order to stamp them with the impressions of overt and settled depravity.

of creation itself. We almost cease to regard it as a sally of extravagance, when the philosopher, in the pride of conscious talent in the application of mechanical power, exclaimed, "Give me standing room, and I will move the globe." These, however, are but the manifestations of the power of mind, as applied to the several departments of external and material nature. It is as mind acts upon mind, as the predominant element diffuses itself through the mass of its affinities, somewhat as flame kindles flame, force generates motion, and the primary planet operates upon the secondary it is thus that the energy of mind is most strikingly displayed; and this is the foundation of that deep and solemn responsibility, which attaches to a high order of mental endowment. It has always been considered as one of the most striking and decisive characteristics of genius, that it can communicate with resistless energy its own convictions and emotions to other minds endued with congeniality and capability. Where, therefore, this quality is possessed in a paramount and overpowering measure, and has the most favourable and unshackled opportunities for exerting its influence, it is difficult to overrate the effect which it produces upon the character of the community, and imparts to future ages. There is scarcely any department of literature or science, any modification of imaginative or intellectual exercise, in which this ascendant influence of the few over the many, has not been displayed to an almost illimitable extent. A few commanding spirits, always give its tone and colouring to the age in which they live. And it is lamentable to think how frequently the flame of genius has blazed forth in its most intense and radiant glow for no other purpose than to melt the yielding minds which have been brought under its action, and which partake of the original corruption of our common nature, in

Few works of genius, perhaps, have produced a more powerful and lasting effect upon the character of mankind, than those of Homer. When we think of the myriads of minds, which in the course of the last two or three thousand years have received some of their strongest impressions, at the most susceptible period of life, from the writings of that illustrious bard; when we contemplate these innumerable minds drinking with enthusiastic ardour out of that exhaustless fountain of poetic inspiration, which he opened for them; we are absolutely overwhelmed in the attempt to calculate the amount of that influence which he may have exerted upon the character and condition of mankind. To mention one well-known instance, that of Alexander, misnamed the Great: can we doubt that his passionate admiration of Homer accelerated his career of devastation and bloodshed, and fostered those tumultuous emotions of ambition and martial glory, which the praises of Achilles chaunted to the Mæonian lyre kindled in his youthful breast. In the person of Aristotle, the preceptor of Alexander, there is a still more remarkable example of the power of mind in subordinating to its own controul, and assimilating to its own cast of thought and feeling, those who had submitted themselves to be moulded by its plastic energy. The undisputed dominion of that prince of ancient philosophers and critics over the prostrate faculties of mankind, indeed stands unrivalled in the annals of political or intellectual despotism. The reign of military conquest has generally been of a short and fugitive duration. The mighty dynasty of Alexander was almost as short-lived as himself. Within a few years after his death the colossal image of power, which he raised, was crumbled into dust and scattered to the winds of hea

ven. But the empire of mind, or rather the thraldom of intellect, as established by the philosophy of Aristotle, continued in unrivalled and unbroken sway till the sixteenth century of the Christian era; and it was not without many a severe and arduous struggle that the demonstrations of the most unquestionable science were able at length to effect its overthrow.

As illustrative of the firmer grasp and greater permanency of mental over physical or military power, it has been stated that the writings of Voltaire and his associates still influence the mind of tens of thousands of persons on the continent, far more than even the mightiest victories and most brilliant achievements of Napoleon. The glare and tumult of the latter have passed away, while the former seem to be blended with the deepest elements of the mental constitution, and to be engraved in enduring, but disastrous records, upon the tables of the heart. In contemplating the phenomena of the French Revolution, indeed, it is impossible not to perceive that in its origin it was far more a revolution of mind than of physical conflict; of opinions, emotions, and passions, than of guns and swords and bayonets. In that memorable tragedy of blood, the military actors were but the puppets which the infidel philosophers and encylopædists had set in motion. They only rode the storm, which mightier spirits had raised. They only cut out the channels, and in some degree directed the course of that political lava, which the giant of tortured intellect, struggling beneath the weight of an overwhelming and enthralling superstition, had poured forth over the face of the population.

The history of every country in which the faculties of the human mind have been raised by exercise and cultivation to any degree of efficiency and perfection, abounds with evidences and illustrations of the unquestionable fact, that an

exalted order of intellectual endowment is a most powerful instrument for good or evil. Frequently has it been observed, that the destiny of a whole kingdom, the peace and tranquillity of half the globe, under the providence of God, lay suspended upon the decision of one presiding mind-of one lofty patriot spirit, who, like Demosthenes, and Cicero, and Washington, and Chatham, by the resistless energy of its talent, had raised itself to an eminence which placed the homage of admiring millions at its disposal; and it was scarcely an exaggeration of the power exerted by the last of these illustrious individuals, when it was said of him, in the language of highwrought metaphor, that "with one hand he wielded the democracy of Britain, while with the other he struck the throne of the Bourbons." Not less influential and effective was that display of mental energy, which was put forth by our own Burke at the close of the last century, when from the depth of his capacious genius he uttered a voice, replete with prophetic import, which thrilled through a nation's bosom, and lifted up the standard of his indignation for the purpose of stemming that torrent of revolutionary mania which was threatening to overflow the face of Europe.

