will tame too much the fiery spirit, the enchanting wildness and magnificent irregularity of the orator’s genius? The example of Demosthenes alone, is a sufficient answer to this question; and the reader will, at once, recal numerous other examples, corroborative of the same truth, both in ancient and modern times. The truth seems to be, that this rare union of talents results not from any incongruity in their nature, but from defective education, taking this word in its larger, Roman sense. If the genius of the orator, has been properly trained in his youth to both pursuits, instead of being injured, it will, I apprehend, be found to derive additional grace, beauty, and even sublimity, from the discipline. His flights will be at least as bold—they will be better sustained—and whether he chooses to descend in majestic circles, or to stoop on headlong wing, his performance will not be the worse for having been taught to fly.
For Mr. Henry and for the world, it happened unfortunately, that instead of the advantage of this Roman education, of which we have spoken, the years of his youth had been wasted in idleness. He had become celebrated as an orator before he had learned to compose; and it is not therefore wonderful, that when withdrawn from the kindling presence of the crowd, he was called upon for the first time to take the pen, all the spirit and flame of his genius were extinguished.[1]
- ↑ On this subject, of the rare union of the talents of speaking and writing in the same man, Cicero has a parallel between Galba and Lælius, which is not less just than it is beautiful. After having spoken of Galba, as one of those men of great but less cultivated natural powers, who were afraid of lowering the fame of their eloquence by subinitting their writings to the world, he proceeds thus:—“Quem (Galbam) fortasse vis non ingeni solum, sed etiam animi, et naturalis quidam dolor dicentem incendebat, effeciebatque, ut et incitata,
