But, at the same time, it is with him a _subordinate_ art. It has no worth or substance in itself; it borrows all its worth from that which masters and rigorously subdues it to its end. Here, too, we find ourselves coming down on all its old ceremonial and observance, from that new height which we found our foreign philosopher in such quiet possession of,--taking his way at a puff through poor Cicero's periods,--those periods which the old orator had taken so much pains with, and laughing at his pains:--but this English philosopher is more daring still, for it is he who disposes, at a word, without any comment, just in passing merely,--from his practical stand-point,--of 'the flutes and trumpets of the Greeks,' like the other making nothing at all in his theory of criticism of _mere_ elegance, though it is the Gascon, it is true, who undertakes the more lively and extreme practical demonstrations of this theoretical contempt of it,--setting it at nought, and flying in the face of it,--writing in as loquacious and homely a style as he possibly can, just for the purpose for setting it at nought, though not without giving us a glimpse occasionally, of a faculty that would enable him to mince the matter as fine as another if he should see occasion--as, perhaps, he may. For he talks very emphatically about his _poetry_ here and there, and seems to intimate that he has a gift that way; and that he has, moreover, some works of value in that department of letters, which he is anxious to 'save up' for posterity, if he can. But here, it is the scholar, and not the loquacious old gentleman at all, who is giving us in his choicest, selectest, courtliest phrase, in his most stately and condensed style, _his_ views of this subject; but that which is noticeable is, that _the art_ in its fresh, new upspringing from the secret of life and nature, from the soul of _things_, the art and that which it springs from, is in these two so different forms _identical_. Here, too, the point of its criticism and review is the same. 'Away with that eloquence that so enchants us with _its harmony_ that we should more study it than _things_'; but here the old Roman masters the philosopher, for a moment, and he puts in a scholarly parenthesis, 'unless you will affirm that of Cicero to be of so supreme perfection as to form _a body of itself_.' But Hamlet, in his discourse with that wise reasoner, and unfortunate practitioner, who thought that brevity was the soul of wit, and tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes, puts it more briefly still. _Polonius_. What do you read, my lord? _Hamlet_. Words, words, words!