THE UBRARY OF THE 
 
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 ENDOWED BY THE 
 
 DIALECTIC AND PHILANTHROPIC 
 
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 LANGUAGE: 
 
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 C- ITS CONNEXION WITH THE PRESENT CONDITION 
 AND FUTURE PROSPECTS OF MAN. 
 
 BY A H E T E R C) S C I A N 
 
 PRO\lpEW:E^ 
 MARSHALL, BRO \\n' .-^N 
 MDCCC3 ^^ 
 
Entered according to Act of Congress in the year 1835, 
 
 BY MARSHALL, BROWN AND CO. 
 
 Ill the Clerk's Office of the District Court of Rhode-Island. 
 
 Printed by 
 
 A. MARSHALL, 
 
 Providence. 
 
 *. - '". 
 
INDEX. 
 
 Preface, Page 5 
 
 Importance of Language, ----- 7 
 
 Definitions of Poetry, defective, - - - 9 
 
 Classification of Language, . . - - 10 
 
 Language of Narration, - - - - 12 
 
 " Abstraction, - - - ih. 
 
 " Ideality, . - - - ib. 
 
 Metre and Rhyme, ----- 21 
 
 Remarks on different forms of Language, - - 26 
 
 Connexion of Poetry with Love, - - - 32 
 
 Poetry incapable of being taught, - - - 36 
 
 Language of a future state, . . - - 38 
 
 Imagination and Reason, 62 
 
 Music, 65 
 
 Connexion of Love, Poetry, Music and Devotion 
 with each other, and with the Religious Sentiment, 67 
 
 Intuitive Principle, 85 
 
 Genius, 89 
 
 Reasoning and Perceiving, 91 
 
 Poetry relatively farther advanced in an unculti- 
 vated state of society, - _ . - 98 
 
4 INDEX. 
 
 Inspiration, 102 
 
 Mysteries, 109 
 
 Influence of Ideality on the formation of character, 121 
 
 Prophecy, 130 
 
 Ideality and Abstraction, 139 
 
 Their union in advancing knowledge, illustrated 
 
 by the astronomical discoveries, - - 14(5 
 
 Future Prospects, - - - - - - 151 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 The writer of the following pages is aware that some 
 apology is due to the reader for the imperfect form in 
 which the work is presented to him. 
 
 He claims no exemption from the solicitude which us- 
 ually attends the first effort of authorship, and would 
 cheerfully have bestowed any additional labor which 
 might have made his essay more useful, more accepta- 
 ble, and more worthy of public favor. 
 
 Causes beyond his control have, however, interrupted 
 and diverted his thoughts, and under such circumstan- 
 ces as leave him little hope of being able soon again to 
 direct them to this or similar pursuits. 
 
 Some of the objects of the work he believes may still 
 be accomplished by its publication in its present form. 
 
 How far it will add to the science heretofore accumu- 
 lated on the subject of which it treats, his means of in- 
 formation do not permit him to know, but a more gene- 
 ral intercourse with men than with books, has led him to 
 observe that there is too little diffused information on the 
 subject, and that much theoretical error and practical 
 evil result from the want of it. 
 
 As an illustration of this he might adduce many 
 of the rancorous disputes which agitate society, in 
 A 
 
6 PREFACE. 
 
 some of which the question should be, not which parCj 
 has arrived at truth, but simply which has adopted the 
 bettei' mode of expressing it — or in other words which 
 has so expressed it, as to best harmonize with the sys- 
 tem of truths before established, and most facilitate fur- 
 ther acquisition — a matter of sufficient importance and 
 dilHculty to justify vigorous discussion and engage the 
 highest talent. 
 
 He believes that the influence of language on thought 
 and its connexion with those results which are retained 
 and go to form our opinions and beliefs, are not suffic- 
 iently understood even by many w^ell informed on other 
 subjects. 
 
 If this essay shall throw any light on its relations with 
 all the great objects of human interest and investigation, 
 or if it shall have any effect in provoking thought and 
 causing a more general attention to the subject — the ut- 
 most expectations of the writer will have been fulfilled, 
 and he will be gratified with the reflection that a task 
 which he has thus far performed %Vith pleasure and ben- 
 efit to himself, has not been without its utility to others. 
 
LANGUAGE 
 
 THE IMPORTANCE OF LANGUAGE, ETC. 
 
 The importance of language is at once obviou< 
 to every individual, and yet, perhaps few are aware 
 of the full extent of the advantages which we de- 
 rive from it. Advantages co-extensive with knowl- 
 edge, co-equal with the improvement of mankind. 
 It is the means by which soul acts and reacts on 
 soul. By it the heavenly spark of thought, emana- 
 ting from the sohtary mind, inspires each kindred 
 breast, wakes the slumbering fire, and lights the 
 torch of truth, which is reflected from a thousand 
 other minds with fresh accessions, until its light 
 pervades the whole atmosphere, dissipates the 
 darkness of prejudice, infuses itself in popular im- 
 pressions, and gives distinctness to the views and 
 opinions of the public. It not only enables every 
 individual to avail himself of the intellectual labors 
 of all others, but it furnishes him with one mode of 
 thinking for himself, and of condensing into general 
 propositions the mental acquirements, which, if 
 left in particulars, would soon become too numer- 
 ous for memory to retain, or so burdensome as 
 
b THE IMPORTANCE 
 
 greatly to retard his further progress. It is at least 
 one of the distinguishing characteristics of man, 
 and it appears not improbable, lliat to this endow- 
 ment we owe a large portion of the accumulation 
 of knowledge, power of reasoning, and greater sus- 
 ceptibility of improvement, which exalts our spe- 
 cies above the brute creation. It has enabled man 
 to form the social compact, and it is a form of 
 words, which by protecting him from injury and 
 guaranteeing to him the undisturbed enjoyment of 
 the possessions, the comforts, and pleasures of life, 
 obviates the necessity of a constant savage w^atch- 
 fulness, and permits him, with feelings of security, 
 to abstract himself from the narrow concerns of 
 organic existence, to range in the beautiful and 
 illimitable fields of thought. It has thus enabled 
 the contemplative mind to unite the opportunities 
 of improvement and the stimulus to exertion, which 
 are found in the charms of society, with the tran- 
 quility of solitude and seclusion. It has given 
 mankind the power of retaining all that the past has 
 acquired, and of circulating it, combined with all 
 that the present can bestow; thus adding discovery 
 to discovery — improvement to improvement — re- 
 finement to refinement — continually vivifying ex- 
 istence with fresh cultivation — keeping ahve the 
 germ of infinity in the soul — elevating and enno- 
 bling its conceptions, and fostering and encourag- 
 ing the tendency to illimitable expansion in all the 
 powers of the mind. 
 
OP LANGUAGE. 9 
 
 But it is needless to expatiate on the importance 
 of a subject, which is so obviously and so essen- 
 tially connected with all that ennobles our race. 
 
 We proceed then to the consideration of it in 
 the various forms which it assumes, among which 
 we regard poetry as properly occupying the first 
 place in point of time, as well as in interest. Va- 
 rious attempts have been made to define this por^? 
 tion of language. Of these, the notice of one of 
 the most prominent will be sufficient, as the others, 
 so far as we know them, are at least equally defec- 
 tive. 
 
 It is said to have been a favorite expression of 
 Aristotle, that " poetry is an imitative art." The 
 high idea which we entertain of the critical accu- 
 racy of this great philosopher, induces us to sup- 
 pose that by this assertion, he may have intended 
 to imply that the poetic art is, in this respect, sim- 
 ilar to many others, rather than that it is thus contra- 
 distinguished from them. The magic of a great 
 name has however wrought its charms, and imposed 
 it upon us as a definition. A late writer imagines 
 he has perfected it, and that poetry may properly 
 be defined an imitative and creative art. So may 
 many mere mechanical occupations. But this defi- 
 nition has most singularly missed the mark, and its 
 absurdity is manifest when we reflect, that it is ap- 
 plied to the productions of the poet, to which it is 
 just as applicable as it is to the hoe or the horse^ 
 shoe, which is produced by the mechanic, 
 
10 THE IMPORTANCE 
 
 The difficulty of determining the precise boun- 
 dary between poetry and prose, and of ascertaining 
 their distinguishing characteristics, probably arises 
 from the fact, that as usually exhibited, most, or 
 perhaps all of the attributes of each, are found 
 blended with those of the other, varying only in 
 degree. It is in this variation then, that we must 
 seek the materials for a definition. 
 
 We use the term language as applicable to every 
 method of imparting ideas, and by the term signs, 
 when used in relation to language, we mean to em- 
 brace words, and every other representative of those 
 ideas. 
 
 A language of words, in the mode of the varied 
 sounds which we produce by the organs of speech, 
 or in the form of symbols which we commit to pa- 
 per, has been adopted, as the usual and best means 
 of communicating our thoughts. If we carefully 
 observe the operation of the mind in this process, 
 we shall find that there is an incipient stage of our 
 thoughts, in which they are unconnected with 
 words. In this state they might, without deviating 
 far from the usual application of the terms, be call- 
 ed ideas or images. The latter however is not 
 without its objections, and the first, though it may 
 be strictly applicable, is yet so closely associated 
 with thoughts which have assumed the form of 
 words, that we deem it necessary to apply another 
 term, more clearly to designate our mental percep- 
 tions in this incipient state, and keep them distinct 
 
OF LANGUAGE. 11 
 
 from terms. We shall call them ideals or primi- 
 tive perceptions, by which terms we mean to sig- 
 nify the impressions of things, and all the images, 
 sensations, and emotions of the mind, which are 
 independent of words, and w^hich having a separate 
 and prior existence, induce us to resort to language 
 when we would impart them, or the knowledge of 
 them, to others, or as one means of comparing 
 them with each other. One person sees a land- 
 scape, and the impression it makes on his mind is 
 an ideal. The emotions associated with it are also 
 ideals, or primitive perceptions. He seeks cor- 
 responding terms and describes the scenery to an- 
 other, whose mind also receives an ideal of it, and 
 with it such associated emotions as the circum- 
 stances excite, and these are also ideals, for though 
 in him the effect of language, they are still as dis- 
 tinguishable from the terms, or signs, as any other 
 effect from its cause. 
 
 The communication of our thoughts, then, is 
 effected by each one associating the same sounds 
 or signs with the same ideals, so that the right use 
 of them, will produce the same primitive percep- 
 tions in the mind of the hearer as exist in that of 
 the speaker. In this first principle of language, we 
 observe that ideals and their signs are chiefly con- 
 cerned, and it is in the different degrees in which 
 they are respectively made the objects of attention, 
 that we may reasonably expect to find the elements 
 of the changes and modifications of which it is sus- 
 ceptible. 
 
12 THE IMPORTANCE 
 
 The first and most obvious use of language is to 
 express simple facts — to tell our wants and nar- 
 rate the occurrences which observation has col- 
 lected. This we shall call the language of narra- 
 tion. The use of it requires no effort of imagina- 
 tion, or of the reasoning powers, on the part of ei- 
 ther the speaker or hearer, but simply an exercise 
 of the memory in recalling the events to the form- 
 er, and producing the proper associations between 
 tlie sounds and their concomitants in both. — De- 
 parting from this simplicity on the one hand, by 
 dismissing, as far as practicable, the ideals, and di- 
 recting the attention exclusively to the terms, we 
 arrive at a mode which we shall call the language 
 of abstraction. 
 
 If, on the other hand, the terms are so managed 
 that the attention is directed principally to the 
 ideals they call up, or, when, instead of the imme- 
 diate connexion between words and ideals, the 
 associations between the ideals themselves are 
 made use of, we arrive at a mode, the very re- 
 verse of the former, which may be denominated 
 the language of ideality, or primitive perceptions, 
 and which we apprehend, constitutes the most im- 
 portant characteristic of poetry. We may bring to 
 our mental vision a number of these ideals, and, 
 without any reference to terms, observe their re- 
 lations to each other, and this, we would call a 
 process of ideality., or poetic mode of mind, and is 
 evidently contradistinguished from the abstract, 
 
OF LANGUAGE. 13 
 
 or prosaic mode, in which we examine those rela- 
 tions through the medium of substituted terms. 
 It can exist in perfect purity only in thought. Any 
 written or articulate language can be but an ap- 
 proximation to it, which however may be ag n 
 purified in the mind of the recipient, by his dis- 
 missing the terms, and retaining the ideals. Poe- 
 try, depending on this prominence of the primitive 
 perceptions, must present, or at least use for illus- 
 tration, such as we perceive clearly, or feel strong- 
 ly, and hence its intimate and essential connection 
 with imagery, and with passion, which are only 
 different forms of ideals. The artifice of the poet 
 s generally exercised in inventing and combining^ 
 so as to present the subjects of his poem with such 
 vivid colouring and striking arrangement, that they 
 shall command the undivided attention of the 
 reader. 
 
 Actual occurrences may occasionally present 
 similar combinations, and objects of equal interest; 
 there may be poetry in the circumstances; and in 
 describing them, 'narration and ideality are blended 
 in one common language. But even in this case, 
 we use only the immediate connexion between 
 words and ideals, while the poet avails himself of 
 the associations between the ideals themselves, 
 and, by this means, reaches those recesses of 
 thought and feeling to which terms have not been 
 extended, and secures that volatile essence of sen- 
 timent, which rising by its purity above the gross 
 
14 THE IMPORTANCE 
 
 atmosphere of terms, can only be approached by 
 this dehcate process. He uses language to mduce 
 an ideal, not in itself important, but valued for the 
 associations it brings with it. With a cabalistic 
 word, he summons the half recognized ghosts of 
 departed feelings, and with the incantation of terms 
 imokes a host of spirits from the world of fancy. 
 But though we recollect not the word, and cannot 
 repeat the terms in that order which alone gives 
 them magic power, yet the spectral or fairy forms, 
 the impressions, the emotions, or, in one word, 
 the ideals they created, may be as distinctly retain- 
 ed, as the remembrance of any external object 
 which we have seen without learning its name. 
 The power which poetry thus possesses of extend- 
 ing itself beyond the limits of precise terras, and of 
 reaching remote ideals through the medium of those 
 which are within the immediate grasp of words, 
 is its most important and peculiar attribute. 
 
 It is this which fits it for the communication of 
 discoveries made in advance of the age. It is the 
 receptacle of truths in their most evanescent forms 
 — the depository from which abstraction is contin- 
 ually drawing the materials for the improvement of 
 concrete science. When knowledge is advancing, 
 this process of condensing keeps pace with it. 
 Truths, first suggested in the strains of the poet, 
 imperceptibly assume the garb of prose, and be- 
 come matters of demonstration. This mode, how- 
 ever, is confined to the immediate action of Intel- 
 
OF LANGUAGE. 16 
 
 lect upon real or imaginary existences, for when we 
 have prepared a set of terms, or signs, and use them 
 to the exclusion of ideals, the processes of ideality 
 of course cease to avail us, and we are thus aided 
 in our progress only by the language of abstraction. 
 There are cases in which this language becomes 
 so pure, that we pursue it without being conscious 
 of any ideals. Mathematical analysis furnishes the 
 best specimens of this mode, and without now at- 
 tempting any explanation, we will merely state the 
 fact, that in this science, the mathematician, con- 
 sidering only the terms, and guided wholly by the 
 relations which he discovers among them, makes 
 his way through trains of syllogisms, reaching from 
 the most simple and obvious premises, to the most 
 remote and abstruse conclusions, without any ideal 
 arresting, or for a moment diverting his attention. 
 No image, no emotion obtrudes itself upon his 
 thoughts, and he seems to be dealing with nothing 
 but words, or with signs in a still more condensed 
 form. Not even the thought of any particular 
 quantity is suffered to intrude itself among the signs 
 from which he is laboring to deduce a formula, 
 alike applicable to all quantities. His ideals, if 
 such they may be called, are the first perceptions 
 of new relations, or new combinations of terms, so 
 immediately assuming the form of words, that he is 
 not conscious that they had any other prior exist- 
 ence. All general propositions must be express- 
 ed in this language, and the progress of knowledge 
 
16 . THE IMPORTANCE 
 
 being from particulars to generals, little advance- 
 ment can be made without it, and we accordingly 
 find it, in a greater or less degree of perfection, in 
 every science. 
 
 Next to mathematics, some portions of meta- 
 physics and ethics probably furnish the best spec- 
 imens of this mode. When treating of abstract 
 principles, of which it is at once difficult and use- 
 less to form any definite images, which neither 
 present any visible form, nor excite emotion, the 
 attention is more easily diverted from the ideals, 
 and directed exclusively to the terms. But when, 
 even in these subjects, we approach the conside- 
 ration of mind as it presents itself to our observa- 
 tion, or of moral principles as applicable to the 
 actual concerns of life, the inefficiency of terms 
 becomes apparent, and the difficulty of progressing 
 with our thoughts restricted within such narrow 
 limits as they impose, becomes insurmountable. 
 Still, so far as they go, terms greatly assist us; 
 they condense a subject, for a single term repre- 
 senting certain abstract qualities or properties, may 
 include all the individuals of a species, or divide 
 them into greater or smaller divisions, as the num- 
 ber of abstract quahties expressed by the term is 
 lessened or increased.* In such propositions as 
 that which is a necessary existence, must always 
 have existed; space is a necessary existence — 
 
 *See Note on succeeding page. 
 
 
OF LANGUAGE. 
 
 17 
 
 therefore space must always have existed. The 
 first (Jails up no ideal; it tells us of no event; its 
 truth or falsity is to be determined only by the re- 
 lations of the terms in which it is expressed, and 
 is therefore purely in the language of abstraction. 
 The last being a conclusion growing out of the 
 consideration of the terms of the other two, is of 
 the same character. 
 
 This is a tiny, and we fear but a faint illustra- 
 tion of the influence of this form of language in the 
 process of thought, and of the power which it im- 
 parts. With this guide, the man of abstraction 
 fearlessly traverses the wide ocean of speculations, 
 in search of rich discoveries in distant climes, 
 where hidden mines of knowledge seldom fail to 
 reward his enterprise and toil. 
 
 With a view of contrasting this language with 
 
 *Thus: 
 Oil, 
 Water. 
 
 Spirits, &c. 
 
 Oxygen, 
 Hydrogen, 
 Nitrogen, &c. 
 
 Granite, 
 Quartz, 
 Hornblende, &c. 
 
 Iron, 
 Lead, 
 Copper, &c. 
 
 Barytes, 
 
 Magnesia, 
 Alumina, &c. 
 
 ■Liquids "^ 
 
 • Gases. 
 
 Fluids. ' 
 
 Matter. 
 
 > Metals, j. Solids. 
 
 > Earths. 
 
 •r 
 
1; 
 
 THE IMPORTANCE 
 
 that of ideality, let us examine another illustratiori. 
 It we say that mirror is in this room — this room is 
 ■in this house — therefore that mirror is in this 
 house — the repetition of the word in in each step^ 
 assures us of the correctness of the, inference. 
 But if we say that mirror is in this room — this 
 room is a part of this house — therefore that mir- 
 ror is a part of this house — the change in terms 
 immediately warns us, that our conclusion is not a 
 necessary consequence of our premises, and the 
 effect is in both instances the same, if for mirror, 
 room, and house, we substitute unknown terms 
 which will call up no ideals in the mind. This 
 shows us, that to connect the different parts of a 
 discourse in the language of abstraction, we must 
 retain the terms of the successive propositions 
 which compose it; while in the language of ideal- 
 ity, the terms are immediately discarded, and the 
 ideals they have suggested ai'e alone impressed on 
 the memory. The first fills the mind with a con- 
 catenation of terms, the other presents to its vision 
 a collection of images, or inspires it with emotion. 
 This shows us a distinction which every reader may 
 bring to the test of his own consciousness, and if 
 it is correct, he will invariably find, that whatever 
 the merits of a poem may be, when any portion of 
 it requires him to preserve the connexion, by a re- 
 currence to the terms instead of the ideals, there is 
 a cessation or revulsion of all poetic feeling. By 
 the modes of narration or abstraction we are mere- 
 
OF LANGUAGE. 10 
 
 ly made to knoio the facts which are stated; ideali- 
 ty causes us to perceive and feel as if the occur 
 rences were passing before us. 
 
 In metrical works of a philosophical or narrati\c 
 character, the poetry, except where the circum- 
 stances are in their nature and combination poetic, 
 will all be found in the imagery, with whicli the 
 abstract tnuhs or historical events are illuslrated 
 and adorned. 
 
 The modes of abstraction and ideality being thu^ 
 directly opposed to each other, and separated by 
 the intermediate language of narration, are easily 
 distinguished from each other. They are oftei) 
 blended so as to produce an agreeable variety. — 
 The orator in an especial manner may combine 
 them with advantage, and particularly when his 
 object is at once to convince and to persuade. We 
 are often persuaded to approve a means, by having 
 some desirable result depicted to us in vivid col- 
 ours. But to be convinced, requires that we should 
 not only perceive a good, but be assured that no 
 equal or paramount evil will arise from the same 
 cause. This requires that the whole ground should 
 be examined, and for this purpose, generic terms, 
 embracing large portions of it at once, are very 
 convenient, and^re more readily known to embrace 
 the whole, as in recounting the countries of a grand 
 division, we should more quickly perceive an omis- 
 sion, than if we attempted it in smaller districts. 
 This, we suppose, illustrates the principal differ- 
 
20 THE IMPORTANCE 
 
 ence between persuasion and conviction, and shows 
 the fitness of abstraction to the one, and of ideality 
 to the other. The orator should bear in mind this 
 distinction, and when he wishes to persuade, draw 
 largely from the materials of ideality, and when his 
 object is to demonstrate and place his positions be- 
 yond the reach of refutation, use them sparingly 
 and with caution. The scintillations of his fancy 
 should then be employed only to illumine the depths 
 and recesses of his reasoning. If he make them 
 the prominent objects of his discourse, we suspect 
 him of attempting to deceive our understanding; 
 our vanity is offended; we feel that he is only amu- 
 sing or beguiling us with pictures, when he pro- 
 fesses substantial argument. 
 
 Still ideality is the grand essential of eloquence. 
 It warms the heart, and gives an impulse more like 
 that which arises from the realities which it depicts, 
 for it makes them present to our minds' view, and 
 corresponding effects are produced upon us. 
 
 The degree of attention required in retaining the 
 parts of an abstract argument, and observing the 
 relations between them, and the labor necessary to 
 follow it in its intricate paths, fatigues and perplexes 
 the mind not well disciplined to the task. In the 
 form of ideality, the circumstances which consti- 
 tuted the groundwork of the verbal^rgument, must 
 be so arranged, that their connexion with the result 
 may be perceived without any conscious effort. — 
 "When the orator has succeeded in bringing the 
 
OF LANGUAGE. 21 
 
 subject home to the perception of his hearers, the 
 effect on them approaches to that of actually ob- 
 serving what he depicts, and produces in them sim- 
 ilar emotions and impulses. He, therefore, who 
 would long command the attention, and sway the 
 feehngs of an audience, must enhven his discourse 
 with an infusion of ideality. 
 
 While abstraction illuminates with a single con- 
 centrated beam, ideality dazzles with a multiplying 
 reflector, and if a ray diverge from its destined 
 course, she interposes another ideal, which reflects 
 it to its proper point. 
 
 It will be observed, that the view thus far taken 
 of poetry, is independent of its usual accompani- 
 ments, metre and rhyme. We consider them, not 
 as essential attributes, but as decorations, which it 
 may, or may not assume. 
 
 The artificial arrangement of feet, in poetic com- 
 position, produces a pleasing alternation of effort 
 and repose, to the organs both of speaking and 
 hearing; and the lines all containing an equal num- 
 ber of these feet, and similarly arranged, furnishes 
 a rule, which enables the reader to proceed by the 
 ^ force of habit or mere imitation, thus leaving the 
 attention to be more exclusively exerted on the 
 ideals. The emphatic words being manifest, makes 
 the sense clear, and gives point, precision and 
 force to expressions, which might otherwise re- 
 quire to be much lengthened to prevent am.biguity, 
 
22 • THE IMPORTANCE 
 
 The atteniion is left still more at liberty, by each 
 line embracing a distinct division of the sense; and 
 this effect is again increased, when these divisions 
 are marked by terminations similar in sound. The 
 last of the rhyming words carrying the attention 
 back to the first, presents more of the 'subject at 
 once, and knits the whole more closely together. 
 Another happy effect of this similarity of arrange- 
 ment and terminations, arises from association. It 
 is an interest, analogous to that which we feel in a 
 stranger who happens to resemble a friend, and 
 which is so often excited before we are conscious 
 of the cause. One line enchants us, and another, 
 though it breathes not its spirit and is destitute of 
 its intrinsic charm, imparts a pleasure like that we 
 enjoy in the first hasty glance of a portrait, where 
 the hand of art has given such expression to the 
 features of one we love, that in the first moment of 
 rapture, we perceive not, we think not, that " soul 
 is wanting there." 
 
 Another advantage of thus limiting the mode of 
 expression to a particular form, is, that it checks 
 the impetuosity of the poet, and by compelling him 
 to dwell longer on the subject, makes his views of 
 it more varied and complete. It also obliges him 
 
 resort to a multiplicity of terms and phrases, 
 which w^ill suggest many new relations and greatly 
 extend the range of his thought. To these two 
 causes, he is probably indebted for the perfection 
 of m.any of his first ideas; for some of his most 
 
OF LANGUAGE. 23 
 
 beautiful analogies; and for those little delicacies 
 of expression and sentiment, which give such ex- 
 quisite finish to his creations. We will omit the 
 consideration of some minor points, those already 
 suggested being sufficient to show the more im- 
 portant advantages of metre and rhyme in poetic 
 composition. It may however happen, that these 
 advantages are sometimes counterbalanced by the 
 restrictions they impose. It is possible there may 
 be instances in which the artless grace, the native 
 vivacity of freedom, may lend more touching 
 charms, and imbue unadorned poetry with more 
 thrilling beauty, than all these artificial decorations 
 and refinements can bestow. 
 
