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for earth; reveals to us in the future an eternity of improvement, an universe of enjoyment; and kindling in our bosoms a burning passion for advancement, bids us cultivate, expand, refine the powers bestowed upon us by nature, give free scope to thought, burst the fetters which would cramp and cripple the mind, and walk forth in the proud freedom of moral and immortal beings.

We propose to undertake, in the following pages, the grateful task of considering the nature, and tracing the influence of this apparently highest of human emotions, in some of its most striking and pleasing relations. And though at first glance it might appear too far removed from the daily thoughts and avocations of life, to be of any great importance or interest, yet is it an enthusiasm which enters, perhaps, even more than we are ourselves aware, into our own aims and affections, which, in moments of solitude and reflection, comes upon us with a breath of inspiration, and which can only enable us to attain the goal of mental or moral greatness. It is not the actual desire of amassing knowledge-yet without it, wisdom, howsoever great, would bring with it nothing of pure or lasting enjoyment. It is not ambition-yet the attainment of power would be but a useless toil, did not this sensation add a charm and diffuse a lustre. In short, a full perception of it, a capability of feeling and enjoying it in all its relations and bearings, is of itself, intellectual greatness.

"The mind is its own place, and in itself

Can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven."

Here has the great bard grasped, in two of his immortal lines, all the poetry of our being vast, grand, perplexing as it is. And who does not feel an enthusiasm kindling at his heart, as he enters into the full idea which is here conveyed? What more splendid definition could be given of that endowment, which, raising us far above the level of the animal creation, would seem to connect us with a higher and purer order of beings. Here, too, is one of those few and golden passages, in which the whole mind of the author,-his thoughts, feelings, powers,-have embodied themselves in "one word," and that word is "lightning." Had Milton left nothing behind him but these two lines, had they in their naked state continued to live, and had we no other means of judging of his talents and character except by them, we might, by endeavoring to enter in this one mighty conception, picture a being as superior in mind, and elevated in sentiment. We would have marked him with a vigor and intensity of thought, a depth and keenness of emotion, an exaltation and refinement of taste, which would have raised him to a proud eminence above his fellow men, and stamped on him the impress of a God. In a word, we would have seen in him a proud exam

ple of the truth of his own most noble sentiment, of the perfect triumph of mind over the evils which may attend its possessor, and of the golden reward which awaits its full expansion.

With faculties so completely developed, with tastes so highly refined, what overwhelming tides of new and unknown sensation must not exist! what mysteries of knowledge and emotion opened alone to the gifted, the enlightened mind! If it be not irreverential, we might imagine the garden of Eden, with all its charms and delights, the residence of man within it, his admission to intercourse with his Creator, his continued elevation of thought, and consequently the exquisiteness of his enjoymenta beautiful and sublime allegory, used to express the mysterious relations of the mind with an unknown influence, as wonderful in the moral, as gravity in the physical world-attracting it on with mighty and constant force to a higher and nobler state of intellectual existence. Such emotions, the most exalted species of spiritual poetry, such capabilities, partaking, (in a most humble sense it is true,) of the nature of those that designed and created the universe, such capacities for improvement-boundless as eternity itself-must be immortal, and "glorious as the stars in heaven."

To say that this emotion in its various modifications inspires the poet, and kindles the orator, would be to say nothing new. In truth, all the higher species of poetry, the poetry which would bear us up from the mere consideration of man in his earthly passions and relations, the poetry which ever craves after a state of mental and moral perfection, springs from, and is nourished by this feeling. It is, indeed, to a greater or less extent, connected with all true poetic ardor, for it is "its own great reward." Without it, there can be none of that sense of superiority, which must ever nerve and inspire; none of that contempt for the propensities which constitute the meaner portions of our nature, and which, weighing down imagination and thought, would prevent a lofty flight; none of that refined sense of enjoyment which can only be felt in the rapid expansion of the mind, and the consciousness that it may become greater and greater, better and better, beyond all human conception.

It likewise accompanies us as we descend from the consideration of mind in its immortal, to mind in its temporal relations. As we behold the influence exerted by the giant and fully developed intellect, widening round and round from its deathless. centre, until it is lost in all that is pure and elevated in humanity, what is it that makes our own hearts beat, and our own blood gush so rapidly? Is it not a feeling, that we too have a spark within us of that flame, which burns a central heat in the moral world? That we too may attain something of that mental greatness which towers a living "landmark" on the wastes of

time? That we too may set our thoughts afloat upon the ocean of the future, and feel, that long after we have passed forever away, they will exert an influence to ennoble and refine?

Next to that ardent craving after a higher and holier state of existence, if there be any one thing which, more than another, attests that there is something ethereal, Godlike, more than human in man, it is the fact, that while his mortal frame decays and returns to the dust, the productions of his intellect, in all their young life and vigor, with all they have of beauty and inspiration, flow onward forever, and the gifted mind, in the remotest generations, beneath their hallowed influence, will bear witness that that was a spirit of a loftier mould. The Grecian bard tuned his lyre to more than earthly minstrelsy; the numbers re-echoed along the unexplored wilderness of time; kindred spirits caught their witchery, and prolonged the soul-thrilling strain from one to another across the interval of ages. No where in its direct

relations, is the superiority of mind over body more conspicuous than here. The latter, after a few short years of peril, toil, and suffering, sinks forever to nothingness; the former is immortal upon earth, for its thoughts and emotions live-and what is mind but a splendid tissue of thoughts, feelings, and perceptions, under a thousand thousand different and ever varying forms and hues, bearing to each other an inconceivable number of analogies and relations, which may be multiplied, refined, and diversified by constant action among themselves, and by the addition of new and nobler life and vigor.

