Rogers thinks the 'Quarterly' will attack me next. Let them. I have been
"peppered so highly" in my time, _both_ ways, that it must be cayenne or
aloes to make me taste. I can sincerely say, that I am not very much
alive _now_ to criticism. But--in tracing this--I rather believe that it
proceeds from my not attaching that importance to authorship which many
do, and which, when young, I did also. "One gets tired of every thing,
my angel," says Valmont [6].
The "angels" are the only things of which I am not a little sick--but I
do think the preference of _writers_ to _agents_--the mighty stir made
about scribbling and scribes, by themselves and others--a sign of
effeminacy, degeneracy, and weakness. Who would write, who had any thing
better to do? "Action--action--action"--said Demosthenes:
"Actions--actions," I say, and not writing,--least of all, rhyme. Look at
the querulous and monotonous lives of the "genus;"--except Cervantes,
Tasso, Dante, Ariosto, Kleist (who were brave and active citizens),
AEschylus, Sophocles, and some other of the antiques also--what a
worthless, idle brood it is!
[Footnote 1: 'Macbeth', act iii. sc. 4--
"Whole as the marble, founded as the rock."]
[Footnote 2: Richard Sharp (1759-1835), a wealthy hat-manufacturer, was
a prominent figure in political and literary life. A consistent Whig, he
was one of the "Friends of the People," and in the House of Commons
(1806-12) was a recognized authority on questions of finance.
Pages:
446
447
448
449
450
451
452
453
454
455
456
457
458
459
460
461
462
463
464
465
466
467
468
469
470