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the first Punic war-would not be good enough to stand the severe censure of London, of Paris, or of New-York. Let us now see how it fares in other respects with Mr. Grimké's proposition.

The science of Morals has been very properly divided into two distinct kinds. The one contemplates man as an active being, having duties to perform and obligations to fulfil, approving good and disapproving evil, pursuing happiness and avoiding misery and pain. The other regards this moral constitution itself, as a subject of inquiry and analysis, and aims at explaining its phenomena (with how much success Mr. Grimké may, perhaps, be able to inform our readers) in the same way as Natural Philosophy arranges and accounts for those of the material world. The former is obviously practical-the latter altogether speculative and metaphysical. Under the discipline of the first, we are taught to love virtue, to feel what is so beautifully called in the language of the Scriptures "the beauty of holiness," to abstain from false and deceptive pleasures, and pursue only rational and solid good, to resist the temptations and to encounter with fortitude and patience the conflicts and sufferings of life-and above all things, "to hate the cowardice of doing wrong." In one word, it is the great object of this part of a "generous education" to fit a man, as Milton expresses it, for performing justly and magnanimously all the offices, both public and private, of peace and war. The end of the second is nothing more-its fruit, at least, has been and can be nothing more, than the gratification of a liberal certainly, but still an unprofitable curiosity, by shewing why it is we love virtue, what is the principle of obligation, whether it is utility or a moral sense or sympathy, or what else that causes us to approve or to blame, &c. Now, in the former kind, the Ancients not only attained to a high degree of excellence, but there is nothing in all that the copious literature of modern times has to boast ofwith the exception, perhaps, of Telemachus and the finest compositions of Addison-that will bear a moment's comparison with the dialogues of Plato and Tully, to say nothing of the numerous other remains of the Portico, the Lyceum and the Academy, that have come down to us. This position is quite incontrovertible, and has been, if we are not very much mistaken, stated in so many words by the author of one of the most ingenious, and by far the most eloquent work on the other, or metaphysical, branch of moral philosophy that has ever been published.t It is impossible, indeed, to imagine any thing more sublime and consoling, more sweet, more touching, more persuasive than the

* το καλον. † Adam Smith's Theory of Moral Sentiments.

Apology for Socrates, the Crito and the Phædo of his great disciple, or the Somnium Scipionis, the whole Treatise de Senectute, but especially the close of it, the Tusculan Questions, nay, all that remains in this kind of the Roman orator. As for the metaphysical part of this science of human nature, we would express ourselves with a becoming diffidence*-but we must be allowed to say, that until Mr. Grimké shall have put his finger upon any one thing, in the whole compass of it, that is perfectly settled and has been recognized as a profitable, and, as he would call it, practical addition to the stock of human knowledge, we shall continue to think it as we now do, very immaterial, whether the Ancients or the Moderns have had the best of it in this nocturnal, and what is worse, far from decisive, conflict of wits. Nothing is more possible than that we are ignorant of the understanding of these writers, instead of understanding their ignorance, according to the distinction of an ingenious admirer of the philosophy of Kant.t Be it so. We do, however, for our own part, cheerfully resign these thorny and unprofitable studies to those who profess to comprehend and to read with edification such things as the Theætetus of Plato, or the cloudy transcendentalism of the German school. In the mean time, without denying, as we do not deny, that a young man ought, about his seventeenth or eighteenth year, to study metaphysics, for several good reasons, we fearlessly appeal to our readers to decide whether he ought not to be deeply imbued with the spirit and the precepts of ancient ethics, conveyed as they are in a style, of which the faultless execution is the best discipline of taste, whilst its glowing eloquence fills every generous bosom with the most elevated and ennobling moral enthusiasm.‡

* We really debated with ourselves a long time whether we should venture to encounter those awful personages, the Metaphysicians.

Dii, quibus imperium est animarum, umbræque silentes

Et Chaos et Phlegethon, loca nocte silentia late,
Sit mihi fas audita loqui.

† Coleridge's Biographia Literaria.

