men is a Godlike attribute—­So indeed it is and as such not one fit for mortality;—­the giver like Adam and Prometheus, must pay the penalty of rising above his nature by being the martyr to his own excellence.  Woodville was free from all these evils; and if slight examples did come across him[52] he did not notice them but passed on in his course as an angel with winged feet might glide along the earth unimpeded by all those little obstacles over which we of earthly origin stumble.  He was a believer in the divinity of genius and always opposed a stern disbelief to the objections of those petty cavillers and minor critics who wish to reduce all men to their own miserable level—­“I will make a scientific simile” he would say, “[i]n the manner, if you will, of Dr. Darwin—­I consider the alledged errors of a man of genius as the aberrations of the fixed stars.  It is our distance from them and our imperfect means of communication that makes them appear to move; in truth they always remain stationary, a glorious centre, giving us a fine lesson of modesty if we would thus receive it."[53]

I have said that he was a poet:  when he was three and twenty years of age he first published a poem, and it was hailed by the whole nation with enthusiasm and delight.  His good star perpetually shone upon him; a reputation had never before been made so rapidly:  it was universal.  The multitude extolled the same poems that formed the wonder of the sage in his closet:  there was not one dissentient voice.[54]

It was at this time, in the height of his glory, that he became acquainted with Elinor.  She was a young heiress of exquisite beauty who lived under the care of her guardian:  from the moment they were seen together they appeared formed for each other.  Elinor had not the genius of Woodville but she was generous and noble, and exalted by her youth and the love that she every where excited above the knowledge of aught but virtue and excellence.  She was lovely; her manners were frank and simple; her deep blue eyes swam in a lustre which could only be given by sensibility joined to wisdom.

They were formed for one another and they soon loved.  Woodville for the first time felt the delight of love; and Elinor was enraptured in possessing the heart of one so beautiful and glorious among his fellow men.  Could any thing but unmixed joy flow from such a union?

Woodville was a Poet—­he was sought for by every society and all eyes were turned on him alone when he appeared; but he was the son of a poor clergyman and Elinor was a rich heiress.  Her guardian was not displeased with their mutual affection:  the merit of Woodville was too eminent to admit of cavil on account of his inferior wealth; but the dying will of her father did not allow her to marry before she was of age and her fortune depended upon her obeying this injunction.  She had just entered her twentieth year, and she and her lover were obliged to submit to this delay.  But they were ever together and their happiness seemed that of Paradise:  they studied together:  formed plans of future occupations, and drinking in love and joy from each other’s eyes and words they hardly repined at the delay to their entire union.  Woodville for ever rose in glory; and Elinor become more lovely and wise under the lessons of her accomplished lover.