His
partialities and dislikes are by no means calculable, but are often
whimsical and amusing; yet they are quite sincere, and, like those of
Johnson and Coleridge, are easily separable from the man. What he
says of Wordsworth, is true of himself, that he delights to throw a
clod of dirt on the table, and cry, "Gentlemen, there is a better man
than all of you." Bolivar, Mina, and General Jackson will never be
greater soldiers than Napoleon and Alexander, let Mr. Landor think as
he will; nor will he persuade us to burn Plato and Xenophon, out of
our admiration of Bishop Patrick, or "Lucas on Happiness," or "Lucas
on Holiness," or even Barrow's Sermons. Yet a man may love a
paradox, without losing either his wit or his honesty. A less
pardonable eccentricity is the cold and gratuitous obtrusion of
licentious images, not so much the suggestion of merriment as of
bitterness. Montaigne assigns as a reason for his license of speech,
that he is tired of seeing his Essays on the work-tables of ladies,
and he is determined they shall for the future put them out of sight.
In Mr.
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