We are by no means disposed to rank the poetry of Moore high: it glitters too much; it does not flow from any profound knowledge of the human character or heart; or from any very exquisite feeling of sympathy with mankind; nor does it speak powerfully to the heart or feelings of those who read it. They are astonished, and delighted, and even cloyed, with the exuberance of the banquet which the poet spreads before them; but they never forget the poet in his subject, or his mode of treating it; on the contrary, they so often recur to him, they so often think of the richness of his imagination, that they never lose themselves. And even of this species of poetry, Moore is not a perfect writer; there are too many prettinesses, too many conceits, too many thoughts and expressions, evidently chosen expressly and solely for the purpose of effect. It might be supposed that such a poet would excel in his delineations of natural scenery; but he does not. He does not know, or he forgets, that the most exquisite hold which natural scenery, and consequently its delineation-either by the painter or the poet, has on the mind, arises from association he is too anxious to paint it rich and gaudy; and hence the eye is too much occupied for the mind and feelings to have full play. : Wordsworth and Byron are the most original poets of the present age yet what a contrast do they present! Byron's mind seems filled with the miseries of human life; on these it feeds: these it turns on every side, or ranges in all possible combinations; exaggerates with all 1817. the creative power of a most vigorous, and at the same time distempered imagination; and then presents to the world in language which conveys them in all their intensity. Byron's poetry contains more thought in fewer words, than perhaps any other author in any language, either in prose or verse: often, by a single expression, he places before the mind a scene in the natural or moral world,—an insight into the human character, or into his own, or a train of refleclion, much more vividly and completely than any other author could do by the most lengthened and laboured language. The chief interest of his poetry arises from the clear and deep view which it gives us into the most singular, and perhaps unprecedented construction of his own character: in this character a morbid distaste for the pleasures of life,-a bitter and sarcastic contempt for all that it is said to contain of grandeur,—and a thorough belief, that existence under every form is a curse,-are the most distinguishing features; while, at the same time, there occasionally breaks out a contemplative and melancholy train of thought, which seems to soften the misanthropy of the poet, and to evince that, but for this morbid misanthropy, he could have been happy, and could have lived among mankind in the discharge of those duties, and enjoyment of those pleasures, which he now affects to despise. The genius of Campbell is certainly of no mean order; but it is cramped by his timidity and overanxiety. Except in some of his smaller pieces, he is much too artificial a poet to attain the rarest treasures of poetry; he pays too much attention to his mode of expression : D pression to this he frequently sacrifices his thoughts; or he makes his thoughts submit to his mode of expression. The flow of his mind is evidently checked; and what he feels he does not permit to come forth in all its vigour and warmth, lest it should not appear exactly in its proper dress. If Campbell had written with the rapidity and care lessness of Scott, he would have been a much better poet; for in his smaller pieces there abound a richness of fancy, a grandeur of conception, and a hurrying the reader beyond himself, into the midst of the poet's creation, that sufficiently prove Campbell to have received from nature the essentials of poetry, if he had not spoiled them by art. CHAPTER Character of the fictitious Narratives of the present age-Retrospective view of them-Richardson-Smollet-Fielding-Goldsmith--Miss Edgeworth's publications-Waverley, &c. TH HOUGH, to a careless and unreflecting investigator, the provinces and the effects of the inventive and imaginative powers of the human mind may not seem to be divided by a broad and obvious line of distinction, yet, we apprehend, if they are examined very nearly and closely, it will be found that they differ very widely, in almost every respect. The imaginative powers are exclusively the sources from which genuine poetry flows; the inventive powers, indeed, may, or perhaps must lend their aid, in order to frame the story, and to supply some of the incidents and events, or to fill up, in some degree, the outline and features of the characters pourtrayed by the poet; but mere invention can never infuse the spirit of genuine poetry. In Robinson Crusoe there are displayed as high powers of invention as it is almost possible to conceive can be brought to bear on the incidents and characters of any fictitious narrative yet no one would think of denominating Robinson Crusoe a poem, even though it were written in verse, and in the most highly poetical language. There is much invention in Milton's Paradise Lost; and in some of the finest plays of Shakespeare: but if we examine accurately what we mean when we say that these are filled with the highest and rarest beauties of poetry, we shall be convinced that these beauties do not arise from, or consist in the inventive powers displayed by these authors. In what points, then, does the essential difference between the inventive and imaginative powers of the human mind consist? The question is difficult to answer in such a manner as to draw the line between them without its passing, in some places, within the strict and legitimate boundaries of each; but we apprehend, it may be laid down as a general proposition, that the inventive powers of the human mind, when of the highest order, and exercised with the utmost judgment and care, have for their object, merely the display of those characters and incidents of human life which neither arise from, nor produce, strong feeling, affection, or passion. Invention is conversant about the calmer parts of human life and character: temper, foibles, vices, and virtues, that are rather the effects of reflection or habit than of an ardent temperament,-and, in general, actions which do not pass beyond the cool tenor of ordinary life,-are the subjects of the inventive powers. These powers are D 2 not not equal to the display of the human character, when that character is more marked by