tion remain of that which distinguishes him from the inferior order c beings. Age would succeed to age without witnessing any accession to the fields of knowledge. Traditionary lore, like the rays of light, would vary in its import as it passed from hand to hand, and one generation could not be enriched by the acquisitions of its predecessor. But the invention of letters has established a chancery by which the acquisitions of one age have been handed down as a rich inheritance to its successor; while the later age, like the posterity of an ancient family, has revelled in the riches entailed by its ancestors. Such are the effects of literature, considered only as it enlarges the fields of knowledge, and gives a wider range to the exercise of the intellectual faculties. But there is another and a more interesting, because more important, view to be taken of its influence, as it operates on the moral nature of mankind. In the construction of implements of defence, in the arrangement of architectural convenience, in the pursuit of the objects of sense, man is superior to some species of the brute creation, only as his corporeal powers are better adapted to mechanical exertion. The bee, the beaver, the ant, and other inferior orders, rival the most successful efforts of man in the construction of a habitation adapted to the respective exigencies of cach. But they operate by instinct, his labors are the suggestions of necessity in conference with inventive powers; and it is a curious investigation to trace the gradations from destitution to comfort, from comfort to convenience, and from convenience to ease, and, in its proper connexion, the moral influence of each upon the character of mankind. There it will be found that the vaunted nobleness of savage nature, the magnanimity ascribed by some even of the present day, to the uncultivated states of society, are but the chimeras of prejudice, or at least but erroneous deductions from solitary examples. The history of literature, will abundantly show that such instances are but the taper in the dungeon, which appears the brighter from the darkness by which it is surrounded; while in the improved forms of life, in those ages when the brightness of learning has dispelled the clouds in the minds of men, and day has dawned upon the eyes of all, the aspen flame is eclipsed by brighter light, and is unnoticed, because it is unfavored by the advantages of contrast. Laws owe their permanency to their consistency; and their consistency is mainly to be attributed to a wise consideration of the exigencies of society, deduced from the operations of cause and effect upon the human mind. When history, therefore, is silent, their deductions must be made from a limited view of society; and, like all conclusions drawn from various views, are likely to be erroneous. It is letters which give a tongue to history, and provide it with a distinct utterance. It is letters which make the past a monitor to the present, and the present a guide to the future. The view which we have thus taken of literature is narrow and circumscribed. Indeed, the subject is as exhaustless as its objects are innumerable. He must be dead to the most refined pleasures of which his nature is susceptible, who is deaf to the claims of literature to his attention, or is blind to the importance and value of learning. Example 2d of an Essay. The Pleasure derived from the Fine Arts, by the Artist and Common Spectator. The pleasure derived from the Fine Arts is doubtless proportioned to our capacity of appreciating them; for they address themselves chiefly to the imagination and the sensibility. The mere pleasures of sense every man may feel; but those derived from intellect and sentiment are more limited, and of a higher order. Hence it is, that the artist feasts on his selfcreated treasures, and lives on fancy's imagery, whilst the hieroglyphical daub of a sign-painter would be more attractive to the common spectator than the hues of Titian, or the bold master-strokes of a Michael Angelo. Taste is a sentiment of the soul. It is a keen perception of the sublime and beautiful in art and nature. United with genius, it even creates to itself images surpassing human excellence; objects which exist, perhaps, but in the painter's and poet's vision. Guido coveted the wings of an angel, that he might behold the beatified spirits of paradise, and thereby form an archangel such as his imagination was obliged to substitute. How sublime must have been the vision which gave the object his imagination sought for! How intense the feeling which thus transported him from earth to heaven! To express the passions by outward signs is the artist's aim; and we may add, his envied privilege. What delight to see the cold and gloomy canvas expand with life; the dull void