Western Times, Volume 2, Number 14, Richmond, Wayne County, 14 June 1833 — Page 1

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U l>ljftr <v*r o Time*. t Jzx-rijurax—l'k® cmiwnoaiesrinn which mueared in ymr PO|er r (he flint of May, ,vcr the *turh of “PwiAUcntß,’’ we mve published in theSenf'mel of to dny, as hewwter no doubt, is desirsus of havliig his ,reduction gem)raUvcjimteleil.-We are jot disposed to cotuphiinon account of your ipeoing yiHJf column* to Philalethe—it is just what toy editors have and perfect right U do. But • claim an equal right at you r hands, and one which, w$ have no doubt you will cheerfully grant us, as we have gratuitously given the communication of you rcorrespondent a place in our columns —i e, We claim it as an act of equal justice, that you give this, our qly to Philalethe, a place in your own periodical. . it is t*y, PhiJalethehas nolflireefly made hissttask on us—But on friend Beard ; ret in thfr attack, he has levelled his artillery against the universalists generally-. The writer appears to feel it his duty t 0 "circumscribe” nniversalism, (error as he terms it), and seems to regret that no abler lien than bis, should be employed against us. lie very modestly observes, (bat the business of newspaper scribbling hap “hitherto, formed no portion of the errors of his life, or the finite of his character.” This apology is necessary, fur it admits his communication to fix the traits of his character, and firm a portion of the errors of his life; and we have no doubt but he will be still more < feasible that this unprovoked and wanton

attack on the uni versa (sits through a public newspaper, is one of the greatest errors of sis life, before he gets through with the task’ helms iuhen upon himself. It is certainly a apithi elrbr in the life of any man, to attempt to write down* doctrine, of which lie is totally ignorant; especially when be is so manifestly unqualified fur theological debate as Philalethe has shown himself to be. He finds fault with friend Beard's logic, and intimates his only mode of argument to {be dogmatism, and at the same time offers nothing hut derail ism on his side of (he question. Hu oners no argument to prove that il is wrong for a man to change his opinion, and yet ho seems to find fault with friend board, because be cbo rged his, when he sn w he was in an error, and had entertained operroneous.—He finds fault with hibnd Beard, fo* not believing in an Whaipresent devil; yet he has attempted to ywmrfteMitty *uwfa devil lie matmars that friend Beard could not find in the Bible, the notion of * place called hell, where people are to suffer future and endless punishment, but has neglected to point tosny place in the Bible where such a hell i*spoken of. He tells your readers that Mr Beard “read a passage of scripture upon which he predicated these three propositions Ist. Deity had a purpose in the creation of sum. 2d, This purpose was a good one. vd. All his purposes will be accomplished.' 1 ' But he hits not told us what that passage was; whether it did, or did not support the propoutiohs, nor whether he believed them to be Into or false. Will Philalethe be so good as to tell us what he believes on tbe subject ? Boes b£believe God had no purpose in view i tit--' creation of man? If he thinks he hod, duos ite believe it was a bad purpose ? Iff fine; does Philalethe believe that all the purposes of God will not be accomplished? If he thinks they will not, what being in heaven, earth, or hell, does he suppose, will frustrate any of the purposes of God t Does he think it will be that omnipresent dcvill If so, will not his devil prove himself to be more powerful than God?

Io regard to Piiiialethe'a remarks on Dr C.ark.s note on the phrase hell fire, they f disingenuous, and calculated to deceive Uioso who have not tbe Dr’s notes to turn to. He says, “Dr Clark remarkson this passage, that Christ, perhaps, here alluded to the valley of the Sou of Hinnom.” We have the Dr’s notes before our eyes, and there is "o perhaps in the case. His words are as follows: “U is very probable, that our Lord

