Then came the era of Redemption. And lo! again religion and poetry, united as in the beginning, return to heal and sanctify the human race. At his creation, the Angels had seized their harps, and taught the notes of poetry to man. Those Angel-tones had languished away, and, buried amid the discords of passion, were long since lost from the earth. And now, upon the advent of the Great Restorer of mankind, again the heavenly choir descend, and renewing that primal strain, open the Christian era with a song.

In the privacy of midnight, when all profaner noises were hushed, over the solitary plains of Bethlehem they hovered, and again, as at first," sang together for joy," adding now most of all, “Peace on earth, for unto you is born a Saviour." This, would they teach, should be the theme, this the inspiration of all future songs. Already had its prelude been chanted from the inspired lips of Elizabeth and Mary, when, premonished by the Angel-visit, they mused over the approaching advent of Elias and the Christ; and anon aged Simeon clasped the Messiah in his arms, and poured forth his soul in the same exulting strains.

Nor was the world now left to the precepts of holy men, or the ensample of Angels alone, to learn the divine dignity of poetry. That truth the Great Teacher himself, in his prophetic monitions, and lessons of filial confidence, often vindicated; and as his mission was introduced with teaching his disciples to pray, so, at its close, he blended his voice with theirs, and "sang an hymn." And, allying the exercise to that sacrament ordained to perpetuate the remembrance of man's redemption, he forever consecrated poetry with the new baptism of Christianity, and appointed it his mission, to sing the truths and blessings of the Gospel. Accordingly, during those early days of the purity and grandeur of the Christian religion, amid the working of miracles, the gift of tongues, and the solemn voice of prayer, the Disciples failed not to commune together with "psalms and hymns, and spiritual songs."

Thus, was poetry in the human soul at the first connate, and ever after intimately linked with the religious principle. And although most artfully embellished among the nations ignorant of the true God, perhaps for the very reason that they knew nought else so divine and true on which the heart might indulge its worship; still, despite of all the ornaments and graces of art, it has ever fallen beneath the perfection of its power, save when hallowed and sustained by the religion of Jehovah. And thus has the spirit that sanctifies approved itself no less efficacious to refine the affections, and elevate the soul, to the lofty mood of poetry. For it is the holy heart, inditing sentiments of eternal truth, that has reached at once the tenderest lays and the sublimest heights of song.

And, we may add, in later times, under the Christian dispensation, in Italy, in Spain, or in England, even to our day, the proudest, the most god-like efforts of the Muse, have been when the theme was religious and the poet a Christian. And when time is no more, heaven above would want its richest joy, its highest glory, without the song of "Moses and the Lamb."

THE CONNECTION OF COMMON SENSE WITH LITERARY

EXCELLENCE.

BY JONATHAN WHITE, RANDOLPH, MASS.

WITH many discordant opinions respecting the precise signification and office of common sense, philosophers usually concur in assigning it a very subordinate rank in the mind, or altogether denying its existence as a distinct innate faculty. In general acceptation, however, it has a definite and comprehensive meaning. It may be considered as the ordinary judgment of mankind in reference to matters of expediency, implying such a practical knowledge of the world, and such a quick sense of propriety in the regulation of the conduct, as can result only from an habitual estimation of things and events as they are.

The importance of this faculty in the common transactions of life, none are disposed to call in question. Its agency may be traced in the multiplied instances of prompt and decisive action which determine the success of every enterprise, while they necessarily exclude any conscious process of reasoning; and notwithstanding its operations, from their frequency and certainty, come to be almost as unnoticed as the beatings of the heart, the stigma which invariably rests upon any violation of its dictates clearly evinces the conviction of mankind in regard to its connection with the welfare both of individuals and of society at large. But when we turn to the higher vocations of literature, the case seems quite reversed. The works of great, inventive minds are claimed to be things of another order, in the production and judgment of which, little occasion can be afforded for the exercise of a faculty inherent as well in the lowliest as the most exalted intellects. Men eminent in letters even, have not been unwilling to arrogate to themselves the distinction implied in this notion, and have contributed not a little to confirm and perpetuate it. Genius, receiving from the same source direction and character, has often been seduced to an utter alienation from society, while society in turn, not without compassion for its lot, has left it to move about in a world of its own creation, unreal and unrealized; indeed, so eloquently have critics pleaded in extenuation of its errors, its exemption from all laws which obtain among ordinary minds, that eccentricity, nay, utter recklessness of the first principles of prudence, have come to be very commonly regarded as not merely a casual evidence of it, but an essential element. It may not be unprofitable to consider briefly whether these opinions have foundation in the nature of things.

