# Characteristics of the Genius and Writings of L. E. L./Characteristics of Poetical Genius

Characteristics of Poetical Genius.
"Criticise the works, analyze the talents of L. E. L.! Truly you have chosen a hopeless task?" some pseudo-utilitarian may exclaim. Anatomize the dust of a butterfly's wing—decompose the morning dew-drops sparkling on the opening flower—fetter and analyze the lightning's transitory flash, bring these and similar objects to the test of induction, the crucible of experiment, and then you may try the power of analysis upon L. E. L.'s poetry.
Are you admiring that plumage, delicate as the vesture of some fairy-land bird? How exquisitely articulated is each feather, and how beautiful the arrangement of the whole! that is the dust of the butterfly's wing, each particle of which, you perceive, is a bright particular feather. Do you observe that glorious sun-beam glassing itself in the mirror of the falling shower, thereby painting on the clouds the many-coloured rainbow, which, though frail it appears to you, cannot be produced without two of Nature's grandest elements—light and water? That glance of the lightning's eye from beneath the dark lid of the thunder-cloud, transient though it was, passing as a child's thought, could not have flashed forth without the presence of electricity,—that pervading principle, without which, constituted as you are, you could neither live, move, nor have your being.
Thus the manifestations of the Creative Spirit, and the operations of His laws in the material world, are no less wonderful and minute than the results are beautiful and complete; so likewise, in the universe of mind and the world of poetry, brilliant ​effects require for their production the spontaneous impulses of genius, their first cause, together with the combined and often recondite workings of all the agencies which constitute the intellectual being.
This fact will be evident, if we go, in the first instance, to the very root of the matter, and inquire what are the requisites for an imaginative writer—a term often used in a depreciating sense. By none, however, who thus use it, can the nature of the mind and its faculties be at all understood; for imagination is not an inferior mental power. By its aid are carried on some of the noblest intellectual processes, while it also brings into exercise many of the mind's highest capabilities; it pre-supposes abstraction,—that power which enables the mind to separate from each other objects and qualities; a vivid fancy, to blend them again in new and more striking forms; a keen susceptibility to all sublime and beautiful influences; a refined taste, and a correct judgment to regulate and direct in forming right combinations of ideas. By every imaginative writer these important mental elements must be possessed in a greater or less degree; proportionate to that degree will be, of course, his own grade in the ranks of literature. Hence, therefore, any disparagement of what is termed the imaginative class of minds can proceed only from ignorance.
If we turn from the imaginative mind to the effects which it may originate,—to its works of art,—we shall find a similar want of appreciation, resulting also from ignorance. How few persons, as they gaze on a fine painting, while, perhaps, they may admire the colouring, be pleased with the figures, and interested in the subject, ever dream of the powers and efforts that must have been put in requisition ere that picture could be completed! The science of the ​philosopher to develop the laws of light and shade, with the principles of perspective, and to adapt the several parts to the whole composition; the skill of the anatomist to give with due precision the relative proportions, and harmonize the complete figure; the technical knowledge of the artist, his cultivated eye and his practised hand, together with a large share of judgment and feeling, to give life and expression to his production;—these all must have gathered around that canvas, tracing out line by line forms and objects, bringing forth shade by shade effects of beauty and loveliness, and then lighting up the whole with a rich sunburst of genius.
Or, to take another illustration. How little do we think generally of the wondrous art of musical combinations! We listen, perchance, with hushed delight to a sublime composition of some master-spirit.* We close our eyes, and Fancy places us on a lofty mountain; the mists of chaos envelop us, and darkness is upon the face of the deep; but, ere long, the serene tones of conscious Power breathe through that elemental gloom and confusion, "Let there be light!" and at once the clouds are rent, the mists are dispersed; we stand amid a shower of sunshine, which sparkles over God's creation—for—there is light!
Soon again we walk in Paradise, and hear, softly swelling from the heights of heavenly distance, the choral song of the sons of the morning, blending its triumphal notes with our first parents' grateful hymn of adoration.