banished by the melting eye, the graceful form, the persuasive suppliant, the conquering hero! Every touch adds something to the soul's expression, till the enraptured painter yields himself up to the delightful contemplation of his new creation. “I, too, am a painter," exclaimed Correggio, with involuntary transport, while contemplating a work of the divine Raphael; "I, too, am a painter." Such was the enraptured feeling which would, otherwise, have been chilled by the cold pressure of his wants and poverty. To common observers, the most beautiful painting may seem but an assemblage of forms, and the most exquisite poem but doggerel rhyme. The higher efforts of art produce but little effect on uncultivated minds. It is (as Sir Joshua Reynolds observes) only the lowest style of arts, whether of painting, poetry, or music, that may be said, in the vulgar sense, to be naturally pleasing. Taste, and a just discrimination, are the results of education. The concertos of Steibell and Clementi would be jargon to the ear accustomed only to the monotonous tones of "Hob or Nob," and "Yankee Doodle," nor would the admirer of "Punchinello," or "Jack the Giant Killer," be enraptured with the grace and dignity of an Apollo Belvidere, or a Venus de Medicis. That a susceptibility and love of the sublime and beautiful are a source of happiness, who can doubt, that has seen the "Aurora" of Guido? How rich, how sublime the fancy, which could produce so enchanting an assemblage of all that is graceful and lovely! and how animated, how enraptured, the feelings of him whom a refined taste renders capable of appreciating them! Dupaty's soul melted at the view of Raphael's "Incendia del Borgo." He saw not, in that moment of enraptured feeling, a pictured flame, but the devouring element, raging, enveloping, and consuming the helpless and despairing multitude. To look on such a production with total indifference is impossible. Apelles's critic was a competent judge of the representation of a sandal, and Molière's old woman could decide upon the nature of comic humor; but it is the artist and connoisseur alone, who can judge, appreciate, and feel the highest order of color, modification, and expression. The portrait painter also claims our attention and gratitude. He who gives to our weeping eyes the form of the beloved and departed friend; whose magic touch arrests beauty in its progress to decay, and whose pencil immortalizes the revered forms of the hero and the statesman; the soul-breathing expression of a Washington, a Franklin, and an Ames. Painting may, perhaps, be said to be the acme of the arts, since it charms by so many various branches, and admits of such infinite variety of color and expression; but let not the "verba ardentia" of the poet be robbed of their honors. The lyre of a Milton, a Cowper, a Bryant, and a Wordsworth, can never breathe other than harmonious sounds. Their words melt into ideas, as the objects of nature gather light and color from the sun. Shall we not allow the poet, then, his joys and honors? Shall the emanations of his fancy shine on hearts cold and dead to its rays? No! Through the tear of sensibility we see his power; we feel in the tender accents of the voice that trembles while it reads. Since the pleasures derived from the Fine Arts are so exquisite, both to the artist and spectator, it cannot be doubted that our sources of happiness might be greatly extended by their liberal cultivation. That arts and morals are materially connected, there is no doubt. Horace observes: "Ingenuas didicisse fideliter artes, Emollit mores, nec sinit esse feros."' And could this spirit, this admiration of the beautiful, be generously cultivated, the genius of our soil might proudly ascend the summit of Par nassus. Public favor is the most powerful stimulus to talent; exhibitions, therefore, of the best productions, both in painting and sculpture, will have a tendency to diffuse a general taste, and to inspire a spirit of emulation, from which the most beneficial results may be anticipated. Let us not suffer the artists who now grace our shores to forsake us, for the want of that patronage which it should be our pride and pleasure to bestow. We cannot, indeed, expect to rival the treasures of the Louvre or the Vatican; but from the exercise of native talent, and from the specimens of art we already possess, much may be expected. In the cabinets of private individuals in our city, may be found productions sufficient to form a choice collection for public exhibition, and it is to the liberality and patronage of their possessors that we look for such encouragement as shall stimulate the young artist to immortalize his name, and shed a lustre on his country. Example 3d. The Sentiment of Loyalty. Loyalty, in its primitive signification, implies