a without any adventitious aid'. They required only a medium of vision like his pure and simple style', to exhibit', to the highest advantage', their native radiance and beauty'. His cheerfulness was unremitting'. It seemed to be as much the effect of a systematick and salutary exercise of the mind', as of its superiour organization'. His wit was of the first order'. It did not show itself merely in occasional coruscations'; but', without any effort or force on his part', it shed a constante stream of the purest light over the whole of his discourse'. Whether in the company of commons or nobles', he was always the same', plain man'; always most perfectly at his ease', with his faculties in full play', and the full orbit of his genius forever clear and unclouded'. And then', the stores of his mind were inexhaustible'. He had commenced life with an attention so vigilant', that nothing had escaped his observation', and a judgment so solid', that every incident was turned to advantage. His youth had not been wasted in idleness', nor overcast by intemperance'. He had been all his life a close and deep reader', as well as thinker'; and', by the force of his own powers', had wrought up the raw materials which he had gathered from books', with such exquisite skill and felicity', that he had added a hundred fold to their original value', and justly made them his own'. SECTION II. Intellectual Qualities of Milton.-CHANNING. IN speaking of the intellectual qualities of Milton, we may begin by observing that the very splendour of his poetick fame, has tended to obscure or conceal the extent of his mind, and the variety of its energies and attainments. To many, he seems only a poet, when, in truth, he was a profound scholar, a man of vast compass of thought, imbued thoroughly with all ancienta and modern learning, and able to master, to mould, to impregnate with his own intellectual power, his great and various acquisitions. He had not learned the superficial doctrine of a later day, that poetry flourishes most in an uncultivated soil, and that imagination shapes its brightest visions from the mists of a superstitious age; and he had no dread of accumulating knowledge lest he should oppress and smother his genius. He Egz-hib'it-not, eg-zib'it. Rá'de 'ânse. Kôn'stant-not, kon'stunt Jane'tshent. 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 imbodied. 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 •Prez’ense—not, prezunse. Tshivalrẻ. Fillo-lôje-kal. Kh tshåre-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, to whatever topick it would unfold. SECTION II. Hamlet's Advice to the Players.-SHAKSPEARE. 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 actionwith 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 allowance', 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'. Tôr'rent. Rò-bůst yùs. cOb-zerv'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'," b 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 admin ister it by law'; and a virtuous', publick opinion', that strongest safeguard of right', spreads over a nation the shield of its in Gåvårn'mênt. Nå'tshåre. 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', revolutionized the whole structure of society'; and thus', within a few years', done more for man than all other means have accomplished 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'. a 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'pá'rá-bl |