, reduced by misfortune, from easy circumstances to indigence. The one feels merely in proportion to what he perceives by his senses. The other follows in Imagination, the unfortunate man to his dwelling, and partakes with him and his family, in their domestick distress. He listens to their conversation, while they recal to remembrance the flattering prospects, which they once indulged; the circle of friends they were forced to leave; the liberal plans of education which were begun, and interrupted; and pictures out to himself the various resources which delicacy and pride suggest, to conceal poverty from the world,” &c. “It will be said, he continues, that it was his sensibility which originally roused his imagination; and the observation is undoubtedly true; but it is equally evident on the other hand, that the warmth of his imagination increases, and prolongs his sensibility.” Thus it appears undeniable, that the Passions inspire the Imagination; while the latter kindles, and ministers to the Passions; whence the natural and unavoidable conclusion, that Passion is the Soul of Genius.
The authority of great names, and still more, of superiour intellectual powers on a metaphysical subject, where the fear of tediousness precludes the requisite detail of argument, seems preferable to bold assertions, unsubstantiated by the shadow of a reason. If more names were necessary to support me in the position I have assumed, more however could readily be cited; but I shall content myself with a general reference to Gerard’s Essay on Genius, the writings of Sir Joshua Reynolds; Helvetias’s L’Esprit; and I could name others, but it is needless.
Having attempted to sustain my opinions in their original strength, I shall now bestow a few observations upon your numerous queries. And first. — I do believe that the genius and passions of a man are always in proportion to each other. But it is certain, that a man may possess violent passions, and not a spark of genius. He may want imagination; his mind may want culture; his faculty may be defective, and his passions perfect. You exclaim, a palpable inconsistency. I am sorry your own precipitancy has led us into a needless discussion, for unless I err grossly, you have altogether misconceived my position. I never asserted, that all men who were endued with passion, were also gifted with a proportionate genius. This would have rendered my aim preposterous; which was to multiply genius; but where would be the reason of this, if all men possessed it, as they do passion? Yet I am totally at a loss to comprehend you in any other sense. I will not affirm, but undertake to show, that the history of Literature and Politicks fully illustrates and confirms the principles I have promulgated: nor do I remember a solitary instance in opposition to the fact. As for my observation, this is still more strongly in my favour.
I shall wave all reply to your assertion, after what has been said, that “passion and genius have no necessary connexion.”
To a man who denies all utility to genius, what shall I reply? That you are willing to be jocose, or wish to make our readers gape with wonder, at an unexpected paradox. If you jest, I can smile; if you are serious, you can guess the cause of my silence.
You say, you can assume a passion, and ask, who cannot? Permit me to say, that no man can assume a passion; but all may assume the appearance of it: when you feel it, it is not assumed; if you do not feel it, you have only the trappings and the pomp of Passion.
I shall now sir, attempt to return those thrusts, which you have been so ready to direct against me at random. Passion you say, may be increased at pleasure. If you will impart to me the mysterious art, that this assertion implies, I shall think myself bound in everlasting gratitude for so blest a power. The agreeable Passions which constitute happiness, I have long panted to enjoy; and if they are “the very creation of the will,” I shall deem it no slight favour to know how to set my will in motion. When you disclose this, the art of happiness will be complete, and my misery at an end!
“Who, you ask, can assume Genius?” This is an invidious question. In my apprehension, Sir, any pretender to letters may assume it; but none can attain it; it is the gift of heaven; and it is only to preserve it from wanton ruin and desolation, that I advocate a system, which may cherish the generous ardour of the soul, in the event of that celestial spark having been originally bestowed; and to hinder it from being quenched, in the utter darkness of prudence, or superstition.
I had nearly forgot, Sir, to return you one of your own questions, with the alteration of a word. “Who would not laugh at me, if I should pretend that Passion was the creation of the will?”
Petulence, Sir, I freely confess, attends some passions; nor do I think Petulence constitutes Genius.
My opinion of Voltaire and Hume is unchangeable. Persecution is the dagger of bigotry and prejudice, that would exterminate all opposition to untenable opinions. In a free country, Sir, I dare to think that, which Slaves are allowed under tyrants. Of illiberal denunciations, I hope not to be guilty; nor do I think the vindication of genuine philosophy a mark of uncharitableness, or esteem it as a symptom of ignorance. You have rashly ventured, Sir, to propatate a fiction, in saying, I pronounced the dissenters from Mr. Hume, either fools, or hypocrites. The Philosophy of that brilliant man, has taught me a different system; and though you have grossly misrepresented my meaning, in this, and some other more trivial instances; yet I feel not the slightest asperity towards you, or any literary opponent chance may procure me. My convictions though strong, never fire me with the zeal of proselytism, or the resentments of bigotry.