 Without seeking for a cause to support the ex- 
 treme of this conjecture, we will offer as a partial 
 illustration, the first portion of Burke's apostrophe 
 to the queen of France. 
 
 "It is now sixteen or seventeen years since I 
 saw the Queen of France, then the dauphiness, at 
 Versailles, and surely never lighted on this orb, 
 which she hardly seemed to touch, a more delight- 
 ful vision.'^ 
 
 The first part of this sentence, merely informs 
 us of the time and place at which he had seen the 
 queen, and that she was then the dauphiness. It is 
 therefore narrative. But the conclusion is in the 
 language of ideality, and strikes us as a happy 
 application of the poetic art. The mind in pro- 
 gressing through it, is so happily prepared by the 
 ■ *, . 
 
24 THE IMPORTANCE 
 
 image, which having " lighted on this orb," must 
 of course, have come from other spheres, and 
 hardly touching it, flits before his imagination, that 
 the conclusion, which in ordinary language, would 
 merely have^embodied the preceding description 
 in some dehghtful object of vision, now exerts a 
 magic influence, and calls up the subject of some 
 entrancing reverie or ecstatic dream — perchance 
 an angel form, which in some" bright moment of 
 enchantment, has lent its celestial influence to the 
 illusions of fancy. His imagination recalls the im- 
 age fresh from heaven, too pure to touch our earth, 
 or breathe an atmosphere so gross, but enveloped 
 in a fleecy cloud of heavenly element, buoyant with 
 purity, and deriving a pearly splendor from its 
 unearthly transparency. The smile with which it 
 vanished again beams upon him. He recollects 
 the thrill of pleasure, the exaltation of feeling, so 
 pure, so ennobling, so pervading, that he felt as if 
 all mind, and mind all refinement and ecstacy. 
 
 The next sentence — " I saw her just above the 
 horizon decorating and cheering the elevated sphere 
 she just began to move in, full of life and splendor 
 and joy;" may naturally suggest to us the orb of 
 day, decorating with his beams the loveliness of 
 nature in the freshness of early morn, or its inferior 
 only in splendor, shedding her more mild and be- 
 nign influence over some tranquil and enchanting 
 scene. And, with these scenes may be recalled 
 those moments, when their purifying and exhilera- 
 
OF LANGUAGE. 25 
 
 ting influence imparted vivacity and life, and the 
 animation around us, had its analogy in the gaiety 
 and joy within. Such are the phantasms, which 
 these few words may have summoned from the 
 shades of oblivion, and with magician power im- 
 parted distinctness to the misty shrouding of de- 
 parted feelings and forgotten scenes; and which in 
 again vanishing, have concentrated in one ideal, 
 and pictured the young queen before us as an an- 
 gel form of spotless purity — glowing with life — ra- 
 diant with joy — surrounded with splendor — impart- 
 ing ecstacy to all, and elevating and ennobling all 
 within the sphere of her influence. 
 
 One of the characteristic quahties of this mode 
 of expression is the rapidity to which it excites 
 thought; an obvious consequence of a multiplicity 
 of ideals being immediately made the objects of 
 our perceptions, without the usual circumlocution 
 of examining their relations through the medium of 
 terms. This rapidity is frequently still farther 
 accellerated by one set of expressions giving rise 
 to two trains of ideas. The one consisting of the 
 ideals and their wide spread associations, each of 
 which by the delicate mechanism of analogy, ex- 
 hibits the subject in some new position, sheds the 
 light of illustration upon it, or reproduces and adds 
 another ideal to the less expansive train which 
 bears it forward in its already illuminated path. 
 
 When we consider this eiFect of accellerated 
 mental excitement, and unite to it, that which aris- 
 
26 THE I.MPORTA^•CE 
 
 es from the power of calling up ideals or percep- 
 tions with all the vividness of reality, yet divested 
 of the modifying circumstances of real life, we 
 shall perceive that we have advanced far in the 
 discovery of the secret springs of poetic inspira- 
 tion — of the hidden sources of that mystic influ- 
 ence, which rolls upon us a tide of feelings, the 
 most exquisite and exalting, or acute and over- 
 whelming. 
 
 In the language of narration, our course is pre- 
 scribed by the order of events. 
 
 In the language of abstraction, each step is con- 
 trolled by the term of those which precede it. 
 They guide our reasoning. But as objects maybe 
 seen, and emotions felt, in any conceivable order 
 of succession, or without any order at all, so 
 ideals, their immediate representatives, may in 
 like manner be presented, and the poet discarding 
 these guides, may freely follow the dictates of his 
 fancy, till lost in the mazes which he has rapidly 
 threaded from one bright object to another; over- 
 powered by their dazzling influence; confused and 
 distracted by their multitudinous and disordered 
 assembla2;e, his excited feelings are wrought to a 
 state of incoherent energy, and he enjoys or suf- 
 fers a poetic frenzy. 
 
 The division or classification of language which 
 we have suggested, has its basis in the elements of 
 mind. I^Iemory is first supplied by observation, 
 
OF LANGUAGE. 27 
 
 with facts, from which both reason and imagination 
 draw their materials. Among these ideas, as ex- 
 pressed in the simple language of narration, the 
 reasoning faculty perceives many which are similar 
 in all respects, except tiiat each relates to a dis- 
 tinct object. It divests them of this distinction, 
 by substituting the same generic term in each and 
 thus embraces them all in one general proposition — 
 an abstract truth. It proceeds to form more in the 
 same manner, and by a proper combination of 
 these, to deduce others of a like character, or still 
 more condensed.* 
 
 Imagination on the other hand, avoiding those 
 which appear common from their similarity to many 
 others, seizes the more striking ideals, which inso- 
 lated and far removed from the limits of common 
 observation, unite the charms of novelty, with the 
 illusions of distance. It is her province of these 
 to form new" and beautiful combinations ; to present 
 them to our view -with the advantages which varied 
 light and shade can impart, and with the pleasing 
 
 * Thus : 
 Oxygen resists less than stone ^ Gases resist 
 
 Hydrogen resists less than stone V ,^g^ ^j^^^ ^,^^^ 
 Nitrogen resists less than stone nc. J 
 
 Water resists less than stone ^ Liquids resist 1 
 
 Oil resists less than stone V ,^^.^' ^j^^^ ^^^^^ j 
 
 Spirit resists less than stone kc. j -' 
 
 Fluids resist 
 
 [ Fluids resist less than stone ^ 
 I " " " " wood Fluids resist 
 
 !esE than stone-; ,, u .. << ^^,.^\, \ than solids 
 
 1^ " " " " iron &c. J 
 
28 THE IMPORTANCE 
 
 illustrations which refined analogies and associations 
 may bring to their aid. She thus introduces us to 
 an intimacy with those distant shadows of sentiment 
 and feeling, which have often flitted just within the 
 verge of our perceptions, but were never so dis- 
 tinctly pictured to our understanding. 
 
 Of these three divisions it may be said to be the 
 province of the first to suggest, of the second to 
 demonstrate and condense, and of the last to per- 
 ceive, to amplify, to illustrate, and adorn. To make 
 obvious these various effects, we have the language 
 of narration, which is the instrument of memory — 
 the language of abstraction, which is the engine of 
 the reasoning faculty; and the language of ideality, 
 which is the machinery of the imagination. 
 
 We have thus far made no distinction between 
 material objects and feeling, or in other words, be- 
 tween the external and internal objects of our con- 
 sciousness. It is obvious that the former interest 
 us only by their influence upon the latter. That 
 in real life, certain combinations of the one, pro- 
 duce certain states of the other, some of which the 
 language of narration has not power to describe. 
 To depict these — to again recall them in their na- 
 tive simplicity, or refined and improved by new 
 combinations, is the province of the poet. As a 
 means of effecting this, he makes use of the cir- 
 cumstances or the objects which produce them, or 
 of the associations which experience and observa- 
 
OF LANGUAGE. 29 
 
 tion have suggested. It is in thus avaiUng himself 
 of the principle of association, that he so often and 
 so happily alludes to the effect, (not unfrequently 
 the physiological effect,) of those feelings when 
 excited. Of this we have a fine illustration in the 
 expression — " All was still; still as the breathless 
 interval betwixt the flash and thunder." 
 
 To elicit these emotions in a happy manner, re- 
 quires a knowledge, not only of the niceties of lan- 
 guage, but of the intricate and delicate relations of 
 the feelings, united to a discriminating taste, which 
 while it perplexes not by obscurity^ neither wearies 
 attention by prolixity, nor offends the vanity by 
 being too minute. The poet must frequently give 
 only the prominent ideals, and leave the imagina- 
 tion to supply the rest. The reader will thus have 
 his faculties more excited; he will fill up the blanks 
 in a manner most agreeable to himself, and revel- 
 ling in what thus seems the creations of his own 
 fancy, he will cheerfully award the meed of praise 
 to that which has provoked him to thought, and 
 imparted to him the elevation of conscious power. 
 We may here remark that a little obscurity in ex- 
 pression, or ambiguity in terms, when so employed 
 as to concentrate, rather than distract attention, 
 may greatly assist this effect, and at the same time 
 repel the attention from the terms to the ideals, to 
 which they allow a greater latitude, but may still 
 in some measure control. 
 
 Extending the application of terms, and at the 
 ■ ■ ' 
 
30 THE IMPORTANCE 
 
 same time preventing ambiguity by a skilful arrange- 
 ment and other aids, constitutes an important por- 
 tion of the poet's art. It is this which enables him 
 happily to express, what others have only perceiv- 
 ed or felt. We may sometimes be led to fancy a 
 connexion between the undefined feelings and 
 thoughts which we have experienced, and vague 
 expressions which we meet with. Writers may 
 sometimes associate them in the same way, and 
 this reflection may illustrate the remark of a popu- 
 lar poet, that " when he wrote very fine, he did not 
 always expect to understand himself." In such 
 cases, the ideals, though perceived in a state of 
 high mental excitement, are probably indistinct, and 
 their associations with the terms used to indicate 
 them, rather accidental than conventional, or the 
 connexion with them so vague, so delicate, or so 
 remote, as not easily to be traced by the writer 
 himself. In some instances this would be the ut- 
 most limit of his art; thought penetrating so far that 
 he could find no adequate means of pourtraying it. 
 In other cases it might be but the false glare of po- 
 etry — an abuse of that latitude which the poet must 
 always be allowed in the use of language. 
 
 Though the activity to which the mind is excited 
 by poetic description, obviates the necessity of be- 
 ing minute, and often makes even common precis- 
 ion tedious, yet when the subject is either suffi- 
 ciently absorbing or important, the poet may pre- 
 sent in quick succession, each separate feature of a 
 
OF LANGUAGE. 31 
 
 particular ideal until the whole is completely de- 
 veloped, and fixed in the mind with all the circum- 
 stances of reality, or he may dwell only on those 
 delicate and shadowy characteristics, which recall- 
 ing the more obvious, complete the picture and 
 make it equally perfect and distinct. Such is that 
 description of Byron's, where the image is that of 
 lifeless beauty and its apposite analogy, fallen 
 Oreece. • '. 
 
 " He who hath bent him o'er the dead. 
 
 E'er the first day of death has fled. 
 
 The first dark day of nothingness, 
 
 The last of danger and distress, 
 
 (Before decay's efl^acing fingers . ,■ 
 
 Have swept the lines where beauty lingers,) 
 
 And mark'd the mild angelic air. 
 
 The rapture of repose that's there, ' " ■" 
 
 The fix'd yet tender traits that streak 
 
 The languor of the placid cheek. 
 
 And — but for that sad shrouded eye, 
 
 That fires not, wins not, weeps not, now. 
 
 And but for that chill, changeless brow, 
 Where cold obstruction's apathy, . . ■ 
 
 Appals the gazing mourner's heart, 
 As if to him it could impart ■ . 
 
 The doom he dreads, yet dwells upon ; 
 Yes but for these, and these alone, 
 Some moments, ay, one treacherous hour, 
 He still might doubt the tyrant's power ; 
 So fair, so calm, so softly seal'd, 
 The first last look by death reveal'd! 
 Such is the aspect of this shore; 
 'Tis Greece, but living Greece no more! 
 So coldly sweet, so deadly fair. 
 We start, for soul is wanting there. 
 Hers is the loveliness in death, 
 flj^' parts not quite with parting breath ; 
 
 >T 
 
32 POETRY AND LOVE. 
 
 But beauty with that fearful bloom, 
 
 Tliat hue that haunts it to the tomb, • 
 
 Expression's last receding ray, 
 
 A gilded halo hovering round decay ,-^- 
 
 The farewell beam of feeling pasit away! 
 
 Spark of tliat flame, perchance of heavenly birth, 
 
 Which gleams, but warms no more its cherished earth!" 
 
 It is not our intention to attempt an analysis of 
 the various artifices by which the pleasure arising 
 from poetry is increased, and the allusion we have 
 just made, to one of the master spirits of the art, 
 and tlie recollection of his poetic history, has op- 
 portunely reminded us of the connexion between 
 poetry and love. A connexion so universally be- 
 lieved, and believed to be so universal, that it has 
 been doubted whether any one ever truly felt the 
 latter, without some disposition also to the former. 
 All — no, not all — the heart which has been petri- 
 fied by avarice or corrupted by vice, whose senti- 
 ment and vitality are destroyed, may resist, or 
 rather, not feel its power. But the most abstract, 
 reasoner is not proof against it — the coldest math- 
 ematician, or the yet colder metaphysician, yields 
 to its genial influence. Suddenly affected in a man- 
 ner which he deems unaccountable; it is to him as 
 though some law of nature had varied from its uni- 
 formity. Unaccustomed to such freaks of the im- 
 agination, he is unskilled in controlling them. In- 
 stead of being governed. by his judgment, he seems 
 impelled by some invisible agency, and the power 
 of mystery is thus united to the spell of enchant- 
 
POETRY AND LOVE. 33 
 
 ment. His previous discipline of mind and accus- 
 tomed scrutiny of its action, serve only to heighten 
 his surprise, and to increase the difficulty of a ra- 
 tional solution. The more he contemplates it, the 
 stranger and more pecuhar his case appears. Not 
 doubting that he had before known all the qualities 
 of the human mind, he is ready to ascribe this new 
 influence to a supernatural cause, and if such avis- 
 ion as we have before endeavored to sketch, should 
 meet his wondering gaze, he may imagine — yes, 
 imagine himself under the care of a guardian angel 
 — a generous spirit which has suddenly imparted to 
 him an elevation of soul, purity of sentiment, and 
 delicacy of feeling never before vouchsafed to mor- 
 tal. All the terms by which other men might in 
 some degree express their emotions, are to him cold 
 abstractions; he has already appropriated them — he 
 has before located and limited their significations 
 with a rigorous accuracy and precision which ren- 
 der them inapplicable to a new and expanded feel- 
 ing. How then is he to express himself? The 
 language of ideahty is his only resource, and is nat- 
 urally adopted, for his warm imaginings are primi- 
 tive perceptions for which he knows no conven* 
 tional signs. The solitude of his feelings finds re- 
 lief in the objects around him, for all nature speaks 
 jhe silent eloquence of love. Purified and exalted, 
 those feehngs are as inspirations from heaven, and 
 he takes pleasure in tracing their resemblances to 
 other manifestations of the source of all His em0'= 
 
34 POETRY AND LOVE. 
 
 tions are too strong to be repressed; too etherial to 
 find utterance in the common forms of discourse; 
 too highly prized to be lessened by such diffusion. 
 Throughout the worlds of matter and of mind, he sees 
 the beautifui, the delicate, the grand, the vague, 
 and tlie infinite, with quickened powers of vision. 
 He delights to dwell on the analogies they present, 
 and in tracing out the metaphors they suggest. He 
 is treading on enchanted ground. He feels the 
 force of those invisible links which unite the spir- 
 itual with the material world. Those mysterious 
 associations, by which the most etherial modes of 
 ideality are connected with external forms and ap- 
 pearances, are shadowed out before him. He com- 
 pares the emotions of his heart to all that is glow- 
 ing and ardent, and the object of his affections to 
 ail that is pure and lovely in nature. He is thus 
 introduced to the region of poetry, and his unskil- 
 ful efforts in the use of its appropriate language of- 
 ten makes him appear ridiculous. Added to this, 
 he is acting under an excitement not imparted to 
 those around him, and under circumstances, for 
 which deductions from the past, furnish him with 
 no rule of conduct. He has already questioned the 
 omnipotence of reason, and doubts the integrity of 
 the magnet which has been his guide on the ocean 
 of life. Unaccustomed to steer by chance, he acts 
 either with that embarrassed indecision or restless 
 energy, which has given rise to the assertion, that 
 jthe most sensible men are the greatest fools in love. 
 
POETRY AND LOVE. 35 
 
 (The assertion would perhaps be more just if Um- 
 ited to men of the greatest reasoning powers.) His 
 mind., however, crowded by a rapid flow of ideals, 
 seeks relief in a corresponding flow of words, and 
 when these in their turn become too impetuous, or 
 make harsh discord with thoughts attuned to love, 
 he instinctively opposes to their vehemence the ar- 
 tificial obstacles of metre and rhyme, or seeks by 
 this harmony of arrangement, to make tliem con- 
 sonant with feehngs which fill his whole soul with 
 music. It is then the language of ideality or po- 
 etry in its usual garb. Would it be wonderful if a 
 man thus suddenly metamorphosed, should question 
 his identity.'' or, that with the habit of reasoning 
 still left him, he should argue that he wlio was once 
 proof to the charms of poetry and the fascinations of 
 music — who would turn from the loveliest of na- 
 tures scenery to examine a triangle of a sophism, 
 could not have been the same person as he who is 
 now warbling rhymes, and feasting his imagination 
 with objects before unnoticed or unknown? 
 
 Accustomed ev'ry thought to prove. 
 And by fix'd rules each feeling try — 
 He might ascribe it all to love, 
 But cannot find a reason why. ^ 
 
 ■■ ' ■'■*•»•■ 
 
 ..V ,^ 
 
36 " POETIC LANGUAGE. 
 
 Poetry, which term we now use as synony- 
 mous with the language of ideaUty, has only a re- 
 mote and vaguely defined connexion with words 
 as generally used, which renders it difficult, if not 
 impossible, for the poet to teach to others the 
 knowledge of his art. Perhaps he himself does 
 not often analyze the process to which he is indebt- 
 ed for his inspirations, but even when he is fully 
 acquainted with it, the want of a direct and imme- 
 diate connexion with the usual modes of commu- 
 nication, will present a serious obstacle to his im- 
 parting the secret of his power. 
 
 In the language of narration, the teacher may in- 
 form his pupil of the arbitrary but conventional 
 connexion between the terms and the things signi- 
 fied. Or he may explain to him the necessary re- 
 lations between the terms expressing the premises, 
 the intermediate steps, and the conclusion of an 
 abstract argument; and so instruct him that he may 
 apply terms in a similar manner. But he who 
 would seek an explanation of poetic imagery, or 
 any other form of the language of ideality, must 
 consult his own feelings, and his facility in under- 
 standing it, will depend on the care which he has 
 bestowed on these germs and vines of thought, 
 ^vhich in cultivated fertility and vigour put forth 
 
POETIC LANGUAGE. 37 
 
 numberless tendrils, uniting them all by these deli- 
 cate, elastic, invisible twinings, in one inseparable, 
 tangled, yet free and flowing exuberance. Who 
 for instance, that had never known the mingled 
 emotions of suspense and awe, or some analogous 
 sensation, could understand what was meant by 
 the "breathless interval betwixt the flash and thun- 
 der." The expression "breathless interval" would 
 be to him perfectly unmeaning. And suppose we 
 should attempt to enlighten him. We might tell 
 him that the phenomenon alluded to, sometimes 
 caused a momentary suspension of respiration. 
 Our pupil would no doubt be astonished at the fact, 
 would hold his breath, and thus get the new idea, 
 that lightning sometimes produced an unpleasant 
 feeling of oppression about the region of the lungs, 
 which he would probably ascribe to the effect of 
 electricity. We would still strive to rectify his 
 mistake, and to explain to him the corresponding 
 emotions of the mind; but here, after exhausting 
 all the appropriate terms which common language 
 can supply, we should find that there were some of 
 those emotions for which it had no appellatives, 
 and which no appellatives could signify to one in 
 whose mind they had not been impressed by ex- 
 perience or analogy; or which at. least they could 
 not shadow forth with all their delicate charac- 
 teristics and finer influences. Here of course, 
 our illustrations would fail — but to the initiated, 
 the expression "breathless interval" calls up all 
 that may have been felt from the occurrence 
 
38 LANGUAGE 
 
 of the reality. It accommodates itself to the 
 actual feelings, and is equally applicable to the 
 strong and vivid emotions of the one, or the weak 
 and glimmering sensations of another. Such ex- 
 pressions call up in each tlie thoughts, the feelings, 
 the unexpressed and unexpressible ideals they have 
 respectively realized, or would realize, if the occa- 
 sions, which the fancy of the poet has depicted, 
 were in their reahty presented to them. 
 
 If these considerations give us some idea of the 
 language of ideality, they also suggest that it has 
 its source in the deepest recesses of mind, and 
 springs from the feelings which stir and quicken the 
 soul, and the aspirations which lead it forward into 
 the infinite — that the cultivation of them always 
 eUcits it, and that being thus the attribute of the 
 inherent and imperishable properties of the soul, 
 or the consequence of their improvement, it must 
 continue with it in its every state of existence. It 
 may be objected that this consideration is leading 
 us beyond the proper limits of philosophical re- 
 search. But some glimmering rays still light our 
 path. 
 
 Does temptation assail us, the gratification which 
 is to be the result of error is presented to our 
 thoughts, and so absorbs our attention, that we 
 turn not to observe the more remote and less daz- 
 zling consequences. If reason has time to trace 
 them all in the language of abstraction, or if ideali- 
 ty delineates the whole picture, the illusion is dis- 
 pelled. 
 
OF FUTURITY. 39 
 
 Does virtue prompt us to a good and generous 
 act, she calls to her aid the very feelings which 
 are to reward it. 
 
 The application of these facts to our argument 
 must be obvious to all who believe in communica- 
 tions from the spirits of another world, and espec- 
 ially to those who also believe, that some of those 
 spirits have the will and the power to thwart the 
 designs of Deity, and from the creation of the 
 world, have maintained a not altogether unsuccess- 
 ful strife with Omnipotence — for the mastery of 
 man. To at least a portion of these, the facts we 
 have mentioned, may appear clearly to lead us to 
 the conclusion, that the language of ideality in its 
 purest form, is the language of the higher orders of 
 intelligence. To others it may still appear a vis- 
 ionary speculation, a baseless hypothesis, or vague 
 conjecture. But far as it evidently is beyond the 
 reach of rigid demonstration, permit us for a mo- 
 ment to examine its probability. 
 
 The hypothesis that death annuls all conscious- 
 ness of our present state of existence, and all the 
 mental qualities here possessed, involves that of 
 annihilation. Or to suppose that it destroys the 
 consciousness of its present state, while the qual- 
 ities of mind are still retained, is supposing what is 
 exactly equivalent to the extinction of one soul and 
 the creation of a new one of the same material or 
 essence. A moment's consideration will convince 
 us of the correctness of this position, from which 
 
40 LANGUAGE OF 
 
 we may fairly infer that the soul in its separate state 
 retains the qualities and properties it here possess- 
 es, and the consciousness of having here enjoyed 
 them. Analogy too, clearly indicates that the fac- 
 ulties which we have here t)een perfecting should 
 not be lost. Nature is always more careful even 
 of what is much less precious than intellect and 
 moral feeling. Retaining then these qualities, and 
 having this remembrance of the past, is it not ex- 
 ceedingly probable that some of the same sources 
 of enjoyment which have here contributed to their 
 happiness, must continue to constitute a portion of 
 the felicity of the future? Now one of the most 
 pure and vmalloyed gratifications arises from the im- 
 provement of our intellectual and moral qualities by 
 advancing in knowledge. We all know how much 
 this is accelerated by communion with each other, 
 and yet how much it is retarded by the ambiguity 
 and inefficiency of words. So much is this the case 
 that many sciences are now only advanced by first 
 advancing language so as to improve the means of 
 thought and enable a number of kindred minds to 
 communicate their views and concentrate their 
 power on the spme point. But even when success 
 has crowned their efforts by the discovery of some 
 new truth, how slowly is it diffused — how long be- 
 fore it enlightens the public mind. The language 
 of mathematics is undoubtedly the most explicit, 
 and best adapted to its subject of any which we 
 possess, and yet the controversy among the cotem- 
 
OF FUTURITY. 41 
 
 poraries of Newton shows us that there was one of 
 his discoveries* ui that science, the reasoning of 
 which was pronounced fallacious by mathematicians 
 of acknowledged learning and acuteness, and which 
 very few of its no less learned supporters then clear- 
 ly understood, but which, from the improvement in 
 the modes of illustration, is now made familiar to 
 school boys. But generations passed away before 
 it admitted of being thus easily imparted and un- 
 derstood, and in sciences with a less perfect adap- 
 tation of language, the diffusion of truth in the high- 
 er departments is still slower. 
 
