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ant meaning from the hieroglyphic characters inscribed. on the broad page of nature, needs no such restriction, -the mind that has done this, will hardly be checked. in its onward impulse by the cui bono of the utilitarian. It sounds almost like mockery, to ask one who has ever caught a single ray of the warm, living light of the sun of truth, to satisfy himself with the frippery, gilt-paper toy of "plausibility."

These timid counsellors remind us of Solomon's slothful man, who keeps housed and says, "there is a lion in the streets, if I go forth I shall be slain." There are some who cannot be thus easily restrained, — they must "go forth," even at a worse peril, they must meet the lion and wrestle with it as they may,and often do they find, that when they look their formidable foe calmly in the face, he loses all his terrors and becomes at once harmless and tractable.

These people are constantly opposing Revelation to Nature, and Faith to Reason. We cannot agree with them in apprehending any danger to Christianity, from the investigation of calm, tolerant, philosophic spirits, who fear not to look at both sides of a question, lest they should meet with something opposed to established and time-hallowed opinions.

The timid faith that fears to question, cannot satisfy us, such assent is far worse than honest denial. The only fatal skepticism, as it seems to us, is that of the man who wants faith in the human soul and fears to trust its promptings.

For ourselves, we rejoice in the increasing number of those, who are willing to follow truth wherever she may lead them, in the spirit of that child-like confidence and perfect love which casteth out fear. We look for the time when philosophy shall aid in reconciling reason and faith, not by depressing faith but by elevating reason. When we shall be able to interpret in all its beautiful simplicity the word of him, who taught us to read the gospel of nature, - to observe the lilies of the field, and to seek for the kingdom of heaven within our own hearts.

The enforcement of this self-reliance, this faith in the power of the individual to discover for himself truth, is one of the leading heresies of which the "New School" is accused. Yet highest stars of heaven may be seen mirrored within the single drop of dew that trembles within the heart of the violet.

This faith in truth and nature, this desire to free the mind from its slavery to creeds and conventialities, though the growth of no particular school, has, it is true, within the last twenty years been more profoundly felt, and more earnestly inculcated, than at any former period. It gives a tone to all the noblest literature of the day, and is slowly but surely working a change in the character of the times.

It is this which prompted the obnoxious declaration of Dr. Channing, that "man is great as man, be he what and where he may." This is what was implied by Emerson, when he said, "let a man plant himself on his instincts, and the whole world will come round to him," or in other words, everything will work in harmony with him. It is this which illumines every page of Carlyle as with the glory of an inspired scroll, and imparts to the profound philosophy of Cousin its vivifying power.

This doctrine which was taught by a few sincere and simple spirits, amid the darkest gloom of Jewish superstition and bigotry, has caused one of the most true-hearted believers of our own day to assert, that the vital truths of Christianity are too deeply inwrought into the very nature of the human soul, to be in any danger from a free and fearless examination into the true character of the Christian miracles. It is this growing conviction, which is beginning to render all persecution for opinion's sake as disgraceful as it ever was futile, and this it is, above all, which is teaching the instructors and guardians of youth, that the great objects of education are not to be achieved by the exhibition of facts, or the inculcation of theories, but by developing and strengthening the powers of the mind for individual and independent action.

Much, though not all of this is, we think, attributable, more or less directly, to the Germans. Much, that in our own literature is but faintly and dimly shadowed forth, is in theirs developing itself in free and luxurious growth. In the German literature, to use one of their own expressive phrases, "Man finds himself."-The "sweet, sad music of Humanity" pervades every department of it. In its deep, earnest, philosophic spirit; in its fearless, trusting, transparent simplicity; in the holy fervor of its poets, the serene, spiritual, far-reaching gaze of its theologians and moralists, we may find much which even the rich classical literature of England cannot supply.

To us Germany has ever been a bright land of promise, since first in early youth we listened, with kindling heart and eager sympathy, to the tidings which Madame De Staël had brought us of a people, who, in an age of artificiality, had dared to follow the suggestions of their own spirits, and to show us nature, as she had mirrored herself within their own hearts. And now, having possessed ourselves of the golden key, which is to unlock to us this rich world of thought, we cannot but glory in our new found treasures, and endeavor to win others to become partakers of our joy.

Providence, August 15, 1839.

ART. III. An Oration, delivered before the United Brothers Society of Brown University, at Providence, R. I., September 3, 1839. By O. A. Brownson.

THE anniversary of a literary society composed of young men, who are prosecuting, or who have just closed their academical studies, can never be without its interest. It is a season of pleasant recollection,

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and joyful hope. Literature, in the progress of events, has become a power, and one of the mightiest powers. of our times; and whatever, therefore, pertains to it, or to those who cultivate it, must have a deep interest for all who have not yet to learn, that their own lot is bound up with that of their kind.

The influence of literature on the destiny of nations, its power to develop the energies of the soul, to purify the taste, exalt the sentiments, enlarge the views, and advance the civilization of mankind, were, perhaps, an appropriate subject to be discussed on an occasion like the one which now calls us together; but I have thought that I should best consult my own powers and your wishes, by choosing a more limited, but I hope not a less interesting subject. I have, therefore, selected the hackneyed, but important subject of American Literature. This is a subject which must be uppermost in your thoughts, as scholars and as patriots. Every young man, who engages in literary pursuits, doubtless hopes to be able one day to do somewhat to advance the literature of his country, and to exalt her intellectual character in the eyes of the world.

In considering American literature, it will not be my object to point out its various characteristics, and to dwell on what it has already achieved. When the question is between us and foreigners, who reproach us for not having accomplished more for the literature of the world, it may become us to assume as proud an air, and to speak in as lofty tones as we can; but when the question is merely a domestic one, and we are discussing it in our own family circle, it behooves us rather to inquire why our literature has not attained to a larger and healthier growth, and by what means it may become worthy of ourselves and of our country. This inquiry is the subject to which I respectfully invite your attention.

Of American Literature as it has been, and even as it now is, not much is to be said flattering to our national vanity. We have produced some works respec

table for their practical aims and utility; we have brought forth much which passes for poetry, but there is no great poem of American origin, unless we call Barlow's Columbiad such, our only national epic, and we could make up but a meagre collection of national songs. Latterly, we have given birth to some tolerable novels, and made a good beginning in history. But, aside from the newspaper press, which we are somewhat prone to underrate, we have produced nothing in the literary way whereof to boast. We have no literature that can begin to compare with the literature of England, the literature of Germany, or that of France.

To what are we to ascribe this? Many are somewhat prone to ascribe it to the fact, that we are a young people, and have not lived long enough to create a literature. They may not be wholly wrong in this. In a political sense, and in relation to the long future before us, we are undoubtedly a young people. But there is a sense in which we are an old people. We did not begin in this country as savages, or as barbarians. Our fathers were of a civilized race. They brought with them to these western wilds, the polity, arts, and refinements of civilized life. They could boast one of the richest literatures of the world. Chaucer, Shakspeare, Spenser, Bacon, Milton, were among our ancestors; and the literatures of the old world have ever been open to us. The Bible and the classics have been in our possession, and these lie at the bottom of all modern literature. I have, therefore, not much confidence in this plea of minority, on which our countrymen are so much disposed to rely. We must seek the cause of the meagreness of our literature elsewhere.

This cause is sometimes looked for in the democratic institutions which we have adopted. We have, it is said, no court the centre of fashion and elegance, to exalt the imagination, and give laws to taste; no long line of titled nobility, raised far above the people, and presenting us models of excellence.

We

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