+ We will indulge in the freedom of a note, so far as to repeat that we are at a loss to understand how any discoveries above all, any important and available discoveries for the purposes of education or discipline can be made in "the subjects of our consciousness," (to use Dugald Stewart's phrase for what is vulgarly called, the mind) or what there can be in ontology, pneumatology, psycology, or any other metaphysic-ology, except, indeed, a great deal of neology, and mere verbal refinements and distinctions of that notable kind that surprised Monsieur Jourdain so much, videlicit, that what one speaks so naturally and without knowing why or wherefore, is actually prose. "All a rhetorician's rules" &c. Rhetoric, once so important, however, is never talked of nowadays out of the grammar school, and we think it probable, metaphysics will share (as it deserves) the same fate. We quote the following sentence from the old (and now obsolete) philosopher of Malmesbury-one of the most ingenious and original thinkers of any age or

In discussing the comparative merit of the Ancients and Moderns, we have sometimes seen it roundly asserted by those who come to their knowledge of the former by inspiration or instinct-that the literature, but especially the poetry of the latter, is more various, profound and passionate than that of Greece and Rome. The origin of this notion, we dare say, may be traced to certain speculations of the German critics, who maintain that there is a fundamental difference between the beau idéal of modern poetry and art, and that of the antique; giving to the one the name of the Romantic, to the other, its old title of the Classical Style. This distinction would form the subject of a very interesting inquiry, but we have not time to enter into it here. It may be as well, however, to expose the fallacy of one inference which we have known to be drawn from this or something like this view of the subject.

Thus, we have seen a remark of Dr. Johnson cited with great triumph by those who thought it time lost to study the ancient models, viz. that the Greek and Roman poets draw all their figures of speech from external or material objects. This notable discovery is considered as decisive of the superiority of modern genius, which is hence inferred to be more conversant with the depths of the heart and its passions, with abstract ideas and the operations of the world of spirits. The fact, we shall, for the sake of argument, admit, yet we really cannot perceive how such a sweeping conclusion is deduced from it. We suppose that if there is any body of poetry in the world, about the unrivalled sublimity of which, all the modern, i. e. Romantic critics are agreed, without a dissenting voice, it is the sacred poetry of the Hebrews. Now, not only may the same thing be predicated of it, but it is this very feature in the style of the Old Testament, that the elegant Lowth extols as its distinguishing excellence.* Nay, he further remarks, and that most justly, that some of the sublimest images of the prophetic writings are taken from the more familiar and humble, not to say vulgar occupations of life, from the barn, the threshing-floor and the wine-press. Even Milton, who has drawn together his materials from a greater variety of sources than any other writer, and whose mighty genius is for nothing more remarkable than the apparent ease with which it appropriates and applies, and melts and moulds into new and original combinations, the most multifarious learning that ever fell to a poet's lot, is still distinguished by an antique and severe simplicity, even in his boldest and vastest conceptions. We do not remember, in any of his works, rich even to gorgeousness and redundancy, in all sorts of imagery, any tropes or figures, that in their external form and character merely, give the least countenance to this notion of a romantic, or spiritual or mystical poetry, essentially distinct from the classical (not in its subjects or spirit, for that is certainly true, but) in its rules and proportions, its lineaments and contour. The same thing may be said of Shakspeare, and of all our great English classics. The poets of our day, indeed, have in quest of-novelty-a pursuit which has ever led to the corruption of taste, deviated from this primitive simplicity. Byron, especially, is remarkable for farfetched allusions and quaint conceits, that are more worthy of Cowley than of himself, and this straining after effect, is precisely the besetting sin of his muse. However, as Johnson has somewhere else observed, it is surprising after all, how continually the same images are occurring in all literature-in new combinations, to be sure, and if properly introduced, always with the same effect of elevating, enlivening, or beautifying style; and it is one of the most curious and not the least instructive parts of criticism, to trace out the use and application that has been made of the same stock of figurative language in different ages and nations.t For the rest, it is, we think, rather puerile to lay so much stress upon mere imagery, which is far from being of the essence of a good style either in poetry or prose. High wrought metaphors and such like are seldom admissible in the

country, and from whom even Locke, Hume and Burke, have successively condescended to borrow more than they have chosen to acknowledge. He was, as every body knows, the successor of Bacon, in England, and a contemporary of Des Cartes and Gassendi.