 If from what we before advanced, it appears prob- 
 able that there will be some mode of communion 
 hereafter, does it not now seem equally probable, 
 that in that more perfect state, this obstacle to our 
 improvement will be guarded against — that we shall 
 there possess a means of social intercourse free 
 from ambiguity — that the pleasure of advancement 
 will be increased by its consequent accelleration-— 
 that when deprived of the material organs, words 
 and signs will no longer be employed — in a word, 
 that the language of ideality, which a partial im- 
 provement of our faculties has here elicited, will 
 then be so perfected, that terms will be entirely 
 dispensed with, and thought be there communicated 
 without the intervention of any medium to distort 
 its meaning, or sully its brightness — that ideas will 
 
 * Fluxions. 
 
 D 
 
42 LANGUAGE 
 
 there flow directly from mind to mind, and tiie sou! 
 be continually exhilerated by breathing a pure con- 
 genial atmosphere, inhahng feeling, poetry, and 
 knowledge. 
 
 This conjecture derives a further plausibility, 
 from the consideration that our present language 
 seems especially adapted to things material, that in 
 the purely physical sciences we can communicate 
 ideas with great accuracy and precision — that the 
 difficulty of doing this increases in proportion as our 
 feelings and the qualities of mind enter into the sub- 
 ject to which we endeavor to apply it, and when 
 they become exclusively its objects, it almost en- 
 tirely fails. Poetry has accomplished much more 
 than the other forms in pourtraying the pas&ions, 
 sentiments, and all the more striking and compli- 
 cated mental phenomena, but even that has shed but 
 a feeble light over a small portion of this interest- 
 ing field of research, or in bright but fitful gleams, 
 shovvii the undefined vastness not yet explored. — 
 Our present language, then, is wholly inadequate to 
 a subject which of all others must most interest a 
 world of spirits, as if it were intended only to carry 
 us to the point from which we are thence to start- — 
 to give us a glimpse of the infinite regions which 
 imagination has not yet traversed — the exhaustless 
 sources of thought which mind still possesses, while 
 the language of ideality has here accomplished just 
 enough in the exhibition of the subjects of our in- 
 ternal consciousness^ to assure us that it also pos- 
 
OF FUTURITY. 43 
 
 sesses the elements of a power, which when ma- 
 tured, may become the fitting instrument to gather 
 the treasures of that unexplored immensity. But 
 may we not go farther? — may we not say that w"e 
 have even here a foretaste, or at least a nearer ap- 
 proach to this angelic pleasure? Have we not wit- 
 nessed the soul in all its purity and vigor, throwing 
 off the trammels which words impose on its highest 
 action, and, as if anticipating its conscious destiny, 
 in a transport of impassioned thought and feeling, 
 almost entirely discarding the usual mode of ex- 
 pressing them, when the eloquence of the eye an- 
 ticipates the tongue, when every feature kindles 
 with emotion, and the whole countenance is as a 
 transparency lighted with its glowing conceptions? 
 It is then that terms are most nearly dispensed with, 
 and it is in this sympathetic -mingling of thought and 
 sentiment that we enjoy the purest poetry which 
 warms the soul in its earthly tabernacle. Those 
 who have known the raptures of such converse and 
 have felt its exalting influence, will regard it as 
 worthy a place in a higher sphere, and be willing 
 to admit it to their most entrancing reveries ofely- 
 sian bliss. Does not this view lend a delightful 
 confirmation to our hypothesis? but the argument 
 derives yet additional strength from the considera- 
 tion that this faculty, this power of silent yet vivid 
 expression, seems somewhat proportioned to moral 
 excellence, or increases as the spiritual predomin- 
 ates over the material part of our natures — that in 
 
44 Language 
 
 most men it is at best but dimly visible — that in 
 those of the finer grade of intellect, whose feelings 
 have been cultivated, whose purity has never been 
 sullied by corroding care and ignoble pursuits, nor 
 tlieir sensibility blunted by too rude collision with 
 the world, it becomes more apparent; while in the 
 sex of finer mould, who are elevated above these 
 degrading influences — whose feelings are more pure 
 • — whose sentiments are more refined — and whose 
 spirits are more etherial, it manifests itself with a 
 softened splendor, to which that of angels, may well 
 be supposed, only another step in the scale of a mag- 
 nificent progression. It is to the superiority which 
 woman has in this expressive language; to her com- 
 mand of this direct avenue to the finer feelings, that 
 we must attribute her influence in refining and soft- 
 ening the asperities of our nature. And it is owing 
 to the possession of this element of moral elevation, 
 that while the finest and strongest reasoning of phy- 
 losophy has, in this respect, accomplished so httlo, 
 that woman has accomplished so much. She pos- 
 sesses not the strength w^hich has been exhibited by 
 some masculine minds, nor perhaps even the bril- 
 liancy which has emanated from others; but the 
 influence which they respectively exert on society 
 appears in strange disproportion to the apparent 
 causes. The one is as the sun which sheds his 
 strong beams upon the waters and the waves proud- 
 ly reflect his dazzling brilliancy; the other as the 
 moon, whose milder light melts into the ocean | 
 
OF FUTllRITY. 45 
 
 glows through all its depths; heaves its mighty bor 
 som, and elevates it above its common level. 
 
 The refined subtleties of an Aristotle, or the 
 glowing sublimities of a Plato, though presented to 
 us with all the fascinations of a high-toned morality, 
 and clothed in the imposing grandeur of a lofty and 
 commanding eloquence, are dim and powerless to 
 that effusion of soul, that seraphic fervor, which 
 with a glance unlocks the avenues to our tender- 
 ness, which chides our errors with a tear, or win- 
 ning us to virtue with the omnipotence of a charm, 
 irradiates its path with the beaming eye, and cheers 
 it with the approving smile of loveliness. And 
 hence too it is, that the degree in which this influ- 
 ence is felt, and its source appreciated, is justly 
 considered as the test of civilization and refine- 
 ment. Is there not in this mild, gentle, silent, per- 
 suasive, yet dissolving and resistless influence, a 
 charm which bears witness to its celestial charac- 
 ter? Do we not recognize in it a similarity to that 
 of heaven, and if we have ascribed itto its prop- 
 er cause, does not this similarity at once stamp our 
 speculation, if not with the seal of a moral cer- 
 tainty, at least with the impress of a cheering prob- 
 ability? ' ' 
 
 It is apparent that such a language as we have 
 endeavored to pourtray as thai of a future state, 
 would embrace that of narration, and thus to the 
 imagination unite memory and its pre-requisites, 
 observation and attention. But we are aware that 
 
46 "LANGUAGE 
 
 a difficulty may here occur to the metaphysician, 
 and that others may be ready to inquire how some 
 of these views can be reconciled with what we be- 
 fore asserted of the necessity of the language of ab- 
 straction in advancing knowledge. To the latter 
 we would observe, that it is principally in the phys- 
 ical and intellectual sciences that this language is so 
 indispensible, and we have already labored to show 
 that it does not hold the first place as a means of 
 moral culture. But to both we would urge, that 
 the necessity of the language of abstraction arises 
 from the weakness and imperfection of our present 
 faculties. That if we could conceive of generals 
 — of a whole species as we do of an individual of 
 that species, and retain distinctly a long series and 
 combination of them^ it would be useless as a means 
 of thinking. Our weakness only, obliges us to use 
 symbols accurately defined, and which being con- 
 densed, are easily embraced by our limited powers. 
 To obviate this necessity, it may at first be sup- 
 posed that a new faculty must be given us. But 
 we beheve that even this hypothesis may be dis- 
 pensed with, and in lieu of it w^ould suggest that if 
 the faculty of attention were so disciplined and im- 
 proved, that when we considered the image of any 
 species, we could at pleasure and with ease direct 
 that faculty only to the characteristics which belong 
 to all the species, and divest the idea of those which 
 distinguish it from the same species, it would be 
 precisely what is now gained by the substitution of 
 
OF FUTURITY. 47 
 
 terms for abstracted qualities. It would be free 
 from those incidental associations, which produce 
 error when they enter into the elements of a gen- 
 eral result. And is it too much to suppose that 
 when no longer engaged in the dissipating cares of 
 this life, nor surrounded by the distracting influen- 
 ces of the material world, our power of attention 
 should become so perfected, that we could then 
 discover the relations among our perceptions with- 
 out being obliged first to express them in abstract 
 terms, and the language of abstraction and all the 
 power which it imparts be thus merged in that of 
 ideality. 
 
 They are then all united. Let us for a moment 
 endeavor to form some idea of this combination, 
 from the consideration of its distinct elements. 
 
 We have already remarked that observation, 
 through the medium of memory, furnishes the ma- 
 terials for both the reasoning and the imaginative 
 faculties, — ^and we may further remark, that with- 
 out a sufficiency of the solid realities which it sup- 
 plies, the first would expend itself on chimerical 
 and illusive theories, and the latter on weak and 
 vapid conceits. There evidently is, in the union 
 of ideality and abstraction, or to speak of the fac- 
 ulties instead of their means or mode of action, in 
 imagination and reasoning combined, a peculiar 
 adaptation to the advancement of knowledge. The 
 one supplies the deficiency of the other. Imagin- 
 ,ation, by her superior quickness and greater reach. 
 
48 LANGUAGE 
 
 extends her flight far beyond the hmits to which 
 science has extended her empire. She penetrates 
 and pervades the wilderness of the unknown, and 
 frequently catches the first glimmering of truth, or 
 shadows out the yet dubious relations between the 
 most remote ideas, long before the approach of 
 slower paced reason, and thus guides her on the 
 way, and facilitates her progress to more certain 
 discoveries. It was thus that the poet first point- 
 ed to the position of a twinkling star, whose ray 
 sent forth at creation's birth, had not yet reached 
 the eye of grovelling mortals, the probable exist- 
 ence of which, astronomy has since put forth the 
 powers of abstraction to demonstrate. 
 
 The language of ideality is perfect in proportion 
 to the facilities which it gives for portraying 
 thoughts in their hicipient state. By resorting to 
 its various expedients, the poet exhibits casual and 
 even indistinct associations as they exist in his own 
 mind, which finding place in other minds, and 
 brightening in their course, result in truths confirm- 
 ed by common opinion or observed experience. — 
 These associations, when traced out, are often found 
 to depend on some real, though perhaps before un- 
 noticed connexion, the discovery of which is thus 
 added to the common stock of knowledge. 
 
 In the following instance we are made to associ- 
 ate crime and misery, by having them presented to 
 
OF FUTURITY. 49 
 
 our mental vision, shrouded in the same intellectual 
 brightness. 
 
 " His intellect so bright, that it could shed 
 A lustre o'er tlie darkest deeds of crime; 
 So dazzling bright that it at once could dim 
 The sight of mortals, and from human gaze, 
 ^nsAroutZ the misery itself produced." 
 
 We are aware that it .is now too late to treat the 
 connexion of crime and misery as a truth in the po- 
 etic stage of knowledge. It has advanced nearer to 
 the sphere of certainty, and we offer this instance, 
 only as an illustration of one of the modes in which 
 such truths first find utterance, and finally becomes 
 embodied in the generally admitted maxims or sci- 
 entific theorem of succeeding generations. It is thus 
 that the imagination is continually extending the 
 vague boundary of the circle of speculative science, 
 while abstraction is as constantly following it up, by 
 advancing the limits of probability and extending the 
 less distant verge of demonstration. United, they 
 enlarge the sphere of knowedge, fill it with the gran- 
 deur and magnificence of truth, and throw around 
 it a garniture of all that is beautiful and sublime in 
 the ideal. These faculties are seldom found united 
 in a high degree of perfection in the same individual, 
 but we hope we have already made it appear at least 
 possible, that the obstacles to their union here, are 
 obviated in the hereafter; that the unshackled spirit 
 may there possess a quickened observation, fur- 
 nishing an exhaustless supply of the new and won- 
 derful, on which reason forms the sparkling brii- 
 
50 LANGUAGE 
 
 liancy of demonstration, and an active and versatile 
 imagination adorns with the effulgence of poetic 
 imagery, culled from creation's vast expanse. And 
 thus by their combined influence, every idea would 
 be presented with the vividness of fancy, the cohe- 
 rence of reality, and the certainty of demonstra- 
 tion, and imparted with all its primitive fullness and 
 splendor. That there, the same individual may 
 unite concentrated attention, which like perfect 
 vision observes all around it, whh an im.agination, 
 whose telescopic glance reveals the most distant 
 mysteries of nature's amplitudes," and a power of 
 reasoning bringing all to the test of microscopical 
 examination. What a combination! What a man- 
 ifold fitness of purpose! What a power is thus 
 presented! It mcreases while we contemplate it. 
 It expands while with our feeble faculties we strive 
 to grasp it, until it seems co-extensive with that 
 boundless region which is to be the theatre of its 
 action, and its limits elude the eye, in the shades 
 of infinity. 
 
 The phenomena of sleep may elucidate the effect 
 which we have ascribed to the abstraction of spirit 
 from material influences. It may, in all that re- 
 lates to ^our argument, be considered as a partial 
 death, which abstracts us from the realities of sense, 
 which shuts out the physical world, and the atten- 
 tion being thus freed from the distracting influence 
 of surrounding objects, acquire a concentration of 
 
OF FUTURITY. ' 51 
 
 energy, giving us that command of the processes 
 of ideahty, which imparts such unearthly vividness 
 to our dreams. The connexion between reason 
 and imagination is not yet sufficiently complete; we 
 are not sufficiently habituated to dealing with ideals 
 so completely detatched from signs and reality; 
 some of the faculties necessary to a perfect action 
 are dormant; and incoherence and error are very 
 frequently the consequence,* but the great activity 
 
 *The apparent incoherence of dreams, is probably very much ex- 
 aggerated, by our viewing them as abstract operations of the mind. 
 Knowing that our senses are at the time inert, we very naturally class 
 them with tliose mental exercises, which we are accustomed to pursue 
 with the least reference to sensation, and suppose they should be cou' 
 nected by the same laws of association as govern this class of our wak- 
 ing thoughts. These failing to account for their singular combination, 
 they eppear mysterious, but the difficulty will in very many instances 
 be removed, if we look upon tliem as imitations of the effect of sensa- 
 tion or ideal, which the increased vigor of the imagination, arising 
 from causes already explained, enables it to produce with great celeri- 
 ty. When we class them with abstraction, we state tliem in terms, 
 audin the relations of these terms, seek the associations by which one 
 idea has been made to follow another. In this we are of course baf- 
 fled, but objects, events, emotions, or their immediate representative, 
 ideals, maj accrue in any conceivable order of succession, and in our 
 waking reveries, are sometimes recalled with scarcely less incongrui- 
 ty, than tliey assume in dreams. In dreaming', these are sometimes 
 mingled with trains of abstraction, which being expressed in terms, 
 produce a heterogeneous mass of reasoning and imagery, the atten^ 
 tion often oscillating between the two, so that in the order in which 
 they occur, they appear in strange confusion, when if separated into 
 two distinct trains, the one might assume the form of abstiaction, and 
 the other be within the usual limits of ideality. It is possible tliat 
 when we dream of using terms (of reading for instance) that we do 
 not always do it, the ideas, the manner, the sensations, incident to 
 reading, al! taking the form of ideals. However this may be, it can- 
 
62 LANGUAGE 
 
 of the mind, the facihty with which it accompHshes 
 many intellectual operations, and the unwonted vig- 
 or of its perceptions during this temporary suspen- 
 sion, may assist us to some faint idea of what a more 
 perfect alienation from all that is material may ef- 
 fect. 
 
 There is a pleasant mode of investigation which 
 the mind often resorts to, in the form of ideal con- 
 versations with absent friends. We conceive them 
 present, state our own views and imagine what they 
 would reply. From the knowledge which we have 
 acquired of their intellectual habits, we adopt sim- 
 ilar modes, and endeavor to get into the same chan- 
 nels of thought which they would pursue. We fol- 
 low them to their conclusions, and modify our own 
 accordingly. The advantages which result from 
 
 not be doubted that this element preponderates in our dreams; and 
 hence the effect of applying the rigid laws of narration or abstraction 
 to this poetic mode of mind. Many of our waking reveries, and some 
 written poetry would not bear the application of such a test. The 
 following instance is selected as one of the most common and sim- 
 ple forms of what may be called incoherent dreams. 
 
 The narrator dreamed that he was settling a mercantile account. 
 Having completed the additions he said the balance is two hundred 
 dollars, to which I must add the interest— all the angles of a triangle 
 are equal to two right angles, which makes the balance just two hun- 
 dred and twelve dollars. He awoke wondering what the theorem had 
 to do with the balance of the account. But when awake, the pres- 
 enceof a geometrical work open at this iheorem, might have forced it 
 on his attention, between the premises which he had stated, and the 
 conclusion vihirh he had in view. Had an ideal of any object usually 
 connected with accounts thus presented itself, its intrusion might 
 liave passed unnoticed, or as no more than a common and natural oc- 
 cwrence. 
 
OF FUTURIXr. OO 
 
 this practice are like those which arise from the 
 actual interchange of sentiments and opinions with 
 the persons supposed to be present. We are led 
 to view the subject in various aspects, and feel, to 
 a sufficient extent, the excitement which usually 
 arises from real conversations upon subjects and 
 with individuals of our choice. In sleep — that 
 state which most nearly approaches to that of 
 death, and in which the spirit acts most independ- 
 ently of external circumstances, this power of 
 adopting the thoughts of our friends is so greatly 
 increased, that we hardly suspect it of being the 
 same which we exert in our waking reveries. 
 How often in our dreams are we surprised by the 
 turns given to the current of our thoughts, by a 
 remark, which we imagine comes from some one 
 present. Sometimes when dreaming that we are 
 engaged in argument, and when we suppose we 
 have demonstrated our position, we find our con- 
 fidence shaken by some new view, or some argu- 
 ment thus presented, so suddenly and so unexpect- 
 ed, that it seems impossible that it should have had 
 its origin in our own minds. It seems strange 
 that our own thought should come thus unexpected- 
 ly upon us. But we are sometimes no less surprised 
 by a new view suddenly occurring to us when 
 iawake; and that which takes place in dreaming, is 
 but a new view to which we have been led by im- 
 agining how another would look at it. 
 
 These views, and the terms in which they are 
 
 E 
 
54 LANGUAGE 
 
 expressed in our dreams, are strikingly true to the 
 modes of thought and expression usually adopted 
 by the persons to whom we impute them, and 
 while in many instances, if we had met with them 
 when awake, \:e should without hesitation have 
 ascribed them to the same individuals, we are 
 struck with the fact, that they are widely different 
 from our own accustomed modes. 
 
 Such dreams present another phenomenon still 
 more rema:rkable and mysterious. In some in- 
 stances we do not immediately understand the con- 
 nexion of the argument, which we think we have 
 heard from the lips of another, with the subject un- 
 der discussion. The question arises, how could 
 we have ourselves framed the argument without 
 having perceived the connexion. Is it that the 
 views which we thus perceive through the optics of 
 another, flit before us as our own waking thoughts 
 sometimes do, without our being able to arrest 
 them — that w^e get a glimpse of an idea and of its 
 application to the subject, then lose it, and are 
 obliged to re-examine before we can again per- 
 ceive it? ■ We confess that this is not a sufficient 
 explanation of all the facts of this kind, within our 
 knowledge, and we apprehend that most persons 
 will be able to call to mind some for which it does 
 not furnish a satisfactory solution. But that the 
 mind has a power by which it can in some degree 
 avail itself of the aid of those which are absent — 
 by which though it cannot perceive their thoughts^ 
 
OF FUTURITi'. 55 
 
 it can determine what they probably would think if 
 the subject were presented to them; and that this 
 power is manifested in a much higher degree in 
 that state of mind which approaches most nearly 
 to that of its separate condition, appears to us, to 
 indicate the existence of a latent faculty or sympa- 
 thy, by which in a more perfect state, each mind 
 may avail itself of the thoughts of others without 
 the medium of terms. 
 
 Will it still be said that this is but an empty 
 speculation, liaving no practical application. To 
 us it seems to bear. upon a subject of great impor- 
 tance, and one in which all must feel an interest. 
 We regard it as a ray of light gilding the closing 
 scenes of life, and dimly revealing a connexion 
 with that future, where we delight to group aU that 
 ideality pictures as lovely or ennobhng, and where 
 we expect to realize these visions of pure felicity, 
 which a partial cultivation of our spiritual nature, 
 has here shown to be congenial to its highest de- 
 velopement. But how few even of such natures, 
 contemplate these delightful anticipations unalloyed 
 with painful apprehension. 
 
 The isolated paradise they gazo upon is beauti- 
 ful, but appears to be surrounded by a troubled and 
 unfathomable abyss. It is the distance at which 
 they locate it, and the dark mystery which super- 
 stition has thrown around it, which fills them with 
 gloomy forebodings. Whatever then has a tenden- 
 cy to destroy ibis illusion and exhibit, however ob- 
 
56 LANGUAGE OF 
 
 scurely, the channels by which the present flows 
 into the future, gives confidence to hope and dis- 
 arms death of doubt and despair. Such we be- 
 heve to be the effect of contemplating the nature, 
 and observing the influence of the purer forms of 
 ideality. 
 
 On this subject we apprehend that much error 
 prevails. However highly wrought the popular 
 notions of the future may be, they are generally of 
 that vague and unsettled character, which produce 
 little or no practical influence. They interest only 
 those feelings which are acted upon by the power 
 of mystery, and even the virtuous shrink from it 
 as from a dreaded unknown. This is indeed to 
 them an empty speculation, having no higher influ- 
 ence on their thoughts thanbaseless visions of hope 
 or fear can produce. But it is such views as the 
 one we have endeavored to exhibit, which gives 
 this airy nothing a local habitation in our hearts, 
 which turns the illusion into reality and bodies it 
 forth in all its brightness, which extends our thoughts 
 and our affections there and attaches to it all the 
 interest of a future home, and identifies it with all 
 the glowing anticipations and noble aspirations of 
 the soul — which enables us to see the connexion 
 between our present and future existence as clearly 
 as we perceive that between youth and age, and to 
 estimate the influence of the one upon the other, 
 with as much certainty as the boy can anticipate 
 the effect of youthful virtue and exertion on his fu- 
 
OF FUTURITY 
 
 tiire manhood; and it is the extension of such views 
 that can dissipate the gloom which hangs over the 
 entrance to futurity, and so strip death of its mys- 
 terious terrors, that we shall view it only as an 
 event in the life of the soul, which increases its, 
 vigor and introduces it to a higher field of action. 
 h will appear as little more than a line in the path 
 of our advancement, marking our entrance into an- 
 other and a better territory, where the efflorescence 
 of a milder clime bursts upon us; where the allur- 
 ing paths of ideahty never lead to error; where the 
 frost of care and the blight of disappointment are 
 unknown, but where in the bland influence of a 
 perennial spring, the flowers of fancy are continu- 
 ally opening from the buds of feehng, and at the 
 same time maturing to the fruit of knowledge, re- 
 freshing and invigorating the soul with new and va- 
 ried manifestation of beauty and excellence. 
 
 It may be apprehended that the tendency of such 
 views of future happiness, and such unalloyed con- 
 fidence in its being the immediate effect of the sep- 
 aration of what in us is pure and spiritual from what 
 is material, would be to render us dissatisfied with 
 our present condition. But even in regard to things 
 temporal, bright anticipations do not make us less 
 happy, and if they sometimes induce a restless, Ic" 
 verish anxiety for their attainment, it probably arises 
 from an impression that the season of their enjoy- 
 ment is limited and will be shortened by delay; 
 whereas in our contemplations of eternity, although 
 
 y 
 
58 LANGUAGE 
 
 we may not be able to grasp its infinity, we are im- 
 pressed with a consciousness that it is long enough 
 for the fulfilment of our anticipations at whatever 
 period they may commence. It may also be re- 
 marked, that the increase of happiness arising from 
 that mental and moral cultivation which enables us 
 to form these brighter and nobler views of our des- 
 tiny is more than sufficient to make us satisfied — it 
 gives zest to life. To a mind thus accustomed to 
 observe its own progress in virtue and excellence, 
 there can be nothing terrible in that which merely 
 accellerates it. It is only those who are entirely 
 absorbed in transitory pursuits, having no partici- 
 pation in the dehghts of a cultivated mind; no idea 
 of bliss purely spiritual; no conception of a heaven 
 not material, that the change wrought by death is 
 associated with all that is gloomy and appalling. — 
 Remove from them the material world, and nothing 
 but a fearful blank, an abhorred vacuum remains. 
 Engaged only with objects of sense, ideality has 
 not revealed to them the more exalted sources of 
 interest, and the idea of separation from all that has 
 engrossed their thoughts, from all that has made 
 mind manifest, must appear to them scarcely less 
 dreadful than annihilation. If such be the condi- 
 tion of those who have neglected to improve, the 
 case is yet worse with those who have perverted 
 their highest powers, who have called them into 
 action but only to degrade them — who have known 
 and felt the powerful workings of spirit, but only 
 
OF FUTURITY. 59 
 
 through its influence on lacerated feelings — its con- 
 vulsive throes to extricate itself from the degrading 
 shackles of vice, and its ineffectual efforts to rise 
 and expand in its proper sphere. It is here that 
 ideality, still vivifying and giving intensity to the 
 feelings, portrays its darkest picture. 
 