fidelity to a king. Hence, a loyal subject is one who promotes as far as possible the welfare of the kingdom, who assists in the maintenance of the laws, and in times of danger is ever ready to defend the life and honor of his sovereign, and to sacrifice himself for the good of his country. This sentiment is natural to the human race. If we analyze our various feelings and emotions, we shall find that the sentiment of love is one of the most powerful passions which nature has implanted in the breast of man; it is the most powerful, because, when excited and kindled, it burns with an ardor almost unquenchable; it warms and spurs the whole man onward towards the accomplishment of its object; impetuous and irresistible, it overcomes all obstacles which rise before it. The sentiment of Loyalty is one of the manifestations of this love; springing from that noble source, it flows onward till it meets the waters of other streams, which it deepens and purifies. Since nature has given to man this sentiment of loyalty, it will always find suitable objects on which to bestow itself. Man was made for love; he must have something to honor, respect, and admire; something usually higher and nobler than himself; consequently, in despotic countries, honor and love are paid by a loyal people to their sovereign, who, being of a higher station, of a more venerated name, or of nobler descent than themselves, is entitled to this respect. In our own country, we venerate the wisdom and prudence of our ancestors, who, in framing the articles of our constitution, provided for the good of succeeding generations; and, at the present day, when we see a citizen devoting himself to the service of his country with that patriotic spirit which characterized our fathers, our affections are aroused, our lips send forth his praise, we hail him as the defender of the Constitution, and the whole nation rises up to do him homage. In England, recently, that loyalty, which for two preceding reigns had been slumbering, burst forth with redoubled vigor upon the accession of a female sovereign to the throne. At the beginning of a new reign, the loyalty of a nation is always openly and warmly exhibited. But on that occasion, there was something in the fact, that their future sovereign was a youthful and accomplished queen, which excited in an unusual degree the hopes and sympathies of the nation. They hailed her accession as emblematical of peace and prosperity. In the feudal times, in the times of chivalry and the Crusades, the knights were distinguished for their loyalty to the ladies of the court. In those days, the fame and beauty of the lady inspired her champion with courage and strength, and many a battle has been fought and many a victory won, under this spirit-stirring influence of loyalty. Those were brilliant days for Europe, when chivalry stood forth in its might, and first gave birth to loyalty, loyalty, which taught devotion and reverence to those weak, fair beings, who but in beauty and gentleness have no defence. "It raised love above the passions of the brute, and by dignifying woman, made woman worthy of love. It gave purity to enthu siasm, crushed barbarous selfishness, taught the heart to expand like a flower to the sunshine, beautified glory with generosity, and smoothed even the rugged brow of war." But how have we degenerated? "The age of chivalry is gone; never, never more shall we behold that generous loyalty to rank and sex, that proud submission, that dignified odedience, that sub ordination of the heart, which kept alive, even in servitude itself, the spirit of an exalted freedom!" But though the sentiment of loyalty has greatly degenerated, it is not wholly extinct; it is now occasionally expressed, but its flame is faint and flickering; should it ever expire, it will go hand in hand with patriotism, and will expire with that faith which gave it life. To conceive truly what we should then lose, we need only reflect, that loyalty is the bond of society and friendship, it unites all the best affections of the heart in one common cause, it holds a sacred place not to be invaded with impunity, it is respected and honored by the old, and the stories of its valor delight the young, and "Though well held, to fools doth make " XC. COLLEGE POEM. Example. The Pleasures and Pains of the Student. When envious time, with unrelenting hand, Whether o'er classic plains he loves to rove, 'Midst Attic bowers, or through the Mantuan grove, ➡ Whether, with scientific eye, to trace The various modes of number, time, and space, Nor yet, alas! unmixed the joys we boast, Need I describe his struggles and his strife, Here forced to explore some labyrinth without end, Here ten hard words fraught with some meaning small, And there ten folios fraught with none at all. |