Part 5

_Euterpe_, perhaps, (ever partial, they say To a _musical_ fête,) your concert attended, And pleased with your talent to sing and to play, Thought _music_ with _poetry_ happily blended-- And so, when you took up the pen to prepare An account of your party, to make it more rare, Bade you write it _in verse_--and _assisted_ you too, To get up a style, so romantic and new.

Be this as it may--'tis certain that such As have been indulged with a sight of your letter, _Sans compliment_, all, have admired it much, And say, of its kind, that they never read better. But how can _we_ answer, in similar style, A missive like yours?--we are sure you will smile At our awkward and feeble attempt to compose, An answer in verse, in our accent of prose.

But smile, if you please--even laugh, if you choose-- We _must_ make an effort to put rhymes together, To give you some _items_ of Williamsburg news, And tell you how well we got thro' the cold weather: In converse and reading, we passed with delight, The keen winter morning, the long winter night, With a family never surpassed upon earth, In kind hospitality, virtue and worth.

'Tis said, this _old city_ has seen its best days-- We cannot think so--its present possessors Are subjects of just admiration and praise-- Whether _Judges_ or _Lawyers_, or learned _Professors_-- All mingle with freedom and ease in the throng, And move in the current of fashion along; At the _ball_, or the _board_, or the cheery _fire side_, Society's ornament, pleasure and pride.

"And are there no _Doctors_ (perhaps you exclaim) Distinguished by talents and virtues and merit?" O yes, there are several; whom if we but _name_, Or mention their liberal and generous spirit, "The Messenger's" Critic may cry out--"O fie! _Who ever blamed Hercules?_" Subjects so high, Like Washington, need not a line to exalt Their virtues and worth--_Who ever blamed G----?_

The fear we suggest, of the "Messenger's" lash, As you well may imagine, is merely pretension; Its _Critics_ at monarch-like _Hickories_ dash, And smile at _flowret_ or _shrub's_ apprehension-- _Palmettoes_ escape too! but, _Party_, away! 'Tis time, to the _birthnight_ our homage to pay; E'en _the Critic_ himself, we hope may agree To spare our "_Sic semper_--PATRI PATRIÆ!"

The ball of the _birthnight_, on Monday took place, And, once more, the hall of the _ancient Apollo_, Assembled a train of youth, beauty, and grace, In which, well escorted, we ventured to follow: _Professors_ and _students_, the _bench_ and the _bar_, The _single_ and _married_ of both sexes, _there_, In mirth and good humor, the hours employed, Partook of the _dance_, or the _music_ enjoyed.

The _supper_ was _superabundant_--in fine, No _gourmand_ complained of a scanty provision Of flesh, fish, or fowl--or of excellent wine, Which _Bacchus's_ tribe thought a charming addition; But the _nymphs_ and the _graces_ impatiently flew To the ball room again, the _dance_ to renew; And thoughtless of sleep or repose, in their glee, Kept it up, it is said, till full _two_ or _three_.

Of the cake, fruit, and wine, there yet was such store, Laid in and prepared for the festive occasion, That the Managers thought of _a hop or two_ more, As a matter of justice and easy persuasion; So, on several nights, the beauty and grace Of the young and the old that distinguish the place, With music and dancing enlivened the hall, Till the close of the week, gave repose to us all.

All needed it much; for a deep fall of snow, Fatigued as we were, to _sleighing_ invited-- And who could refuse, pray, a gallant young _beau_, _Alcibiades_ like, with _driving_ delighted?-- Thro' the streets, and _around and around_ on the _square_, For the _belles_ and the _bells_, were all gathered _there_, What racing--what contests _Olympic_ were seen, On the snow-white expanse of the _cidevant_ green!

We have not half finished the _sleighing_ affair, With some other topics of social diversion, But here we must stop--as we now must prepare For a trip to old _York_, on a pleasure excursion-- We _wish_ you were with us. Your eloquent pen Might _there_ find a scene to amuse us again, With lively description of things "old and new"-- But the carriage is waiting; so, dear girl, _adieu!_

UNREASONABLE WISHES.

The subjoined _morceau_ is worthy notice. Many grave essays have been written upon the vanity and unreasonableness of human wishes; but it would seem, without much effect. The rhapsodies of lovers in the olden time were thought sufficiently extravagant, and their wishes have been quoted as the very essence of inordinate imaginations: in fact, Shakspeare has classed the lover and the madman together:

"The lunatic, the lover and the poet, Are of imagination all compact: One sees more devils than vast hell can hold-- That's the madman--the other all as frantic Sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt," &c.

