and alacrity necessary to enjoy it are gone. The irritation of action
does not cease and go down with the occasion for it; but we are first
uneasy to get to the end of our work, and then uneasy for want of
something to do. The ferment of the brain does not of itself subside
into pleasure and soft repose. Hence the disposition to strong stimuli
observable in persons of much intellectual exertion to allay and carry
off the over-excitement. The _improvisatori_ poets (it is recorded by
Spence in his _Anecdotes of Pope_) cannot sleep after an evening's
continued display of their singular and difficult art. The rhymes keep
running in their head in spite of themselves, and will not let them
rest. Mechanics and labouring people never know what to do with
themselves on a Sunday, though they return to their work with greater
spirit for the relief, and look forward to it with pleasure all the
week. Sir Joshua Reynolds was never comfortable out of his
painting-room, and died of chagrin and regret because he could not paint
on to the last moment of his life. He used to say that he could go on
retouching a picture for ever, as long as it stood on his easel; but as
soon as it was once fairly out of the house, he never wished to see it
again. An ingenious artist of our own time has been heard to declare,
that if ever the Devil got him into his clutches, he would set him to
copy his own pictures. Thus secure, self-complacent retrospect to what
is done is nothing, while the anxious, uneasy looking forward to what is
to come is everything. We are afraid to dwell upon the past, lest it
should retard our future progress; the indulgence of ease is fatal to
excellence; and to succeed in life, we lose the ends of being!



NOTES to ESSAY III