 We have before incidentally remarked, and at 
 the same time attempted to explain the fact, that 
 poetry is the source of feelings the most exquisite 
 and exalting, or acute and overwhelming. We as- 
 cribed this to tbe power of calling up ideals with all 
 the vividness of reality, yet divested of the modifying 
 circumstances of real life. We have since pointed 
 out other causes of its increase of power, particu- 
 larly those which we have supposed to arise from 
 the separation of the soul and body by death. Tra- 
 cing it in its progress, we see it while yet within 
 reach of our finite faculties, becoming a source of 
 pure, unspeakable enjoyment to the elevated and 
 virtuous, and the converse wall reveal to us that it 
 is an equally efficient means of punishment to the 
 degenerate spirit. It reaches our innermost feel- 
 ings, and puts in action all the dormant elements of 
 pleasure or pain. We know not that any descrip- 
 tion of spiritual punishment, has yet gone further 
 than to picture vi^hat we here observe, in that figur- 
 ative language in which ideality is so frequently era- 
 bodied. We here see those who are degraded by 
 avarice, incessantly terning the iron wheel: the man 
 of low ambition, forever rolls the recoiling stone: 
 
60 LANGUAGE. 
 
 he who seeks gratification in the perversion of his 
 moral feehngs, is continually drawing from the wells 
 of pleasm^e vessels which will hold no water: and 
 that even here, the heart and spirits of the volup- 
 tuary are perpetually renewed only again to be prey- 
 ed upon by the vultures, satiety and remorse. — 
 These are indeed but pictures, faint pictures, of 
 the mental inquietude, chagrin and desolation — of 
 the bitterness of disappointment, and the reproach- 
 es of conscience, which in this life attend trans- 
 gression, producing in the vicious, a mental degra- 
 dation, a hideous blight, a loathsome leprosy of 
 mind rotting in endless decay; which, however 
 pride may conceal from the world, or however he 
 may strive to blunt his sensibilities, and to stupify 
 and engross himself with the distractions of sense, 
 still rankles in his bosom, or in the anguish-riven 
 countenance, gives convincing proof of the im- 
 mutable and immediate connexion between vice and 
 misery. He may observe the aggravation of suf- 
 fering which solitude and seclusion produce in him- 
 self, or the effect on others, when the certain prox- 
 imity of death has destroyed all interest in former 
 pursuits — when shades of horror are darkening the 
 sublunary scences around him, and the mind no 
 longer buoyed up by the levities and engrossments 
 of the world, reverts to itself, and there meets the 
 long smothered, the avenging secrets of the past, 
 just bursting their chains, with resistless energy 
 overpowering the soul, and exhibiting themselves 
 
OF FUTURITY. 61 
 
 n the diabolical contortions and horrid writhings of 
 their victim. These effects of a partial withdraw- 
 ing from material things, furnish him with a data 
 from which he may calculate, with something like 
 arithmetical precision, the climax to which it must 
 arrive when the mind is entirely deprived of its 
 present resources: when it can no longer drown an 
 upbraiding conscience in the tumult, nor divert at- 
 tention in the busthng pursuits of life: when the 
 host of vile recollections, the remorse and bitter- 
 ness of the past, are mirrored back in multiform 
 and magnified reflection in the maddening anticipa- 
 tions of the future, depicted with all the vividness 
 of a dream, yet with all the coherence, and all the 
 consequences of reality: when the fire which has 
 long raged within, has burst its earthly bonds, and 
 displays its volcanic energy in the uncontrollable 
 ravings of torturing, phrensied feelings; while from 
 the abyss of the past, lava torrents of reproach and 
 shame whelm the soul in a guilty delirium; and 
 visionary and dreadful phantasms, mock its night- 
 mare efforts to escape these emanations and shad- 
 ows of itself; and all acting upon the ferment- 
 ing energies of a mind nervously awake to the 
 exigencies of its condition, and wrought to its ut- 
 most intensity, not with the buoyant excitement of 
 hope, but w^ith the dreadful agony of despair. Will 
 not the consideration of this rapid progression, hur- 
 ry him to the result, and force upon him the con- 
 viction, that he has within himself — that a corrupt- 
 
62 IMAGINATION AND REASON. 
 
 ed heart, a degraded intellect, and brutal passions, 
 are the crude elements of a hell, more terrific than 
 any which has been realized from all the physical 
 torture which superstition has conceived, or fanat- 
 icism attempted to portray. The fact that he has 
 already witnessed its commencement, and the con- 
 viction that its consummation depends only on the 
 stablity of the laws of nature, (or as we would ra- 
 ther say, on the continuance of the uniform modes 
 of Deity) of which we already have, the evidence, 
 and can in some degree estimate, gives it an ap- 
 palling certainty. We know that its fulfilment will 
 be but the natural effect of causes which are attest- 
 ed by human consciousness, and hence we per- 
 ceive that it needs not a special interference of 
 Deity to accomplish, but that it would require a 
 piir^cle, perhaps more than a miracle to prevent it= 
 
 The imagination being the most excursive fac- 
 ulty, and describing that which it rapidly glances 
 over, by analogies to what was before known, and', 
 by refinements of the language which already exists, 
 has a greater celerity than reason, which follows 
 with assured and cautious steps, and has to adapt 
 a language of terms to every new discovery. The 
 former sweeps the distant verge of the dim horizon, 
 and communicates the results of her desultory 
 
IMAGINATION AND REASON- 63 
 
 search, in shadowy forms, which the latter con- 
 denses into terms, and brings to the test of a more 
 critical examination. She then embodies, organ- 
 ises, and extends her dominion over the newly ac- 
 quired territory, forming on its remotest confines, 
 more distant stations, and with its treasures raising 
 higher the monuments of her power, from which 
 fancy may again take its survey, and extend its ho- 
 rison over yet more remote regions. 
 
 In the natural order of events then ideality pre- 
 cedes reasoning, and if poetry has not always pre- 
 sented the first indications of remote truth, it is be- 
 cause of the superior discipline and perseverance 
 of men of abstraction, or perhaps oftener, because 
 her own votaries have abandoned their high office 
 of telescopic observers, and ingloriously contented 
 themselves with a more humble and limited occu- 
 pation of their talents. Happy mortals! who with 
 the most exalting and soul kindling endowments, 
 with powers which might exert a happy and im- 
 mortal influence on the destinies of man; are still 
 content to tread the level and beaten track of un- 
 ambitious life; who find ample amusement in gath- 
 ering the flowers and picking up the pebbles they 
 chance to meet with, and sufficient excitement in 
 the dubious and ephemeral fame which may attend 
 their success. They suffer themselves to be qui- 
 etly enslaved by these sweet enticements, and en- 
 ervated in gentle dalliance with such pretty toys. 
 Their souls lose the power of lofty effort; they 
 
64 IMAGINATION AND REASON. 
 
 shrink from the contest, and are no longer candi- 
 dates for eternity. 
 
 Some of these, more skilled than others in the 
 mechanism of verse, form these insignificant trifles 
 into poetic kaliedascopes, where they appear with 
 all the charms which varied arrangement, and mul- 
 tiplied and harmonious reflection can bestow on 
 such common place materials. We turn them 
 round, and are amused for the moment; but change 
 itself soon ceases to be novelty, and even variety 
 becomes monotonous. He who aspires to immor- 
 tality, must add to these every day beauties of na- 
 ture, more rare and costly materials, derived from 
 less accessible sources. He must labor in the 
 mines of thought, and give the extracted gems the 
 soul-lit sparkling polish which genius can bestow; 
 and from ocean depths of feeling, bring pearls of 
 purity and loveliness. He must cultivate an inti- 
 macy with nature in all her forms. He must gam- 
 bol with her in her frolics; he must meditate with 
 her in her tranquil scenes; or rush with her into 
 the tempest, and witness the strife of elements. 
 With her he must seize the roaring ocean by its 
 mane, and mingle with the lightning, and hold com- 
 munion with the thunder of the storm; or with a 
 nobler effort, and a higher aim, soar aloft on the 
 aspiring wing of fancy, and with the unshrinking 
 eye, and the daring hand of genius, cull the ra- 
 diance of the welkin arch, and bring its star-lit 
 splendors, fresh and sparkling to adorn his page. 
 
MUSIC. 65 
 
 With such splendid materials he must illuminate 
 and adorn the path to those distant truths, which 
 his far searching vision has first distinctly revealed 
 to himself alone. These he must am})lify with the 
 powers of that language which is exclusively his 
 own — a language which free from vulgar associa- 
 tions, elevates the reader into a higher, purer, no- 
 bler region of thought. His discoveries are prim- 
 itive perceptions, and a skilful use of the language 
 of ideality can alone enable him fully to impart 
 them to others. With this he exhibits thera with 
 the impress of his own intellect and sensibility. 
 He portrays them as they exist in his own mind, 
 with the same vivid coloring and sparkling radiance, 
 illustrated by striking analogies, and connected 
 with associations so varied and diffusive, that to 
 the utmost stretch of vision, it presents new and 
 delightful combinations, and in its farthest outline, 
 seems still expanding like the inappreciable and 
 intangible emotions of music. 
 
 The inappreciable and intangible emotions of mu- 
 sic. These words have produced an effect which we 
 have already ascribed to the use of terms. They 
 have led us on to a point, from which we perceive 
 the adumbrations of another bright spot in this unex- 
 plored wilderness; in advance, yet immediately con- 
 nected with that in which we have already expatiat- 
 ed. It is the connexion of poetry with music. If we 
 have observed the fitness of the former to the sub- 
 jects of feeling and of spirit, do we not perceive 
 
 F 
 
66 CONNEXION OF POETRY 
 
 something in the latter, still more evidently having 
 relation to some higher purpose than that of our phys- 
 ical existence? Is there not in these indescribable 
 emotions — something which we h'ere in vain attempt 
 to grasp, more comprehensive, more etherial even 
 than poetry — a benign influence, which gleams on 
 the soul, and as a ray of light in its rapid course, 
 just rouses its energies, and sweeps endlessly on 
 through infinity? With any power of attention 
 which we here enjoy, and with the limited means 
 which we here possess of imparting these emotions, 
 the sounds by which they are usually^ communica- 
 ted, require to be dwelt upon and varied. The 
 mind at each successive variation pauses to exam- 
 ine the sensation; makes an effort to identify the 
 indistinct associations which seem hovering around 
 it, and requires to dwell on them for a moment, be- 
 fore, it can be satisfied that they are too etherial to 
 be fully appreciated by its blunt sensibilities, and 
 too vast to be embraced by its limited comprehen- 
 sion. It is a series of excitements, an induced ac- 
 tivity to which the soul is wrought, without any con- 
 scious effort of its own. But suppose music di- 
 vested of its sounds (which absorb a portion of the 
 attention) and the unmingled emotions to be im.me- 
 diately imparted to spirit when the concentration of 
 attention will admit of their passing in rapid and in- 
 tensely exhilerating succession, while the increase 
 of its powers enables it to follow and pervade the 
 circle in which each expands itself in feelings' 
 boundlessness. 
 
WITH MUSIC. 67 
 
 The associations of music with sounds is so gen- 
 eral, that to some, even the hypothetical separation 
 of them may appear preposterous. We however 
 think it perfectly conceivable. We apprehend that 
 the composers of music must have the emotions in- 
 dependent of the sounds, as the poet has the ideals 
 independent of the terms; and we believe that 
 Shakspeare's denunciation of him who has not mu- 
 sic in his soul, would have been more justly ap- 
 plied to those who are destitute of these innate emo- 
 tions, than to those who, from organic defect, or 
 perhaps from being conversant with a superior har- 
 mony within themselves, are less influenced by 
 mere sounds, however mellifeuous and delightiul to 
 better ears, or less cultivated sensibilities. 
 
 In defence of the high station which we have as- 
 signed to musical emotion, we may remark, that it 
 is in the highest exaltation of mental action that 
 these emotions are most perceptible. The effects 
 of refined music is very much enhanced, when the 
 mind is under the influence of some absorbing sen- 
 timent, which concentrates its energies, while it 
 withdraws it from narrow, selfish considerations, and 
 inspires it with generous feeling. It is then that 
 the fine tones within responsively swell the harmo- 
 ny which blends with them from without. We find 
 this to be the case when it is kindled into enthusi- 
 asm by the high and hallowing emotions of virtuous 
 love, when our conceptions of loveliness, purity, 
 and bliss, so far outstrip our powers of expression, 
 
68 MUSIC. 
 
 as to belong rather to the empyrial evanescence of 
 music, than to the most etherial forms of poetry. 
 When this sentiment reaches a still higher eleva- 
 tion — when infinite goodness becomes the object of 
 devotion, we find music, in some of its forms, al- 
 most imiversally associated with it. It exhibits it- 
 self in the rude worship of the savage, and attunes 
 the heart of the most cultivated and refined sensi- 
 bility. We find it in the devout homage of the 
 heathens; and it lends its mellowing influence to 
 the forms of a more enlightened religion. It sof- 
 tens the stern rigidity of the anchorite, and instills 
 itself into the pious meditations of the disciples of 
 a milder creed. It is an elastic element ot mind, 
 which adapts itself to the various conditions of hu- 
 manity. Among savages, it manifests itself in rude, 
 barbarous sounds, which appear to have more con- 
 nexion with physical than with mental exercise*. 
 From this low state it rises through the successive 
 stages of cultivation to that divine harmony of the 
 spirit which imparts such a delightful charm, such 
 kindling rapture to the silent meditations of the en- 
 lightened mind; and which, while in the outward 
 creation it finds for itself iimum-erable types and re- 
 semblances, admits of no generic sign, and no ex- 
 ternal substitute. 
 
 We may here observe an effect of language in all 
 its material forms. Like the mechanical powers, it 
 gives us efficiency; but like them, only at the ex- 
 
LOVE, POETRY, ETC. 09 
 
 pense of time. In the language of naiTation, it as- 
 sists memory by giving two separate objects of at- 
 tention, either of which will recall the event or sub- 
 ject of our thoughts. In the language of abstrac- 
 tion, years have sometimes been employed in set- 
 tling the terms of a proposition. This induced a 
 more critical examination, and a more thorough ac- 
 quaintance with the subject. In examining the re- 
 lations among terms, many others are discovered 
 besides those for which we are particularly seeking. 
 We have already mentioned the effect of metre and 
 rhyme, in restraining the impetuosity of the poet, 
 and giving fulness and variety to his views. In 
 music, there appears to be a yet further addition to 
 this principle, and an extension of it to the recipi- 
 ent, by dweUing on the sounds of this artificial ar- 
 rangement. In all these forms it retards us. Itis 
 always an incumbrance, but like the lever, an in- 
 cumbrance which our weakness renders essential. 
 
 .We have now seen language in its simplest form 
 of narration^ elevating us above the brute creation, 
 to social and intelligent beings. We have observ- 
 ed, that in the form of abstraction, it becomes an 
 engine for the acquisition of general knowledge,^ 
 and thus carries us through another stage of im- 
 provement; but one in which narrow views still 
 predominate. We have remarked that it still keeps 
 pace with our intellectual and moral advancement. 
 
70 LOVE, POETRY, 
 
 and when our enlarging views pass the boundary of 
 common, direct expressions, it becomes elevated 
 to poetry, which we have supposedto be perfected, 
 when spirit is purified from all selfishness, and in a 
 future state to receive an accession of power by 
 embracing the preceding forms. And we have 
 suggested, that this combination may, in a yet fur- 
 ther stage of advancement, be etherialized and 
 sublimated to the more exquisite perfection of mu- 
 sic, which, tliough here but a vague and misty 
 shadow, may yet be the first indication of what is 
 there to be embodied in the most comprehensive, 
 })erhaps infinite emanations of truth and beauty. 
 This progression is facilitated by the generous 
 feelings which carry us beyond the little circle of 
 common affairs, and particularly by those excite- 
 ments which elevate us far above them; for it is 
 only in the farther and higher departments of 
 thoudit, that we are compelled to think only in the 
 poetic form of ideals. Hence it is, that this faculty 
 is so often first developed, when love, 
 
 " That feeling from tlie Godhead caught, . 
 
 lias won from earth each sordid thought," 
 
 and makes us conscious of a happiness too gener- 
 ous and exalted, too pure and etherial, too vast 
 for words to express. The effect of this expan- 
 sive sentiment upon the modes of thought and ex- 
 pression, is one of the most striking illustrations of 
 the theory we have advanced, and as such deserves 
 a further notice. In its most romantic, and-also 
 
MUSIC AND DEVOTION. 71 
 
 its most ennobling form, it is the result of all the 
 estimable qualities which the excited imagination 
 of the lover can combine, embodied and harmoniz- 
 ing in some pleasing object, which has, in some 
 generally unknown manner, excited the first emo- 
 tion. When these perfections are different from 
 any which we are conscious of possessing with- 
 in ourselves, we have no means of measuring 
 their extent, and the imagination may expand with- 
 out limit to meet its wants, or its conceptions. 
 The superiority of mind to matter, and the greater 
 expansibihty of its qualities, indicate it as the only 
 terrestrial object capable of exciting this hallowed 
 emotion, and the diversity, which is a necessary 
 element in perfecting it, is found admirably design- 
 ed in the modifications of the masculine and femi- 
 nine characters. This is confirmed by common 
 observation. If these views of the romantic pas- 
 sion are correct, it is evident that the imagination 
 will almost immediately have filled the measure of 
 this ideal excellence — that it will have reached, 
 and even gone beyond the tangible object of its 
 adoration; and hence, although it may still retain 
 all that it has gained, that object must lose its pow- 
 er of impelling it forward in the flowery paths and 
 bright creations to which it has introduced it. We 
 trust that we shall not be suspected of intending 
 any disparagement of the sex, from whose purer 
 ■spirit first emanated the spark which kindled in the 
 breast of man this etherial flame. 
 
72 LOVE, POETRV, 
 
 It is much, that woman has made us acquamted 
 with one of the infinite tendencies of the soul, to 
 fill the never ending expansion of which, she must 
 be more than angel. Must this influence then be 
 arrested and the consequent improvement cease? 
 Has this spirituality been awakened in the soul, 
 only to shed a momentary gleam of romance over 
 the reahiies of life? Analogy rejects the idea; it 
 must serve some higher purpose. And observing - 
 the path of our progression, is it not obvious that 
 this finite feehng may be merged in the love of that 
 which is infinite; and in the attributes of God find 
 an illimitable field for its expansion, where every 
 new elevation but reveals more to admirje, adore, 
 and love; thus forever presenting a standard of su- 
 perior excellence, and forever winning us towards 
 perfection? There is, on this account, a manifest 
 advantage in the Deity not being present to our 
 senses in any definite, tangible form. His power, 
 wisdom, goodness, and every perfection, are man- 
 ifested to us, only in the beauty, grandeur, and de- 
 signs of his creation; but these evidences are so 
 obvious, so numerous and so varied, that every 
 one may discern the qualities and combine them so 
 as to form the precise character which will corres- 
 pond to his idea of perfection, and which he can 
 most admire, love^ and adore. A beau ideal, in 
 which increased clearness of perception will only' • 
 discover new beauty, and on which he may forever 
 expatiate, and yet not sum up all its excellencies 
 
MUSIC AND DEVOTION. 73 
 
 — in which his admiration will be perpetually ex- 
 cited by new and delightfid discovery — which will 
 continually adapt itself to the change and enlarge- 
 ment of his views of perfection, and appear more 
 beautiful and lovely, the more he contemplates it. 
 His most exalted conceptions of excellence may 
 here always be realized, and the mode of mind is 
 love etherialized, love sublimated to^ devotion, and 
 resting not on the fleeting shadows of a feverish 
 imagination, but on the infinite and immutable at- 
 tributes of a Being, that can never be the subject 
 of those changes and misfortunes, the thought of 
 which will sometimes break upon the transports of 
 the most impassioned lover. The thought of one 
 beloved, and with whom fancy has associated eve- 
 ry human excellence and angelic loveliness, has 
 often elevated the mind above criminal or ignoble 
 conduct; and if religion had done no more than 
 furnish us with an ideal, in which we group every 
 perfection, she would still have done much to pu- 
 rify the heart, ennoble the mind, and bless and 
 protect our race. Whether the object, with which 
 we associate this ideal excellence, be human or 
 divine, the effect of contemplating it will be tJie 
 same in kind, though varying in degree: the ten- 
 dency in either case being to produce that eleva- 
 tion of soul, purity of sentiment, and refinement of 
 feeling, which are the natural guardians of virtue. 
 It is in this view, that we may realize the fulness 
 of an apothegm of Madame De Stsel, and perceive 
 
74 LOVE, POETRY, 
 
 how much more than the mere truism is conveyed 
 in her expression, " to love God is still to love." 
 We again repeat, that to a mind accustomed to 
 observe and to contemplate its advancement in this 
 delightful progression, there can be nothing terri- 
 ble in that which merely accellerates it. -^ 
 
 The observed connexion between refined intelli- 
 gence, enthusiasm, love, poetry, music and devo- 
 tion, bears a striking analogy to that so often no- 
 ticed by natural philosophers, between heat, light, 
 magnetism, galvinism, electricity, vitality, and the 
 nervous fluid. An ingenious attempt,* has not 
 long since been made to elucidate the latter, by a 
 division of matter into two classes; the one called 
 common matter, having the property of concreting 
 by an attractive power; the other or etherial mat- 
 ter, having the property of expanding by an inhe- 
 rent repelling tendency. All the phenomena allud- 
 ed to, and indeed all other in the material world, 
 are referred to combinations of these two, varying 
 as the one or the other predominates in a greater or 
 less degree. Pursuing the analogy, we may divide 
 our moral naturei nto two elements — the one having 
 An influence to contract, and keep as within the 
 narrow limits of gross and grovelling occupations, 
 and to which we may ascribe all the selfish feelings, 
 which have no higher object than physical exist- 
 
 *iJltiinate Principles, Sec. by Lardner, VaDUxum. 
 
 A 
 
MUSIC AND DEVOTION. 75 
 
 ence, or sensual pleasure, and if unaided, in its 
 best estate, reaching no higher elevation than me- 
 chanical reasoning, — and refer the greater refine- 
 ments of reason, and the generous and exalted 
 emotions of enthusiasm, love, poetry, music, and 
 devotion, to the predominance of a finer and purer 
 essence, already exhibiting its infinite tendency, 
 and destined, when freed from its connexion with 
 the gross and sensual, to expand in the purer re- 
 gions of an undefined immensity. 
 
 The calculations of avarice, and the sordid max- 
 ims of selfishness, are easily embraced in finite 
 terms; and the language of abstraction, even when 
 directed to more ennobling pursuits, has a constant 
 tendency to narrow the path of our advancement, 
 and lead us to subtle rather than improving results. 
 The processes of ideality, on the other hand, are 
 constantly widening and giving" us more expanded 
 views. We would therefore suggest that the latent 
 connexion which exists between the purer feelings 
 and sentiments, arises from their all flowing from 
 this source, and the property, which they conse- 
 quently have of gratifying our desire for the infinite. 
 Thus, for instance, arises the association of music 
 with devotion. The former consists of sounds so 
 contrived that no one appears ever to reach an end, 
 but to elude us rather than to cease, and these in 
 forms so varied, as to create the impression that 
 they flow from some exhaustless source;' while the 
 latter is an analogous system of ideas, expanding 
 
 >. 
 
76 LOVE, POETRY, 
 
 without limit and modified without end, and so ha- 
 bitual is the association of sounds with ideas, that 
 the recipient of the former often erroneously sup- 
 poses he is possessing himself of the latter. Mu- 
 sic may thus satisfy the infinite tendencies of our 
 nature without affording it any substantial nourish- 
 ment, and thus instead of imparting energy to those 
 exalted feelings, create a morbid sensibility, pro- 
 ducing disease, debility and decay. 
 
 If however the state of feeling which is produc- 
 ed by symphony, is smiilar to that which best ap- 
 preciates moral excellence, it may be useful in re- 
 ligious exercises. It may assist in unfohhng the 
 moral harmonies. Or if the state of mind which 
 observes the delicate relations of sounds, is an- 
 alogous to that which perceives the delicate re- 
 lations of ideas, it may be useful in education; 
 but in both cases, care must be taken that it be 
 made a means, and not an end. There are other 
 sensible phenomena, which are perhaps, even more 
 generally, associated with devotional feelings than 
 music. The vast expanse and endless roar of 
 ocean — the never dying murmur of the forest — 
 mountains piled on mountains with no visible limit 
 — the scenery of a nocturnal sky with its countless 
 host of stars filling immensity, all awaken emo- 
 tions which we feel to be closely allied to those 
 which arise from the contemplation of the goodness 
 and attributes of Deity. They all exalt to solemn 
 
MUSIC AND DEVOTION. 77 
 
 thought and heavenly mushigs. There is infinity 
 in all. . • . 
 
 We have seen that language is one great means, 
 by which the etherial principle is first elicited, and 
 then, by embodying the results of the processes of 
 ideality, sustains it through successive stages of 
 improvement, until it expands itself in devotion, 
 where it may forever continue its progress without 
 arriving at any limit. 
 
