Chap. III. INTELLECTUAL QUALITIES OF MILTON. 209 was conscious of that within him, which could quicken all knowledge, and wield it with ease and might; which could give freshness to old truths, and harmony to discordant thoughts; which could bind together, by living ties and mysterious affinities, the most remote discoveries; and rear fabricks of glory and beauty from the rude materials which other minds had collected. Milton had that universality which marks the highest order of intellect. Though accustomed, almost from infancy, to drink at the fountains of classical literature, he had nothing of the pedantry and fastidiousness which disdain all other draughts. His healthy mind delighted in genius, in whatever soil, or in whatever age it might have burst forth, and poured out its fulness. He understood too well the right, and dignity, and pride of creative imagination, to lay on it the laws of the Greek or Roman school. Parnassus was not to him the only holy ground of genius. He felt that poetry was a universal presence. Great minds were everywhere his kindred. He felt the enchantment of oriental fiction, surrendered himself to the strange creations of "Araby the blest," and delighted still more in the romantick spirit of chivalry, and in the tales of wonder in which it was embodied. Accordingly, his poetry reminds us of the ocean, which adds to its own boundlessness, contributions from all regions under heaven. Nor was it only in the department of imagination, that his acquisitions were vast. He travelled over the whole field of knowledge, as far as it had then been explored. His various philological attainments were used to put him in possession of the wisdom stored in all countries where the intellect had been cultivated. The natural philosophy, metaphysicks, ethicks, history, theology, and political science of his own and former times, were familiar to him. Never was there a more unconfined mind; and we would cite Milton as a practical example of the benefits of that universal cultured of intellect, which forms one distinction of our times, but which some dread as unfriendly to original thought. Let such remember, that mind is, in its own nature, diffusive. Its object is the universe, which is strictly one, or bound together by infinite connexions and correspondencies; and, accordingly, its natural progress is from one field of thought to another, and wherever original power or creative genius exists, the mind, far from being distracted or oppressed by the variety of its acquisitions, will see more and more bear •Prêzense not, prezunse. Tshival rẻ. Fil-o-lôj'-e-kål. Kůľ. tshare-not, kul'tshår. ings, and hidden and beautiful analogies in all the objects of knowledge, will see mutual light shed from truth to truth, and will compel, as with a kingly power, whatever it understands to yield some tribute of proof, or illustration, or splendour, * whatever topick it would unfold. SECTION II. Hamlet's Advice to the Players.—SHAKSPEARE. a SPEAK the speech', I pray you', as I pronounced it to you', trippingly on the tongue'. But', if you mouth it', as many of our players do', I had as lief the town-crier had spoken my lines'. And do not saw the air too much with your hands'; but use all gently': for', in the very torrent', TEMPEST', and', as I may say', WHIRLWIND of your passion', you must beget a temperance that will give it smoothness'. Oh'! it offends me to the soul', to hear a robustious', periwig-pated fellow'.. tear a passion to tatters', to very RAGS', to split the ears of the GROUNDLINGS';* who' (for the most part') are capable of nothing but inexplicable dumb shows and noise'. Pray you avoid it'. Be not too TAME', either'; but let your own discretion be your tutor'. Suit the action to the word', the word to the action'— with this special observance', that you o'erstep not the modesty of nature'; for any thing so overdone', is from the purpose of playing'; whose end is, to hold', as it were', the mirror up to nature: to show virtue her own feature', scorn her own image', and the very age and body of the times', their form and pressure'. Now', this overdone', or come tardy off, though it may make the unskilful'.. laugh', cannot but make the judicious'.. grieve'; the censure of one of which', must', in your ance', overweigh a whole theatre of others'. Oh! there are players that I have seen play', and heard others praise', and that', highly-not to speak it profanely-who', having neither the accent of Christian', nor the gait of Christian', pagan', nor man', have so strutted and bellowed', that I have thought some of nature's journeymen had made men', and not made them well, they imitated humanity so abominably'. allow. Tor'rẻnt. Rò-bůst yůs. cOb-zêrv'ânse. *Spectators in the Pit. SECTION IV. Moral and Intellectual Efficacy of the Sacred Scriptures. WAYLAND. As to the powerful', I had almost said', miraculous', effect of the Sacred Scriptures', there can no longer be a doubt in the mind of any one on whom fact can make an impression'. That the truths of the Bible have the power of awakening an intense moral feeling in man under every variety of character', learned', or ignorant', civilized', or savage'; that they make bad men good', and send a pulse of healthful feeling through all the domestick', civil', and social relations'; that they teach men to love right', to hate wrong', and to seek each other's welfare', as the children of one common parent'; that they control the baleful passions of the human heart',.. and thus make men proficients in the science of self-government', and', finally', that they teach him to aspire after a conformity to a Being of infinite holiness', and fill him with hopes infinitely more purifying', more exalting', more suited to his nature', than any other which this world has ever known',-are facts as incontrovertible as the laws of philosophy', or the demonstrations of mathematicks'. Evidence in support of all this', can be brought from every age in the history of man', since there has been a revelation from God on earth'. We see the proof of it everywhere around us'. There is scarcely a neighbourhood in our country', where the Bible is circulated', in