"On the other side, those men who write concerning the faculties, passions and manners of man, that is to say of moral philosophy and of policy, government and laws, whereof there be infinite volumes, have been so far from removing doubt and controversy in the questions they have handled, that they have very much multiplied the same. Nor does any man at this day so much as pretend to know more than hath been delivered more than two thousand years ago by Aristotle." Hum. Nat. c. 13. This thesis, with some slight modification, we are ready to maintain against all comers with the exception of what philosophers " pretend to" each of whom in these enlightened times, is a tanto promissor hiatu. Thus we may see how the world wags. Hobbes had his day, and a brighter one than any has had since, and is forgotten-then Locke followed-then Berkely and Hume-then Drs. Reid and Beattie-then Dugald Stewart (who is still at it)-and now we think that Kant is likely to take possession of all who will not be prevailed on to abandon the inside for the outside of the skull, and to study the organic philosophy, of which we say something in another article.

* Lectures on Sacred Poetry, &c. Lect. 6, cf. Lect. 12, (p. 252) in which he extends his observations to Homer and Virgil.

+ For instance, there is a simile in the Paradise Lost, 1. ii, 486, beginning "Thus they their consultations dark," &c, which is uncommonly beautiful and striking, and which has an air of perfect originality about it-but we have found one not materially differing from it in the Iliad, Π 297. Ωσ Δαναοί νηων μὲν απωσάμενοι δήϊον πυρ.

pathetic, and the noblest eloquence which the lips of man ever uttered that of Demosthenes-is almost entirely free from them.

There is an argument to prove the superiority of the Moderns, which is, in some degree, connected with the last, and "is like unto it." It goes to shew, not only that they are, but that they must necessarily be in possession of a richer, more various and more lofty literature, because they have more "materials of thought." This, to be sure, is taking "the high priori road" to some purpose, and the demonstration would be perfect were it only as conclusive as it is brief and simple. But in the first place, it is on the very face of it a gross non sequitur, for we have heard of such a thing as materiam superabat opus. But what in fact, are those materials of thought of which the stock may be accumulated and handed down, with continual accessions from one generation to another? In short, in what departments of thought and of knowledge have the moderns decidedly gone farther than their predecessors? The reader will find them extremely well summed up by Mr. Adams, and by Mr. Grimké (who, however, claims for his favorites, much more than they have any right to) in the following enumeration :

"The compass, gunpowder, paper, printing, engraving and oil-painting; the whole department of navigation, including ship-building; the system of modern tactics by land and sea, of modern commerce, political economy and banking; algebra, fluxions and the sublime works of Newton and La Place; anatomy and surgery; chemistry, electricity, magnetism and botany; the telescope and microscope; the time-piece, the air-pump, the steam-engine and galvanism; the true theory and practice of government; the division and subordination of power; the principles of evidence and trial; diplomacy, the balance of power and the law of nations; the history of man, of arts and sciences, and of literature; philology, and the philosophy of history; and lastly, a nobler and better scheme of morals, and a profound, rational and comprehensive theology-all these and numberless other inventions, discoveries, and improvements, are the work of the modern world. Wherever that world shall judge boldly," &c. pp. 61-62.

Now here are materials of thought enough, in all conscience, but we should really be glad to know what there is in this interesting catalogue, striking out of it such particulars (philology for instance) as are the common property of the Ancients and the Moderns, that quasi "materials of thought" have had such a wonderful effect on literature, as to supersede entirely the study of the historians, moralists, orators and poets of antiquity. Every body perceives that science has been enlarged, and that the com

* Trajicus plerumque dolet sermone pedestri.-Hor.

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