whether in his
life or his genius. A variety of powers almost boundless, and a pride
no less vast in displaying them,--a susceptibility of new impressions
and impulses, even beyond the usual allotment of genius, and an
uncontrolled impetuosity, as well from habit as temperament, in
yielding to them,--such were the two great and leading sources of all
that varied spectacle which his life exhibited; of that succession of
victories achieved by his genius, in almost every field of mind that
genius ever trod, and of all those sallies of character in every
shape and direction that unchecked feeling and dominant self-will
could dictate.
It must be perceived by all endowed with quick powers of association
how constantly, when any particular thought or sentiment presents
itself to their minds, its very opposite, at the same moment, springs
up there also:--if any thing sublime occurs, its neighbour, the
ridiculous, is by its side;--across a bright view of the present or
the future, a dark one throws its shadow;--and, even in questions
respecting morals and conduct, all the reasonings and consequences
that may suggest themselves on the side of one of two opposite
courses will, in such minds, be instantly confronted by an array just
as cogent on the other. A mind of this structure,--and such, more or
less, are all those in which the reasoning is made subservient to the
imaginative faculty,--though enabled, by such rapid powers of
association, to multiply its resources without end, has need of the
constant exercise of a controlling judgment to keep its perceptions
pure and undisturbed between the contrasts it thus simultaneously
calls up; the obvious danger being that, where matters of taste are
concerned, the habit of forming such incongruous juxtapositions--as
that, for example, between the burlesque and sublime--should at last
vitiate the mind's relish for the nobler and higher quality; and
that, on the yet more important subject of morals, a facility in
finding reasons for every side of a question may end, if not in the
choice of the worst, at least in a sceptical indifference to all.
In picturing to oneself so awful an event as a shipwreck, its many
horrors and perils are what alone offer themselves to ordinary
fancies. But the keen, versatile imagination of Byron could detect in
it far other details, and, at the same moment with all that is
fearful and appalling in such a scene, could bring together all that
is most ludi
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