The Southern Literary Messenger, Volume I., 1834-35

by Various

I have shown, or attempted to show, that the character becomes chaste by communion with those exalted spirits from whom are drawn the supplies of wisdom; and we now see that both the possession of these supplies and the reputation gained thereby, are of service to the public—moreover that skill, necessary in the management of public affairs, is generated, or to say the least increased—so rendering the ruler more capable of furthering the interests of the ruled.

We see then, that the individual and the public good are advanced by the study in question. Let us now examine whether this advancement may not be effected by confining ourselves first to translations, secondly to our own legitimate literature.

With regard to the first, others have pointed out the futility of all such transfers. The Turk exchanges his turban and robe for the habiliments of the Christian. Through the mask of this assumed garb what eye can detect the original Mussulman? Is he swarthy! others of his adopted brethren are equally so. Does the tuft of long hair by which Houri hands are to draw the faithful into Paradise, differ from the unshorn locks of those around him? his assumed head-gear conceals the difference.—Thus does he lose all trace of his former being, and since the assumed qualities sit on him but indifferently, the change is always for the worse. Are we to doubt the truth of this illustration? All experience forbids us so to do. The sterling gold of Shakspeare—converted into French tinsel—was only so converted to meet with ridicule and contempt.

Secondly, may not these advantages be gained by researches into our own literature? I would say, in the first place, that this latter is but a branch engrafted on the ancient tree; and if we wish to effect thorough familiarity, we must examine downward—solving difficulties as we proceed—until we come to the root, from whence springs all lore. Farthermore:—Acquaintance with "our own literature" being but one move towards the attainment of thorough knowledge, this very admission stamps it as an inferior degree of excellence, and will any one doubt the utility of gaining the greatest in a generous pursuit?

This connexion of past lore with the present, suggests to me an important point, upon which I shall linger for a brief space.

Few are ignorant of the close connexion between the ancient and modern languages themselves. It was the influence of the polished and manly Latin that gave euphony to the barbarous jargon brought by the German tribes from their forests. It was this that spread over the nations of modern Europe, mellowing in one instance the roughness of the Norman idiom, and in fine, entwining itself inseparably with the mongrel plant brought into being in England, after the conquest of Duke William. Indeed, so much incongruity pervaded this, that many great writers have believed it a vehicle too rude and perhaps unsafe, for the conveyance of their harvests to posterity. Under this belief Bacon wrote his "Novum Organum," as well as many of his more important works, wholly in Latin.

So close, therefore, is the union, that familiarity with one of the principal languages of antiquity has become absolutely essential to a thorough intimacy with our own.

Upon the connexion with the other I will barely remark, that the precept and practice of learned men most assuredly carry a weight at home, and was it not natural for these, filled as they were with the beauty of that tongue, whose melody and richness had lent a charm even to the outpourings of wisdom, to introduce its merits into their own less noble one? This they have done; and so originated a connexion important and harmless, inasmuch as it has benefitted the one greatly, without injuring the other.

I will now observe upon the time of life most suited to an attainment of that skill, essential in opening to the neophyte these well-stored magazines of useful and pleasing information. If the candidate for distinction in any, the simplest profession, had at the time of entering upon it, yet to master the rudiments of his language, would he not contemplate the double task in despair? Knowing that the greatest genius on earth, if without the means of expressing the teeming thoughts of a crowded mind, is but a "mighty savage," he feels, if success be his object, the absolute necessity of beginning the almost endless labor. From childhood to manhood he should be furbishing this key to his mind's resources.

And the case is the same with regard to the study of the elements which throw open the riches of the past to our conception. These riches are very seldom possessed when the means of doing so are not gradually acquired in very early years. The hours are not then counted—the labor does not present itself in a huge and startling mass to the narrow view of youth, but is seen part by part as the student advances. With years of inactive life before him, his time is his own, and we may almost say unlimited. Undeterred by the calls of the world, he has leisure to possess himself of every requisite for enjoying the feast to be partaken of hereafter. Turn to one who, after neglecting the acquisition of that which he has at length learned to look upon as most valuable, attempts to rectify his error. With the duties of life accumulating every moment on his hands—with the toil to be endured spread out like a map before his eye, he rarely has energy enough to persevere. The task is given up as a hopeless one, and his judgment, on the ground of interference with essential duties, sanctions the decision urged by timidity. Then deprived of all means of gaining the treasure, he laments the error by which its acquisition was deferred until too late a season.