Nor is the privilege of exerting a plastic influence upon the character and habits of the community confined to transcendent genius. It is not the monarchs of intellect only who radiate this species of effusive and assimilating energy upon those around them. The possession of even an ordinary measure of talent and information is often sufficient to spread it over a sphere of very considerable extent. A slight degree of mental superiority seldom fails to make an individual the centre of a little circle, the oracle of the small community to which he belongs; and to those who are comprized within that limit he imparts with ease and success his own habitudes of thought and feeling. In a read

ing age, the power of impression through the medium of a free press is inconceivably augmented, and the character of a nation will always be found strictly analogous to the character of its popular floating literature. From the Scots and the Byrons of our own times, to the most insignificant of the innumerable swarm of our writers for the public, there is a mighty influence going forth, which intimately blends itself directly or indirectly with all the principles, feelings, and habits of the people, and does much to render the nation morally and intellectually what it is.

If such, then, be the power of the mind, and if such be the influence which in its various forms and gradations it is capable of putting forth, it becomes an important and interesting inquiry, What are the paramount obligations and responsibilities of mental endowment, and by what means may its capabilities be turned to the legitimate, the best account? When I speak of the obligations of genius as the subject of the present remarks, I wish the latter term to be understood in the most extensive sense, as embracing the genius of science and philosophy, as well as the genius of literature and poetry. And it may be proper to remark further, that I consider as included in this title every order of talent which rises at all above mediocrity of intellectual power.

The first thing which I conceive to be necessary to an individual thus endowed, who would not fail to recognize the real obligations of his nature and character is, that in the exercise of his talents, or in the prosecution of his investigations, he should propose to himself a lawful and important end. Through the want of some fixed and determinate object, to which their efforts should be directed, the finest faculties have frequently been worse than thrown away. It is the grand characteristic of the spirit of man, in contradistinction to the material system to

which it is attached, that it is essentially an active principle; and in proportion to the elevation of the scale which it occupies in the order of original endowment, this peculiarity of its nature is more strongly and powerfully developed. In such a mind there is a vividness of perception, a rapidity of combination, an intensity of emotion, which will not allow it to rest. This species of confused intellectual and sensitive fermentation in the earlier stages of the character is scarcely understood by the individual himself. Like the Pythian priestess, fraught with the inspirations of the oracle, he may be at first unable to apprehend the meaning of the powerful impulses by which he is conscious of being actuated. And if, through the want of serious and devout reflection, he still continue ignorant or unmindful of the great object for which these glowing aspirations were kindled in his breast, he is in danger either of suppressing them in useless and selfcorroding anguish, or of venting them in occasional outbursts of feeling, which bear the impress of no regular design and are directed to no legitimate end.

It is necessary not less to the man of genius than it is to the man of business or the professional man, to commence his career with some definite views-some ultimate aim, to which all his subordinate exertion should be rendered as much as possible subservient. When he feels the workings of a mind which, duly cultivated, improved, and directed, may perhaps be capable of great and important achievements, he should consider that it is the "Divinity which stirs within him;" that he is thereby linked in close communion with the spiritual beings of a higher economy, and that he is therefore bound to employ every faculty with which he has been endowed, in a manner congenial to the source from which it has been derived, and the exalted society to which it belongs.

There can be no doubt that the

great primary end, to which every man of genius, like all other men, should consider his talents, in whatever line they may predominantly lie, as solemnly and sacredly pledged, is the promotion of the glory of God. This was the very object for which a mind was bestowed upon him, and proportioned to the superior energy and capability of that mind is unquestionably the force of the obligation, by which he is bound to give its exertions a sound and salutary direction. This is the first, the central point, to which every ray throughout the whole circle of human endowments, should steadily and invariably converge. It is true, indeed, that this object may be promoted in various ways; that it may be advanced by different habits and modifications of intellectual exercise. In establishing the glory of God as the great standard, to which all the efforts of the mind should be ultimately referred, there is no necessity that the faculties should be cramped in their exercise-that they should be confined in their attainments, partial in their application, or timid in their researches. With this object, their most unfettered development, their most extensive, and their loftiest excursions, so far from being incompatible, are in the highest degree congenial. In the grand system of the moral universe, while the glory of its Author, as the sun, occupies the centre, there is range enough both for the flaming comet, which wheels through its distant round, still, however, paying the homage of a strict and undeviating gravitation, and for the milder planet, which appears to pursue a more regular and uniform course. Whatever may be the amount of the talents which any individual has received, there is abundant scope for their exercise, and for carrying on such a profitable negotiation in the varied intercourse of human society, as may enable him on the great day of account, while he still feels himself to be at best an unprofitable servant, to return them, in CHRIST. OBSERV. No. 332.

