Milton, from the perfection of their works, we naturally infer to have been exquisite critics.

Butler, by his satire on the abuse of learning, and ridicule of the French, has disclosed a vein of caustic criticism. Cowley was a critic and philosopher, even more than a poet; he thoroughly appreciated the most opposite styles of poetry, the Pindaric and Anacreontic. "The Phenix Pindar," he has truly written, "is a vast species alone," and consequently, he is himself little more than an able follower, a capital imitator; but the spirit of Anacreon he has caught with wonderful felicity, and paraphrased him in a style immeasurably beyond Tom Moore. In truth, the Anacreontics of Cowley surpass even the gay flashes of Anacreon, in spirit and effect. Charles Second's wits were shrewd, sharp men of the world, satirists, and critics, not to be imposed upon by pretension. Of this assertion, the Duke of Buckingham's Rehearsal is a proof, and an inimitable satire-Rochester, Waller, St. Evremond, Roscommon, were all clear and discriminating critics; but their judgment did not reach very far.

Pope's finest philosophical poem is his Essay on Criticism; and the best imitators of Pope-Johnson and Rogers-are essentially critics with widely different tastes: Johnson rudely masculine, and Rogers delicate and fastidious to effeminacy.

To come to the present century; where do we read finer critical fragments than in Coleridge's Table Talk, and the notes to Lamb's Dramatic Specimens Shelley was a meta

physical critic. Hunt and Lamb are perhaps the most delicate. The papers on Lear and on Shakspeare's tragedies are the very finest criticisms ever penned on that most fertile theme of eulogy—the Shakspearian Drama. Leigh Hunt has written a body of the most agreeable, if not the profoundest, criticism of his time. Mr. Dana has produced articles

on Kean's acting and Shakspeare that entitle him to rank with Lamb and Hunt.

As a general rule, the best prose writers are the safest critics for ordinary reading, if only from the absence of any possible competition. Where they rank with the greatest critics, it is from the large share they possess of the poetical temperament, and of fancy. The critic should be half poet, half philosopher; with acute powers of analysis, a lively fancy, deep sensibility, and close reasoning faculties. This is a very rare combination; yet Hazlitt, Rousseau, and Emerson, might be placed in this category, with a score or two of names besides, taken from the vast array of miscellaneous authors. The poet ranks first, the critic immediately below him; and the two united, each first of his class, combine to form the highest instance of imagination and intellectual power.

VII.

THE MORALITY OF POVERTY.

POVERTY is a comparative term. Between the extremities of pauperism and that moderate competence, which the wealthy speak of with contempt, as a poor pittance, and which is certainly trifling in comparison with their "unsunn'd heaps," the interval is very wide. The condition of the very poor we do not take into consideration, at present, as the main topic of our inquiry, though we shall by no means omit to speak of them in turn; but we shall endeavor to present a picture of

simplicity and moderation in living, and the advantages of a sufficient competence (paradoxical as it may be thought) over an overgrown and superfluous income.

Poverty has many significations, with a wide range, embracing the pauper and the poor gentleman, aye, and the poor noble, in some countries. Kings even have been beggars, and have subsisted on casual bounty. The mil lionaire thinks all men poor, who are not possessed of equal wealth with himself; while the day laborer regards the small trader and master mechanic as rich men. In towns, one standard of wealth prevails; in the country it is much lower. Thus we find an ever varying measure of the goods of fortune. Of a nobler species of wealth, it is not so difficult to ascertain the true value. An excellent book is yet to be written for the rich, which should inform them of their duties towards their poorer neighbors; which should resolve the claims the poor have upon them, from the claims of nature, as well as from conventional position; which should confirm them in habits of benevolence and in the practice of assisting the brethren." By assistance, we refer not merely to alms-giving, that being regarded as a fundamental part of charity. But we also include under that phrase, the giving of wise and disinterested counsel: defending from oppression and slander persuading to the practice of right and justice : warning from evil, by instilling good principles and generous sentiments and in the comprehensive language of Scripture, loving our neighbor as ourself, and consequently acting for him as if for ourself. Higher charity than this, is none: a charity the richest may be too poor to bestow; a charity the poorest may prove rich in dispensing. If love abounded, what a rich world would not this planet become! If man was to man a brother and a friend (at the same time

increasing the world's gear not a copper, and neither introducing any fantastical schemes of agrarian equality), in all the relations of life and family, as master and servant, father and son, brother and companion, artist and artisan, in sickness and in health, at home or abroad, there could be no poverty, no disappointment, and none but natural sorrows. For though many sources of grief would still continue fresh and open, as sickness, death, loss of friends and family, and failure in favorite plans of life and action, yet they would be so mitigated by an universal tenderness, and so suffered by a general sympathy, as to lose half their sharpness in losing all their repulsive features. No disappointments could then occur, because sincerity and plain dealing would take the place of falseness and deceit. None but a self-tormenter could then be unhappy, where all would become companions in good and evil seasons, and through every changing round of fortune's wheel. But this is an ideal not soon to be recognized.

Give train

A man without a penny has yet what all the wealth in the world cannot purchase-the human form and the human nature. With these, if he has health and resolution, he may become anything, except what can be reached only by innate genius or a higher order of mental gifts than his own. him education, you make him a scholar; breeding, you him a gentleman; religion and morality, and you fill him with the sentiments of a Christian. Let no one say, the poor scholar or the poor gentleman is hurt by his education and manners. Pride often distorts those characters, but they ought to be above pride. A cultivated mind, so far from being trammelled by a narrow income, flies beyond it, and taste, the quality of the fine intellect, is a faculty of selection. The wisest economy is the nicest taste. Profusion is tasteless.

A man of fine judgment and small income will actually live in a more genteel style, than a rich, coarse-minded nabob. He may have fewer articles of expense, but they will be choice and delicate. His style of living will be frugal, yet elegant; which is more pleasing than extravagance without judgment. A genteel taste in living eschews extravagance, pomp, and all superfluity, as essentially vulgar. There is not a more pitiful sight than a mean-spirited man in a splendid house. His soul is too small for it. On the other hand, the great heart cannot be contained within the most magnificent palace, and yet may content itself in the most humble mansion. The great and good poor man, in his modest and retired parlor, affords a nobler spectacle than a king or a pyramid.

Riches too often excite absurdity of conduct: the giver of the gorgeous feast gets only a rich harvest of ridicule for his pains and anxiety. The master of an immense establishment is little better than the landlord of a great hotel. Guests enter and depart: he is pushed aside as a stranger and in the way. All this while his personal gratifications are limited. The poor soul! he lives for others, his wealth is for others. He is nobody himself—but go to the house where the man is greater than the mansion, and you forget the bare walls unhung with admirable paintings, for his face and the countenances of a loving circle are the finest portraits in the world; you tread on a carpet without reflecting it is no Brussels pattern, and you sit easily on a chair that has no satin cushions for the indolent parvenus of fashions. If a man is not rich, how much he avoids: from how many petty distractions is he not free? Plutus is even a severer master than Necessity.

In point of respectability the difference is great. Hardly