 Observation is the first facult}^ brought into ac- 
 tion, and is for a time a sufficient source of mental 
 excitement. The child is pleased with every nov- 
 elty; we may see him sound his rattle, pause, and 
 shake it again, to assure himself that it is the effect 
 of his own volitions, and is thus continually exhil- 
 erated by the acquisition of knowledge, and the 
 discovery and exertion of his own powers. His 
 store of facts accumulates, the circle around him 
 is culled, and hence a necessity for classification 
 and invention (the two earliest stages of reasoning 
 and imagining) is at once produced. These ena- 
 ble him to reduce his particulars, and to form new 
 combinations of them. His mind expands until 
 these appear too limited, and reason begins to form 
 universal propositions which are among the earliest 
 indications of its infinite tendency. These how- 
 ever relating only to things in themselves finite, fail 
 to, meet the wants of his opening soul. The infin- 
 ite begins to claim his attention. He fixes upon 
 
 G 
 
78 LOVE, POETRY, 
 
 the most expansive of terrestrial objects, upon 
 mind, but in a form so differing from his own, that 
 he m,ay conceive of it as imbued with quahties far 
 surpassing any which he is conscious of possess- 
 ing, and yet not feel himself comparatively degrad- 
 ed in his division of the species. This, as we have 
 before explained, forms the poetic stage of his ad- 
 vancement. The finer feelings of his nature are 
 now developed and expand themselves Avith a ra- 
 pidity proportioned to the vast range here opened 
 to their exercise, until even this fails to meet their 
 wants. The universal mind alone remains; and 
 here all the infinite tendencies of the soul now ex- 
 pand themselves; here refined intelligence, enthusi- 
 asm, love, poetry, and devotion, are united in a 
 delightful harmony — blended in one heaven of feel- 
 ing. The religious sentiment is thus fully devel- 
 oped by this union of all the pure and infinite ten- 
 dencies of the soul, which traversing the finite, find 
 no other sphere sufficiently comprehensive for their 
 full developement, and nothing which harmonizes 
 with their nature, but the manifestations and the 
 attributes of the Godhead. In this combination, 
 the etherial principle largely predominates, and the 
 expansive tendency becomes so strong, that neith- 
 er human force, nor human ingenuity, has yet been 
 able to control it. It has been loaded with the 
 chains of tyranny. It has been retarded and shack- 
 led by creeds. It has been diverted from its 
 proper objects by cunningly devised forms, and 
 
MUSIC AND DEVOTION. 79 
 
 gorgeous and imposing ceremonies. It has been 
 wickedly directed to inexplicable mysteries, and 
 wasted in the vain endeavor to elicit truth from 
 terms which contained no meaning. But in des- 
 pite of all these obstacles, it has advanced. It has 
 set at defiance the power of prances, and broken 
 the fetters they imposed. It has put at nought the 
 subtlety of priests, and with the energy of enthusi- 
 asm penetrated beyond the forms and mysteries by 
 which they have sought to conceal truth, and pro- 
 claimed its discoveries from the flames which sur- 
 rounded it with glory, and shed lustre on its reve- 
 lations. The only mode of preventing the devel- 
 opment of this expansive principle, is by destroy- 
 ing some of its elements, or by taking away some 
 of the steps which are essential to its progress. 
 The experiment of shackling the mind with pro- 
 hibitions, preventing the acquisition of knowledge, 
 and restraining the reasoning faculties, has in part 
 succeeded. But the step thus removed, is too 
 short to leave an impassible barrier. The mind 
 gets over the abhorred vacuum, and its weakened 
 energies expand beyond it. It is by removing the 
 next, and greater element, of our advancement, 
 by destroying the influence of woman on society, 
 and with it the generous emotions, the exalting in- 
 fluence of love, that the progress of mankind has 
 been most effectually checked. It is where the 
 female character is so degraded, that its etherial 
 influence is no longer felt, that this sign of divinity 
 
80 LOVE, POETEY, 
 
 has failed to exhibit itself — where from infancy 
 man has been taught to look upon woman as a soul- 
 less toy, and woman to act as if unconscious of a 
 higher destiny. The same effect has been else- 
 where produced by her exclusion from society, 
 and resorting to physical deformity of a kind pro- 
 ducing sloth of body, dependence, and a conse- 
 quent want of mental energy. Restore the soul of 
 woman, and the Mahometans would soon have a 
 better, and a brighter revelation. Suffer the feet 
 of Chinese women to groAv, and the men could not 
 long retain their grovelling, slavish dispositions, 
 nor the government, its narrow and exclusive policy. 
 
 It is worthy of remark, that a religion adapted 
 to the wants of the etherial nature, must, like it, 
 possess a susceptibility to never ending expansion. 
 It must continually exhibit a higher and better state 
 of existence than that to which we have arrived; 
 and consequently the professors of such a religion 
 will always be manifestly short of its teachings, 
 while the professors of a rigid finite system of eth- 
 ics may fulfil every tittle of their law. The 
 Christian dispensation certainly appears to possess 
 this wonderful adaptation. Its broad principles in- 
 clude the whole duty of man, and apply in every 
 situation and in every stage of his progression. 
 Like the source from whence they emanate, they 
 always fill our views of perfection. It were to be 
 wished, that the remarks which we have just made. 
 
MUSIC AND DEVOTION. 81 
 
 would account for all the acknowledged defalca- 
 cations of those who profess to be followers of its 
 great founder. How delightful would it be to draw 
 at once an illustration and a confirmation from sucli 
 a source. How encouraging to behave, that we 
 had improved and were still improving, though the 
 horizon of perfection recedes as we advance. We 
 fear, however, that we must look to other causes, 
 for at least a portion of the disparity between the 
 profession and practice of christians. 
 
 But the application of this subject, and of some 
 of the principles which this investigation of it has 
 elicited, is so universal, that if we were to pursue 
 it, we should leave no portion of knowledge, and 
 no department of mind unexplored. Leaving then 
 this vast field of speculation, we will return to the 
 consideration of some points, more immediately 
 connected with the two principal forms of lan< 
 g"age. ,, •'..•...■ . • -. - 
 
 The language of ideality, admits of an almost 
 universql adaptation to every grade of intellect. It 
 calls up emotions such as the realities produce. It 
 fits itself to the comprehension, and fills the ca- 
 pacious as well as the contracted mind. If the 
 difficulties, which our imperfect modes o£ commu- 
 nicating thought, here present, were removed, so 
 that every mind might at once be easily made the 
 recipient and dispenser of ideals, the disadvantages 
 of inferior intellect, considered in its relations to 
 
82- .. LOVE, POETRY, 
 
 society, would be in a great measure obviated. 
 The less would then impart to the greater a meas- 
 ure which itself did not possess, and thus all be 
 fitted for agreeable communion with each other. 
 Besides, as the gratification of imparting or receiv- 
 ing knowledge, is in well regulated minds, just 
 equal, they may be reciprocally the means of hap- 
 piness to each other. Happiness' will then depend 
 on purity, sensibility, and a consciousness of ad- 
 vancement. In fact all depends on the first. It is 
 the vital element of the other two, without which the 
 one would be dormant, and the other blunted or 
 pained. So far as mere intellect is concerned, the 
 greater weakness or ignorance, will be compensat- 
 ed, by greater capacity for improvement. The 
 wise and the weak may both feel all the delight 
 they are capable of feeling. Both may advance 
 with a rapidity proportioned to their views of the 
 sphere of excellence. Though the former may have 
 arrived at what may be termed a greater and higher 
 degree of enjoyment, yet it will also require, all the 
 larger and more elevated resources which he may be 
 able to command, and where the measure of hap- 
 piness is full in all, it will be difficult to say who 
 enjoys most. Nor is it improbable, that we often 
 err in our estimate of the effect of intellectual pow- 
 er. So far as a vigorous exercise of it advances 
 us in the scale of moral excellence, it undoubted- 
 ly adds to our happiness; while on the other hand, 
 its perversion, may sink us still lower in wretched- 
 ness. Moral- purity is then the grand element of 
 
MUSIC AND DEVOTION. 83 
 
 happiness: moral degradation the great source of 
 misery. The proper object of all, is the improve- 
 ment of their intellectual and moral nature; and a 
 consciousness of success in this great end of exist- 
 ence, is a source of happiness v^^hich is accessible to 
 all, and in which all may render mutual aid to each 
 ♦other. The inferior mind must receive more than 
 it imparts, but in thus receiving, it still conduces 
 to the happiness of the more gifted, who are ex- 
 cited to exertion, not only by the consciousness of 
 individual improvement, but by the pleasure which 
 it pves them to improve others. 
 
 To omniscience, the pleasure of acquiring knovvl^- 
 edge must be denied, and its enjoyments must arise 
 only from a sense of perfection, and imparting to 
 finite minds. But even this spiritual perfection, if 
 it partook not of the diffusive nature of mind, if it 
 were wholly locked up in itself, and could impart 
 nothing to other minds, would be of a character 
 little higher than a mere physical pei'fection. It 
 is then principally through the medium of benevo- 
 lence, that much knowledge produces happiness. 
 Unconnected with this attribute, even omniscience, 
 by depriving us of the pleasure of acquiring and 
 improving, would be a curse. Hence the desso- 
 lation of those spirits, in whom the consciousness 
 of superior powers and attainments is united to mis- 
 anthropic feelings. To this misfortune, the votary 
 of ideality is peculiarly obnoxious. The man of 
 
84V ' LOVE, POETRY, ^ 
 
 abstraction goes little farther than he can find words 
 to sustain his thoughts, but the idealist knows no 
 such bounds to his ardor; no limits are imposed 
 on his fancy. His imagination revels in the infi- 
 nite, and great as his powers of expression may be, 
 he cannot always clothe his conceptions in that pal- 
 pable form which will make them apparent to the 
 multitude. He may have dreamed of improving 
 the world. His fancy may have been warmed, 
 his heart may have glowed with the purest en- 
 thusiasm for the advancement of his race. His 
 whole soul may have felt the delightful influence of 
 an. expansive benevolence; and yet he may not 
 have possessed that self-forgetting benevolence 
 which would lead him, without any compromise .of 
 his own individuality and greatness, to accommodate 
 his powers to the wants of society, and employ a 
 portion of his talents, in making his discoveries 
 more accessible to common minds. He may be 
 exalted, and yet not be wholly free from that van- 
 ity which induces him to expect applause as the 
 reward of his genius. He expected sympathy, and 
 the world views his enthusiasm with cold distrust, 
 and refuses to bestow the praise which fed his hopes. 
 Confident in himself, he imputes liis failure to the 
 stupidity of others. Disappointment produces dis- 
 gust, and the bosom which once swelled with the 
 most generous and glowing emotions, now inflated 
 with the proud feelings of misanthropy, or chilled 
 with contempt, exhibits only occasional manifesta- 
 tions of its native excellence. , 
 
MUSIC AND DEVOTION. INTUITION. 85 
 
 We feel the want of the support of other minds, 
 in proportion as our views extend beyond the pale 
 of certainty. In matters which admit of rigid dem- 
 onstration, we care little who differs from us; but 
 in matters of opinion, we are pleased with the con- 
 firmation of other minds, and in subjects of mere 
 speculation, are dehghted to find a kindred spirit, 
 who has traversed the same ground and arrived at 
 similar results, or is at least able to enter into our 
 views and understand our imperfect descriptions of 
 it. Hence of all others the poet enjoys mostfrom 
 the sympathy of congenial minds, and suffers most 
 from the want of it. Hence, too, an intemperate 
 zeal to make converts to a particular faith, often 
 ai'ises from an innate doubt or latent conviction, 
 that the particular doctrine in question cannot be 
 demonstrated, and requires to be supported by ex- 
 trinsic testimony. 
 
 Even as a means of advancing knowledge, we 
 apprehend the comparative power of reasoning, is 
 often overrated, or too exclusively relied upon. — 
 We give it credit for original discovery, when it 
 has only attested the truth of what ideality has sug- 
 gested. In some sciences it undoubtedly is all 
 availing; but in the perception of moral truth, it 
 often falls short of that intuitive principle, that sen- 
 sibility, which is most frequently found conspicu- 
 ous in those destitute of great reasoning powers.. 
 A lofty power of generalization may bear forward 
 the intellectual philosopher even in the field of mor- 
 
86 INTUITION. 
 
 als; but how often will his fine spun theories be 
 found inapplicable to the endless variety of actual 
 occurrences. His greater strength may enable 
 him to penetrate gloomy forests, traverse moun- 
 tains, ford rivers, and make his way against every 
 obstruction, even beyond the usual limits of re- 
 search, and he may on his return, exhibit some re- 
 motely acquired truth, yet it is often as ill shapen, 
 and as little adapted to the occasions of life, as the 
 fragments which the traveller brings from some al- 
 pine height, as mementos of his useless toil. Oth- 
 ers less hardy, and seemingly less adventurous, are 
 endowed with a more refined spirituality, which 
 enables them to perceive the delicate relations 
 among ideals. Their feelings assume a softer hue, 
 on which the finest shades of truth are more nice- 
 ly delineated, and possessing, in these feelings, the 
 most delicate tests, they are susceptible to the 
 slight and beautiful indications of truth every where 
 to be met with, and from which are deduced the 
 most important consequences. If the former, with 
 powers which may fitly be compared to those of 
 the telescope and lever, has measured the amaz- 
 ing distances, and weighed the immense masses of 
 systems of worlds, and overpowered us with as- 
 tonishment at their stupendous results, it must be 
 remembered that humbler instruments have elicited 
 equal cause of wonder. That the microscope has 
 exhibited to us a world in every atom, and intro- 
 duced us to that intimacy with creation, which has 
 
INTUITION. 87 
 
 ever led to the most expanded views of nature and 
 of nature's God, and that the tortion of a single 
 fibre of a spider's web, has revealed that one of the 
 laws by which he rules his thunder and shakes the 
 universe, is precisely the same as; that by which he 
 has chosen to sustain it. If the first is a type of 
 the masculine powers of generalization and abstrac- 
 tion, the other, like the softer sex, 'is the poetry 
 and the music of our nature. Theirs is that refined 
 sensibility, that ideality of character, that sponta- 
 niety of thought and feeling, which enables them 
 at once to pronounce what accords and what dis- 
 cords with moral truth and moral beauty. It can- 
 not, in the absence of the other powers, enable 
 them always to appreciate universal propositions, 
 nor can it protect them from the commission of 
 great errors when they attempt to express them- 
 selves in general terms, but it seldom allows them to 
 go far wrong in a particular case. If they are asked 
 for a reason, they can generally answer only from 
 their feelings of conviction, the sources of w^hich 
 are to them as inappreciable and as intangible as 
 the inspirations of poetry or the emotions of mu- 
 sic. I know, or I feel, is with them an argument, 
 against which it is in vain for philosophy to direct 
 its reasonings, or for satire to point its ridicule. — 
 They pretend not to judge of the one, and recti- 
 tude of intention elevates them above the other. — 
 This confidence in their own perceptions, is to them 
 a conservative principle, which shields them from 
 
»» INTUITION. 
 
 many errors, which they would inevitably commit 
 if they endeavored to aj)ply the results, even of 
 those wiser than themselves, without understanding 
 either their speculative subtlety or practical appli- 
 cation — lohich they neither know nor feel. 
 
 This power of perceiving truth in the form of 
 ideals, is the basis of the intuitive principle, and 
 though like all the finer endowments, possessed in 
 a high degree of perfection only by the pure and 
 sensitive, is yet capable of extension, in some de- 
 gree, to every order of intelligence. In finite 
 minds it is of course limited. In perverted minds 
 it will lead to mistakes. Yet, considering the ra- 
 pidity of its action, it is much less surprising that 
 it should sometimes be wrong, than that it should 
 so often be right. Even experience sometimes 
 misleads us, and a general rule, tested by the ob- 
 servation of years, is afterwards found to have its 
 exceptions. As the opportunities for observation 
 are lessened, the chances of mistake are greatly 
 increased, and hence of all sources of error, a too 
 rapid generalization is perhaps the most prolific. 
 What then would be the result, if men who have 
 not cultivated this faculty, who are immersed in 
 business, and whose examination must necessarily 
 be hasty, should rely on this means of judging^ 
 where an error in the signfication or limit of a 
 term, would vitiate a conclusion, on which their 
 correctness in a thousand instances might depend. 
 The consequences would be incalculablej and 
 
IJNTUITION. 89 
 
 hence the importance of this intuitive principle, 
 which to us, appears to be, but a process of ideal- 
 ity; a mode of reasoning, or of examining the re- 
 lations of things and ideas, without the intervention 
 of terms. 
 
 The mind glances through its primitive percept 
 tions, surveys at once motives, actions, and con- 
 sequences, and forms its conclusions, in times in- 
 conceivably less, than it would require to substitute 
 the terms, test the precision of their limits, exam- 
 ine their relations, and arrange them into syllogisms. 
 
 From the quickness of the^ operation, and the 
 absence of terms, it can give no account of its 
 processes. How admirably does this facility in 
 examining particular cases compensate for the 
 want of generalization. It is evidently a mode of 
 mind nearly allied to that by which we have sup- 
 posed spirits to perceive truth, but often desecrat- 
 ed by its application to inferior objects. It how- 
 ever sheds hght on some portions of our specula- 
 tion, and strengthens some points of our argument, 
 and particularly as this principle is developed with 
 a clearness and extent proportioned to spiritual 
 and moral excellence. 
 
 When this power of perceiving is sufficiently 
 clear and accurate, it enables its possessor to lay 
 aside general rules, and to judge, or act in each 
 particular case, from his immediate perceptions 
 and impulses, giving to his mind a reach of thought, 
 
 H 
 
90 GENIUS. 
 
 and spontaniety of action, which we generally de- 
 nominate genius. With a poetic sense he perceives 
 the relations of ideas, and those little delicacies of 
 propriety and association, which words can but 
 feebly portray. He is thus enabled to act with a 
 discerning judgment and taste in matters in which 
 language affords him no aid, either in the way of 
 general rules, or as a means of investigation. 
 Hence it is that genius acts independently of gene- 
 ral rules. It occupies a sphere too far advanced 
 for their application, and in which the processes of 
 ideality, are alone availing. 
 
 The man of abstaction often acquires a power 
 nearly resembling this, and no doubt frequently 
 confounded with it. In some cases his terms are 
 already prepai'ed, and habit enables him to substi- 
 tute them, and to perceive their relations, with 
 such facility, that the processes make no impress- 
 ion on his memory, and the result appears to be 
 intuition. 
 
REASONING AND PERCEIVING. 91 
 
 In the processes of ideally, the mind deals with 
 the actual existences of the material or intellectual 
 world, which present them.selves with all their nat- 
 ural and wide spread associations. In verbal rea- 
 soning it deals with words, and the limited, arbi- 
 trary associations, which form their definitions. — 
 The use of terms in the one case, has the same ef- 
 fect in calling up these artificial associations, as the 
 sight or recollection of an actual existence has in 
 calling up whatever we have associated with it. — 
 The mode of mind is in both cases very similar, 
 and if the former may be said to be a mode of rea- 
 soning without terms, the latter may with equal pro- 
 priety be defined a process ol ideality with them. 
 We apprehend that this similarity has had some 
 influence in obscuring the relations of poetry and 
 prose. It makes the apparent difference in the 
 processes less than it really is, and it seems alto- 
 gether disproportioned to the results. But it must 
 be remembered that although these modes of mind 
 are in this one respect similar, its action is very mucli 
 modified by the nature ofthe materials which it acts 
 upon. Ideals expand, terms narrow the path in 
 which it advances. Ideality is co-extensive with 
 thought and sentiment; abstraction cannot extend 
 beyond the contracted limits to which a precise 
 language is applied. Here we perceive a vast dif- 
 ference, and we have endeavored to preserve the 
 
92 REASONING AND PERCEIVING. 
 
 distinction, by applpng the term reasoning, when 
 used without explanation, only to the forms of ab- 
 straction. But if in ax2cordance with common cus- 
 tom and learned authority, we define this term to 
 imply that process of the mind by which it deduces 
 consequences justly from premises, or by which it 
 arrives at th-e unknown by combinations of the 
 known, it embraces both of these modes. The 
 one is the reasoning of the nominalists, the other is 
 the nearest possible approach to that of the realists. 
 The nominalists compress a subject until the mind 
 can survey it at once. Their definitions are often 
 mere hypothesis, having no necessary connexion 
 with reality, but so framed as to involve certain 
 consequences, and their reasoning is but an arrange- 
 ment of terms, more clearly showing that these con- 
 sequences are thus involved. This is emphatically 
 the case in mathematics, the most perfect specimen 
 of nominal or verbal reasoning. In this science 
 the same definition always attaches to the same 
 word, but in connexion with these words, and more 
 especially in the application of the algebraic modes, 
 we us€ letters of the alphabet, or any other marks 
 which have no particular meaning, but in each in- 
 dividual case are supposed to represent such quan- 
 tity or property as renders them most fit for the 
 purposes for which they are immediately wanted. 
 They are signs to which any hypothesis may be 
 attached; terms, whose significations are made to 
 vary according to circumstances. The associa-^ 
 
TEASONINtt AND PERCEIVING. 9S 
 
 tions with them, or their definitions for the time 
 being, are dependant on our will. We make them 
 expressly for the ocasion, we limit and fit them as 
 we choose, and hence are in little danger of mis- 
 applying them. By this artific-e, this mode of rea- 
 soning from definitions is extended to minuter di- 
 visions of cases, which, if terms with unvaring de- 
 finitions were used, would require more words or 
 signs of some kind, than now exist in our whole 
 language. 
 
 Before we can apply the results of this or any 
 other nominal reasoning to practice, we must be 
 certain that we have a case conformable to the hy- 
 pothesis. In the application of mathematics, we 
 are often enabled to do this. In the measurement 
 of matter, we can divide it into shapes nearly ap- 
 proaching to those of which it treats, and the mo- 
 tions of the heavenly bodies are, with small varia- 
 tions, in curves whose properties are accurately ex-, 
 pressed in its definitions. In point of accuracy, 
 mathematical reasoning has an advantage in dealing 
 with nothing but quantity. However different the 
 shapes which it compares, they may still be con- 
 sidered as in this respect homogenious; they are 
 all quantity, and to the mind of the mathematician, 
 nothing but quantity. Every form of it is measured 
 by a portion of itself, a facility which we cannot 
 have with subjects which are in their nature indi^ 
 visible, as love, virtue, honor, happiness, &c. Still 
 this, in comrrion with all nominal reasoning, goes 
 
94 REASONING AND PERCEIVING. 
 
 no farther than to meet specific cases. The gen- 
 eral rules elicited, may assist the judgment, and 
 enter into the composition of that common sense 
 opinion, which is within the province of ideality. 
 The mathematician, for instance, may calculate the 
 flow of water in channels supposed to be rectangu- 
 lar, circular, or of any other giveji form, and tell us 
 the effect of the increase or decrease of quantity, or 
 of inclination, &c.; but in the application of the 
 formula, deduced from each hypothesis to actual 
 existences, to rivers m their unequal winding chan- 
 nels, such great and various allowances must be 
 made, that at best they make but. a portion of the 
 circumstances which go to form our opinions. — 
 Considering this difficulty of making the definitions, 
 or the hypothesis on which verbal reasoning always 
 depends conformable to actual existences, and that' 
 the process of ideality is always ready based on 
 these actual existences, it is at least conceivable 
 that the difficulties and chances of error in the adap- 
 tation of the former, may be greater than those 
 which arise from- tlie vague and indefinite expan- 
 sion of the ideals used in the latter mode; and that 
 this may be preferable in many of the practical con- 
 cerns of life, in which the circumstances and their 
 combinations are so various that no general rules 
 can embrace them all. No mode of applying to 
 this variety variable terms, like those which give 
 algebra such a difllised and universal application to 
 questions of quantity, has yet been devised. It is 
 
REASONING AND PERCEIVING. 95 
 
 conceivable that something of this kind might be 
 done in other departments of thought, but when we 
 reflect, that in applying it to the every day con- 
 cerns of life, the principal object would be, to es- 
 timate the effect of flowing events on our happi- ' 
 ness, and then consider the endless variety, the in- 
 finite combination and undejinable nature of these 
 circumstances, and the various effects of the same 
 causes on different individuals, the obstacles ap- 
 pear insurmountable. An arrangement of terms, 
 which would meet all the cases which arise, must 
 be as subtle and diffusive as spirit, and its distinc- 
 tions be as nicely shaded as those of thought itself. 
 We apprehend that mind alone possesses the pli- 
 ancy which admits of this universal adaptation, and 
 that it must lose its expansive energy before its 
 primitive perceptions will be thus overtaken by 
 terms . 
 
 But to show how far these latter now fall short of 
 the wants of our being, we will take a case of far 
 narrower limits. 
 
