The Southern post and literary aspirant. (Macon, Ga.) 1837-1837, September 09, 1837, Image 1
r AX i > LITERARY ASPIRANT.
TWO DOLLARS IN ADVANCE—THREE DOLLARS AT THE END OF THE YEAR—SI 25 SIX MONTHS.
c. XL HAWT.EITEH €c CO.
iUiscellaiieoiEs Department.
From the London Athenseum.
AMERICA.
[continued.]
Among those whose names
have crossed the Atlantic and
Svhose works are well known in
England, is Dr. Channing, of Bos
ton. The lay productions, on
which the literary reputaiion of
this great divine is founded, are
verv lew : a small volume oi es
says comprises them all. 5 et, m
these small limits, the hand of the
master are so visible—the thoughts
are of such broad sculp- un —the
language is so severely beautiful
.—and the truth and loftiness of
the author s mind are so stamped
upon every line, that, and he were
not the h adt r ol a pow erful set t,
anu should he never write more,
h:s fame would have pedestal en
ough : the Essay or Napoleon
alone would make a reputation.
Dr. Cliannmg is the great apos
tle of Unitarianism. He was or -
iginally a Trinitarian clergyman,
and, in those days, not conferr
ed remarkable either as Harder
or speaker. The change in his
sentiments took place while ne
was still young : and at that time
the believers in his new creed
were few. Possessed (by mar
riage if we are Hot mistaken) ot a
considerable fortune, he was in
dependent of worldly considera
tions—and, in the same town
where he had always lived, begun
to preach his t hen unpopular doc
trines, with a power and an < o
quence which seemed to gather
strength from opposition, and
soon collected about him an at
tentive, and, before long, a believ
ing congregation. He has lived
to see the Unitarians one ol the
most numerous sects in New Eng
land. By far the greater propor
tion of the educated and wealthy
are among his followers; the old
est and best endowed univt rsitv is
completely in their hands ; and a
class of men have sprang up, and
are settled over the numerous
congregations about Boston, un
paralled m any other sect tor tal
ent and eloquence. Greenwood,
Palfrey, Pierpont, (one of the best
American poets,) Dewey, Vv are,
Everdtt, (iormeriy a clergyman—
How a member of Congress,) Em
erson, and others, are not only
efficient and influential pastors of
churches, but authors of no mean
ability, and contributors to the
various Miscellanies and Reviews
ol the Unitarian press. They all
hear about them, however, the
impress of their great master. —
The sell-possessed, high-bred,
polished m inner—the elaborate,
brilliant, poetical sermon —the
classic and musically-balanced
enunciation—the refined allusion
—the total absence of those tech
nicalities which the profane call
can —and the perlect adaptation
of tone, style and delivery, to the
sensitiveness of “ears polite” —
mark them distinctly from all oth
er clergy. A more gentlemanly
like, scholar-like, ‘thorough-bred’
class of men is not to be found in
tiie world.
Dr. Cbanning is not an old man
—but, for many y< ars, he has been
considered, and has considered
himself, at death’s door; it was
to his hearers as if every sermon
must be his last. His mind, how -
ev: r, is in nil vigor, and his wri
ting. and cv» n bis eloquence, in
tins f ell ' & dying state, breathe
an undimiuisiied enthusiasm. In
person, he is singularly small,
ad oftbe slightestpossibl frame:
s en m the street, wrapped in a
cloak, and covered with a clerical
hat, he looks a child in the habil
iments o» a man. (We were
struck, by the way, when in Ed
inburgh, with his resemblance to
Jeffrey, tcough a much smaller
man even than the critic of the
Edinburg Review .) In private
conversation, he seems depen
dent, suffering, affectionate : his
voice is querulous and low ; his
steps and manner marked with
debility ; and, if you did not stu
dy closely his hand and eve, you
would n ver imagine yourself in
the presence of a man in whom
there lived a spark of energy.—
He creeps up the pulpit stairs
with a feebleness almost painful
—w bile the congregation is hush
ed in anxious and breathless sym
pathy—smks, exhausted, into the
corner, and rises at last to give
out the psalm, pale, and apparent
ly quite unequal to the service.—
A dead sih nee follows the first
sound of his voice ; and they may
well listen—for never were a po
et’s words read with such caden
ces of music. A prayer follows —
low, brief, reverential, and wholly
free from the irreverence and fa
miliarity common m extempore
addresses to the Deity. Another
psalm follows—read, perhaps,
more distinctly, & w ith less trem
ulous debility than the first—and
as the echo of the organ dies in
the arches of the roof, he rises
for the sermon. His cloak has
been thrown aside,and he stands
before his audience the slightest
drapery of a human frame that
would serve to keep his soul upon
the earth. Across Ins forehead
streams a single lock of soft brown
hair, contrasted strongly with the
transparent whiteness; his thin
and hollow' features are calmly
and merely intellectual in their
pain-worn lines ; and his eye,
BEACOIT, SEPTEMBER O, 1807.