which we cannot point to a very considerable portion of its population', which its truths have reclaimed from the practice of vice', and taught the practice of whatsoever things are pure', and honest', and just', and of good report'. That this distinctive and peculiar effect is produced upon every man to whom the gospel is announced', we pretend not to affirm'. But we do affirm', that', besides producing this special renovation to which we have alluded', upon a part', in a most remarkable degree', it elevates the tone of moral feeling throughout the whole community'. Wherever the Bible is freely circulated', and its doctrines carried home to the understandings of men', the aspect of society is altered'; the frequency of crime is diminished'; men begin to love justice', and to administer it by law'; and a virtuous', publick opinion', that strongest safeguard of right', spreads over a nation the shield of its in Gåv'urn'ment. Nå'tshare. visible protection'. Wherever it has faithfully been brought to bear upon the human heart', even under the most unpromising circumstances', it has', within a single generation', revolution. ized the whole structure of society'; and thus', within a few years', done more for man than all other means have accom. plished for ages', without it'. For proof of all this', I need only refer you to the effects of the Gospel in Greenland', or in South Africa', in the Society Islands', or even among the aborigines of our own country'. But', before we leave this part of the subject', it may be well to pause for a moment', and inquire whether', in addition to its moral efficacy', the Bible may not exert a powerful influence upon the intellectual character of man'. And here it is scarcely necessary that I should remark', that', of all the books with which', since the invention of writing', this world has been deluged', the number of those is very small which have produced any perceptible effect on the mass of mankind'. By far the greater part have been', even by their cotemporaries', unnoticed and unknown'. Now and then one has made its little mark upon the generation that produced it', and then', with that generation', has sunk to utter forgetfulness'. But', after the ceaseless toil of six thousand years', how few have been the works', the adamantine basis of whose reputation has stood unhurt amid the fluctuations of time', and whose impression can be traced', in the history of our species', through successive centuries'. When', however', such a work appears', its effects are absolutely incalculable'; and such a work', you are aware', is the ILIAD OF HOMer'. Who can estimate the results produced by the incomparable efforts of a single mind'? Who can tell what Greece owes to this first-born of song'? Her breathing marbles', her solemn temples', her unrivalled eloquence', and her matchless verse', all point us to that transcendent genius', who', by the very splendour of his own effulgence', awoke the human intellect from the slumber of ages'. It was Homer who gave laws to the artist'; it was Homer who inspired the poet'; it was Homer who thundered in the senate'; and', more than all', it was Homer who was sung by the people'; and hence', a nation was cast into the mould of one mighty mind'; and the land of the Iliad became the region of taste', the birth-place of the arts'. Nor was this influence confined within the limits of Greece'. Long after the sceptre of empire had passed westward', Genius Mo'ment—not, mo'munt. In-kôm'på'rå-bl. still held her court on the banks of the Ilissus', and', from the country of Homer', gave laws to the world'. The light which the blind old man of Scio had kindled in Greece', shed its radiance over Italy'; and thus did he awaken a second nation 1 into intellectual existence'. And we may form some idea of the power which this one work', to the present day', has exerted over the mind of man', by remarking', that "nation after nation', and century after century', have been able to do little more than transpose his incidents', new-name his characters', and paraphrase his sentiments'." But', considered simply as an intellectual production', who will compare the poems of Homer with the Holy Scriptures of the Old and New Testament'? Where', in the Iliad', shall we find simplicity and pathos which shall vie with the narrative of Moses', or maxims of conduct to equal in wisdom the Proverbs of Solomon', or sublimity which does not fade away before the conceptions of Job', or David', of Isaiah', or St. John'? But I cannot pursue this comparison'. I feel that it is doing wrong to the mind which dictated the Iliad', and to those other mighty intellects on whom the light of the holy oracles never shined'. Who that has read Homer's great poem', has not observed how he strove in vain to give dignity to the mythology of his time'? Who has not seen how the religion of his country', unable to support the flight of his imagination', sunk powerless beneath him? It is in the unseen world where the master spirits of our race breathe freely', and are at home'; and it is mournful to behold the intellect of Homer', striving to free itself from the conceptions of materialism', and then sinking down in hopeless despair', to weave idle tales about Jupiter and Juno', Apollo and Diana'. But the difficulties under which he laboured', are abundantly illustrated by the fact', that the light which he poured upon the human intellect', taught other ages how unworthy was the religion of his day', and of the man who was compelled to use it'. "It seems to me'," says Longinus', "that Homer', when he ascribes dissensions', jealousies', tears', imprisonments', and other afflictions to his deities', as much as was in his power', makes the men of the Iliad'.. gods', and the gods'.. men'. To man', when afflicted', death is the termination of evils'; but he makes not only the nature', but the miseries', of the gods', eternal'.” If', then', so great results have flowed from this one effort of a single mind', what may we not expect from the combined efforts of several', at least', his equals in power over the human *Radðánse. Sẻntshủ rễ. Poêmz—not, pomze. ¿Důz. Lôn-jl'nås. |