 The combinations on the chess-board, though 
 vast in number, are finite. Yet how vain would 
 be the attempt to give rules for every case which 
 could possibly arise. It is conceivable, it is even 
 obviously possible that it might be done, but when 
 accomplished, a life would be too short to learn it. 
 If therefore we cannot, by means of general rules, 
 learn to play this game, which has only finite com- 
 binations, what can we expect from them when ap- 
 
96 REASONING AND PERCEIVING. 
 
 plied to the more complicated game of life, in 
 which the combinations are infinite, and the cir- 
 cumstances often as little within our control, and 
 as unexpected as the moves made by an antagonist 
 on the chess board. We apprehend that in both 
 cases, the only proper way is, after deriving what 
 assistance Ave readily can from general rules, to 
 look at the actual existences, to combine and ex- 
 amine the particular circumstances as they arise, to 
 suppose a particular course adopted, and see what 
 consequences will probably follow, and by this pro- 
 cess of ideality determine how to move or act. 
 This mode seems to have been preferred by a 
 large portion of mankind, especially in the great 
 questions connected with morals and religion. It 
 is not always as certain as if more time were de- 
 voted, and every conceivable case examined in all 
 its bearings and tendencies with the aid of terms, 
 but it is the only one which admits of- practical ap- 
 plication. It enables us promptly to apply that 
 great moral law, ''to do unto others as we would 
 that they in similar circumstances should do to us," 
 for the means by which we ascertain what we 
 would that they should do to us is evidently a 
 process of ideality. It is the only way in which 
 a large portion of mankind are able to examine and 
 to determine many matters in which they are great- 
 ly interested. We may often observe the failure 
 of good men in stating general rules, whose con- 
 sciences would leave them at no loss as to how 
 
REASONING AGD PERCEIVING. 97 
 
 they should act, in any of the particular cases aris- 
 ing under them. All have not the time, the skill, 
 nor can all spare from other proper pursuits, the in- 
 tellectual capital necessary to perfect the verbal 
 machinery required, to examine high and important 
 questions; and the attempt unsuccessful, or not 
 persevered in, would only entangle and perplex 
 tliem. It is more prudent and safe for such, to do 
 vvhat they require for their own home use, in the 
 simple, natural way, and leave to philosophers the 
 business of supplying the world, by the operation 
 of complicated machinery which they better un- 
 derstand. We cheerfully commit to them the 
 task of fitting and regulating the action of that en- 
 ginery which is to convert the pliable materials of 
 ideality into fixed and rigid maxims, meeting ev- 
 ery case of morality, and answering all the purpos- 
 es of religion, and by which its advocates hope to 
 give stability .to the changing forms and hues by 
 which religious observances and opinions are 
 adapted to the various conditions of society, and to 
 reconcile their endless variety in one beautilul, 
 harmonious system. They have not however, as 
 yet been able to exclude numerous errors and dis- 
 crepances, and however rapidly they may perfect 
 it, we apprehend that the equally improving 
 optics of ideahty, will continue to detect such im- 
 perfections. Still their persevering industry has 
 accomplished much, and we regard the deficiencies 
 alluded to, not as a fault of theirs, or of the means 
 
98 ANGIENT POETRY. 
 
 which they employ, but as necessarily connected 
 with all subjects which admit of no limitation. Mo- 
 rality and reUgion, — the relations of man with his 
 fellow beings and with his God, are of this infinite 
 kind. They cannot therefore be fully embraced 
 by terms, and ideahty will always perceive more of 
 them, than abstraction has reduced to order. This 
 is the natural progress of loiowledge. The vague 
 and conjectural, becomes distinct and certain. 
 Demonstration follows on the rear* of fancy. Yet 
 we do not apprehend that the progress of truth has 
 any influence in circumscribing her flight. Philos- 
 ophy may condense the mists in which ideality 
 shapes her fairest forms, and with them may van- 
 ish the gorgeous rainbow, and the prismatic splen- 
 dour, with which this poetic power had adorned 
 them. These beautiful effects of uncombined, 
 confused, and perverted light, may no longer glit- 
 ter in the eye of the poet, but the mist, condens- 
 ing into the dew of science, has refreshed his im- 
 agination, and opened to his vision more distant 
 prospects. With fresh hopes and invigorated pow- 
 ers, he takes a loftier flight, and in the indistinct 
 perceptions, which still form the boundary of his 
 extended vision, shapes new and more perfect 
 beauty, and finds sublimer and more exciting mys- 
 tery. 
 
 Poetry is relatively farther advanced in an imcul- 
 tivated state of society, or rather when science is 
 just dawning on the benighted age, because then 
 
ANCIENT POETRY. 99 
 
 the ai'tificial language of abstraction is very imper- 
 fect, and thought is of necessity pursued by means 
 of processes of ideaUty, and expressed in the lan- 
 guage adapted to that mode. The genius of a peo- 
 ple thus circumstanced, is forced into this channel, 
 and poetic forms of thought and expression become 
 habitual. The resources of the poet are then more 
 various, and more accessable, for all the great 
 truths are beyond the hmits to which philosophical 
 language has advanced. They are in the vague 
 poetic state, and furnish ample materials for ideal- 
 ity. These are first presented in their most strik- 
 ing aspect, and associated in a manner, which how- 
 ever beautiful, would not be likely to occur to 
 those who discerned their real connexions, but 
 which being always conceivable, appear as distinct 
 creations of the poet. Our admiration of the geni- 
 us which conceived them, increases, as the ad- 
 vancement of truth shows them to have little or no 
 foundation in reality, and he who supposed himself 
 only narrating his discoveries, obtains praise for 
 inventing or creating. The language in which the 
 early poets have thus expressed themselves, be- 
 coming identified with indistinct perceptions, or 
 erroneous and delusive associations, is rendered un- 
 fit for philosophical accuracy, and hence it is al- 
 lowed to retain its poetic expansibihty. 
 
 From this view of the subject it appears that the 
 sphere of poetry must be continually changing, that 
 in an ignorant state of society it admits of a larger 
 
loo ANCIENT POETRY. 
 
 infusion of narrative and physical knowledge, and 
 advances on the verge of literature, to the higher 
 departments of moral and intellectual science, which 
 are now its principal elements. If ever the mys- 
 teries of our nature, and the relations of society, 
 should be fully developed, and accurately expressed 
 in words, it w^ould be driven from these to yet 
 higher objects. The mysteries ot the infinite mind 
 in its various manifestations, and the numberless re- 
 lations by which, through eternity, it is united to 
 the finite, would then become more exclusively its 
 appropriate themes. 
 
 As philosophy is extended, poetry, always oc- 
 cupying the circle beyond it, recedes, and fewer 
 will get through the mass of science which inter- 
 venes. This is particularly the case when a sud- 
 den impulse is given to abstract kno\^ledge. The 
 progress of the poet is then impeded, and his vis- 
 ion obstructed by the unarranged and partially 
 condensed materials with which philosophy is en- 
 gaged. The atmosphere is not then sufficiently 
 clear for distant observation, and to make what is 
 already within the- sphere of concrete science the 
 subject of poetry, would be to retrograde. It 
 would be using a telescope to look at objects near 
 to us. To verify its facts, is an exercise of inge- 
 nuity very similar to that of arranging the mathe- 
 matical shapes of a Chinese puzzle, into given pre- 
 scribed figures. 
 
NOVELS. . 101 
 
 The novels of the present age are narration, with 
 a large infusion of ideahty, and the favor with which 
 they have been received by the pubhc, is a cheer- 
 ing evidence that this principle has not been eradi- 
 cated by the encroachments of' physical science, 
 and that it is not confined to th% few who have 
 successfully cultivated it, but is still diffused through 
 all classes of society. We give them credit for 
 something more than the evidences of these facts. 
 We regard them as having conduced to it; as hav- 
 ing at least aided to keep alive the germs of this 
 high but neglected endowment. In these Works 
 of fiction, it has assumed the guise of reality and 
 mingled with the utilitarian topics, which now al- 
 most exclusively occupy the public mind. In the 
 productions of Scott, it portrays character, senti- 
 ments, and affections, as they exhibit themselves 
 in society, and in those of Bulwer, it is advancing 
 to more remote portions of metaphysics. 
 
 Repressed by the force of circumstances, it still 
 infuses its spirit into the material science of the 
 day, and its animating beams, though shorn of their 
 brilliancy, still light and cheer the path of improve- 
 ment. 
 
 I 
 
102 INSPIRATION. 
 
 How far cultivation and moral purity may in- 
 crease the clearness of perception, and give at once 
 extension and certainty to the processes of ideali- 
 ty, we pretend nSt to know. There are those who, 
 habituating themselves to silent meditation, and 
 carefully avoiding the usual modes of reasoning, 
 sometimes arrive at results so suddenly, so vividly 
 portrayed, and by means so difficult to trace, that 
 they appear to flash upon them from some unseen 
 source, and they ascribe them to inspiration. We 
 are not disposed to differ with them about this 
 term as thus applied, though we may deem it more 
 nearly allied to poetic inspiration than they would 
 be willing to admit. To us it seems to be an in- 
 ference, or impression, derived immediately from 
 the perceptions or ideals in the mind — a process 
 of ideality, quickened by a pure enthusiasm and 
 dignified by its objects. Being good, we agree 
 with them that it comes from the source of all good. 
 We agree with them that it is the reward of pa- 
 tient seeking and holiness of thought; but whether 
 as a natural consequence of this hallowed medita- 
 tion, or as an immediate and special act of divine 
 favor, is a question which is involved in the more 
 general, and very interesting inquiry, whether the 
 creation is governed by natural, self-sustaining laws, 
 or by the immediate volitions of Deity, or partly 
 by both. We agree with them that it is in every 
 
 w**- 
 
INSPIRATION. 103 
 
 sense of the word the quickening principle, that it 
 is superior to all other human endowments, but we 
 would still pronounce it human; or with them, ad- 
 mitting it to be divine, we would call it the divinity 
 of human nature. It is literally,- as they express it, 
 a working of the spirit, but it seems to be a com- 
 mon opinion with them, that this spirit is not an 
 attribute of themselves, but a distinct, independent 
 power, over which they can exert no control, but 
 must be mere passive recipients of its manifesta- 
 tions. The obvious tendency of such a belief is 
 to prevent exertion, and their faith in it is proba- 
 bly strengthened by the greater ease with which 
 truth is perceived in this mode than it can be at- 
 tained by reasoning. The difference is analogous 
 to that of observing the equality of two figures 
 when one is applied directly to the other, or deter- 
 mining the same fact by means of a geometrical 
 demonstration. In the first case we ascertain it 
 without any conscious effort — we perceive it, as 
 we perceive intuitive truth when we compare our 
 perceptions immediately with each other. In the 
 latter, it requires labor and attention to trace the 
 equality of figures, as it does the agreement of ideas 
 through the medium of terir^s. The error to which 
 we have alluded, is however principally in terms. 
 Experience teaches the disciples of this doctrine 
 that some efforts on their part, and some mental 
 exercises of their own are necessary antecedants to 
 i!)is working of the spirit, and the practical evil is 
 
104 INSPIRATION. 
 
 thus, in a great measure, avoided. In these medi- 
 tations, they arrive at higher views of their destiny 
 — they more clearly discern the means of attaining 
 it, and however deficient their views may still be, 
 or however short of what more gifted spirits may 
 have entertained, it is still to them a revelation. — 
 The exalted pleasure they derive from these sud- 
 den manifestations, and a vivid perception of their 
 real or supposed importance, united to a philan- 
 thropic and generous enthusiasm to extend the 
 knowledge of these sources of happiness, imparts 
 to them an unwonted fervor and eloquence appa- 
 rently supernatural. 
 
 Such we apprehend is the rationale of Quaker- 
 ism. The practical application and improvement 
 of the elastic principles of ideality, with its expan- 
 sive power unshackled by creeds, has enabled an 
 unlearned people to make great advances in spirit- 
 ual truth, while their Ignorance of this grand ele- 
 ment of their own system will account for some 
 extravagances or errors into which it has led them. 
 Not recognising this sublime agent of discovery 
 and advancement as an attribute of humanity, they 
 have ascribed its effects to the immediate and spe- 
 cial interposition of the Deity, and thus overlooked 
 this secondary means of his manifestation. A pre- 
 dominance of this principle, and an habitual reli- 
 ance upon it, has had its influence upon the socie- 
 ty to which we have alluded, and given them a 
 character for caution and prudence in the manage- 
 
INSPIRATION. 105 
 
 raent of their secular concerns, which probably has 
 in part arisen from its protecting them from engag- 
 ing in those visionary schemes which are based on 
 fine spun reasonings, and which" from the impor- 
 tance which the absence of otlier sources of ag- 
 grandizement has led them to attach to wealth, 
 they would be peculiarly obnoxious to, were it not 
 for this countervailing tendency to distrust results 
 which arise only from a skilful arrangement of 
 terms, which they frequently call " vain reason- 
 ing." It is not unworthy of remark, that these 
 s.ame people believe, that by attention to these in- 
 ward teachings, they arrive at a higher degree of 
 purity and refinement than can otherwise be attain- 
 ed, and that when thus far advanced, they can, in 
 some favored moments, communicate one with an- 
 other without any external means. We must con- 
 fess, that although this is precisely what we have 
 supposed to be an effect of spiritual advancement, 
 yet we can no more conceive that such an effect, 
 without a greater change in the condition of man 
 than is apparent in this world, is embraced in that 
 hypothesis, than we can conceive intuition, as we 
 have just explained it, to extend to those long 
 arithmetical calculations made by persons who are 
 apparently deficient in every other faculty. The 
 great interest felt on such occasions, may direct 
 the attention with corresponding intensity, and all 
 the circumstances in which the one is placed may 
 he realized by the other in the form of ideals, an4 
 
106 INSPIRATION. 
 
 produce in him similar emotions. It is then only 
 like causes producing like effects. It is a state of 
 highly excited sympathy in which they enter into 
 the circumstances and participate in the feelings of 
 each othpr. In the exact sciences, a problem be- 
 ing mentally investigated by a number of individ- 
 uals understanding the subject, and then expressed 
 in the proper terms, would in most instances be 
 recognized by each of them as his own train of 
 reasoning; and on many questions which admit of 
 greater diversity, there will be a few channels of 
 thought, some one of which, those who think of 
 the subject will pursue, and thus produce many 
 coincidences of argument and conclusion. So in 
 the instances we are considering, the circumstan- 
 ces being known and pondered upon, produce sim- 
 ilar states of mind. It is true, that it is more diffi- 
 cult to say precisely what feelings will be produc- 
 ed by known circumstances. There is a greater 
 latitude, and the coincidences will, from this cause, 
 be less frequent. As an offset to this, the terms 
 in which these excited feelings are expressed, have 
 an almost equal latitude. Added to this, the feel- 
 ings themselves may be of a very vague and indis- 
 tinct character, and being expressed in terms 
 equally vague, each may suppose his own ideals 
 properly represented by the same form of words, 
 though in reality varying in no small degree from 
 each other. 
 
 We will here remark an evil, not as attaching to 
 
INSPIRATION. 107 
 
 this sect in particular, but as arising among secta- 
 rians generally", from the exclusion or neglect of 
 verbal reasoning. The want of the habit of think- 
 ing abstractly, leads them to associate what they 
 deem wrong principles, so closely with sects and 
 individuals, that their abhorrence of the erroneous 
 doctrines, becomes rancour towards those who 
 profess them. But to return. We have followed 
 the views of the society of friends farther than we 
 at first intended, at once to point out what we be- 
 lieve to be errors arising from the exclusion of ver- 
 bal reasoning, and to exhibit the effect of a steady 
 disciplined attention to one of the forms of ideality. 
 
 They probably prefer to be considered the pe- 
 culiarly favored of heaven, and the recipients of 
 its immediate dispensations; but we deem it no 
 less honorable among men, nor less equivocal evi- 
 dence of acceptance with God, that they have so 
 cultivated this exalted principle, that its manifesta- 
 tions, true to its divine character, appear to them 
 of celestial origin, and exert a celestial influence. 
 
 As a means of human advancement we are far 
 from considering this high endowment as exclu- 
 sively attaching to any sect. It is the mode which 
 must be more or less resorted to by all patient en- 
 quirers after truth. It is the poetic temperament, — 
 the divellant properties of the soul, which will ex- 
 tend themselves into the hidden infinite, but par- 
 tially subdued, and made subservient to the high 
 purposes of human advancement. It exhibits itself 
 
108 INSPIRATION. 
 
 not in lightning gleams, but curbed in its erratic 
 course, and softened and diffused over the space 
 which lies between that which is tangible and that 
 which is inscrutable, reveahng in its gloaming Hght, 
 truths over which abstraction has not yet extended 
 the pale of demonstration. It requires great care 
 and application to keep the mind in that state 
 which admits of intuitive certainty, for as we are 
 not fully aware of the elements which go to form 
 our conclusions, we have no opportunity of cor- 
 recting them by an analytic examination, and a 
 single error may warp and vitiate all our views of 
 a subject. Indeed, one of the greatest defects of 
 those who rely on this principle to the exclusion of 
 reasoning, is that they cannot distinguish its results 
 from other impressions unconsciously received, 
 and hence they are as tenacious of traditional er- 
 ror as of revealed truth. This makes it necessary 
 frequently to apply the test of reasoning; to ex- 
 press the ideals or primitive perceptions of the 
 mind in terms, and examine their relations. This 
 would be productive of the more happy results, as 
 the votaries of abstraction are obnoxious to errors 
 of an opposite character. They are m.ore liable to 
 be led astray by the bewitchments of prohibition, 
 and the plausibility which their reasoning gives to 
 new opinions insufficiently investigated. They 
 moreover, of necessity, acquire a habit of regard- 
 ing only the signs, and however clearly and cer- 
 tainly they may arrive at conclusions, forget that 
 
INSPIRATION. 109 
 
 these conclusions are founded on hypothesis, in- 
 volved in the definitions of their terms. They do 
 not see things vividly, but perceive only the signs 
 which they have substituted for them, and hence 
 their power of examining actual existences is les- 
 sened. By degrees, the abstractions obtain in 
 their minds the place of realities, so far, that in 
 some instances, they become the ultimate objects 
 of thought, and the signs are invested with all the 
 attributes which belong to that which they signify. 
 The expression natural laivs, or lau'S of stature., is 
 a remarkable instance in point, and some philoso- 
 phers have not only fallen into the absurdity of 
 giving to these mere words a power over matter, 
 but in their zeal to get rid of a universal superin- 
 tending intelligence, have adopted an hypothesis, 
 which of necessity, presumes that matter is univer- 
 sally intelligent. For it is obvious that govern- 
 ment immediately by law, presupposes a knowledge 
 of the law; and of course, intelligence, on the part 
 of the governed. 
 
 The opposite evils of which we have spoken as 
 arising from the exclusive use of ideality and ab- 
 straction, are neutralized bv a combination of these 
 poetic and prosaic modes of investigation. This 
 combination would naturally occur, and the lan- 
 guage of precision would be continually adapted 
 and applied to the suggestions of intuition, w^ere it 
 not that on some important subjects, a sort of 
 odium, a vague suspicion, has attached to those 
 
110 MYSTERIES. 
 
 who attempted to apply this severe but essential 
 means of correction. They are pragmatical with 
 our household deities. They interfere with estab- 
 lished prejudices, and make us distrust early im- 
 pressions and endeared associations. They banish 
 forms of expression hallowed by recollections of 
 youth and purity, and which however illogical, 
 were perhaps in our minds so modified as to har- 
 monize with correct principles and exalted virtue. 
 Still they must abide their fate. They must die the 
 death of error. We are slow to admit the propri- 
 ety of such harsh treatment of sentiments which we 
 had long revered. If we suspect we were wrong, 
 we are almost ready to wish we had remained so, 
 and even when we assent to the justice of the sen- 
 tence, suspect the executioner of reckless and un- 
 feeling hardihood. Hence it is, that errors are 
 suffered to accumulate until iheir glaring absurdity 
 gives confidence to the votaries of abstraction, and 
 induces them boldly to apply the test of terms. 
 
 They modify the existing, or frame a new system, 
 retaining of the old all that will abide this test, and 
 rejecting much that is absurd and contradictory. — 
 They thus form a foundation on which to erect a 
 superstructure of substantial truths. Their thoughts 
 partake of its strength and firmness; their philoso- 
 phy is sound, their perceptions are vigorous and 
 clearly expressed, but a rehgion which is contained 
 in precise finite terms, is inadequate to the bound- 
 less cravings, of the souL The ardor of discovery; 
 
 ^*t. 
 
MYSTERIES. ]11 
 
 tlie fervor of improvement; the confidence of de- 
 monstration; the pleasure derived from clearer, 
 self-reconciling, systematic views, may for a time, 
 be alone sufficient to sustain its votaries, but these 
 very causes will at length bring them to a point at 
 which terras will fail to bear them forward, or even 
 to express What their enlarged views have enabled 
 them to discover of the numerous and delicate re- 
 lations which exist between the finite spirit and the 
 infinite. Their advancement in thought, has then 
 outstripped their improvement of its signs. Their 
 attempts to express its results are consequently not 
 understood, and the Babel which they hoped to 
 raise to the skies, is by this confusion of language, 
 arrested in its progress, and its founders dispersed 
 to cultivate various portions oi the world of 
 thought, and to seek their way to Heaven, each in 
 his own path of duty and virtue. But they have 
 already accomplished much; they have discarded 
 error, and acquired and made known the means 
 of its exclusion. They have reduced knowledge 
 to a form in which it may be imparted and made 
 useful to the ignorant; and in the prosecution of 
 this work, they have improved the means of social 
 intercourse, and given to words a power, and ex- 
 pression, and pervading subtlety, little short of the 
 original thoughts which they represent. Still it is 
 insufficient. The more etherial (probably the more 
 etherial sex) will be the first to feel that its abstrac- 
 tions are too cold to express their heartfelt emo- 
 
112 MYSTERIES. 
 
 tions, too limited too meet their expanding views of 
 moral excellence. They will be the first to dis- 
 cover, that there is a spiritual refinement, which it 
 has not power to portray — a holy charm, a sublime 
 mystery, which it does not approach. 
 
 The intuitive principle here again resumes its 
 sway. Ideality is again in the ascendant. It com- 
 mences in a higher sphere, and with an activity in- 
 creased by the accumulation of truth, and freedom 
 from error, advances with a rapidity which soon 
 induces the want of something in which to embody 
 its accumulated discoveries. Some of the most 
 cultivated and gifted spirits will naturally adopt the 
 language of ideality or primitive perceptions, and 
 their most etherial thoughts will bear this impress 
 of their poetic origin: but in the dearth of language, 
 and of skill in its application, ambiguous, unmean- 
 ing, and even absurd phrases may be adopted by 
 the many, as the nucleus around which each ar- 
 ranges his own peculiar and indistinct notions. In 
 process of time, some af the crude maxims of the 
 one class, acquire undue importance as relics of 
 ancient wisdom, and the refined poetic illustrations 
 of the other, are received as literal prosaic asser- 
 tions, but still carry with them all the authority of 
 inspiration. 
 
 These causes, in addition to the constant muta- 
 tions of language, give rise to mysticisms, which 
 are too often impressed on succeeding generations, 
 as indissolubly connected with the brightest nnd 
 
MYSTERIES. 113 
 
 purest truths 'which hallow the thought of man. — 
 Among those who thus receive them, will be some 
 with sufficient sagacity to detect the error, hut not 
 having sufficient philosophy to separate it from the 
 truths with which they have always seen it united, 
 discard the whole as an imposition on common 
 sense, and as insulting to their understandings. 
 Finding that to be false, which they had from in- 
 fancy looked upon as indisputable, they view every 
 thing else with suspicion, and abandon themselves 
 to a universal skepticism. Others of the same 
 class, scarcely less unfortunate, give up the matter 
 in despair of understanding it, and passively yield 
 to the faith of childhood and the- nursery ._ From 
 these, nothing is to be expected; they make no ef- 
 fort at improvement, but sluggishly pursue the 
 beaten track, with at best no higher virtue than the 
 absence of crime, no higher motive than present 
 enjoyment, and exemption from present care and 
 perplexity. Fortunately for the cause of human 
 advancement, there is another class, who will be 
 at the pains to analyze these absurdities, to extract 
 the diluted truths which have given them currency, 
 and concentrating them in the terms of an improv- 
 ing language, transmit them to posterity as pure 
 chrystals, unalloyed with error, unclouded by mys- 
 tery, undisturbed by contradictions. 
 
 In the department of physics, we often observe' 
 henomena, which we cannot account for upon any 
 J 
 
114' MYSTERIES. 
 
 known principles, or which we cannot class with 
 any already established genera. These mysteries 
 of the material universe, are continually yielding to 
 the advances of science, and opening the way to 
 others before unnoticed. They are occasionally 
 rendered more obscure by unskilful expressions 
 and blind prejudibes, but in the main are well de- 
 fined. In this class we may rank what for the time 
 being are ultimate principles, the cause of the po- 
 larity of light, of magnetism, its connexion with 
 electricity, and other facts which have been ob- 
 served, but which apparently are not referable to 
 any known laws. In the moral and intellectual 
 world, phenomena analogous to these are present- 
 ed; but here, the difficulties arising from ill applied 
 terms, and from long estabhshed prejudices, be- 
 come much greater and cause gross absurdities. 
 Hence has arisen a feeling against mysteries, and 
 disposed many to discard them entirely, but this is 
 to circumscribe themselves within present defined 
 limits, and bars all further progress. Others, with 
 the blindness of bigotry, admit the mysteries in 
 whatever form they may have already assumed, and 
 however preposterous they may appear, deny the 
 expediency of any change, and even the propriety 
 of any inquiry. It is thus that what at first were 
 cheering anticipations of truth distorted by igno- 
 rance, and clouded by superstition, are perpetuat- 
 ed as errors, and throw their darkening shadows 
 over the very spots they at first illumined. The 
 
MYSTERIES. 115 
 
 rational mysteries of the moral and intellectual 
 world, arise from those ineffable visions which are 
 arrived at when the noble sallies of the soul carry 
 it beyond its usual limits, and afford it transient 
 and indistinct perceptions of something, which it 
 cannot define or represent by signs, but which 
 serve to awaken curiosity and stimulate inquiry. 
 
 This field of imperfect discovery the mind fills 
 with beautiful ideals, and in its contemplation real- 
 izes with delightful certainty that it is still free, 
 still expanding, and has ample space for the exer- 
 cise and improvement of its invigorated powers. 
 Such mysteries, and their happy influences, are 
 the result of processes of ideality, leading us for- 
 ward, sometimes so far as to strain our feeble pow- 
 ers, and far, very far, beyond the application of 
 terms or signs. Their changing forms are seeij 
 only in the mists of poetry, but yielding gradually 
 to increasing light and knowledge, they assume a 
 settled form, and are embodied in the language of 
 abstraction, which changes them from the poetic 
 form of ideality, and as it is well or ill applied, 
 converts them into philosophical truths or prosaic 
 errors. 
 