Our opinions will harmonize on few subjects. You observe, that most authors appear before the publick in a mask; and that they assume a character the most remote from their real one. To reason on this point is difficult; at least to reason with complete effect. Yet as I never can believe that men can constantly assume, preserve, and create whatever passions they please; so must I ever reject the preposterous supposition of such a masquerade. The greatest retrospection that I am capable of, affords no instance of this literary disguise. Among the Greeks, the Romans, the Assyrians; among the Italians, the French, the English, the Spaniards, the Germans, and even the Americans, I can remember no example to the purpose, in war, politicks, poetry, or any branch of science, or letters. All authors preach a moral purity which they fail to practise; but I presume you cannot allude to so natural and universal a discrepance between character and composition; the inevitable result of original frailty.
“All attempts to control or direct Genus,” you hold to be “idle and useless.” You have here promulgated an opinion, that might prove dangerous, did not experience denounce it as a fallacy. The career of Genius proves its docility; and its history shows, that its peculiar quality, is the readiness with which it submits to be both directed and controlled. Not by prejudice, superstition, custom, threats, or authority; but to be controlled by reason, judgment, and propriety; and to be directed by nature, taste, sensibility, and ambition; and I may even add, by Passion. You say “it mounts to the heavens.” There let it always sparkle and wanton, in light ineffable, not dimmed by earthly vision; or clogged by prejudices, consecrated by custom. But you also affirm, it cannot “be extinguished;” yet it may “escape.” I cannot affect sagacity to perceive the difference here laid down. If it escapes, I must conceive it to be annihilated; unless you have allusion to that escape of the soul, through the nostrils, which Fielding so wittily describes in his journey from this World to the next.
It is a remark of Socrates, that education can never bestow those qualities, which nature has denied. It is a principle of Lord Verulam, that wrong systems of instruction stifle and pervert the noblest faculties, that can adorn the human mind. I never affirmed, that Genius could be created by education; but I still insist, and I hope have proved to the conviction of your readers, that a liberal system of instruction, which allows the passions a generous play, will develope genius, that might otherwise lie obscured, and lead to acquisitions, which may prove an everlasting benefit to mankind.
I forbear to retort upon your expression of “Sneering Infidels.” It is the common characteristick of errour, to blacken an adversary by abuse, or distort his meaning, by unfair citations; to revile his cause, before his principles are proved eroneous; and appeal to the fears of the publick, when nothing dangerous has been promulgated by him. With this remark I shall content myself; and at the same time, throw you my pledge, to substantiate by dispassionate argument, whatever I may have asserted in this, or any anteriour essay.
S.
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Reply to the Essay, entitled “Genius, the soul of Passion.”
Addressed to “S.”
I should never have appeared in the Portico with my remarks upon your essay on Genius and Passion, but for the manner in which you spoke of Hume: with Voltaire, I have nothing to do; you said no more of him than any man may say with propriety. A great governing maxim with me is, that every man’s opinion should be respected, while it appears to be sincere; and we are bound to believe it sincere, until the contrary be proved.
I have always held too, that prejudices are not, of necessity, legitimate subjects of assault. I admit that prejudice is errour, yet, there are errours so innocent as to deserve respect, while they are so obstinate, as to defy conviction. Of this class are many respecting Mr. Hume. It is the character of the human mind to submit its judgment to wit and ridicule, while it can resist reason and argument forever. The majority of mankind from their pursuits and habits, can never be interested or awakened by the sublime speculations of philosophy; their leisure and education, will not permit them to examine its evidences, or its arguments: but every man can feel ridicule. They cannot be benefited by the truths of such philosophy, and they may be injured by its falsehoods. It is therefore better, for it is safer, that the majority of mankind, should retain their very prejudices against the general character of such philosophy.
In my reply, I complained of your approbation being unnecessary and unqualified. — If your opinions had been assailed — if you had been called upon as a man to declare them: — if they had been necessary to your argument, — or even if they had not been strictly necessary, and you had qualified them as far as you might conscientiouly [sic] — I should have been the last to condemn you; for I am more than an admirer of Mr. Hume myself.
These are your words: “The enemies of Hume are rapidly receding from their hostile position, and, begin to confess, that he was right, though the sphere of his reflection and speculations was too elevated for common mortals.” — Now there is much truth in that remark, but the continuation is too general, and I think rather uncharitable: you say: “Yet the truths he unfolds, cannot be confuted by those who would believe them, if they had courage to repose in their consequences,” and again “If there existed no hypocrites, we should probably find few, if any foes to the divine illumination of philosophy. — In my reply, I chose to take your meaning rather than your words — and I still think that there is a fair inference from what I have quoted — that those who think differently from Mr. Hume, and yourself of course, upon his divine philosophy — are considered by you as hypocrites and I did say “fools,” but I should have said, “common mortals” — and cowards. — and this you have dispassionately called a “fiction” a gross misrepresentation. — The reader must judge between us.
