man.

tion. There is a popular opinion, or rather an unconsidered impression, that lights and sounds are beautiful and sublime in themselves, but this disappears before examination. A sound is or is not sublime, as it is, or is not apprehended to be thunder. That is association. But thunder itself would not be sublime, if there were no more than the intellectual knowledge of its physical cause if there were not ideas of power, wrath, death, included in it. The union of these ideas with thunder is association. Those ideas by association, carry their own ideas with them. All fixed conjunction, therefore, of ideas with ideas, and of feelings with ideas, is the work of association-nor is it possible to dispute it. But when the advocates of this theory assert that trains of thought, or distinct personal recollections, are absolutely necessary to make up the emotion, then they assert what appears to us to be contradicted by the experience of every The impression is collective and immediate. We know that all our acquired perceptions are at first gained by long processes of association that the eye does not of itself see form or figure. When, therefore, we see a rose to be a rose, it may as well be said that we do so by a process of association, as that we see it to be beautiful by a process of association. In both cases- -the perception of the rose, and the emotion of its beauty is equally instantaneousand independent of any process of association--though we know that both our perception of it, and our emotion could only have been formed originally by such a process. As, therefore, we cannot be said, by our instructed senses to perform any mental operation when we see an object to be round-so neither can we be said to perform any, when we feel an ob. ject to be beautiful. Voluntary associations may, doubtless, be added to our unreasoned and unwilled perception of beauty, as of a rose, or a human countenance-and these trains of thought, of which Mr Alison so finely speaks, will add to the emotion. But the emotion arises independently of them. We admire the beauty of a rose just as thoughtlessly as we see it to have a slender stalk, circular flower, and serrated leaves. While, there fore, we admit the truth of the prin

ciple of Mr Alison's theory, we seek to limit the application of it.

It is farther remarked by Dr Brown, in his Lecture on Resemblance, as a law of association, that, "though in a state of emotion, images are readily suggested, according to that principle of shadowy resemblance, it must be remembered as a rule which is to guide us in the use of figures, that in this case the mind seizes the analogy with almost unconscious comparisonand pours it forth in its vigorous expression with the rapidity of inspiration. It does not dwell on the analogy beyond the moment—but is hurried on to new analogies, which its seizes and deserts in like manner." Now this observation is too general. In the first transport of any passion-at its acmé

during its unsubsiding turbulence— when the mind is scarcely in possession of itself, and obeys rather than commands, is led rather than leads-it does grasp and quit analogies thus suddenly; but though passion, blind and headlong at first, speaks in broken, disjointed, and prerupt discourse, starting from one image to anotheryet, when the mind has begun to understand and to enjoy its passion, it is then exceedingly apt to indulge in the steady, and, perhaps, triumphant contemplation of some one analogy which seems suited to it, to sustain and exalt it. The mind, then, acts under the combined power of passion and imagination-and, contemplating its own workings with a proud delight, will not dismiss hastily any image round which it can collect its feeling, and thereby give it a more permanent and vivid existence. A passion sometimes calms itself by this very means. The mind partakes of the dignity of the image which it contemplates-and thus the transport of emotion is subdued into what can now be called only an elevated and excited state of the imagination. This being the case, we ought to be cautious how we condemn any delineation of passion, on the grounds of its seeming to dwell too long, or with too much self-possession on one comparison, or image, or metaphor, or simile,

for, in many cases, the mind does consciously, and with pleasure, dwell on images which, in its first burst of passion, it grasped unconsciously, or with pain-and from which it then

VOL. XLV.

BEN JONSON by Barry Cornwall! This is really too much. The most masculine of intellects edited by the most effeminate-one of the greatest of England's poets patronized by one of her smallest poetasters.

WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE by Thomas Campbell.

BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER by Robert Southey.

These are felt to be fitting conjunctions of names and natures, and we rejoice to hail the advent of auspicious times, when the most illustrious of the living perform pious service to the most illustrious of the dead; when star is seen joining star, never to set, in the Great Constellation, Genius, from age to age in widening splendour that wanes not glorifying the Hea

vens.

But mercy on us! BEN JONSON, by Barry Cornwall? an eagle heralded by a wren; or is it absolutely a tom-tit? What a MEMOIR!