 We have spoken of the happy influence of mys- 
 teries, but we must be understood as meaning only 
 those mysteries which are continually hovering 
 near the outer verge of science, and which, how- 
 ever far we may extend our views will continue to 
 unfold themselves in the. expanding horizon. — - 
 
116 MYSTERIES. 
 
 These, as we have before remarked, are rational 
 mysteries. Language not having been extended to 
 them, they are exckisrvely in the province of ide- 
 ahty; and are widely different from those ver- 
 bal mystifications, contradictions and absurdities, 
 which in some instances have been substituted for 
 iheni. These have been held out to mankind as 
 false lights, involving them in inextricable difficul- 
 ties. They have been presented as 'the objects on 
 v.'hich to direct the sublime power of improve- 
 ment, but all hope of advancing denied them. In 
 very mockery of their human wants, and divine as- 
 pirations, something having the appearance of the 
 anplucked fruit of knowledge has been presented 
 to them, but they forbidden, under the most terri- 
 ble penalties, to taste or touch it, and with the infi- . 
 nite tendencies of the soul thus shackled, they have 
 l)een told to rest their highest hopes on the verity 
 of verbal involutions,- which they are authoritatively 
 told, they cannot and ought not to unfold. The 
 expansive power thus directed against an obstacle 
 which is deemed insurmountable, loses its elastici- 
 ty, and the mind learns submission to a state of 
 passive, unchanging ignorance. 
 
 The free spirit which has escaped these fetters, 
 is always pressing forward. In its bold incursions 
 into the infinite, it is continually making -discove- 
 ries, but superstition too often follows, and with 
 the iron grasp of tyranny, seizes the new domain. 
 To rescue these fair provinces from this gloomy 
 
MYSTERIES. 117 
 
 despotism, becomes the object of succeeding phi- 
 losophers. They bring all tlie force of well mar- 
 shalled terms to aid them in the enterprise. But 
 what avails this array of strength in a crusade 
 against a subtle enemy, continually shifting its po- 
 sition, and always eluding attack. But though the 
 toil of philanthropic philosophers has apparently 
 been in vain — though the life stream of the inspir- 
 ed enthusiast has scarcely sufficed to moisten the 
 arid sands on which it has freely flowed — though 
 the very soil on which truth first shone, may be 
 held by the ignorant and benighted, and supersti- 
 tion still sway its sceptre over these fair portions 
 of this holy land, yet truth itself is ever gradually 
 and silently accomplishing its objects, and at 
 length, manifests itself with such universal power, 
 that prejudice yields, and even bigotry feels its in- 
 fluence. 
 
 The mysteries of ideality are as graceful, yield- 
 ing, glowing clouds, seen through the atmosphere 
 of knowledge. Like the distant nebula, they tell 
 the philosopher that all beyond is not a void — that 
 there still exists a field of discovery — that what 
 now appears' unconnected, or at best an excres- 
 cence, may, to his expanding views, become har- 
 moniously reconciled in the arrangements of a larger 
 sphere, and what now seems only an obscure speck, 
 may with distinct and brilliant rays,'hght and guide 
 him on his way to unthought of discoveries. They 
 thus awaken in the soul a consciousness of the 
 
 T* 
 
118 BIYSTERIES. 
 
 boundless Mature of truth, and of the infinite pro- 
 gression of its own immortal powers. They in- 
 spire it with enthusiasm, and rouse it to that exer- 
 tion which is necessary to the fulfilment of its high- 
 est destinies. These indistinct primitive percep- 
 tions — these adumbrations of truth, which dawn on 
 the free and aspiring mind, are directly opposed to 
 those spurious mysteries, which consist of artificial 
 arrangements of terms, and are sustained by repres- 
 sing inquiry and keeping the mind in that state of 
 darkness which precludes examination. These are 
 as dense mists around us, in which we may con- 
 jure up many strange phantoms, but must be dis- 
 pelled before we can see any thing clearly or aright. 
 They obstruct our vision, weaken our powers, re- 
 tard our progress, and some of them, especially the 
 dogmas of rehgion, dampen ardor and hide from 
 us the brightest paths and fairest fields of human 
 investigation. There is, however, one circum- 
 stance, which gives these artificial mysteries an ad- 
 vantage over the natural. Having already assumed 
 the concrete form, they are fixed and inflexible. — 
 Continually presented to us with the same aspect, 
 they take a stronger hold of our perceptions. — 
 Through all the changing scenes of life they remain 
 the same. They are as plants of the joyous spring 
 of existence, which however worthless, have not 
 decayed. They have not improved by cultivation, 
 but like noxious weeds, producing no good fruit, 
 have been suffered to grow for want of it. In them 
 
MYSTERIES. 119 
 
 mind makes no progress. On them time makes no 
 impression. The observances connected with them 
 are the same, and carry with them into age the as- 
 sociations of youth. They form, a continuous chain 
 to whose uniform links are united all the recollec- 
 tions of the past, and all the anticipations of the 
 future. A thread of fiction stringing together the 
 realities of Hfe. They make a portion of the uni- 
 lorm web on which is woven the varied colors 
 which brighten and shade existence. Nor are these 
 counterfeit mysteries wholly without these better 
 influences which appertain to the real. Those who 
 are deceived with them, receive a baser coin than 
 is issued from the mint of truth; but that they have 
 thus received them, is an evidence that the love of 
 truth remains. That portion of prospective hap- 
 piness which arises from the consciousness that 
 mind has not yet filled the measure of its capaci- 
 ties may be associated with them. They are all 
 that he is permitted to conjecture of the bright paths 
 which would lead him to a higher sphere. Human 
 skill may have made the perspective so imposing, 
 that instead of mere proximate illusions of light and 
 shade, they appear to the victim of the deception 
 as realities extending far beyond his earthly hopes. 
 To him they are still truth in an inscrutable guise, 
 and may still excite in him that devotion, which 
 when rightly appreciated, she always inspires. He 
 may listen to the voice which is his authority for 
 what is yet undiscovered. He may again and again 
 
120 MYSTERIES. 
 
 repeat the mystic rites, which serve to amuse his 
 hopes without awakening exertion; and he may 
 visit the scenes where these mysteries have been 
 made famihar to him, and ponder on the visible 
 types of invisible truth, as we linger around the 
 grave of friendship, while we expect to meet the 
 spirit which consecrates the spot only in another 
 world. And this veneration for what he is told is 
 the robe of truth, this devotion for all which bears 
 her impress, may prevent a reckless scepticism, 
 and sustain some of the better feelings, of the ex- 
 istence of which they are undoubted evidence. — 
 The evil is that they will not allow these better 
 feelings to expand and improve. They cramp the 
 soul, and if it ever discovers that its affections have 
 been misplaced and fastened on worthless absurdi- 
 ties, its confidence in the virtuous principles which 
 it had been taught to associate with them, is weak- 
 ened, if not destroyed. 
 
INFLUENCE OF IDEALITY, ETC. ' 121 
 
 In the formation of character, ideaUty exerts an 
 influence of the highest importance. It is the chan- 
 nel by whidi the conceivable objects of desire or 
 aversion are brought nearest to the springs of vol- 
 untary action. From those supposeable events 
 which are continually flowing through the mind, we 
 form rules of conduct or receive impressions which 
 imperceptibly govern us in the concerns of real 
 life. It is in meditation that we nurture those in- 
 nate feelings, whichvgive impulse to action, and de- 
 termine its mode. He who accustoms himself to 
 this discipline — who withdraws from the bustle of 
 the world, and in tranquility contemplates imagina - 
 ry cases, and determines how he ought to act un- 
 der them, frames for himself a system of govern- 
 ment, with less liability to error, than he can do in 
 the tumultuous scenes of life. He is not swayed 
 by those interests and passions which so often dis- 
 tort the views of those who act from the impulse of 
 immediate and pressing circumstances. The beau- 
 tiful and the good rise in glowing forms before him 
 and lighthispath to excellence. The processes of 
 ideality in which he indulges, may not exactly fit 
 the occasions which actually arise, but in the vast 
 number of them which even the most busy life ad- 
 mits of, there will probably be found many which 
 are in some degree applicable to every contingen- 
 cy. They will at least furnish analogies and give 
 
122 ' INFLUENCE OF IDEALITY 
 
 him habits of disinterested thought which lead to 
 high and correct views of duty and propriety. 
 
 He who habitually cultivates thoughts of peace, 
 who lives in an ideal harmony with all arouiid him, 
 and moistens the tenderness of his nature at the 
 pure fountains of an indwelling benevolence, ren- 
 ders himself more susceptible to the pleasures of 
 society, and less obnoxious to the cross incidents 
 which sometimes mar its happiness. If these un- 
 opportunatel;'^ happen to disturb him, he finds in his 
 primitive perceptions of the moral beauty of kind- 
 ness and social order, a balsam for his wounded 
 spirit, which sooths the painful asperity of his la- 
 cerated feelings, and restores him to tranquility and 
 cheerfulness. He who in all the fancied or ex- 
 pected collisions of interest or opinion, maintains 
 a calm and unrufiied temper; represses the irritable 
 feelings, and calls into action those which are mild 
 and conciliating, is fortifying himself against the 
 rude attacks of the world, and elevating himself 
 above its petty conflicts. Thus prepared, he meets 
 the crosses and trials which are the lot of existence, 
 with fortitude and serenity. To him they are but 
 occasions for the exercise of those amiable virtues 
 which he has drawn from the pure sources of ideal- 
 ity. They enable him to act out what he has con- 
 ceived. Like the majestic oak he derives strength 
 from the storms which assails him. Without this 
 happy internal agency which is ever exerting its un- 
 suspected power, the character would be formed 
 
ON CHARACTER. 123 
 
 and developed only by the occurrences of life, and 
 we should always be obhged to judge of propriety 
 at the very moment when we should be most liable 
 to be biased by the influence of peculiar circum- 
 stances, interest or passion. FeeHngs thus brought 
 into exercise only amid the stir and strife of the 
 world, would probably become coarse, harsh and 
 selfish. The processes of ideality may correct this 
 tendency — may refine the affections and give lib- 
 erahty to sentiment. They can soften the rigid 
 feelings, and mould them in their own forms of 
 beauty, but at the same time when perverted they 
 greatly increase the evil which they should be made 
 the means of averting. 
 
 Situations of difficulty and danger, induce a cor- 
 responding cultivation of those sterner qualities 
 which are then required. The savage, in contin- 
 ual danger of attack, sustains his warlike spirit by 
 imaginary achievements accomplished in ideal con- 
 flict with the enemies of his tribe. He fancies h im- 
 self in mortal combat, and feels the glow of mar- 
 tial enthusiasm thrill through his veins, exciting 
 him to deeds of valor or desperation. 
 
 He conceives himself the fettered victim of the 
 strife, and nerves himself to endure the torture 
 with uncomplaining fortitude. Courage and a pow- 
 er of endurance, with them, are the highest attain- 
 ments, — these occupy their thoughts; and that 
 their growth is stimulated by processes of ideality, 
 is evinced in their rude songs — the barbarous poe- 
 
124 INFLUENCE OF IDEALITY 
 
 try, in which these processes naturally find ut- 
 terance. These depict wai'like courage, soul-in- 
 spiring danger, and heroic fortitude. All this may 
 be necessary in the rude state of society, when 
 there are no laws to counteract brute force, but 
 even in its more advanced state, analogous causes 
 undo the effects of civilization, and generate the 
 savage character in the midst of refinement. He 
 who has been compelled into keen collision with 
 others, fosters the energies which are requisite in 
 the strife, and sometimes acquires a morbid taste 
 for such excitements after the occasions for them 
 have passed away. When this is the case, his 
 ideal processes flow in the same channel. Dis- 
 cord, and its attendant train of disturbing influences 
 continually occupy his mind. His spirit becomes 
 fiery and ferocious; his will impetuous and impa- 
 tient of control. The mahgnant passions habitu- 
 ally acquire a dreadful ascendancy. Embittered 
 feeling, demoniac rage, and furious revenge, be- 
 come the elements in which he lives, and inhales 
 a stimulus, which gives frantic vigor to the worst 
 passions of the heart, while its poison intoxicates, 
 convulses and maddens the soul. 
 
 But. low as he has tlius fallen, he has not yet 
 reached the worst condition. While he acts from 
 impulse, even though it be the impulse of fierce 
 and disturbing passion, he will still exhibit some- 
 thing of the greatness of his nature. The unsub- 
 dued energy of purpose, strong determination, un- 
 
ON CHARACTER. 125 
 
 conquerable will — his very recklessness, impress 
 us as the over excited action of a noble though per- 
 verted spirit — of a spirit, which like the tempest 
 cloud, adds to the sublimity of the scene which it 
 darkens. It glows not with the warm beams of 
 heaven, nor reflects its softened rays, but while 
 it rejects its benign radiance, from its dark bosom 
 emits its own fierce and terrific gleams. And- 
 with these workings of power a sympathy is felt by 
 milder and better natures. It is not until the pro- 
 cesses of ideality, perverted to evil, and cramped 
 within the little sphere of self, have gradually ex- 
 terminated all spontaneous impulse, and substituted 
 in its place, cold calculation, low cunning, and 
 mean artifice,, that the moral nature becomes whol- 
 ly repulsive and disgusting. This is premeditated 
 depravity. It is poisoning the fountain from which 
 every action flows. To destroy the natural or 
 early formed impulses is a work requiring no little 
 pains. It is probably efiected, by magnifying the 
 advantages of selfishness, by recalling events in 
 which a yielding to generous impulse has interfer- 
 ed with it, and searching oufcthe modes by which, 
 under similar circumstances, a repetition of it may 
 be avoided. These are processes of ideality, in 
 which the individual wilfully excludes the pleas- 
 ures which arise from the generous emotions, and 
 by this means destroys their natural connexion with 
 the springs of action, and estabhshes in their room, 
 a system of narrow prudential considerations, 
 
 K 
 
126 INFLUENCE OF IDEALITY 
 
 which cramps and degrades his moral nature; in- 
 duces a meanness incompatible with the dignity of 
 virtue, and shuts out all the finest feelings and no- 
 blest aspirations of the soul. 
 
 It appears strange, that a labor, thus painful in its 
 performance, and leading to such baneful results, 
 should ever be accomplished. It is no doubt gen- 
 .erally done with a view to some immediate object, 
 without reference to its ultimate effect, and without 
 a sufficient examination of the laws of our being. 
 But even with his vision circumscribed by this cul- 
 pable neglect, no one ever committed this cold- 
 blooded mutilation of soul without a sense of the im- 
 mediate violence and degradation, as none ever 
 fostered the generous sentiments, without a feeling 
 of exaltation and a conscious susceptibility to pur- 
 er plea&ures. The power which we exert over 
 our moral nature, though less nobly exhibited, is 
 more strongly attested by its perversion than by 
 its improvement. In the formation of the avari- 
 cious character, for instance, more than in the most 
 generous virtue. In the one case it seems to ad- 
 vance with perfect freedom in the path of its own 
 4lp choice and to be led forward by the delights which 
 ., attend its progress. In the other it is forced back 
 against the current of its affections, fettered and 
 ■ guarded with tyrannic vigilance, and made subser- 
 vient to the most degrading purposes. The mis- 
 er looks upon the man of liberality as one too weak 
 to resist the dictates of generosity. He knows 
 
ON CHARACTER. 127 
 
 the labor which his own prudence has cost him, 
 and congratulates himself on his exemption from 
 such benevolent frailties. The higher pleasures are 
 to him unreal, and the pursuit of them visionary. 
 In curbing the expansive tendency of his moral 
 nature, he has shown us how great a power we may 
 exert in controlling it, as the martyr who held his 
 hand in the flames which consumed it, gave more 
 striking proof of the powder of the mental over the 
 physical system, than the most skilful and useful 
 application of it w^ould have done. 
 
 That we have such a power of modifying our 
 dispositions is perhaps sufficiently obvious, though 
 too often overlooked in its practical application. 
 The great means by which these modifications are 
 effected, we believe to be processes of ideality, 
 and that the principal causes of the wrong forma- 
 tion of character are the perversion of these pro- 
 cesses to foster ignoble passions, and the w^ant of 
 their influence in counteracting the effects of ex- 
 ternal causes. Fortunately the occasions of life 
 which have a tendency to warp the disposition, 
 though frequent, have their intervals, are transient, 
 and in some degree neutralize each other. The 
 forms of ideality may always be brought to mind, 
 and if we encourage the presence of those only 
 which are pure and elevated, we shall, as a conse- 
 quence, become more and more refined and enno- 
 bled. Without this countervailing principle, our 
 moral nature would be the sport of chance, liable 
 
128 INFLUENCE OF IDEALITY 
 
 to be irretrievably driven from its course, by every 
 current of feeling and every storm of passion. 
 Character would then depend on accidental and phys- 
 ical causes. But in the contemplation of the con- 
 ceivable events which continually occupy the mind, 
 and the careful retention of the primitive percep- 
 tions which inspire us with virtuous emotion, we 
 find a more steady influence, which, with proper at- 
 tention, counteracts the effects of accidents, ele- 
 vates us above the power of circumstance, and effec- 
 tually protects us from a fatality otherwise inevitable, 
 in the over active life of those who task their 
 whole abilities in business pursuits, the succession 
 of impelling circumstances is often so close as not 
 to admit of a sufficient infusion of ideality to tem- 
 per their irritating and engrossing influence, and 
 the character is consequently in danger of losing 
 its amiable and expansive qualities. The frequent 
 occurrence of this has probably given rise to a not 
 uncommon impressiop, that moral character is nee ■> 
 essarily the result of external circumstances. And 
 this we believe to be one reason of the too little 
 value usually attached to it. We too often regard 
 the possession of it, rather as an evidence of good 
 fortune, than of a useful and wise discipline on the 
 part of the possessor, and the exercise of it as a 
 mere act of volition, involving no difficulty, and 
 though deserving praise, yet calling for no distinct 
 tion. Hence too it is, that we are prone to make 
 the more palpably active intellectuD,! powers the 
 
ON CHARACTER. 129 
 
 Standard of excellence, and the obj ects of our ad- 
 miration. 
 
 But when we consider morality as the result of 
 the most delicate cultivation, it- assumes a higher 
 elevation. We then look upon the actions of the 
 virtuous, as but the indications of a harmony with- 
 in, the expression of an instrument whose fine tones 
 have been improved amid the discord of confused 
 and troubled scenes. We are led to admire the 
 moral energy which has infused itself into each del- 
 icate >pring, and preserved its perfections amid the 
 agitations to which it has been continually exposed. 
 
 We have already spoken of the power of ideali- 
 ty in enabling us to fall into the same channels of 
 thought which our acquaintances would pursue. If 
 we mistake not, this is particularly obvious in the ap- 
 plication of it which we are now considering. How 
 often when we have determined on a course of con- 
 duct, particularly when that determination is formed 
 under the influence of exciting circumstances, are 
 we led to suspect the propriety of it, by thinking 
 how some friend would view it. We put ourselves 
 in. his position, look at it calmly, as he would do, 
 endeavor to get the same aspect as would be 
 presented to hini, and then perhaps discover that 
 our own vision had been distorted, and led into er- 
 ror. In this way, through the medium of this fac- 
 ,ulty, we make the virtue and discretion of our 
 
130 INFLUENCE OF IDEALITY, ETC. 
 
 friends available to us. We use iheir modes of 
 thought to mould our own.* 
 
 There is peculiar consolation in the consideration 
 that mind possesses in these varied forms of ideal- 
 ity, an inherent power of resisting or modifying the 
 influence of material causes; that it has a mode 
 which is as near to our moral, as sensation is to our 
 physical, nature It elevates it to a more command- 
 ing eminence, gives it a tone of conscious superi- 
 ority, and makes us feel at once the meanness of 
 yielding, and our ability to triumph over the petty 
 trials and temptations which assail us. 
 
 The examination of past conduct, and of sup- 
 ])osed caaes, is no doubt frequently performed in 
 the abstract mode, but from the greater length of 
 tim.e which it requires, it is impossible that this 
 juethod should always be resorted to, and when it 
 is, although it may establish general principles, it 
 Is less moving, and has a less direct influence on 
 the conduct, than those scenic representations 
 wliich are so faithfully acted in the theatre within 
 us. Ideality is in this respect the nearest approach 
 to reality. 
 
 This expansive element, which thus exhibits it- 
 scli" in the formation of the most common charac- 
 
 * Charles Lamb, in iilliiding to his friend Coleridge, then recently 
 deceased, says: "His great and dear spirit haunts me. I cannot 
 think a thought, I cannot make a criticism on men or books, without 
 an ineffectual turning and reference to hira. He was the proof and 
 touchstone of all my cogitations." 
 
PROPHECY. 131 
 
 ter, becomes more conspicuous, in those extraor- 
 dinary manifestations of mind, which have occa- 
 sionally illumined the world with a brightness al- 
 most superhuman. 
 
 In its most humble guise — that in which it min- 
 gles with the business of life, and in which its ex- 
 pansive power is almost neutralized by the pre- 
 dominance of the grosser nature, it is the basis of 
 that common sense, which is universally regarded, 
 ^iot*only as differing, but as somewhat opposed to 
 the verbal refinement of those who, arriving at their 
 conclusions through the medium of terms, can state 
 them, however chimerical, in the plausible and im- 
 posing forms of syllogistic reasoning. It is some- 
 times this which induces a man to withhold his as- 
 sent from the results of an argument which he can- 
 not refute. The processes of ideality do not re- 
 veal to him the relation which the terms of the 
 reasoner have pointed out. From this, the most 
 alloyed form in which the etherial principle is ob- 
 servable, its inherent property is developed as it 
 mcreases in purity, until it exhibits its divellent ten- 
 dency in the random gleams of poetic phrenzy, giv- 
 ing in the distance transient and indistinct percep- 
 tions of whatever its uncertain flashes chance to 
 beam upon; or still controlled and directed by a 
 ■firm philosophy and ardent pursuit of truth, it ex- 
 pands under their influence, until embracing in the 
 form of primitive perceptions, all the great attri- 
 lautes of man, and the laws which regulate his pro- 
 
1 32 PROPHECY. 
 
 gression, it displays to its votaries the connexion 
 between the present and the future with the clear- 
 ness of revelation, and enables them to predict with 
 inspired confidence. If in the earliest and weak- 
 est manifestation, when directed only to the little 
 circle of events around us, incited only by a selfish 
 interest — obscured by the mists of an imperfect 
 morality, and liable to perversion from the wishes, 
 the hopes, the fears, and the darker passions which 
 agitate and perturb the undisciplined and unpurffied 
 mind. If under such circumstances it can enable 
 us to anticipate some small portion of the future, 
 can it be doubted that in its highest state of culti- 
 vation, when capable of embracing " all this maze 
 of man," when its perceptions are quickened by a 
 pure morality, when inspired by a universal philan- 
 thropy, and all the feelings and passions of the man 
 are merged in an enthusiastic devotion to truth; 
 can it be doubted that these anticipations may then 
 assume the importance, the reach, the dignity, and 
 the certainty of prophetic revelation.' Are not the 
 superiority of the elements which are thus brought 
 into action proportioned to such a result.'' 
 
 But we mean not to imply that this highly im- 
 proved state of this endowment is common. On 
 the contrary, he who has arrived at this state of re- 
 finement, this freedom from selfishness and the dis- 
 tractions of sense, this purity of passion and an- 
 gelic devotion, has already attained an elevation far 
 beyond the ordinary lot of mortals; and we have 
 
PROPHECY. 133 
 
 before considered one essential element of this 
 power, that of coping with general propositions in 
 the form of ideals, as properly belonging rather to 
 a higher state of existence. The spirit, then, which 
 has attained such reach of thought and clearness of 
 perception, has anticipated its destiny, and the at- 
 tributes of humanity, by care and cultivation, have 
 been early matured to the celestial. In such a 
 spirit the etherial principle manifests itself in un- 
 wonted purity, and the impassioned soul, though 
 wrought upon by its most expansive influence, still 
 preserves its integrity and unity of purpose. In the 
 highest exhibitions of its power, it seems borne for- 
 ward on a whirlwind of thought, but in this moral 
 tempest retains its self-possession, and with a tran- 
 quil, God-like power, directs and controls its light- 
 ning energies. 
 
 We would not be understood to say that this 
 spiritual refinement of the processes of ideality, is 
 the only source of prophecy. We are aware that 
 this knowledge of the future may flow immediately 
 from that infinitely purer foiuitain of all knowledge, 
 to which the most advanced terrestrial spirit is but 
 in the earliest stage of a never ending approxima- 
 tion. But we do wish to inculcate the idea, that 
 in that portion of intelligence which is allotted to 
 man, there is infused a principle, which in its low- 
 est state, enables him to form probable conjectures 
 of future events most connected with the objects 
 pf his thoughts, and that this 'principle admits of 
 
134 PROPHECY. 
 
 indefinite improvement and extension. That when 
 redeemed from a narrow selfishness, and unencum- 
 bered by the gross and sensual, — in short, when 
 exerting its influence under circumstances similar 
 to those which we have supposed to favor our pro- 
 gress in the hereafter, it will advance us to that 
 purer region of knowledge, from which more dis- 
 tant portions of futurity are distinctly visible; and 
 we would wish to direct attention to the similarity 
 between the two sources of prophecy. They are 
 both manifestations of spirit. One is infallible, and 
 the other is the nearest approach of a finite intelli- 
 gence to it. With the exception of a few record- 
 ed instances in which the great I AM revealed him- 
 self in articulate language, they are equally spirit- 
 ual discernings of truth, and when God reveals the 
 future by imparting more power and penetration to 
 the purified spirit, and thus making its discernings 
 more clear and certain, it still differs not from the 
 processes of ideality in kind, but only in degree. 
 It is then only an increase of the power which he 
 originally gave. We are not prepared to call this 
 miraculous, for if the Supreme Being governs in- 
 ferior intelligences through the medium of fixed, 
 natural laws, this increase of pow-er may be a nat- 
 ural effect of increased purity and cultivation. Or, 
 if he governs them by his immediate volitions, this 
 result may still be conformable to the uniform modes 
 which he has adopted. 
 
