their due effect? What lights of thought, what charms of description, what felicities of style, what elegancies of imagery, result from this training of the mind-this its action upon itself! Hence are the ornaments of our temples, of our lyceums, and of our courts of justice. Hence are our household gods. Or, to speak more literally, the intellects of a people improved by culture, become fitted for the various offices of church and state for the chair of philosophy, the halls of science, and the general literary profession-indeed, for every walk in life, and fitted to adorn them all. The general cultivation of the mind is intimately connected with our moral and religious welfare. In this light it must be considered an object worthy of those efforts, and more than worthy of those efforts that are usually put forth for its attainment. It is a belief generally entertained, and not without reason, that the enlargement of the mind by various knowledge is favorable to the advancement of our moral and spiritual nature. It can, indeed, be scarcely doubted, that a thorough training of the intellect is subservient to the interests of virtue and religion. Men of extensive cultivation are, more generally than others, favorable to general morals, and to the scheme of truth and piety revealed in the Bible. There is a tendency to seriousness and religious reverence, and a sensibility to the great and permanent interests of man, in persons whose minds have received a share of attention and discipline. The result of extensive inquiries into nature and man-into the works of God in general-is often a strong conviction of the claims of religion upon the heart. A sense of fitness and propriety and order is felt as the effect of study and mental improvement. The sensibilities of the soul being thus quickened, and the sphere of thought enlarged, wants are felt which religion only can supply. That infinite and pure intelligence which is seen to be impressed on all nature, and to be concerned in the train and concatenation of every event, strikes the reflecting mind with awe. Thus liberal studies and enlarged views are recommended as handmaids to moral excellence. They are, however, by no means to be contemplated as identical with it. Men of elegant minds and profound scholarship, we are well aware, have sometimes been recreant to the high distinctions of their nature, and have groveled in vice, and abetted the cause of skepticism. And every one knows, that the more intellectual power you confer, the greater is the capacity to do evil, where the disposition exists. But are not the cases of moral obliquity in cultivated men exceptions to the general rule? Or, if this may not be averred, can we not account for the failure of good moral results, in part at least, from defect in the cultivation of the intellect itself? With men of great and perverted talents it is generally the case, that they have neglected one important class of truths. Those that relate to natural and revealed religion are usually overlooked-we mean not only as objects of moral concern, but even in the affair of cultivating the understanding. Their effect in giving strength, proportion, and symmetry to the mind itself, has not in this case been understood or appreciated, in a course of liberal study. A correct and enlarged cultivation of the intellect must of course include that system of truths, which teaches the relation of the soul to God and eternity. Here many learned men, so considered, are deplorably ignorant. Many an infidel has declaimed and written against the Bible, who never seriously read it. Can it be a matter of wonder, then, that such talented profligates as Rousseau, Voltaire, Byron, and others, with minds utterly deficient in theological and religious knowledge, should have been any otherwise than vicious and skeptical? Their reason itself was but half enlightened. Let not then the beneficial influence of true knowledge of an enlarged acquaintance with the works and ways of God-be doubted, in view of such instances of moral perverseness. They are failures in the cultivation of the intellect itself. They present only a disproportionate, distorted form of intellectual greatness. The general tendency, then, of educated mind, it must be admitted, is toward the decencies of virtue and the practices of religion. What would such a man, for instance, as Franklin, have become, deficient as he may have been in strict religious principle, had he not been enamored of knowledge? With his strong passions, and constitutional inclination to an erratic course, would he otherwise have proved a model of sobriety and self-control? His addiction to study operated favorably, we have no doubt, on his moral character. And such has been the fact with thousands of others, whose love of literature, absorbing their attention, and arousing their energies, at a critical period, has arrested them in a downward career. K. PERHAPS there is no country, the history of which, whether in ancient or modern times, is more replete with interest, or more calculated to leave on our minds a deeper impression, than that of Italy. Often has the scholar, whilst poring over her pages of classic lore, felt his heart thrill with emotion, at the perusal of the many stirring incidents, of which she has been the scene, and as often has he dropped the tear of regret over her memory. The history of Italy is that of a country which has stood for ages, with its head hidden among the clouds of antiquity, playing the principal part in the great drama of national existence. Yet, passing strange as it may appear, no work comprising a general history of the nation, which