Yet the old fashioned lovers kept some rule in their imaginary desires, when compared with the vast conception of our correspondent.

"Ye Gods! annihilate both time and space, And make two lovers happy"--

and the passionate exclamation of Romeo,

"Oh that I were a glove upon that hand! That I might kiss that cheek!"

were thought wild enough for those more stoical times. But it seems that the march of improvement is onward in love-making, as well as in road-making, as we will trust our correspondent's effusion to show.

* * * * *

For the Southern Literary Messenger.

TO MISS S---- S----

Would that thou were some isle, my love, And I the wave that bound thee, With naught but Heaven's pure sky above, And I sole guard around thee.

Then in one fond and long embrace, Through calm and storm I'd cheer thee, And bless the wind, that face to face, Had brought me still more near thee.

_Norfolk, April 9, 1835_.

For the Southern Literary Messenger.

THE BROKEN HEART.

I come, a stricken Deer, Bearing the heart midst crowds that bled, To bleed in stillness here.--_Mrs. Hemans_.

I come to my home in the forest shade, By the summer boughs in their minglings made, To my own bright hills and their clear blue sky, With a broken heart in their stillness to die.

I come from the midst of a changing world, And the banners of Hope in my bosom lie furled; I bring from the spoiler a mournful token,-- The unfledged wing of my soul is broken.

There is weight on my spirit too painful to bear-- A feeling of gloom that corrodes like despair; And the Rose's rich hue and the Violet's bloom, Whisper we're nursed but to fade at thy tomb.

And there comes a sound on the murmuring breeze, As it creeps thro' the boughs of a thousand trees, And it echoes back from the stars of night And the placid lake, like a mirror bright,

"Thou art not for earth! thou art not for earth! And thou bearest no part in its gladness and mirth; Its moments of pleasure have ages of care! And the love which thou seekest is never found there!"

And Spring shall return with its leaves and flowers, And the song of birds to the woodland bowers; To me they shall be as to one that's departed-- There is rest in the grave for the broken hearted.

S. W. W.

_Raleigh, N. C._

For the Southern Literary Messenger.

A DISCOURSE

On the Progress of Philosophy, and its Influence on the Intellectual and Moral Character of Man; delivered before the Virginia Historical and Philosophical Society, February 5, 1835. By _George Tucker_, Professor of Moral Philosophy in the University of Virginia.

_Mr. President, and Gentlemen of the Society_:--

I feel the weight of the task I have undertaken to perform, the more sensibly, when I recollect the brilliant qualifications of the member[1] who was the first choice of the society, and that I must disappoint the expectations which that choice so naturally raised. The grave and sober speculations which I am about to submit to your consideration will, I fear, but poorly compensate those who hear me, for the graces of elocution, the rich, but chaste imagery, and the rare felicity of diction by which that gentleman is distinguished; and I regret on your account, as well as my own, that he has thus unexpectedly failed to fulfil the wishes of his associates.

[Footnote 1: James McDowell, Esq. of Rockbridge.]

I have thought it would not be unappropriate to the occasion, to present to the society some views of the influence which philosophy has exercised, and must continue to exercise, over civilized man. Amidst the din of political controversy, and the bustling concerns of life, it is well sometimes to withdraw our thoughts from the tumultuous scenes around us to the calm views of rational speculation. Our minds may be not merely refreshed by the change, but they are likely to acquire elevation and purity in being thus severed from sordid and selfish pursuits, and made to contemplate human concerns in the transparent medium of truth and philosophy.

_Philosophy!_ a term to which some attach a mysterious import, as implying a kind of knowledge unattainable except by a few gifted minds--whilst others regard it as more an object of aversion than of affection,--inculcating a system of thought and action equally at war with nature and common sense,--as a perversion of human reason and feeling, at once cold and repulsive to others, and profitless to the possessor. This is not the philosophy of which I propose to speak, but her counterfeit; which, being as bold and forward as the other is modest and retiring, has made herself more known to the world than the character she personates, and has thus brought discredit on the name.

By philosophy, I mean that power of perceiving truths which are not obvious--of seeing the complicated relations of things, and of seeing them as they really are, unperverted by passion or prejudice. So far from being repugnant to nature and common sense, it constantly appeals to these for the justness of its precepts. It is indeed _Reason_, exercising its highest attributes in the multifarious concerns of human life. Such was the philosophy of Newton and Locke, and of our own illustrious Franklin.