Such power has music, and yet how few think of what is required for its creations! Brilliant are its effects, complicated also are its causes, and ​noble is its origin! While, as a science, it is founded on that part of natural philosophy which, by mathematical deductions from constant phenomena, elucidates the properties of sounds, those sounds, which its philosophy distinguishes, music, as an art, combines in such a manner as to gratify our senses while it captivates our imagination. And then, how numberless are the technicalities of this art! what endless combinations of notes, what adjustment of tones, what adaptation of concords and discords, what varied modulations of harmony, enter into every noble composition!
We have adduced these two illustrations to show, that if, for the arts which appeal so directly to the senses as music and painting, there is so little general appreciation of what goes to make up the productions of those arts, we must not be surprised if a yet more disparaging feeling be manifested towards the purely intellectual sources of enjoyment which it is the poet's especial province to create.
Note.—L. E. L.'s Appreciation of Genius and the Fine Arts.
Many people have expressed surprise that a gifted mind like Miss Landon's should not have taken more pleasure in the Fine Arts; and have been at a loss to reconcile her love of poetry with her apparent indifference to music and painting. That she did not care for scientific music nor for elaborate pictures, merely as music and as paintings, was certainly true; but that she was utterly indifferent to the effects produced by music and painting, was not correct. Those who knew her were often witnesses of the influence of music on her mind; for in the midst, perhaps, of an interesting conversation, a few notes of melody floating to her ear from an ​adjoining room would cause her to start up, utter an exclamation of deep emotion, and then diverge from the previous topic into some discussion "most musical and sweet."
Her own idea and feeling with regard to music were precisely those which she has expressed in one of her prose works: "We would liken music to Aladdin's lamp,—worthless in itself; not so for the spirits which obey its call. We love it for the buried hopes, the garnered memories, the tender feelings it can summon with a touch."
As for painting, it was impossible that its combinations should not be duly appreciated by one whose own taste was exquisitely picturesque, using that term in its artistic rather than in its sometimes more romantic application. How did pictures ever seem to speak to her soul! how would she seize on some interesting characteristic in the painting or engraving before her, and inspire it with new life, till that pictured scene spread before you in bright association with some touching history or spirit-stirring poem! L. E. L.'s appreciation of painting, like that of music, was intellectual rather than mechanical,—belonging to the combinations rather than to the details; she loved the poetical effects and suggestive influences of the Arts, although caring not for their mere technicalities,
While poetical genius shone as the central sun of Miss Landon's character, in the correct judgment, the refined taste and delicate feeling emanating from this source were found the elements of that true and kindly appreciation which, like the due proportion of light for paintings, not only attests its own high origin, but confers additional charms on the objects upon which it rests. L. E. L.'s faculty of appreciation was peculiarly keen sighted and deep-toned. It was a source of great enjoyment to herself, and often gave sincere pleasure to others. No merit, beauty or excellence in a work ever escaped her, notice. Very often her remarks, as she read or recited any passage, would throw a new light upon what previously might have been to her hearers a hidden meaning; or enhance the value of what had been even frequently read and admired. As a precious stone fallen among less valuable things might be passed by, without ​observation, did it not glitter beneath a sunbeam's touch; so gems of intellectual worth and beauty, that had been perhaps carelessly overlooked, shone forth as newly-discovered treasures beneath the brilliant light of L. E. L.'s appreciation.
To her favourable opinions of the works of her contemporaries, Miss Landon ever gave free and generous expression. Writing to a young author, she observes: "Criticism never yet benefited a really original mind; such a mind macadamizes its own road." Jealousy seemed utterly opposed to her nature. In the petty rivalries which sometimes disturb the outer-court worshippers of the Muses, she ever disdained to take part, except in vindication of a friend. Her disposition was peculiarly disinterested, kindly and generous; she never paused to think of her own interest when others required any assistance which she could bestow.