 We apprehend that oji this subject, the views of 
 
PROPHECY. 135 
 
 many have been perverted, by conceiving the su- 
 preme intelhgence as existing only at a great dis- 
 tance from the httle sphere of humanity; that there 
 is a great void between, which omnipresence does 
 not fill, and which omnipotence cannot traverse 
 without an effort. But how much more just and 
 ennobling is the conception that we are in the 
 midst of this omnipresence — that our finite spirits 
 are blended with the infinite — associated with it by 
 innumerable relations, and with affinities continual- 
 ly increasing as it ;issiinilates to it in purity and ho- 
 liness — that we hold communion with omniscience 
 — that through the medium of the material world 
 we continually imbibe a knowledge of the ways of 
 nature's God, while his spiritual reveafings enlarge 
 our views of moral excellence and light, and guide 
 us in our progress towards perfection. 
 
 We wish not to lessen the estimation in which 
 prophecy is deservedly held, and if we understand 
 the application of our own views, they have no 
 such tendency. He who has increased his powers 
 by cultivating and purifying the talents allotted to 
 him, we deem as worthy as if a new talent had 
 been suddenly conferred upon him. He whose 
 spiritual light has been permanently increased, we 
 believe to be as much favored by heaven, as if he 
 were only occasionally made the vehicle of its re- 
 velations to mankind. 
 
 Prophecy immediately revealed from God, has 
 always been, as indeed it must needs be, accompa- 
 
 # 
 
136 PROPHECY. 
 
 nied by such extraordinary manifestations, as not 
 only to leave no doubt to its immediate recipient, 
 but all who believe his account of it, must also be- 
 lieve the prediction to come from an infallible 
 source. A simple narration of them is sufficient 
 to produce an undoubting faith. 
 
 But those which are mere discernings of an in- 
 spired spirit, are unsupported by such supernatu- 
 ral occurrences, and their credibility must rest 
 upon other circumstances. We can judge of them 
 only by what they themselves present. They must 
 bear the stamp of their high character and origin. 
 Their own brightness must convince us that they 
 come from the fountain of light. Such has been 
 the case with those which have been accredited. 
 They have contained their own intrinsic evidence. 
 They have borne the impress which attested that 
 they were the emanations of a gifted spirit. They 
 have been stamped with the purest ideality, and 
 clothed in the loftiest strains of poetry. It is the 
 universal adaptation of this language to every de- 
 gree of intelligence, which has made for them an 
 avenue to every mind, and inspired with equal 
 faith the weak and the wise, the ignorant and the 
 learned. 
 
 The exceptions to its influence have generally 
 been such as disciplined the reasoning faculty in the 
 use of terms, to the exclusion of ideality, or such 
 as cultivated this latter faculty, but applied it only 
 to the purpose of producing illusion, and hence 
 
PROPHECr. 137 
 
 had no good reason to rely upon its manifestations 
 in others. They felt the movements of its power 
 within them, but blended with the gross and sen- 
 sual, had no adequate conceptions of the greatness 
 of its purified nature. 
 
 It is often asserted that the age of prophecy has 
 passed. With regard to that which is the immedi- 
 ate and miraculous manifestation of Deity, it be- 
 comes not us to speak; but concerning that which 
 we have described as the result of processes of ide- 
 ality, we may venture some remarks. 
 
 The effect which the sudden advancement of the 
 physical sciences has had in changing our modes of 
 thought and expression, has wrought an important 
 change in this particular province of mind. Instead 
 of stating the result of a process of ideality in its 
 appropriate language, in which it would appear 
 more oracular, these results are minutely traced, 
 and the train of connexion carefully preserved 
 through the medium of terms, and by this infusion 
 of the prosaic, what in its original, poetic form 
 would have appeared as prophecy, is reduced to 
 the standard of common sense. The power of 
 reaching the future through the medium of primi- 
 tive perceptions is the highest effort of mind, and 
 requires the most concentrated application of its 
 undivided energies. Whatever then excites it to 
 activity, and increases its power of attention, is fa- 
 vorable to this development. Intense interest en- 
 abled the empress Josephine to foresee the results 
 
 L 
 
133 FINITE PRESENCE. 
 
 of a certain measure of Napoleon's, and had she 
 stated those resuks in the less precise language of 
 ideality, and without exhibiting the connecting train 
 of reasoning, they might have passed for prophetic 
 revelations. It is not then surprising that before 
 the general introduction of the philosophic method, 
 and especially in the times of high religious excite- 
 ment which preceded it, that enthusiastic devotees 
 should have often penetrated the future through the 
 medium of ideals, to which their glowing imagina- 
 tions imparted such vividness, that if not in reality, 
 they might easily be mistaken for the inspirations 
 of prophecy, and they have honestly believed them- 
 selves endowed with more than human foresight. 
 What then would have appeared in the form of 
 false prophecy, is now first converted into false 
 philosophy or rejected in the attempt to embody 
 it in concrete science. 
 
 We need not urge that this power by which we 
 revive the past, brighten the present, and antici- 
 pate the future, is the highest endowment of hu- 
 manity. It is also that attribute of the finite spirit, 
 which most nearly corresponds to that of omnipres- 
 ence in the infinite. By its exercise, every place 
 and every object of its knowledge is made present 
 10 the mind, and if it be not equally proper to say 
 that mind is present to them, is an equivalent, which 
 in effect makes it not omnipresent, because, and 
 only because, it is not omniscient and omnipotent. 
 
IDEALITF AND ABSTRACTION. lo9 
 
 For, if we knew all things, we could make them 
 all present to us in the form of ideals, and if ther(> 
 were no limit to this power, we could embrace 
 them all at once, and this would be equivalent to 
 being every where present at the same time; or, if 
 we may so express it, mind, as manifested in man, 
 has a finite presence, which has the ?ame relation to 
 omnipresence, which its finite knowledge and power 
 have to the other two great attributes of the uni^ 
 versal intelligence. 
 
 The revealings of ideality require a constant inir 
 provement of the language in which they are ex- 
 pressed, and this in turn demands a corresponding 
 progression, in the forms of abstraction, and in- 
 duces a mode of mind which forms the first stage 
 of its advancement from the finite to the infinite, 
 and admits of such varied proportions of the gross 
 and etherial, that it can descend to the most selfish 
 and narrow concerns, or closely following where? 
 ideality leads, rise in lofty and refined investigation 
 to the most ennobling conceptions. This gives it 
 a peculiar adaptation to our present mixed nature;, 
 preserving the physical, and improving the moral. 
 It is the tempered light suited to our feeble vision. 
 It has not the brilliancy of poetic fancy, but it pos-r 
 
140 IDEALITY AND ABSTRACTION. 
 
 sesses the enduring charms of substantial truth. -7- 
 The language of abstraction is seldom found wholly 
 unalloyed. It generally contains an infusion of ide- 
 ahty and by this combination acquires a pliancy 
 which makes it more universally applicable to the 
 subjects of thought. Cheered by this enlivening 
 influence, and keeping on the firm ground of dem- 
 onstration, the man of abstraction pursues the even 
 tenor of his way amid all the trials and temptations 
 which beset his path; or rising in lofty speculation 
 above the little world of human care and perplex- 
 ity, draws consolation or happiness from sources 
 purely his own, and of which no vicissitudes of 
 fortune can deprive him. He returns fortified by 
 the results of mature investigation, and invested 
 with a panoply of principles which prepares him 
 for all the chances and changes of life. It imparts 
 firmness to his virtue, and decision and energy to 
 his action. It gives him a tone of conscious ele- 
 vation which raises him above the ordinary vexa- 
 tions of life, and enables him to look on its joys and 
 its sorrows with steadiness and serenity. He has 
 measured the evils to which he is exposed, and 
 knows his ability to endure them. 
 
 Nor are the effects of this power when exerted 
 for the general welfare less happy. To superficial 
 observers, the man of abstraction may for a time 
 appear a soulless, uninteresting object. They 
 will wonder how he can find amusement in abstruse 
 and perplexing investigation. They cannot per= 
 
 ^ 
 
IDEALITY AND ABSTRACTION. 141 
 
 ceive in the calm solitude of his bosom, the glow- 
 ing ardor which sheds its mild but steady light on 
 the engrossing objects of his unremitted toil. They 
 cannot feel the fervor with which the simple charms 
 of truth have inspired him. They suspect not that 
 one apparently so cold and unyielding, is secretly 
 actuated by the warm and generous feelings of uni- 
 versal philanthroi^y, and is unostentatiously bestow- 
 ing the wealth of his time and talents for the per- 
 manent benefit of mankind. His mind appears to 
 them a gloomy labratory enveloped in smoke and 
 mist. They will not be at the pains to examine 
 his chymic processes, and are astonished when they 
 result in such gleams of thought as shed an efful- 
 gence around him, and exhibit the bright truths 
 which he has transmuted from error, or the pure 
 and original excellence which he has freed from the 
 dross which rendered it obscure. He has no ser- 
 vile regard for unfounded opinions; but inspired 
 with a fearless love of truth, pursues it regardless 
 of consequences, and never despairs of vanquish- 
 ing error, whether it seeks to elude him in the 
 subtle and imposing forms of mystery and super- 
 stition, or openly resists him with the arms of pre- 
 judice and the armor of ignorance. Throughout, 
 language has been the means of his advancement. 
 It led him forward in the path of demonstration. — 
 It directed and gave certainty to the processes by 
 which he discriminated truth, and furnished the 
 
142 IDEALITY AND ABSTRACTION. 
 
 weapons with which he has successfully combatted 
 its opposers. 
 
 The philosopher has thus attained a high eleva- 
 tion, but the poet seeks a yet higher sphere. He 
 sets at nought the plodding calculations of a cir- 
 cumscribed utility, and, disgusted with the grovel- 
 ling pursuits which he observes engross the atten- 
 tion of man, wings his flight high in the airy fields 
 of speculation, and lavishes the exuberance of his 
 fancy on visionary splendors and the enticing charms 
 of sentiment. His spirit-like perceptions no longer 
 assume the garb of language, and seraph-winged 
 thoughts lead him far into that higher sphere, 
 
 " Where each conceptinn is a heav'nly guest," 
 
 and far beyond the little circle where every idea is 
 clothed and made palpable in words, as a soul ani- 
 mating its embodying clay. 
 
 From this poetic elevation he looks down upon 
 this little world, and throws over it and its con- 
 cerns the bright hues of his own fervor, till in the 
 distance it appears as a luminary fitted for the vault 
 of heaven. Its coarse intrusions no longer disturb 
 him. He looks above and around, and sees every- 
 where nature unfolding her graces. He brings all 
 to his standard of ideal excellence, and revels in 
 the luxury of his own creations. The visions of 
 paradise float before his fancy, and the inspirations 
 of his musings are as visitings from yet higher 
 spheres. "But how often in some momentary pause 
 
IDEALITY ANP ABSTRACTION. 143 
 
 when the imagination has become enfeebled by 
 such vast, exciting, and long continued effort, does 
 the thought that it is but a creation of fancy, burst 
 with dread reality upon him, and dissipate the illu- 
 sion. The veil which it cast over the realities of 
 life is withdrawn, and the morbid sensibility of a 
 heart accustomed only to ideal beauty and refine- 
 ment, turns with loathing from its comparative de- 
 formity. Such is the regretted efFect of this ex- 
 alted talent when acting in excess, or unconnected 
 with that faculty which sustains it with its strength, 
 and receives in return grace, purity, and elevation. 
 Yet if these inspirations have been embodied in 
 language, they are not without their utility. They 
 may then be made to mingle with the thoughts of 
 less etherial minds, and neutralize the degrading 
 tendency of grosser pursuits. The influence of 
 poetry is in this respect of great importance, and 
 admits of almost universal application. It com- 
 mands the avenues to feeling, and there is hardly 
 any state to which it cannot impart pleasure or con- 
 solation. It resorts not to the tedious manipula- 
 tions of abstraction, but with a godlike power com- 
 mands things to come forth and light to be. Are 
 the spirits gay and buoyant, it touches some chord 
 of rapture, and the heart yields its ready response. 
 Is the mind oppressed with care, has the morning 
 ray of hope ceased to illumine it, it extends its 
 magic wand, and like the electric influence on the 
 summer evening's cloud, suffuses it with the light 
 
144 IDEALITY AND ABSTRACTION. 
 
 which more sunny hours had bestowed. But a 
 mingling with terms is still necessary to make this 
 influence; tangible, without it they would be mere 
 shadows far too etherial for our ordinary percep- 
 tions, and would be lost in the abyss of oblivion, 
 from which even the magician who had once call- 
 ed them forth might not be able again to summon 
 them. . , 
 
 The observation of the actual events and occur- 
 rences of life impels us to action. We witness 
 misery and are moved to relieve it. We see the 
 weak oppressed by the strong, and indignation 
 rouses us to their rescue. We observe virtue vic- 
 torious, and join in the triumph. The language of 
 ideality, conveying to us what is the nearest ap- 
 proach to actual observation of the reality, produc- 
 es in us more impulse, more emotion, than that of 
 abstraction, in which we expect only a theoretical 
 consequence, and that when reached, expressed in 
 terms presenting no particular object to excite our 
 pity, abhorrence or admiration. Our finite emo- 
 tions are lost in the infinity of a general proposi- 
 tion, without a case for its immediate application. 
 Hence too arises the distinction between the ef- 
 
IDEALITY AND ABSTRACTION. 145 
 
 fects of the maxims of morality and devotional 
 feeling, a distinction wbich though often denied by- 
 philosophers who have reasoned, has always been 
 insisted upon by the multitude -who feel and per- 
 ceive. 
 
 Although the poetic and prosaic modes of mind 
 are seldom found united in their highest perfection 
 in the same individual, yet every aspect of the 
 subject indicates, that it is by a combination of 
 them, that the greatest intellectual power is produc- 
 ed. It is then the union of activity and strength 
 — the beauty of poetry, mingling its vivacity and 
 softness, with the sterner and stronger ati;t'ibntes of 
 reason. So necessary does this combination ap- 
 pear to give efficiency to talent, that we think we 
 should hazard little in disserting, that every great 
 enterprise in philosophy had been accomplished by 
 a powerful imagination, controlled and directed by 
 yet more powerful reasoning faculties; and that 
 every grand achievement in poetry, had been ef- 
 fected by strong reasoning powers, sustaining and 
 impelling a yet more vigorous imagination. In 
 great minds, it is not the absence of either endow- 
 ment, but only the predominance of the reasoning 
 or ideal faculty, which forms the distinction, and 
 determines the character to the one or the other 
 class. 
 
 The processes by which they accomplish their 
 designs, and the pleasures resulting from their pur- 
 
146 IDEALITY AND ABSTRACTION. 
 
 suits, may be more nearly alike than is generally 
 supposed. Let us bring it to the test of language. 
 A celebrated divine, thus speaks of one of the 
 most ancient and most sublime of poets. " The 
 Psalmist takes a loftier flight. He leaves the 
 world and lifts his imagination to that mighty ex- 
 panse which spreads above and around it. He 
 wings his way through space, and wanders in 
 thought over its immeasurable regions. Instead of 
 a dark and unpeopled solitude, he sees it crowded 
 with splendor, and filled w"ith the energy of the di- 
 vine presence. Creation rises in its immensity be? 
 fore him, and the world with all which it inherits 
 shrinks into iitticnessj at a contemplation so vast 
 and so overpowering. He wonders that he is not 
 overlooked amid the grandeur and the variety which 
 are on every side of him, and passing up from the 
 majesty of nature, to the majesty of nature's archi- 
 tect, he exclaims what is man that thou art mindful 
 of him, or the son of man that thou shouldest deign 
 to visit him." We have here a glowing descrip- 
 tion of the poet, his pursuits, and his feelings, but 
 with Newton in our view, might we not apply the 
 same to the philosopher in whom the powers of 
 abstraction were most prominent. To preserve 
 this distinction we might change the one word im- 
 aginations for investigations and say, " The man 
 of abstraction takes a still loftier flight, he leaves 
 the world and carries his investigations to that 
 mighty expanse," &c. &c. 
 
IDEALITY AND ABSTRACTION. 147 
 
 But let US examine a little more closely the 
 mighty expanse which he opened to our view, and 
 the means by which he accomplished it. Taking 
 this earth for our pedestal, we first observe, that it 
 is but one of a number of planets which, with their 
 satelhtes, revolve round the sun as their common 
 centre; and with the comets in their more eccen- 
 tric orbits, compose the solar system. The nice- 
 ty of their instruments, has enabled astronomers to 
 detect a difference which has taken place in the 
 angular distance of the fixed stars, from which rea- 
 son has inferred that our whole system is revolving 
 round some other centre which analogy suggests 
 may be the common centre of many such systems, 
 performing their cycles in times so inconceivably 
 great, and at such immense distances that a thou- 
 sand years scarcely makes a perceptible difference 
 in their relative positions. The telescope has re- 
 vealed to us a number of nebula, which it has 
 been imagined are clusters of stars with systems 
 like our own. It has also shown us that the galaxy 
 is occasioned by the greater number of stars in 
 that portion of the heavens, at great distances from 
 us, and hence it has been inferred, that all these 
 with the other visible, and probably many invisible 
 stars, form one nebula, in which we occupy a po- 
 sition nearer to one edge of the cluster, and look- 
 ing through the centre, see more stars in that direc- 
 tion, whose light, blended and softened in the dis- 
 Vance, causes the milky appearance there exhibited. 
 
148 IDEALITY AND ABSTRACTION. 
 
 And thus on this fact has reason raised an analogy in 
 support of the conjecture. Imagination, as if de- 
 spairing of any hrait, next suggests that the num- 
 ber of these systems may be infinite, an^ reason 
 has attempted to prove, that from the known laws 
 of gravitation, it cannot be otherwise. 
 
 Thus supported she has ventured yet a farther 
 flight, and not only conceived each of these stars 
 a sun, with systems of planets revolving round it, 
 and thus gemed with worlds this sublime immen- 
 sity, but given to each the garniture of a resplend- 
 ent canopy, animated them ail with a teeming pop- 
 ulation, and clothed them with the verdure and va- 
 riety which give beauty and interest to our own 
 little orb. And here she has rested until these 
 conjectures shall have been reduced to certainty, 
 or rejected as errors or groundless hypotheses. 
 
 We learn that the diameter of the earth's orbit is 
 nearly two hundred millions of miles, and we rack 
 our inventions for some means of forming an ade- 
 quate conception of this immense distance. We 
 next find, and it is reduced to demonstration, that 
 this distance is but an infinitesimal of the nearest 
 fixed stars — that whether we are at one end of it 
 or the other, makes not the least perceptible differ- 
 ence in their relative situation, and that in all prob- 
 ability there is a continuity of these stars, extending 
 through a number of like distances before reaching 
 the outer limits of our own cluster. Our feeble 
 faculties are dismayed, and hardly attempt to grasp 
 the reality of such grand and imposing calculations. 
 
IDEALITY A^D ABSTRACTION. 149 
 
 Yet what is all this immensity to the distance of 
 the nearest nebula, from which to the aided eye of 
 the observer, the congregated splendor of all this 
 host of suns would appear but a feeble glimmering; 
 and in the circumference of whose welkin vault 
 the opposite extremes, embracing these millions 
 upon millions, would appear but a span. We stand 
 aghast at a contemplation so magnificent and so 
 overpowering, and even the infinite tendencies of 
 our nature seem to have found ample room for their 
 dilation in the consideration of this merging of vast 
 into yet vaster systems without end. 
 
 The perfection of optical instruments, enabled 
 astronomers to possess themselves of the facts, on 
 which rest the demonstrations of the truths and 
 the probability of the conjectures which have raised 
 their science to the highest elevation, and we know 
 that some of those who have been instrumental in 
 this grand achievement of philosopiiy, by long habit 
 and continued effort, had learned to withdraw them- 
 selves from the ordinary distractions and engross- 
 ments of life, and had consequently acquired a pow- 
 er of concentrating their energies upon their favor- 
 ite pursuit. They had then observation aided by 
 the instruments of art, reason concentrated by ab- 
 straction from the usual cares of existence, wrought 
 to its utmost effort by the inspiring magnitude of 
 its pursuits, and bearing forward and sustaining a 
 vigorous imagination excited to enthusiasm by the 
 grandeur and sublimity of its objects. In a word, 
 
 M 
 
150 IDEALITY AND ABSTRACTION. 
 
 that tills most stupendous conception of the mate- 
 torial universe, has been brought within the grasp 
 of humanity, by a partial approach to that combi- 
 nation of the intellectual powers which we have 
 supposed to become more perfect hereafter, and 
 by a partial improvement of some of the elements 
 of that combination by the action of the same causes 
 which we have endeavored to show must there be 
 more universal. And while we derive from this 
 greatest, grandest achievment of mind, some idea 
 of the effect of improving and uniting the faculties 
 of observation, reason and imagination, we may also 
 observe in the beautiful harmony with which these 
 systems into systems run, as they diverge in the 
 illimitable regions of space, a something which acts 
 on our feelings like the ineffible power of melody, 
 producing an emotion, may we not say an infinite 
 yet tangible emotion of music, elevating us to the 
 confines of devotion. And the whole development 
 l)ears witness that this feeling had a great though 
 perhaps an unperceived influence in directing those 
 great strides of the imagination which preceded 
 every great effort and advancement of reason. 
 
 It is in these sublime discoveries that mind has 
 put forth all its power and exerted all its energies. 
 It here appears in all its grandeur, and supported 
 by all its dependencies. It is its last grand suc- 
 cessful effort. We here see the utmost limit to 
 which it has attained, and in this farthest stage of 
 its advancement, we find it progressing towards 
 
 
FUTURE PROSPECTS. 151 
 
 perfection in the path which our speculation has 
 ah'eady traced, and which we have endeavored to 
 extend in shadowy outhne in the dim futurity. 
 
 In this process, ideahty has performed its part, 
 but the results have been reduced to the more defi- 
 nite form of abstraction. The great magnitude of 
 these results, and the universal interest felt in them, 
 has produced a corresponding effect on the age. 
 Abstraction has acquired a supremacy, and is made 
 the test of rationality on every subject. Ideality 
 is not permitted to range far beyond its precincts. 
 The noble sallies of the soul are repressed. Mind 
 limited to a particular mode of action, exerts itself 
 on subjects to which that mode is best adapted. 
 Physical science is the order of the day. It has 
 advanced, and is still advancing with astonishing 
 rapidity. The great outlines which Newton and 
 his cotemporaries struck out, is nearly filled up. 
 The impulse which they gave to intellectual exer- 
 tion is almost spent. Tiie world is nearly ready ^ 
 for some other grand enterprise, and who that has 
 observed the mutual light which the sciences shed 
 upon each other, and their tendency to preserve an 
 equillibrium, does not see in this accumulation of 
 the knowledge of the laws of matter, an indication of 
 a corresponding improvement in our knowledge of 
 the laws of mind. Who that has observed the ef- 
 fect, which increasing our physical comforts has 
 in producing a desire for the more refined pleas- 
 
152 FUTURE PROSPECTS. 
 
 ures of intellect, does not in the present condition 
 of the civilized world, already see the workings of 
 an impulse which is to advance us in this higher 
 pursuit. The laws of mind are confessedly not 
 understood. Something has perhaps been done 
 in training the reasoning faculty, but in regard to 
 that other mode of mind to which we have applied 
 the term ideality, we apprehend that very little has 
 been accomplished. It appears to have been 
 thought beyond the reach of any regulated disci- 
 pline. Its processes have been regarded either as 
 lawless workings of the spirit, or as subject only 
 to the control of some higher intelligence. Thus 
 unrestrained, its expansive nature has often dissi- 
 pated itself in wild extravagances, or errors, requir- 
 ing the aid of abstraction to correct. For want of 
 proper restraints, it has sometimes been productive 
 of evil, but we confidently look forward to a time 
 when its laws and the means of directing its pow- 
 er will be better understood. When we shall know 
 how to limit its expansibility within our means of 
 controlling it, and as we become more and more 
 acquainted with its nature, be able to use it in its 
 most elastic form, and make it subservient to the 
 most exalted purposes which are within the prov- 
 ince of humanity. If we are not deceived, the 
 time is not distant, when some strong hand will 
 break down the barriers which now obstruct our 
 progress in intellectual science, or some aspiring 
 an<l gifted spirit rend the veil which obscures it. 
 
FUTURE PROSPECTS. 153 
 
 and introduce us into new regions of light, illumi- 
 nating mind, and displaying the true greatness of 
 our nature. 
 
 ERRATA. 
 
 On page 9 10 line, from bottom, for charms read charm 
 
 On page 23, middle, for cause read case. 
 
 On page 42, 7 lines from bottom, for thence read there 
 
 On page 49, bottom line, for forms read pour 
 
 On page 50, bottom line, for acquire read acginres 
 
 On page 74, 4 lines from bottom, for as read us. 
 
 On page 90, last line, for intuition read intuitive. 
 
 «n page 94 10 lines from top, for each read .„./. 
 
 Un page 129, 3 hnes from bottom, for M into read /,rf „. iL. 
 
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