It will be the object of the following remarks to show, that this philosophy is gradually increasing and diffusing itself over the world; that it now mingles in all human concerns, and gives to the present age its distinguishing characteristics; that its progress must still continue, and more and more influence the character of man and civilized society; and that in no country is its influence likely to be more extensively or beneficently felt than in this.

The most superficial observer must be struck with the prodigious advancement of the human intellect, when he compares the opposite extremes of society. The savage, when his mind is roused from a state of apathy, passes into one of strong emotion; for he is capable of intense feelings, but not of profound and comprehensive thought. He knows but few facts; and they have not that variety and complexity which distinguish the knowledge of the civilized man. All that he sees and hears, is heard and seen by the men of civilization; but to this the latter is always adding the perception of new and intricate relations, of which the former is incapable. Thus, compare the knowledge of the relations of numbers possessed by one who barely knows how many fives there are in twenty, with that of him who can mark out the paths of the planets, calculate their mutual attractions, and predict a distant eclipse to a minute; or the few and simple rules of justice among a tribe of savages, to the intricate and multifarious codes of civilized society; nay, extend the comparison to any other department of human knowledge, and there will be found the same difference between the two, as exists between the wigwam of mud or bark, without a door, window or chimney, and the solid and spacious hall in which we are assembled. Nor is this all; for as the reason, in common with every other faculty, is strengthened by exercise, the severer and more incessant exercise to which it is subjected by the multiplication of new relations, is constantly increasing the authority of reason, and weakening the dominion of the passions and prejudices.

The mind therefore becomes, with the progress of civilization, more capable of perceiving relations--more imbued with a knowledge of these relations--more comprehensive--more capable of making remote deductions. It perceives more truths that are complex and difficult--and has more capacity to detect illusion and error. We thus see human reason gradually extending its empire, successfully assailing former prejudice, and fashioning human institutions to purposes of utility. We see men more and more inclined to value every object only in proportion as it conduces to the happiness of the greater number; and to consider nothing as permanently connected with that happiness, but what gives gratification to the senses without debasing them; to the intellect without misleading it; and to the passions when fulfilling their legitimate objects. It is thus we see each succeeding generation regarding with indifference, and even with contemptuous ridicule, what commanded the veneration of a former age.

It would exceed the limits of such a discourse as the present to give even an outline of the advancement of reason, as exhibited in the various branches of science. Nor is it necessary. It will be sufficient for us to give our attention to some few striking facts in the progress of science and art, especially in those cases which being more recent, are at once better known to us, and have a nearer relation to our interests. Let us turn to any department of human knowledge or inquiry, and we see the clearest manifestations of the growing philosophical spirit of which I speak.

If we look at the character of civil government, we find that every revolution--every important change--is the result of the progress of philosophy--of the extension of the empire of reason. Once kings were regarded as deriving their power not from the consent of the people, but immediately from the Deity. They were said to be the Lord's anointed; and implicit obedience--unresisting submission to the mandate of the sovereign, was enjoined not merely as a civil, but as a religious duty.

In two out of the four quarters of the world, we all know how much these opinions are changed; and that there, with the thinking portion at least, government is now regarded as an institution created solely for the happiness of the people; that they are the judges of what constitutes that happiness; and that government may be changed, either as to its form or agents, whenever it is proved incapable of fulfilling its main purpose. This principle of reason and common sense caused and justified the establishment of the Commonwealth in England; the restoration of the monarchy; the subsequent revolution in 1688; the American revolution in 1776; the French revolution of 1789, under all its various phases; and that which produced a change of dynasty in 1830. We have seen the operation of the same principle in separating the Spanish provinces on this continent from the mother country. We have seen it in the separation of Belgium from Holland, and in the liberation of Greece from the Turkish yoke.

Every subordinate institution too, is now judged according as it tends to promote the welfare of the community; and the notion of rights of particular classes and orders of men, farther than they can be shown to rest on this foundation, is deemed presumptuous and absurd. Even the rights of property itself, the most sacred of any, because they are the most obvious and are possessed by a greater number, are derived from the same source, and are regulated and controlled by it. Every tax in a popular government--every restriction on the free use of one's own,--whether it be in the form of a prohibition against gaming, or of laying out a new road, or of an inspection law, recognizes this principle. It governs legislatures in conferring rights as well as abridging them. They all find their authority and justification in the public good; nor does any one now attempt to resist a tax or defend a privilege, but by appealing to this great test of right, the interests of the community.

