emperament" is true and not a sham, to the owner at
least it must often be a sheer delight, for the elf or "troll" which
goes by this name takes such possession of the owner that under his
guidance he sees "What man may never see, the star that travels far."
"The light" that the poet declares shone on sea or shore, shines for him
always, if for no one else: he walks with Beatrice in Paradise, not in
the "other place;" and his delight in the mere rapture of existence is
such that he hardly cares to speak for joy, and for the certainty that
not one living creature on earth would understand him if he did. For
even if he recognised another elf or troll, peeping out of the eyes of a
friend, it would not be his own familiar spirit, and, in consequence, he
would not understand the other, because no two of these fantastic
creatures ever speak entirely alike. But if we mention those who have to
exist with the owner of this fantastic Will-o'-the-wisp--for he is as
often absent as present--this makes the whole thing a matter of
speculation. I feel as if I could not do justice to the idea, for I,
too, have lived once on a time with these others; and I would rather not
repeat the experiment.

* * * * *

[Sidenote: Joseph Hatton declares it to be the choicest gift of all.]

_Punch's_ illustration of Lord Beaconsfield's announcement that he was
"on the side of the angels" casts somewhat of a shadow over the
sentiment; yet I feel constrained to quote it, as representing my own
feelings in regard to the question whether the artistic temperament is a
curse or a blessing. Shakespeare had it; Dickens had it; and Thackeray
confessed that he would have been glad to black Shakespeare's boots. One
may well be convinced that it is a blessing by the penalties which
Heaven exacts from its possessors. It means the capacity to enjoy and
appreciate the beautiful; with the great poets and novelists it means
the power to express the beautiful and describe it "in thoughts that
breathe and words that burn." On the other hand, it means experiencing a
keener sense of pain than those are capable of who do not possess tender
susceptibilities. But in the spirit of "better fifty years of Europe
than a cycle of Cathy" the miseries that belong to the poetic
temperament are better than the pleasures that go with its opposite. To
feel the full glory of the sun, the joy of the Western wind, to hear the
aphonous whisperings of the f