to the inferior creatures--so it is in this individual temperament one
and indivisible, and in the intense conviction of it, more than in all
the works it may throw off, that the author becomes immortal. Nay, his
works may perish like those of Orpheus or Pythagoras; but he himself, in
his name, in the footprint of his being, remains, like Orpheus or
Pythagoras, undestroyed, indestructible.

Resigning literature, the Solitary returned to Science. There he was
more at home. He had cultivated science, in his dazzling academical
career, with ardour and success; he had renewed the study, on his first
retirement to Fawley, as a distraction from tormenting memories or
unextin guished passions. He now for the first time regarded the
absorbing abstruse occupation as a possible source of fame. To be one in
the starry procession of those sons of light who have solved a new law in
the statute-book of heaven! Surely a grand ambition, not unbecoming to
his years and station, and pleasant in its labours to a man who loved
Nature's outward scenery with poetic passion, and had studied her inward
mysteries with a sage's minute research. Science needs not the author's
art--she rejects its gracess--he recoils with a shudder from its fancies.
But Science requires in the mind of the discoverer a limpid calm. The
lightnings that reveal Diespiter must flash in serene skies. No clouds
store that thunder

"Quo bruta tellus, et vaga flumina,
Quo Styx, et invisi horrida Taenari
Sedes, Atlanteusque finis
Concutitur!"

So long as you take science only as a distraction, science will not lead
you to discovery. And from some cause or other, Guy Darrell was more