You see too in jurisprudence, that all those principles which grow out of barbarous usages, or were the result of accident, or of mistaken theory, are gradually made to give way to the light of reason and the spirit of philosophy. They conform more and more to the common sense and common feelings of mankind. Crimes which once incurred the severest penalties of the law, are crimes no longer; modes of trial originating in superstition have been abolished; many of the frivolous niceties of pleading, or rules founded on a state of things which no longer exist--such as that which excluded written testimony from the common law courts, and which, like noisome weeds, choked up the administration of justice, have been eradicated, in spite of the cry which always will be raised against innovation, and which some of our best principles, as well as our weakest prejudices, concur in raising.

Nor have we yet reached the end of this course of salutary reform. The administration of justice may be still more simple; and though the rules of property and of civil rights must always be numerous and complicated in a civilized community, yet this necessity furnishes a further reason why the modes of investigating truth and the rules of evidence should possess all practicable simplicity. The spirit of philosophy has been actively at work here. In some instances, perhaps, it has been too far in advance of the age, and under the influence of the pride of discovery and reform, or provoked by opposition, it may have been urged farther than reason and propriety would warrant. It has, however, arraigned the whole system of judicial evidence, and endeavored to show that the rules for the examination of contested facts are so erroneous or defective, that the truth is commonly discovered better out of court than in it; and that questions about which all the world is satisfied, when technically examined by tribunals created purposely for their investigation, either receive no answer, or a wrong one. The official expounders of the law, partaking of the liberal spirit of the age, have of late years greatly narrowed the objections to the competency of witnesses; but it is only the legislature and public opinion which are adequate to a complete reform, and they will one day assuredly bring it.

There is much seeming force in many of the other objections of the reformers to the present very artificial and complicated system of jurisprudence; but whether their views are satisfactory or otherwise, they equally serve to show the prevalent disposition of men to bring all human concerns to the bar of reason, and make them submit to her decrees.

There is nothing in which the progress of reason and philosophy are more shown, than in the subject of religion. A large part, perhaps I may say, the best part of religion, as it is most productive of good results, is the religion of the heart; and consists in a profound and thorough sense of the wisdom and beneficence of the Creator--of thanksgiving for the blessings he has vouchsafed to frail and humble beings like ourselves--to vigorous self-examinations by our own conscience--to fervent aspirations after moral excellence in this life, and a purer and higher state of existence hereafter. But all of these are impulses of the feelings, rather than the cold dictates of the reasoning faculty; and being dependant on the laws of our emotions, which are as unchangeable as our forms, and probably as much the result of organization, are the same in character, if not in degree, in every stage of society.

But while philosophy has not altered, and could not alter these impulses of the heart, we may see here also its benignant operations. It has driven away from religion the superstitions which fraud and credulity combined had gathered around it. Man no longer imputes to the Deity the same violent and ignoble passions by which the baser part of his own nature is agitated; and instead of regarding cruelty and vengeance as attributes of the Supreme Being, he is invested with those qualities which appear to our feeble conceptions more consonant with divine perfection. Thus mercy to human frailty and pity for human suffering, are regarded as divine attributes no less than wisdom and power. On the part of its votaries, humility is invoked to take the place of pride; forgiveness of injuries to supersede resentment; meekness and patience and long suffering are held to indicate a truer devotion than pompous rites and vain ceremonies; and instead of incense and sacrifices, good deeds to his fellow mortals, and a lowly and penitent spirit, are deemed the most acceptable offerings which man can make to his Creator. In this transformation, Mr. President, you recognize the leading precepts of christianity, which may well be called the most philosophical of all religions.

It is true that after this religion became the creed of those northern barbarians, who poured like an avalanche over the south of Europe, christianity became greatly perverted from its original simplicity and purity; but it was not destined to remain forever shrouded in these mists of barbarism. After the growing spirit of philosophy prepared men's minds for its reception and welcome, it broke forth in its pristine beauty and splendor. The further continuance of the abuses of the christian church was inconsistent with the increase of general intelligence; and the reformation must have taken place had Martin Luther never existed, or had the Dominican friars never carried on the traffic in _indulgences_; though it might not have happened at the precise time, or in the precise manner in which it did occur.

In truth, man's religion, as well as every thing else relative to his opinions and feelings, partakes of the character of the age; and we are warranted in saying, that the christian religion in the middle ages must as necessarily have been subject to its corruptions, its superstitions, and its persecutions, among a people so rude as that which then swayed the destinies of Europe, as that after the discovery of the art of printing, the revival of letters, and the general progress of science and philosophy, these foul exhalations should disappear.