Immortality upon earth is indeed a gigantic acquirement, after which the giant intellect should alone aspire; yet is there a crystal stream of thought and intelligence, which, bursting forth from the bosom of the young world, has continued to pour onward its rich tide of waters-now sparkling beneath the clear sunlight of knowledge and refinement-now darkling amid the gloom of benighted reason-seeking its ocean, veiled in the shadows of futurity, whose current all may aid to swell. Upon its surface each may cast his pittance, and feel that it will be borne far into future ages, though men may never hear of the humble hand that set it in motion.

And here open upon the mind visions of its own future elevation and dignity, which wrap it in an almost delirium of delight. Nor can this high enthusiasm be too often or too deeply indulged, for with an influence pure as the purest fountains of moral emotion-potent as the strongest springs of human action, it comes upon the soul to strengthen, ennoble, and inspire. Similar to that feeling which hallows the works of antiquity, and gives additional charms to the bright imaginings of the ancient muse, the grand yet benighted conceptions of the ancient philosopher, and the thundering eloquence of the ancient orator, it would

bear us away from the present and ourselves, and of consequence "elevate us in the scale of thinking beings." That innate emotion of the mind, which would lead it to exult in its own greatness in whatever age or clime, above all other influences, tends to expand the views and exalt the character. It is an emotion, too, which, in touching some of the deep seated chords of human sympathy and human ambition, sends a thrill through the soul that awakes its dormant energies to life and action. How many intellects of great and commanding endowments, may literally be said to have been created by one grand conception. It flashes upon them, lights up the darkness that surrounded them, starts untried muscles into play, and leads them forth wondering at themselves, into another world of light, and life, and beauty. To distinguish what is great in our own nature, is the better half of greatness itself. And what more calculated to fill the bosom with high and sublime emotions, than to dwell upon the prospects which are opened before the enlightened mind, teeming with a thousand sources of rapturous delight, and alive with noble powers aroused to action, and splendid attainments reached and secured, of which the most gifted and refined, of by-gone days, could not have formed the remotest conception. Peak rises upon peak, still to be mounted, growing higher and brighter, until their summits are lost in the pure blue of heaven.

And this brings us to the consideration of a source of high and refined enjoyment, known only to the educated mind, and fully known only by a complete development of all its capacities, which, more intimately connected with the social relations of man with man, is consequently more comprehensive in its bearings-more general and potent in its results. We allude to that power exerted by cultivated mind over the passions, aims, and destinies of men. It is a source of the noblest and most elevated happiness, for its exercise is to ennoble, to elevate, to make happy. An ardent desire for power, kindled and blazing in the bosoms of those whom talent or fortune has raised above their fellow men, has ever convulsed society, has roused nations from the sleep of ages, has breathed life into the arts and sciences, has moulded the character, and colored the history, of all mankind. The attainment of power, is, after all, the ultimate end of human exertion. The annals of our race read to us a dismal lesson of what that desire has effected, when uncurbed by moral feeling and inflamed by passion. By what did the empires of the past fall, unless by the hand of some favorite and cherished son? The clash of arms, the blood of hosts, have marked the struggles of opposing heroes who leaped upon the stage of action, contended amid clouds of ignorance for a brief supremacy, and then passed forever away, without leaving a single ray of intellectual light to shine through and disperse the gloom. Such is

not the power to which we allude. That is a power over the minds and thoughts, over the moral, and not the physical nature of man, by whose influence, intelligence and morality are to be diffused, government improved, and the world reformed. And in its exercise, is there nothing to delight? nothing to ennoble? What more splendid spectacle of mental perfection could be drawn, than that of the orator upon which Cicero loved to dwell, until it rooted in his being, grew and blossomed in himself! And could we picture that orator under the inspiration which comes from heaven, with every power, every faculty of his mind in vigorous play-with outstretched arm and blazing eye-while, by the magic of his tongue, a countless audience is hushed to repose, and borne with the mystic influence of a midnight dream, into another existence of different thoughts, feelings, volition can we believe, that in the exercise of such a Godlike gift, the speaker himself would not become more like a God? Would not a sense of superiority kindle at his heart, and burn through every vein, as we might suppose him in the delirium of his eloquence to exclaim, " Ye gods, I am an orator !” Not the low vanity which never did, nor ever can accompany true mental greatness, but a consciousness of power, which in whispering, that it may be used to work out tremendous harm, would fill the bosom with a high and holy philanthropy.

Nothing to the contemplative mind can be more productive of elevated thought and refined enjoyment, than the ennobling confidence, that desire is the germ of capability; that ardent hopes and aspiring aims can never, or rarely exist without the power to realize the former, and secure the latter. This single conviction will tend to add an energy to purpose, to inspire a sanguine assurance of success, which will strengthen and sustain the mind through the sternest contests and the darkest trials. Seeking, as we are, to trace this poetic sensation through some of the thousand channels it has opened for itself, pouring its sweet and fertilizing waters over the holiest places of the soul, we may be borne beyond the ordinary thoughts and emotions, which are excited in our journeyings over the trodden and dusty highway of life. But who is there, among the reflecting and ambitious, who has not, at times, experienced his dark, his fearful misgivings who has not trembled at the moment's conviction, that nature has cursed him with the desire, without furnishing the means of its gratification; that tantalized he stands with parched, and burning lips, unable to slake his tormenting thirst in the plenteous waters around him, while nature arrays herself in her funeral garments, and life becomes the darkest hell. And then how vivifying the transition, as the glad certainty darts upon him, that this cannot be so that the mind of man, with all its mighty, its fearful machinery, is capable of working out miracles, yet un

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