These paradoxical appearances in the history of genius present a curious moral phenomenon.  Much must be attributed to the plastic nature of the versatile faculty itself.  Unquestionably many men of genius have often resisted the indulgence of one talent to exercise another with equal power; and some, who have solely composed sermons, could have touched on the foibles of society with the spirit of Horace or Juvenal.  BLACKSTONE and Sir WILLIAM JONES directed that genius to the austere studies of law and philology, which might have excelled in the poetical and historical character.  So versatile is this faculty of genius, that its possessors are sometimes uncertain of the manner in which they shall treat their subject, whether gravely or ludicrously.  When BREBOEUF, the French translator of the Pharsalia of Lucan, had completed the first book as it now appears, he at the same time composed a burlesque version, and sent both to the great arbiter of taste in that day, to decide which the poet should continue.  The decision proved to be difficult.  Are there not writers who, with all the vehemence of genius, by adopting one principle can make all things shrink into the pigmy form of ridicule, or by adopting another principle startle us by the gigantic monsters of their own exaggerated imagination?  On this principle, of the versatility of the faculty, a production of genius is a piece of art which, wrought up to its full effect with a felicity of manner acquired by taste and habit, is merely the result of certain arbitrary combinations of the mind.

Are we then to reduce the works of a man of genius to a mere sport of his talents—­a game in which he is only the best player?  Can he whose secret power raises so many emotions in our breasts be without any in his own?  A mere actor performing a part?  Is he unfeeling when he is pathetic, indifferent when he is indignant?  Is he an alien to all the wisdom and virtue he inspires?  No! were men of genius themselves to assert this, and it is said some incline so to do, there is a more certain conviction than their misconceptions, in our own consciousness, which for ever assures us, that deep feelings and elevated thoughts can alone spring from those who feel deeply and think nobly.

In proving that the character of the man may be very opposite to that of his writings, we must recollect that the habits of the life may be contrary to the habits of the mind.[A] The influence of their studies over men of genius is limited.  Out of the ideal world, man is reduced to be the active creature of sensation.  An author has, in truth, two distinct characters:  the literary, formed by the habits of his study; the personal, by the habits of his situation.  GRAY, cold, effeminate, and timid in his personal, was lofty and awful in his literary character.  We see men of polished manners and bland affections, who, in grasping a pen, are thrusting a poniard; while others in domestic life with the simplicity of children