more directly; the active interest of his stories always being in the fights and adventures of the Red-Cross Knight, Sir Scudamore, or Prince Arthur; while the hidden and fatal powers are laid in the hands of Britomart, Una, and Duessa. And Milton, with the voice of Adam, even under the rebuke of an archangel, asserts it again: —
For well I understand,
........
In outward also her resembling less
His image who made both, and less expressing
The character of that dominion given
O'er other creatures.
Yet . . .
. . . Wisdom in discourse with her
Loses discountenanced, and like folly shows;
Authority and reason on her wait.
As one intended first, not after made
Occasionally; and to consummate all.
Greatness of mind and nobleness their seat
Build in her loveliest, and create an awe
About her, as a guard angelic placed.
It seems to lie now with the American writers to show whether this is all a dream and a fallacy.
CLEVER PEOPLE.
Is it a good thing to be clever? One would think not, judging by the manner in which many talented people are treated. In point of fact, the usage to which these are sometimes subjected is of such a character that they may readily be excused if they occasionally devoutly wish that they were stupid. Their less brilliant neighbours are continually trying to pick holes in their coats, with the view of showing the world that they are not deserving of such high praise as the world seems disposed to award them. Critics who will graciously permit persons of a commonplace character to escape the lash of censure, pounce upon a man who is popularly supposed to be above the average in point of intellectual attainments and savagely flagellate him to the extent of their power. At one time they endeavour to prove that he is a rank impostor; at another time they hint that he is a dangerous character, who is doing more harm than good in the world; and, in exceptional cases, when he outrages their selfish prejudices, they go so far as to cast a doubt upon his sanity. The individual who has made a fortune by grinding the life out of his employés and constantly getting the better of those who have had business transactions with him, will inform you, with unctuous self-satisfaction, that certain clever people are lacking in the most important of all things, viz., common sense. The person who never reads anything but the most unwholesome columns of a daily newspaper, will sneer at the productions of master minds and declare that the same are mischievous rubbish. And so it is with a large portion of mankind. Unless a man has the talent of amassing money — even though he possesses ten others which are of a higher and purer character — even though he has painted pictures, written books, made scientific investigations, and formulated systems of philosophy which represent more actual brain-work and integrity of purpose than a hundred fortunes — society deems itself at liberty to make light of him and to sneer at him if it feels disposed to do so. When it does condescend to recognize his claims, it often does so in a manner which may well inspire him with the most profound disgust. In nine cases out of ten, people exalt him — when they do so — because they wish to be exalted themselves. They would like it to be understood that they are on terms of intimacy with this man of genius, and that they have been graciously pleased to patronize that other person of talent. No doubt, indeed, there are enterprising beings who would keep a recognized man of talent about their premises, just as they keep prize cattle, if the expenditure of money would enable them to do so. At the same time nine-tenths of those who sound the praises of their clever friends — or, rather, those whom they are pleased to say are their friends — are very careful to point out that the said friends are peculiar, and eccentric, and so on, as if the "strange creatures" could do the work which they are doing, if they were continually pausing in their labours to see that they were not outraging any of the laws to which the plutocracy pay a slavish deference. Then when a man of ability comes to grief, there is a wagging of heads and a time of rejoicing. Stupid people gloat over the fact that he has not been able to look after himself better than they have been able to look after themselves; and the chances are that they begin to think themselves quite clever upon the score of his solitary failure in a matter which is, in their eyes, of paramount importance, but to which he has devoted little attention.
Clever people, in addition to being as a class disliked, are feared. Very few