Literature, it would seem to be scarcely necessary to observe, is worthy of attention only so far as it exerts a practical influence upon human life. To regard it as a mere repository of thought, or an embodiment of passive principles, destitute of any power to move the reason or the passions of men, is to degrade it infinitely below its rightful position in respect of dignity and importance. Most pernicious are the consequences of such a mistaken idea, to both literature and people; its whole tendency is destructive of that fashioning influence

which should be exerted by each upon the other. For while men of letters display their brilliant conceits as pictures to be gazed at, and truth itself is an idle trophy, won by hard conflict with ignorance and error, it is not wonderful that the rest of mankind look upon their boasted achievements as upon the "rattling twigs and sprays of winter, which afford neither food nor shelter." Not so; thoughts are properly instruments of action, and are valuable only as they manifest themselves in the accomplishment of specific results; truth is earnestly and consistently sought by the greatest minds, because it is felt to be a living, energizing principle, which, once brought to light, will live on and act for ever. An action, therefore, is as truly the ultimate end of intellectual exertion, as of physical. Between the external forms, indeed, under which it is manifested, and the immediate purposes for which it is put forth in the two cases, there may be no comparison, yet its essence is the same in both; it is an action still exerted, directly or remotely, upon human nature as its subject. Hence in the very qualities, by reason of which the common affairs of life demand a steady and rational view of the end proposed to be accomplished, a ready perception of the best means, and a skillful adjustment of these to varying circumstances; in a word, the full and legitimate exercise of common sense, in precisely these qualities we discover a close analogy between the operations of active life and the operations of the mind; and nothing can be more irrational than to endeavor to secure efficiency ́in one by spurning those powers and faculties which, above all others, are acknowledged to be needful to ensure it in the other.

In the conduct of literary attainments, however, the importance of common sense is not to be estimated solely or chiefly by the results of its direct and independent operations. It acquires peculiar prominence and value from the relations which it sustains to the higher intellectual faculties; for, by rendering available the stores of learning, by giving stability to the achievements of reason, and restraining the excesses of imagination, it vastly promotes the success of efforts which it is incompetent to produce. And when we reflect how often the noblest endowments bestowed upon man are, for all purposes of usefulness, utterly subverted by a single wrong direction, it would seem impossible to conceive the genuine influence of common sense to be superseded by the presence of other the most brilliant and vigorous powers. Indispensable, therefore, is its agency to the formation of a sound literary character. The keen sensibility, the ardent enthusiasm, the habit of solitary meditation, and the intense devotedness to an individual pursuit, which constitute the perfection of such a character, are but too justly reproached with a tendency to extravagance and error, when unaccompanied by an ordinary judgment. The very fullness of power of a creative mind is its peril. The vividness of its own conceptions too often serves to exclude those rational views of their relations to the realities of the outer world, and that sympathy with the feelings and opinions on which they are to act, which form the proper stimulus of the mind, without which it loses its healthy tone of action and becomes the mere creature of impulse and caprice.

The man of genius, who has shaken off the trammels of sense and custom and become a law unto himself, may, indeed, produce works valuable for their incidental and subordinate excellences, but there remains no security that the object of his labors will not wholly fail of accomplishment. The imbecility of ill balanced intellect is betrayed in all its productions; incompleteness and incongruity are the indubitable traces of their origin. We need only refer, for familiar examples, to the virtuous corsairs of a Byron and the grossly material spiritualities of a Shelly. It matters very little, moreover, that the world be assured, again and again, that such impossible abstractions are no violations of good taste, and are replete with individual conceptions of transcendent beauty; not careful to answer in these matters, it still asserts the prerogative of judging by its own standard of common sense; a very reasonable standard, surely; for, what intuitive truths are in philosophy, such are the dictates of common sense in literature. They are first principles, and necessarily lie beyond the decisions of taste, at the foundation of all enduring excellence. To its own sufficient cost, therefore, does self-sufficing genius, arrogating to itself special immunities, set these principles at naught. If, disdaining to stand in the old ways, and see which is the right and good way and walk therein, it recklessly pursue a devious course, arraying against the authority of ages the fancies of a day, and trampling in its scorn on the world and the world's precepts, it must reap the bitter reward, the world's contempt. Nor is this unjust. For what do they, but trifle with the understanding and grossly insult the self-love of mankind, who, in their works, dwell avowedly and exclusively on the possession of mysterious powers, by reason of which they bless themselves from all alliance with their race!