has borne so prominent a part in the world's annals, is to be met with. There is certainly no want of materials, to render such a work highly interesting; the patriotic spirit, which pervades all her classes of society, the pride of her nobles, and the industry of her antiquarians, have not permitted even the most trifling event in her history, to be passed over in silence. Its romantic records are scattered throughout the length and breadth of her domain. To collect and arrange such an abundance of materials, however, has hitherto seemed so imposing a task, that the most active and persevering minds have shrunk from the undertaking, it might almost be said, to cost the labor of a life. It is, therefore, with a degree of pleasure not unmixed with pain, that we read the glowing accounts of the immense treasures of historical lore, which, to this day, remain unheeded in the seclusions of Italy; and we are led to wonder, that these interesting memorials have been suffered to remain so long in obscurity. Our age, it is said, is the age of history, and we might add, of chivalry; we mean the chivalry of letters. The manners and customs of the middle ages have again arisen, with this difference, that, whereas the noble knight was once found ready to bestride his good steed, and take the field in defense of his "ladie love;" now he lifts the gauntlet for a nobler object, and rushes forward to snatch from the past those relics on which a hasty and presumptuous age has delighted to tread. In such an age, then, as our own, it is not surprising that the apathy which has heretofore existed, respecting the fate of Italy, exists no longer. Even under the allurements of her seductive clime, we may now find many a persevering champion, secluded in those gloomy chambers, where, in the shape of scrolls, parchments, and manuscripts, lie the spectres of antiquity, preparing to "grapple with the phantoms of the dead, and rescue from them the secrets of the past." Italy has, indeed, seen strange reverses of fortune. Rome, once the eternal city and mistress of the world, is Rome no more. Italy as she was! and Italy as she is! what an interminable gap between them! We know not how to connect them; indeed, did not her relics of antiquity present themselves to our view, as remnants of her former glory, in characters too plain to be mistaken, we should be slow to believe that they were one and the same. Italy! classic Italy! how has she fallen! We picture to ourselves the time when her eager populace bent entranced over the heroic verse of a Virgil, when they hung with attentive ear upon the soul-stirring eloquence of a Cicero we call to mind the orators, statesmen, and poets, who grace the pages of her history, and we ask ourselves if such master-spirits in the field of mind can now be found-but, alas, for the answer! Too true is it, that all things are changed. The Italian of the present, is not the Italian of the past age; a great change has come over his spirit. Now, if his dark eye flashes, it is with the fire of passion, and not that which once bespoke a soul within, burning with the love of country and fireside home. The voice of the orator, statesman, and poet, is hushed. "Passed away," stands inscribed in those places which they once occupied, but which are now filled with the votaries to voluptuousness and pleasure. But it may be well to inquire, why this change? The causes which have operated to overthrow nations and governments, are, indeed, numerous; but the change in the Italian character is evidently to be ascribed to the immoderate attachment of that people to the fine arts. Nor is this fact at all wonderful, when we consider their tendency to weaken and corrupt mankind, to produce effeminacy of character and disposition, in those who are connected with them. The tendency of the fine arts, it has been said, is to refine and elevate man; true, but the excess of such refinement leads to effeminacy; and thus it has been with Italy. Time was, when no music was sweeter to the ear of the old Roman, than the twang of the bow string; but to the modern Italian, no strains are half so fascinating as those which flow from the lute or the guitar. The music of the Orphean lyre so changed the rocks and stones, that they followed the pleasing sounds; and the trees bent down to listen, while he who touched the strings, drew forth the sweetest melodies. What wonder, then, if poor human nature should yield to this enticing charmer, if the lute, like "the harp of David, which charmed away the evil spirits," should soften man's hardy character, and beguile him into effeminacy? Poetry, too, has exerted a baneful as well as wide-spread influence over the people of Italy. They always have been its enthusiastic admirers, from the simple lays of the Troubadours to the loftier strains of their own bards. Indeed, poetry and the poet have been accustomed to receive from them, in all ages, a homage akin to that paid to their deities and their oracles. Their own Petrarch was considered almost divine, and upon him was first conferred the distinguished honor of wearing the poet's laurel. Tasso, too, was about to receive the same honor, which had been bestowed upon the bard of Vaucluse, at the capitol, when he was summoned away, to be crowned with the unfading wreath of a heavenly immortality. But of all earthly honors which Tasso received, none equal the noble tribute of respect rendered to him by the desperado chieftain, at the mention even of whose name all Italy trembled, which the pen of Shelly has thus beautifully described: VOL. VII. "On the watch he lies, Leveling his carbine at the passenger, 47 |