feeling and passion than the absence of them, or to the pourtraying of those incidents of human life, which, acting on such a character, bring it out, in words and actions, in its most ample form, and most perfect features. Such, generally speaking, appears to us to be the broad line of distinction between the inventive and imaginative powers of the human mind: and that this distinction comes near the truth will be apparent, if we compare our highest specimens of inventive powers, as displayed in Robinson Crusoe, Clarissa Harlowe, Sir Charles Grandison (not taking into account the really poetical parts of these two novels, which will be more particularly adverted to afterwards), the novels of Smollet, of the author of Waverley, &c. In Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress there are specimens of both species of powers: there is much invention and some imagination; that is, some parts of this work display the human character merely in its calm aspect, not formed nor changed by feeling, affection, or passion, but merely exhibiting itself, as the great mass of mankind present that character to us, in the ordinary pursuits of life in other parts of the Pilgrim's Progress, on the contrary, the feelings, affections, and passions, of the human breast are brought into play, and their workings and effects are pourtrayed with such faithful and minute accuracy, as to make a deep impression of their resemblance to those which exist in human nature. But the difference between these powers may be still further confirmed and illustrated, if we attend to the effects which the exercise of them produce on our minds. If we read Robinson Crusoe, we soon become interested in his character and fate; we sympathize with his misfortunes; we rejoice when he rejoices; we even are unconsciously and gradually transported into his island, and become the witnesses or the partakers of his adventures; they produce in us nearly all the emotions, hopes, fears, anticipations, and reflections, which they did upon him. In short, while we are perusing this work, the creation of the author drives away all that is around us,-all that was previously in our thoughts, and we become the subjects of his power,-creatures of the world which he has brought into existence. These are wonderful effects of high inventive powers; of powers that are adequate not only to weave a highly probable and well-connected story, and to keep up, or even increase its interest; but also to bring out to view all those minute shades of character, each of which lays hold upon our attention and interest, and brings us into familiar acquaintance with the person in whom they are displayed. But even in those parts of Robinson Crusoe where our interest and sympathy are most deeply excited,-where we feel as he feels, and are hurried out of ourselves by the skill of the author, our feelings are very different from those which we experience when reading poetry of as high an order, among works of imagination, as Robinson Crusoe is in works of invention. In short, we apprehend that we must rest satisfied with marking the distinction between the imaginative and inventive powers of the human mind, in a broad and general manner; as to enter further into the subject subject would draw us beyond our limits, and at the same time, into a discussion of rather too refined and metaphysical a nature for this work. The inventive powers, then, are confined to the display of human character, as that character is pourtrayed by temper, and by all that constitutes it, except powerful feelings, affections, and passions. Characters of mere temper, foibles, prejudices, and those failings, and good qualities, virtues, and vices, that are not compatible with very delicate or very strong emotions of the heart, lie within the province of these powers. Man, as a being of emotion, rather than of temper, habit, prejudice, or reflection, is the proper subject for the imaginative powers; the creature whom the poet is enabled and privileged to call into existence. Of the utility of works of invention, when the produce of superior genius, and directed to proper objects, there can be little doubt; and of the interest which they excite, there can be still less. Man, in a civilized state, at least, is much more the creature of temper, prejudices, habits, and reflection, than of emotion; and therefore the interest excited by the display of the human character in works of invention, must be much more general than that excited by its display, as made up of emotion or passion, in works of imagination. Hence works of invention are understood and relished by most people; works of imagination, by comparatively few hence the former are the favourites of the very young, before the emotions and passions of the human heart have been brought into maturity in their own breasts, or been frequently and fully exhibited to them in their intercourse with the world; and of the old, after they have passed that period of life when emotions and passions give way to cool and sober reflection. In The utility of works of invention may be traced in various ways. the first place, as they are conversant with human life and character, under its most common appearances, they must, if well executed, supply the place of experience. In the second place, by depicting the circumstances which produce or strengthen those parts of the human character about which works of invention are conversant,-such as temper, foibles, prejudices, &c. and the consequences resulting from them,-they may serve, in some respects, the purposes of education, and certainly must increase our knowledge of our own character, and of the character of many of those whom we shall meet with in the intercourse of society. There Unfortunately, however, there are not many fictitious narratives in the English language, that unite, in any very high degree, those qualities which will at once render them instructive and interesting. are many, indeed, from which what is called a moral has been drawn by the author, or may be drawn by the reader; but it is not a solitary moral sentence, placed at the end of the work, that can benefit or instruct: the instruction to be useful must be worked up in the body of the work; it must insinuate itself, in a manner almost imperceptible, into the mind, in the progress of the narrative. The novels of Richardson, especially his Clarissa Harlow and Sir Charles Grandison, possess uncommon interest, and are at the same time certainly instructive. Their interest arises from several sources: perhaps |