glow ing with the unnatural bright
ness of sickness, large, lambent,
and clear, beams with inexpressi
ble benignity, li s voice, the
most musical to winch it has ev
er been our lot to listen, is first
heard calm and deliberate, and
is not varied till he has laid down
the premises of his discourse.—
Ten minutes have elapsed—and
you have forgotten the man in the
interest he has awakened by the
truth-like and lucid statement of
his theme. He is less a preacher
to the hundreds about you, than
an intelligent friend making a
communication of persona l inter
est to yourself. Your mind is
wholly ins own. At this point,
the strange and peculiar cadences
to his voice begin to strengthen
and change : his sentences are
more varied—from the brief and
impressive antithesis to the elo
quent appeal, and energy ; and
Ins tones, w hich you had thought
so solvery sweet, fill and gather
power, and seem illimitable in
compass and expression. Tussive
and almost motionless t.ll now,
his slight frame seems to dilate—
bis countenance kindles—lns lips
seems burning with earnestness
and fire ; and v.hcn his thin arm
is stretched forth, with its wasted
hand, at Lie thrilling crisis of his
appeal, he seems trail formed to a
prophet—instinct with superna
tural revelation, lie goes on,
and his discourse is lull of sur
prises to the mind and -to the car.
Conclusions spring suddenly, and
yet with irresistable logic, from
the commonnest premises : and
his enunciation,to which w e again
recur, and which is as varied in
its stops and as curious in its ca
pabilities as an organ, changes
from pathos to command—from
calmness to impassioned fervor
from the most measured and lin
gering music to the most rapid
and accumlating enthusiasm—
with a wonderous facility, which
seems the immediate and burning
overflow’ of inspiration. He ceas
es—and disappears—and there is
no stir in the congregation. He
is the first to break his own spell;
he has given out the concluding
hymn of the service before a
sound is heard from the entranced
and breathless multitude before
him !
We have digressed somewhat,
perhaps, in giving this sketch of
Dr. Chaimmg as a preacher. As
a literary man,how over, his w orks
are so few, and so well known,
that mere criticism would have
been superfluous. For the same
reason we do not take up room
with unnecessary extract. His
writings arc reprinted, and before
the English public.
[to ije continued.]
VOEUEO X. — 210. 2.
om: reason for few ale b ai ty.
“ Fontaine asked me om day,”
says M Chateaubriand, “ whv
the w omen of the Jewish race
were so much handsomer than
the men. I gave him a reason at
once poetical and Christian. The
Jewesses, 1 replied, have escaped
the curse which has alighted upon
their fathers, husbands and sons.
Not a Jewess was to be seen a
mong the crowd es priests end
the rabble who insulted the son
of Man, scourged him, crowned
him with thorns, subjected him to
ignominy and the cross. T 1 i
women of Judea believed in the
Saviour ; they loved, they fol
lowed him ; they soothed him un
der afflictions. A w oman of Be
thany poured on his head the pre
cious ointment, which she kept
in a vase of alabaster ; the sinner
anointed his feet with a perfumed
oil, and wiped them with her hair.
Christ, on his part, extended his
grace and mercy to the Jewesses;
he raised from tire dead the son
of the widow of Naih, and Mar
tha’s brother, Lazarus ; he cured
Simon’s mother-in-law, and the
woman who touched the hem of
his garment. To the Samaritan
woman lie was a spring of living
wat< r, and a companionate judge
to the w oman taken in crime.—
The daughters of Jer salem w< pt
over him ; the holy women accom
pained him to Calvary; balm, and
spices, and weeping, sought him
at die sepulchre, ‘ Woman, why
weepest thou V llis first appear
ance was to Magdalen, lie said
to her, ‘ Mary !’ At the sound
of that voice Magdalen’s eyes
w ere opened, and she answered,
‘ Master !’ The reflection of some
very beautiful ray must have res
ted on the brow of the Jew esses.”
[Xew- Yo rk Mirror.
THE INFLUENCE OF MUSIC.
Oil many occasions, we have
urged the culture of Music, as
constituting a means of much so
cial happiness. It is now pro
posed that this should be made a
regular branch in our schools,
and every friend of the people
must wish success to the experi
llien t. [Pkila*. lelphia Sa.. Comv r.
In urging this consideration,
Dr. Channing beautifully remarks:
“ I am not now' called to speak
of all the good influences of .Mu
sic, particular!) of the strength
which it may and ought to give to
the religious sentiment, and to all
pure and generous emotions. —
Regarded merely as a refined
pleasure, it lias a favorable hear
ing on public morals. Let taste
and skill in this beautiful art be
spread among us, and every fam
ily w ill have anew resource ;
home will gain a new' attraction ;