Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Volume 66, No. 407, September, 1849

The image pleases everybody – take it as you find it, and be content.

NORTH

I take it as I find it, and am not content; I take it as I don't find it, and am. Then I gently demur to "still tells its bubbling tales." In Gray's line —

"And pore upon the brook that babbles by,"

the word "babbles" is the right one – a mitigated "brawling" – a continuous murmur without meaning, till you give it one or many – like that of some ceaseless female human being, pleasantly accompanying your reveries that have no relation to what you hear. Her blameless babble has that effect – and were it to stop, you would awake. But Byron's "shallower wave still tells its bubbling tales" – a tale is still about something – however small – and pray what is that something? Nothing. "Tales," then, is not the very word here – nor will "bubbling" make it so – at best it is a prettyism rather than Poetry. The Poet is becoming a Poetaster.

TALBOYS

I shall never recite another finest descriptive passage from the whole range of our British Poets – during the course of my life – in this Pavilion.

NORTH

Let us look at the Temple.

TALBOYS

Be done, I beseech you, sir.

NORTH

Talboys, you have as logical – as legal a head as any man I know.

TALBOYS

What has a logical or legal head to do with Byron's description of the Clitumnus?

NORTH

As much as with any other "Process." And you know it. But you are in a most contradictory – I had almost said captious mood, this forenoon – and will not imbibe genially —

TALBOYS

Imbibe genially – acids – after having imbibed in the body immeasurable rain.

NORTH

Let us look at the Temple. "A Temple still" might mean a still temple.

TALBOYS

But it doesn't.

NORTH

A Poet's meaning should never, through awkwardness, be ambiguous. But no more of that. "Keeps its Memory of Thee" suggests to my mind that the Temple, dedicated of old to the River-God, retains, under the new religion of the land, evidence of the old Deification and Worship. The Temple survives to express to us of another day and faith, a Deification and worship of Thee – Clitumnus – dictated by the same apprehension of thy characteristic Beauty in the hearts of those old worshippers that now possesses ours looking on Thee. Thou art unchanged – the sensitive and imaginative intelligence of Thee in man is unchanged – although times have changed – states, nations – and, to the eyes of man, the heavens themselves! If all this be meant – all this is not said – in the words you admire.

TALBOYS

I cannot say, as an honest man, that I distinctly understand you, my dear sir.

NORTH

You understand me better than you understand Byron.

TALBOYS

I understand neither of you.

NORTH

The poetical thought seems to be here – that the Temple rises up spontaneously on the bank – under the power of the Beautiful in the river – a permanent self-sprung reflexion of that Beautiful – as indeed, to imagination, all things appear to create themselves!

TALBOYS

You speak like yourself now, sir.

NORTH

But look here, my good Talboys. The statue of Achilles may "keep its memory" – granting the locution to be good, which it is not – of Achilles – for Achilles is no more. Sink – in a rapture of thought – the hand of the artist – think that the statues of Achilles came of themselves– as unsown flowers come – for poets to express to all ages the departed Achilles. They keep – as long as they remain unperished – "their memory of Achilles" – they were from the beginning voluntary and intentional conservators of the Memory of the Hero. But Clitumnus is here– alive to this hour, and with every prospect of outliving his own Temple. What do you say to that?

TALBOYS

To what?

NORTH

Finally – if that reminiscence of the Heathen deification, which I first proposed, was in Byron's mind – and he means by "still keeps its memory of Thee" memory of the River-God – and of the Worship of the River-God – then all he says about the mere natural river – its leaping fishes, and so forth, is wide of his own purpose – and what is worse – implies an absurdity – a reminiscence – not of the past – but of the present.

TALBOYS

If all that were submitted to me for the Pursuer, in Printed Papers – I should appoint answers to be given in by the Defender – within seven days – and within seven days after that – give judgment.

NORTH

Keep your temper, Mr Testy. As I have no wish to sour you for the rest of the day, I shall say little about the Third Stanza. "Pass not unblest the Genius of the Place," would to me be a more impressive prayer, if there were more spirituality in the preceding stanzas – and in the lines which follow it; for the Genius of the Place has been acting, and continues to act, almost solely on the Senses. And who is the Genius of the Place? The River-God – he to whom the Gentile worship built that Temple. But Byron says, most unpoetically, "along his margin" – along the margin of the Genius of the Place! Then, how flat – how poor – after "the Genius of the Place" – "the freshness of the Scene" – for the freshness of the Scene bless the genius of the Place! Is that language flowing, from the emotion of a Poet's heart? And the last line spoils all; for he, whom we are to bless – the River-God – or the Genius of the Place – has given the heart but a "moment's" cleanness from dry dust – but a moment's, and no more! And never did hard, coarse Misanthropy so mar a Poet's purpose as by the shocking prose that is left grating on our souls – "suspension of disgust!" So, after all this beauty – and all this enjoyment of beauty – well or ill painted by the Poet – you must pay orisons to the River-God or the Genius – whom you had been called onto bless– for a mere momentary suspension of disgust to all our fellow-creatures – a disgust that would return as strong – or stronger than ever – as soon as you got to Rome.

TALBOYS

I confess I don't like it.

NORTH

"Must!" There are Needs of all sorts, shapes, and sizes. There is terrible necessity – there is bitter necessity – there is grinding necessity – there is fine – delicate – loving – playful necessity.

TALBOYS