He
united a most logical head with a most fertile imagination, which gave
him an extraordinary advantage in arguing; for he could reason close or
wide, as he saw best for the moment. He could, when he chose it, be the
greatest sophist that ever wielded a weapon in the schools of
declamation; but he indulged this only in conversation; for he owned he
sometimes talked for victory[24]; he was too conscientious to make
errour permanent and pernicious, by deliberately writing it. He was
conscious of his superiority. He loved praise when it was brought to
him; but was too proud to seek for it. He was somewhat susceptible of
flattery[25]. His mind was so full of imagery, that he might have been
perpetually a poet. It has been often remarked, that in his poetical
pieces, which it is to be regretted are so few, because so excellent,
his style is easier than in his prose. There is deception in this: it is
not easier, but better suited to the dignity of verse; as one may dance
with grace, whose motions, in ordinary walking, in the common step, are
awkward. He had a constitutional melancholy, the clouds of which
darkened the brightness of his fancy, and gave a gloomy cast to his
whole course of thinking: yet, though grave and awful in his deportment,
when he thought it necessary or proper, he frequently indulged himself
in pleasantry and sportive sallies.
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