MONTHLY REVIEW OF LITERATURE AND ART. 



them, mingled with somewhat of regret that such a man could have 

 so forgotten, as well what was due to common sense, as common honour, 

 as to have uttered them. It has indeed been too much the fashion to leave 

 greatness to the uninterrupted enjoyment of its immortality, and the 

 pleasant companionship, moreover, of unmitigated wretchedness. They 

 are beyond this world earthly honour could not elevate them they are 

 constitutionally unfitted for the enjoyment of competence misery agrees 

 with them they thrive in indigence ; money in their pockets, a house to 

 shelter them, and a meal in prospect, would be the death of them. Bah ! 

 That which is good for the goose is good for the gander ; and the poet or 

 philosopher have as good an appetite, as lively a notion of what is com- 

 fortable, and as shrewd an idea of the convenience of a five-pound note as 

 your statesman or your warrior. Furthermore, if honours have anything 

 in them at all, they may be considered equally honourable to the man, who, 

 by his genius, has achieved a victory over error or ignorance, as to the hero 

 who has routed his country's enemies ; and since they express and by that 

 means become honourable the admiration of his fellow-countrymen for 

 that genius and those achievements, they become gratifying, and a source of 

 pride to the possessor of them. " What/' says Mr. Swainson, "it has 

 been asked, could a blue riband or a collar do for a Newton ? would they 

 make his name more hallowed, his family more durable ?" "What," let 

 us in return demand, " can a multitude of ribands, and crosses and collars, 

 do for a Wellington ? will they make his name more famous his family 

 more endurable ?" The answer to both has been already given " No, 

 certainly not." What, then, is the use of such things, baubles though they 

 be? The answer is obvious, "They evince the gratitude of a nation for 

 benefits conferred. 



" What could a blue riband or a collar do for a Newton ?" asks Sir 

 Robert Peel. We cannot say we have any idea that either would add 

 many inches to his height, or parts of inches to his nose ; nor is it probable 

 that he would magnify to the size of Daniel Lambert. But we have an 

 idea that he would become a nobleman by that means ; arid that, as the 

 world goes, a title is a distinction, and the conferring of it the only delicate 

 method by which a nation may make manifest its opinion arid sense of 

 genius or valour its appreciation of what is noble, and its admiration of 

 what is great. Supposing, too, the title was accompanied with a more 

 tangible distinction, and the patent of nobility happened to be wrapped in 

 a parliamentary grant for the sum of a few thousand pounds, which is not 

 altogether, we believe, unprecedented, we may readily imagine that " a 

 Newton" would not be fool enough to turn up his nose at it, but might 

 probably be prevailed upon to believe that it was a very agreeable as- 

 sistance, and decide that it would " do" a considerable benefit to his tem- 

 poral concerns, while his hereafter immortality would not be affected very 

 grievously by the bounty of a generous people. 



How is it, that with the idea of great genius, especially poetical, is in- 

 variably associated the concomitants of misery, penury, and distress? 

 How is it that the mental portrait of a poet or philosopher stretched by the 

 fancy shall generally present the figure of a noble man in mortal shape, and 

 the back-ground occupied by hideous objects ghastly and horrible 

 bearing every appearance of want and wretchedness ? Or, how is it, if the 

 imagination take a lively turn, the possibility of a goodly joint upon his 

 board is connected inseparably with the necessity of his flying over the 

 street to the baker's for it hurrying down from the top of the house, and 

 bringing it himself smoking in his grasp to his habitation, arid afterwards, 

 flying like mad for a pot of porter, and carefully protecting its foamy head, 

 placing it beside its hard-bought companion, to the infinite delight of him- 

 self and some other unfortunate wretches who happened to be cursed with 