"The life of Ben Jonson,"-quoth he," has been repeatedly written; sometimes carelessly, and not unfrequently in a hostile spirit." Always carelessly, and always in a hostile spirit, till Gifford took it in hand, and then it had justice done it-not " treme justice," as this "feckless body" says-for these are words without meaning-but the character of the man and the genius of the poet were brought forward in the broad daylight of truth.

ex

"Hereafter, the Memoirs of Mr Gifford must constitute the foundation for all arguments touching the poet's moral characVOL. XLV, NO. CCLXXX,

phrases which, however sincerely bestowed, are, to say the least, injudicious in themselves; and, moreover, do not seem well adapted to herald a critical narrative, in which strict testimony and the rigour of the game' are very fiercely insisted upon, at the hands of every opponent.

"We think that Mr Gifford has esti

mated Jonson too highly. But we shall venture an opinion on the old poet, before we conclude the present memoir; and, in speaking of his qualities as a writer, we may perhaps advert to those points in his moral character which his last biographer has so anxiously defended. In the mean time (and lest want of space or other circumstance should prevent this), we acknow

K

ledge, with pleasure, that Mr Gifford has successfully vindicated him from many charges of baseness and ingratitude, and has presented his hero to the public in a new and pleasing light. It is a pity that all this was not accomplished with less acerbity towards other critics, and accompanied with more moderate pretension on behalf of the poet himself."

True "that hereafter the memoirs of Mr Gifford must constitute the foundation for all arguments touching the poet's moral character." More than that they furnish all the arguments necessary for its vindication, and to those arguments Barry Cornwall could not add one efficient word. Yet he ought to have shown how Gifford scattered, in his ire, all the accumulated calumnies of ages, like chaff before the wind. "We may perhaps advert to those points in his moral character which his last biographer has anxiously defended. In the mean time (and lest want of space or other circumstances should prevent this)," &c. &c. Who ever heard before of a biographer prefacing his memoirs of a great man, with an avowal of the uncertainty of his finding room to advert to any disputed points in his moral character!

Mr Barry Cornwall is pleased to object to the motto of Mr Gifford's book-which "announces to the reader the spirit in which it is written." He wisely says, the motto "is not strictly a sample of the biography itself;" and then pretending to quote it, leaves out the lines which Gifford printed in capitals, to show that they were, in his opinion, the most characteristic of the poet's powers.

"The voice most echoed by consenting

man,

THE SOUL WHICH ANSWERED BEST TO ALL WELL SAID

BY OTHERS, AND WHICH MOST REQUITAL MADE."

There is something very mean in the omission.

But he knows not what he would be at—and after all agrees with Gifford in his," to say the least of it, injudicious," estimate of Jonson. It was absurd in Gifford to take Cleveland's lines for a motto, because "Ben Jonson lived at the same time with almost all our eminent dramatists who preceded the Commonwealth, &c." Well -what then? Barry bravely says, forgetting his fault-finding with Gif

ford's injudicious, excessive and undue eulogium, " it is small disparagement to Jonson to say that he stands second only to so wonderful a man (Shakspeare), and we think, on the whole, he must be held, in the drama, to occupy the second place. The palm should always be assigned to originality, and among the contemporaries of Shakspeare, Jonson was the most original." This is no slight praise !! considering that amongst these were Marlowe, Beaumont and Fletcher, Marston, Decker, Middleton, Massinger, Tourneur, Ford, and others. Yet he says, "We think Mr Gifford has estimated Jonson too highly." Has that critic placed him, then, on the same level with Shakspeare? Nohe has said over and over again, that he stands far below Shakspeare-and scarified all the malignant fools who falsely accused Ben of enviously aiming at rivalry with the Unreachable.