the language of the parable, with usury to him who gave them. As the scenes of nature are infinitely diversified, as its laws require to be investigated, and its beauties to be displayed, by the exercise of appropriate powers of mind, and as the attributes of God admit of various modes of illustration, there is obviously opportunity afforded for the development of every order of talent, and for the indulgence of every pure and well-regulated taste, while the end is still uniform and the same. Science, history, philology, poetry, and the fine arts, may be cultivated in all their departments, with all the enthusiasm which the most devoted adherent of these pursuits may desire, without any necessary dereliction of that primary design to which they must all be subordinate. The intellect may prosecute its researches, and delight itself with the discoveries of truth; the judgment may arrange her materials, and form them into trains of reasoning; the memory may accumulate her treasures, and make still fresh additions to her stores; the imagination may embody her visions, and Fancy may weave her garlands; while the eye of the mind is still firmly fixed upon that which gives a character of sacredness to every effort. All that is really wanted is simplicity of purpose, and a Christian rectitude of aim. The spirit of man was never designed to be stretched upon a Procrustean bed, to the form and dimensions of which the elastic powers are to be rigidly adapted and admeasured. But while the mind may justly assert its native liberty of action; while it may refuse to have its kindling energies smothered beneath the choking layers of antiquated notions and predilections, and to shape its conceptions into a servile and rigid conformity to the model of prevailing and ordinary sentiment; while it is privileged to expatiate with freedom over the varied field of thought, there must still be a point 3 S

with which it is found to move in harmony. Though it may rise above the influences of earth, there must still be a luminary in the heavens; there must be a fixed, a never-varying regard to the glory, the majesty, the will, and the purposes of its beneficent Creator, whose sway it must cheerfully and unreservedly own; and until it has been brought under this legitimate and salutary controul, it is as incapable of guiding itself aright as the fabled Phaeton of directing the chariot of the sun.

It is owing to the want of such a prevailing and all-pervading principle as this; it is through the want of realizing the great end for which their powers were bestowed upon them, that so many distinguished men of our own country have wasted their talents in fugitive and desultory efforts, which were attended with no satisfaction to themselves, and no benefit to their species. To omit less strongly marked examples, I might mention the Burns, the Shelleys, the Sternes, the Byrons, and many of the dramatic poets and novelists of our nation, as instances of this deplorable deficiency of a fixed and legitimate purpose, as the great end of their exertions; the productions of whose genius, with all their splendour, are such as would render it well for the real interests of mankind, if they had never lived. The lustre of our national literatrure indeed might experience a trifling diminution, but the loss would have been more than compensated by the superior purity of the atmosphere which their noxious influence has impregnated; for intellectual gratification, or the flattering of national pride by the display of talent and genius, though of the highest order, when received in exchange for the moral sensibilities of true refinement, is purchased at too dear a price.

Before the man of genius, therefore, undertakes to wield the instrument of his power, he should seriously and deliberately consider

whether the motive which prompts him, whether the end at which he aims, be worthy of his character, consistent with his obligations, and accordant with the lofty destiny of his nature. He should reflect, whether his aim be such as his dis

passionate judgment will approve; such as will stand the test of examination under all the varied circumstances of his being; the fluctuation of events; the silence of solitude; the depressions of sorrow and disease; the vicissitudes of time; the evolutions of eternity. A man that has any pretension to compass of mind, as well as any claim to right principle, must take all these certain and inevitable facts into account, in proposing to himself an end in the exertion of his faculties; and if upon a calm, unprejudiced, and enlightened survey of its obligations, it can fix upon any other than that which has been here stated, let him pursue it. Assuming, however, that this point has been sufficiently determined, and that the duty of proposing the noblest and highest end is fully and distinctly recognized, I proceed to notice another obligation of mental endowment.

(To be continued.)

DEFINITION OF THE TERM NATURE.

Tothe Editorofthe Christian Observer.

A CORRESPONDENT (Ignorantis), in your Number for June, requests a definition of the term nature, a word frequently used in vague and erroneous applications. In answer, may I be allowed to point out a meaning affixed to this word by Sir Thomas Browne, which strikes me as being correct, and marked with that peculiar force and power which distinguish the best parts of that extraordinary writer. The passage I allude to occurs in the first chapter of Religio Medici, where he