In addition to the utility of common sense in securing reasonableness to the aims and certainty to the efforts of men of letters, we observe, also, that in respect of practical knowledge, it affords high vantage ground which cannot well be abandoned. Presenting ever the realities of things in their natural and obvious relations, it leads to a ready perception of general principles, which are otherwise attainable, if at all, by much painful experience. Especially to that deep insight into the nature of man, as well as that sagacious mode of observing the great objects of his thoughts and absorbing interests of his life, so essential to the purposes of literature, no qualification is of more avail than the lively sympathy which common sense establishes between

man and his fellow-men. To what absurd and difficult means does not the author frequently resort, in order to arrive at those simple truths respecting human nature, which are perfectly within the grasp of common judgment, or lie open to observation, so that he who runs may read! Turning his mind inward upon itself, he labors with the earnestness and enthusiasm of a solitary artist, to determine, by mere efforts of intelligence, all possible modes of existence, and subject them to the arbitrary canons of an ideal system. The objects of sense, all that is grand and lovely in the external world or in the actions of men, are dimly seen through the distorting medium of his visions, which are

fashioned not after the eternanl patterns of nature, but according to the traits of his own individuality. Now if there is an element which should preeminently characterize the views and principles, we do not say of the historian, the critic and philosopher, but of the orator and the poet, whose object is to strike those chords which shall vibrate throughout the universe of rational being, it is the element of universality; and this, both reason and experience teach us, is not to be attained where intellectual labor is resolved into one all-engrossing effort of consciousness. It does not result from the attempts of an individual mind to fathom itself, nor from the anatomy of a single human heart, even though such anatomy bring to light the whole range of passions disembodied. It can result only from an habitual common sense observation and common sense interpretation of human nature; without these, impassioned eloquence and the "vision and faculty divine" are idle gifts. We are far from meaning, by this, to aver that poets and orators are to seek inspiration by mingling with the world and its affairs; that they must not often retire from the "garish light of day," to meditate profoundly within the solitude of their own minds. But to attempt, by the aid of introspection alone, to portray just expressions of the emotions and passions of men, as they are developed in social life-as well might the painter task himself to depict the clouds in their ever changing forms and hues, by a rigid application of the laws which govern light and vapor !

The mind, it is true, is said to create; but it creates of materials already existing. The world, with its innumerable objects of beauty and grandeur, awakening kindred emotions in all; real life, with its joys and sorrows, its hopes and fears, experienced alike by all, these furnish the substance, imagination only the varying form. Surely, then, it were the part of wisdom, that men of even the loftiest intellect, since they can hope to influence universal mind only through the medium of things that do appear,' should seek to contemplate these in some measure as their less gifted fellow-beings contemplate them; should cherish those feelings and faculties which most nearly assimilate them to their race. It was not by endeavoring to compel univer. sal suffrage to ideal and conventional forms, that the sculptors of ancient Greece gave to the world perennial models in their art. The spontaneous thoughts and emotions of men, no less than the manifold aspects of nature, were made their study, till the sublime creations of their genius were but the bodying forth of the condensed judgment of mankind. Such is the condition of immortality in works of art, works which overwhelm the mind at a single glance and command assent; how important is it, then, that the productions of literature which, to be appreciated at all, must be understood, should give language to the unwritten thoughts and boundless aspirations which exist in every the most unlettered mind; in other words, that they be founded on the deep-seated, unchangeable principles of common sense. Is it objected that in this way literature becomes imitative and superficial? We answer, it is when common sense breaks over the bounds which an artificial taste would prescribe, when it exposes narrow views and tran