I admit that your remarks upon Hume, seemed but a secondary object of consideration with me, and these were my reasons. — Of all subjects in the world, religion is that which ought to be approached with the most reverence. — I do not say this because others say it, or because I would appear to be religious — for, I am not: but because so little is to be gained, and so much to be lost, by altercation. No two men every did, or ever will think precisely alike on any of its doctrines; every man is responsible to his God alone, for his opinions, and his prejudices. When you have given an argument to an adversary, to which he cannot reply, he is generally further than ever from adopting your side of the question; for, generally, he gets angry. Another remark I have made, which I think peculiar to religion and politicks; a man aims only to establish his own arguments, rather than to refute those of his adversary: both are subjects that I would carefully avoid, but yet, if necessary, I would avow my opinions on both, in the face of heaven and earth. By approving, in general terms, any individual who has rendered himself obnoxious to the majority of mankind upon either, you touch a fibre that is felt in every heart at the same moment; all their habits of thinking, resent the indignity, if that touch be careless and unprovoked: their very prejudices are the creatures of habit, and they cannot be discomposed with impunity; thus the passions, the prejudices, the feelings are all connected by that chain, and they all kindle in its vibration.
Hume was a Deist: almost every man in society knows more of him in that character, than in any other: it follows, that when an advocate steps forth for Mr. Hume, unless he specifies how far he is so, he appears to the most of society as an advocate for Deism — this is a fair statement of the case.
The publick opinion should be respected: what one man calls truth, another calls prejudice; he who carelessly and needlessly assaults any general doctrine, directly or indirectly, gives to its supporters the most unequivocal proof of contempt. You touched a general doctrine indirectly, but with a carelessness, that proved your indifference to the feelings of the publick: I called upon you more to defend yourself than your doctrines. So much for my principal motive; it was rendered subordinate for the reasons I have stated. In reading your essay I found it full of inconsistencies, and I attempted to prove that your own means would destroy your own purpose: how far I succeeded must be determined by others who have read us both. I was not surprised at finding such inconsistencies: such subjects are always fruitful in them, and they arise from the precipitation with which general laws are established. Either passion is what the generality of mankind mean, when they say such a person is passionate, or is not. If it is, I take your own words to prove that genius and passion are not necessarily inhabitants of the same mind. If it is not, but some other quality resembling grandeur of thought, perseverance, application, or judgment, you will find no opposition in declaring, that such qualities produce the very consequences which you attribute to passion. You have produced abundance of authorities; I shall offer only one, one reason is, because I recollect no more at present, and another, that if I did, I should not use them, for great men commit the greatest errours. The majority of writers had rather go wrong alone, than follow a leader who is right. Gibbon says of Justinian II. his “passions were strong; his understanding was feeble.” You may say to this, understanding is not genius; if you should, it would strengthen my former position, that Genius has nothing to do with usefulness.
In my remarks, I declared that one may assume Passion: you say no, but that one may assume the “appearance of passion.” You will not deny, that affectation may become habit; that habit may be mistaken for nature; that what was once but an appearance from indulgence and repetition, may become real. Do we not see how contagious is the example of an irritable, or a mild man? I declared that Passion (i e what the world calls Passion, passionate manners) was the very creation of the will. Now I demand if it be as practicable to acquire the character of a Genius, as of a passionate man? Or grant that it is all appearance only; is it as easy to appear to have Genius as Passion?
Indeed you have puzzled me by the apparent contradiction of some of your explanations. First you say, “a man may possess violent Passions and not a spark of Genius” — we certainly agree there: and you give the following philosophical reasons, “he may want imagination, his mind may want culture, his faculty may be defective, and his Passions perfect.” You accuse me of misconcieving [sic] you; I fear I shall continue to do so, let me take either side of your argument, for I cannot reconcile the preceding admission with this declaration of yours, “I do believe that the Genius and Passions of a man, are always in proportion to each other.” In the former, you admit that Passion may exist, not only without Genius, but without imagination: and further, that Genius is produced by education; for you assign the want of “culture” as a reason, that a man of violent Passions may not have a spark of Genius. Passion is natural then, but Genius is not! You cannot deny the latter part of this proposition, it is drawn from your own words, and if you deny the former, you admit what I contend for, that Passion may be created by ourselves; but I have done: the greatest men who touch such subjects, are soonest bewildered.
R.