"We shall now enter upon our brief Memoir, premising that we are quite aware of the difficulties attending a task of this nature, and begging the reader to understand, that all the merit which we claim for ourselves, is the having spoken with sincerity on a subject, upon which it has already been the lot of many men to differ." No man should undertake a difficult task, without a well-founded assurance that he can accomplish it. It is not enough to "speak with sincerity;" he must speak with knowledge and power. Why should he be insincere? And what avails sincerity, if you show yourself to be a sumph? But there are no difficulties of any moment attending the task of writing now a brief memoir of the Life and Writings of Ben Jonson. The materials, and far more than the materials, are in Gifford. Is the subject, on which "it has been the lot of many men to differ," the character of the man? Of that he declares, "with pleasure," that Gifford's vindication has been complete. Is it the genius of the poet? Upon that " it has not been the lot of many men to differ"—they have been unanimous in declaring it of the highest order. But Mr Cornwall has no rightful claim to the merit of sincerity-that virtue cannot exist along with prejudice and ignorance-and he has shewn himself very ignorant-and very prejudiced equally regarding Ben Jonson's writings and his life.

"Ben Jonson was born in the City of Westminster, in the year 1574. His father, a Scottish gentleman from Annandale, was imprisoned, and deprived of his estate in the reign of Queen Mary (on account of his religious opinions, as is supposed), and died about a month before our author came into existence !"—that is "before Ben was born." Gifford says, "His grandfather was a man of some family and fortune, originally settled at Annandale, in Scotland, from which place he removed to Carlisle, and was subsequently taken into the service of Henry VIII. His father, who was probably about the Court, suffered a long imprisonment under Queen Mary, and was finally deprived of his estate. If religion was the cause, as is universally supposed, persecution only served to increase his zeal; for he entered, some time afterwards, into holy orders, and became, as Anthony Wood informs us, a grave minister of the gospel."" What does Barry Cornwall mean, then, by saying that Ben Jonson's father was a gentleman from Annandale? Why does he sink the grandfather? And why omit to tell that the Scottish gentleman from Annandale," after his imprisonment became a clergyman? All this is wilful blundering with his eyes open, for Gifford's Memoir was lying on his table, and he had no other means of information with regard to these or any other facts.

Gifford's statement-taken from the "Heads of a Conversation"-of which more anon-is meagre and unsatisfactory enough-but 'tis stupid thus to misrepresent it. Gifford had no authority for saying that Jonson's grandfather" was a man of some family and fortune," though he may have been so; and there is no such "place" as Annandale "at" which the family of the poet's progenitors is said to have been "settled.' Annandale, Nithsdale, Tweeddale, Clydesdale, are districts-bordering each on its own beautiful river. Neither do we understand how Queen Mary of England could deprive a "Scottish gentleman" of his estate in Scotland. All that Ben Jonson said to Drummond was, that "his grandfather came from Carlisle, and, he thought, from Annandale to it; he served King Henry VIII., and was a gentleman. His father losed all his estate under

Queen Mary, having been cast in prison and for-faitted; at last turned minister, so he was a minister's

son."

"All his estate" must mean merely " property;" and here we cannot help quoting a significant note of Sir Walter Scott's:-" By the way, if Jonson's grandfather actually came from Annandale, his name must have been Anglicized on his expatriation. There are no Jonsons, or Johnsons, in that district, but Johnstones full many." Was Ben, after all, an Englishman?

Heaven forbid! We believe that, like most great poets, he was of Scottish extraction; but we have a very doubtful account of his lineage.

Barry then takes Ben to Westminster, and removes him thence "either into St John's or Trinity College;" but he says that "the records of the University do not enable us to determine precisely where, nor how long he was a resident at Cambridge." They do not; for his name is not to be found in its records; and we agree with Mr David Laing, that "there is no evidence that he ever had the benefit of an academical education." Gifford gives plausible reasons for believing that he had been at Cambridge for many months-probably not less than a year. Barry Cornwall, who of himself knows nothing about the matter, sets them aside, or it is more likely never attended to them, and says that Jonson "was compelled, after a short stay of a few weeks or months, to quit the University." Had he been a Cantab, we think, he would have gloried in declaring it in the magnificent dedication of his Volpone, "To the most noble and most equal sisters, the two famous Universities."

Ben's mother, as all the world knows, having married a master brickmaker-no unequal match-BenCantab or no Cantab-" could not endure the occupation"-and in his 18th year joined the army in Flanders as a volunteer. Gifford says that having, "both from birth and education, probably been encouraged to look to the Church for an establishment, he was exceedingly mortified at this new destination"-that of a brickmaker. Therefore he gave both up, and became a soldier and then a player. Barry says—

"After a campaign or two, he returned home, having signalized himself, in the