The Southern Literary Messenger, Vol. I., No. 8, April, 1835

by Various

Nor have we yet reached the end of this course of salutary reform. The administration of justice may be still more simple; and though the rules of property and of civil rights must always be numerous and complicated in a civilized community, yet this necessity furnishes a further reason why the modes of investigating truth and the rules of evidence should possess all practicable simplicity. The spirit of philosophy has been actively at work here. In some instances, perhaps, it has been too far in advance of the age, and under the influence of the pride of discovery and reform, or provoked by opposition, it may have been urged farther than reason and propriety would warrant. It has, however, arraigned the whole system of judicial evidence, and endeavored to show that the rules for the examination of contested facts are so erroneous or defective, that the truth is commonly discovered better out of court than in it; and that questions about which all the world is satisfied, when technically examined by tribunals created purposely for their investigation, either receive no answer, or a wrong one. The official expounders of the law, partaking of the liberal spirit of the age, have of late years greatly narrowed the objections to the competency of witnesses; but it is only the legislature and public opinion which are adequate to a complete reform, and they will one day assuredly bring it.

There is much seeming force in many of the other objections of the reformers to the present very artificial and complicated system of jurisprudence; but whether their views are satisfactory or otherwise, they equally serve to show the prevalent disposition of men to bring all human concerns to the bar of reason, and make them submit to her decrees.

There is nothing in which the progress of reason and philosophy are more shown, than in the subject of religion. A large part, perhaps I may say, the best part of religion, as it is most productive of good results, is the religion of the heart; and consists in a profound and thorough sense of the wisdom and beneficence of the Creator—of thanksgiving for the blessings he has vouchsafed to frail and humble beings like ourselves—to vigorous self-examinations by our own conscience—to fervent aspirations after moral excellence in this life, and a purer and higher state of existence hereafter. But all of these are impulses of the feelings, rather than the cold dictates of the reasoning faculty; and being dependant on the laws of our emotions, which are as unchangeable as our forms, and probably as much the result of organization, are the same in character, if not in degree, in every stage of society.

But while philosophy has not altered, and could not alter these impulses of the heart, we may see here also its benignant operations. It has driven away from religion the superstitions which fraud and credulity combined had gathered around it. Man no longer imputes to the Deity the same violent and ignoble passions by which the baser part of his own nature is agitated; and instead of regarding cruelty and vengeance as attributes of the Supreme Being, he is invested with those qualities which appear to our feeble conceptions more consonant with divine perfection. Thus mercy to human frailty and pity for human suffering, are regarded as divine attributes no less than wisdom and power. On the part of its votaries, humility is invoked to take the place of pride; forgiveness of injuries to supersede resentment; meekness and patience and long suffering are held to indicate a truer devotion than pompous rites and vain ceremonies; and instead of incense and sacrifices, good deeds to his fellow mortals, and a lowly and penitent spirit, are deemed the most acceptable offerings which man can make to his Creator. In this transformation, Mr. President, you recognize the leading precepts of christianity, which may well be called the most philosophical of all religions.

It is true that after this religion became the creed of those northern barbarians, who poured like an avalanche over the south of Europe, christianity became greatly perverted from its original simplicity and purity; but it was not destined to remain forever shrouded in these mists of barbarism. After the growing spirit of philosophy prepared men's minds for its reception and welcome, it broke forth in its pristine beauty and splendor. The further continuance of the abuses of the christian church was inconsistent with the increase of general intelligence; and the reformation must have taken place had Martin Luther never existed, or had the Dominican friars never carried on the traffic in indulgences; though it might not have happened at the precise time, or in the precise manner in which it did occur.

In truth, man's religion, as well as every thing else relative to his opinions and feelings, partakes of the character of the age; and we are warranted in saying, that the christian religion in the middle ages must as necessarily have been subject to its corruptions, its superstitions, and its persecutions, among a people so rude as that which then swayed the destinies of Europe, as that after the discovery of the art of printing, the revival of letters, and the general progress of science and philosophy, these foul exhalations should disappear.

It has been supposed, that the spirit of philosophy which has been so hostile to superstition, is also unfavorable to true religion; and many, listening to their fears rather than their reason, have readily yielded to that opinion. But they have been too hasty in drawing general conclusions from particular facts. It is true that many of the philosophers of France, and some of those of Great Britain, during the last century, were not only opposed to the prevailing creeds of their country, but seemed to have no very fervid religious feelings of any kind; but they were led first to make war on what they regarded as the abuses of religion, and then their attacks appear to be levelled against every thing which bore its name. It is highly probable that, by a natural process of the mind, from coming to hate the corruptions of christianity, they felt a prejudice against every thing which was associated with it. But on the other hand, we have seen some, occupying the very highest places in the scale of philosophers, who were sincere and zealous christians. Besides, the present age, which is the most philosophical the world has ever seen, is also the most generally and ardently devoted to christianity, as is evinced by the extraordinary number of Churches, Bible Societies, Missionary Societies, Sunday Schools, &c. Let then the sincerely devout and pious dismiss their fears. The foundations of religion are seated in the very nature and constitution of man; in the deepest recesses of his heart. It is a want of his moral nature, as indispensable as food to his physical; and philosophy tends only to separate it from a part of the dross with which every thing earthly more or less mingles, and to leave its own pure essence undiminished and untouched.

Let us now pass to the subject of literature, where we shall see the same evidences of the growing influence of philosophy and reason over the minds of men. Thus poetry, in its efforts to please and elevate the mind, by exciting the imagination and feelings, now never addresses us unattended by philosophy. Her favorite occupation of late has been to delineate the dispositions and characters of men; to reveal the secret workings of the passions and the sources of human sympathy; to exhibit the human mind, in short, under its most impressive phases. The prevalent taste of the age is for metaphysical poetry; by which I mean, poetry imbued with philosophy,—poetry which lays bare the anatomy of the human heart, and discloses all the springs and machinery by which it is put in play. Those who are gifted with this beautiful talent, have conformed to the ruling taste, and their success has been proportionate. It is to this circumstance that Byron owes part of his popularity; for in exhibiting the most subtle processes of human passion, its energies and its susceptibilities, he is superior to any of his predecessors; though in the mere embellishment of smooth and felicitous diction, and of agreeable and varied rhythm, or even in the higher attributes of lively imagery and lofty conception, he can boast of no superiority. Perhaps it would be more correct to say, that the metaphysical character of his poetry proceeded not so much from his wish to adapt it to the public taste, as because he himself partook of the character of his age; that he wrote metaphysically and philosophically because he spoke and thought in this way, and he so spoke and thought from the very same causes as his contemporaries.

This inference is the more warranted, when we find the same tincture of philosophy in the poetry of his contemporaries,—Southey, Wordsworth, Campbell and Coleridge.² Even Moore infuses into his amatory poems as much philosophy as the subject will admit, though it is of the sensual school of Epicurus. Sometimes we see the spirit of philosophy controlling the poetic spirit, as was the case with Shelley, Coleridge and some others, in whose poetry the precepts of philosophy were more obscured by the restraints of verse than aided by its ornaments. It is an unnatural alliance, and both the poetry and the philosophy are the worse for the union.

² The recent poetry of continental Europe exhibits the same psychological character; as for instance, that of Alfieri and Monte in Italy, of Goethe and Tieck in Germany, and of Beranger in France.