•naans no more here than this— If a man J (harge another with apoetacy from the Jew- ■ ,s “ feligion, or rebellion against Gad, and 1 cannot ptove bis charge, then he is exn .sed J® that punishment, (burning alive\ which [he other must have suffered, ft the charge rW substantiated-. There are three •n sos offences w hich exceed each raiii n C>r guilt. Ist. Anger 9 man, accompanied with some iilju- - act - Sfdly. Contempt , expressed by ih& opprobrious epithefordca, or shallow featw. 3dly, Hatred and mortal enmity, expressed by the term nu>reh r or apostate, ''Hero such apostacy could out be proved. proportioned to these offences; tec>e three differ*nt degrees of punishment, as the tiroes exceeded each other in their differ*r>t.degrees of guilt. Ist. The judgement, •tbe council of twenty three, which could inflict the punishment of strangling. 2dly. f tfbe Sanhedrin, or great council, which ‘teuld .inflict the punishment of stoning. And 3dly, the being burnt alive in the vatjev of the son of Hinnom. This appears to l-eihe meaning of our Lord.” If it appeared to Dr Clark that our Lord, by hell fire, ' •east being burnt in the valley of Hinnom ‘“‘derthe sentence of a Jewish court, he tumthave had thesame view of the subject **_ths umverralists. How then can it be 1 'fared from Dr Clark’s view of the subject, Xn *&keUfire, in scripture, means sny thing •tera than temporal punishment. If PhMa-

te,b f swy flws sue between us and the in tefanl '•t£Gs&BSß!&gtat& 1 ™'&™' tetulered kcU, whereveNhe phrase i hell fire occurs in scripture, is admitted by 1 all orthodox divines to be a compound of two Hebrew words, gki and kinftom, and that it means thevalleybf Hmnom.a place near Jerusaem. If, as allorthodox critics admit, it mmply means * >lacc near Jerusalem, it g*"* ,*£*' P lac of future punishment. If Philalethe does not know this much in regard to ihe controversy, he had better heat his sword into a plough share, and learn war nn more, -tfhe knows these facts, he eartomly m vefy utcandid io his remark in regard lo r CkrkVnotes. fra true, Dr Cfanf says the Jews used the teem gehenna '"oqr Saviour’s (fey, to express an idee of htflytkeplace of the damned. Suppose J)r Clark is correct in this particular, what would that prove? It would Only prove that the Jews used it in one sense, and Our Lord in another.—How then would ft appear, from what Dr Clark says, that our c&vftntr alluded to a place of future puhishment by this gehenna of fret Dr Clark declares that it appeared to him our Lord meant a judicial punishment under the sentence of a Jewish court, in a valley near Jerusalem. Such, then, is the sublime logic of Philalethe, while he is sneering *t the doctrine of universalists.

But what authority does Dr Clark produce, to prove, that itt our Saviour’s day, the JeWe used the name of a valley, sear Jerusalem, to express an idea of hell, the place of the damned? Why, he finds the term gehenna, so ased in a Jewish Targum, a work of no authority, and of which there is no certain account till several hundred years after the days of our Saviour. That Dr Clark was evidently mistaken in this particular, may be proven by incontestible evidence. No man of general reading, will dare deny that the notion of a place of future punishment originated among the heaj then; it was spoken of by the ancient Egypjiians, and the Phenictans, by the name cf i i'he Latins called it The infernum—and both Greeks and Latins somel i me* ca! led it Avcrnum or Aternus. The Chaldeans, of whom thp JeWs borrowed their notion of the place of future punishmof it by the name of Hades, a name of this pagan hell, from the time of their captivity at the city of Babylon, until long after our Saviour’s day. All their apocryphal writers use that tqrm; and Josephus, the celebrated writer, says expressly, that Hades wo* the uame by which his nation spake of this place of future punishment. This Jewish writer wrote something like* century after the birth of our Saviour, and consequently knew as much about the customs and manner of expression among the Jews in our Saviour’s day, as Dr Adam Clark.' Hence, all Philalethe’s sneering at Mr Beard, for being convinced by Dr Clark, that the Bible taught nothing of a place of future punishment, when Dr C. himself, could find it no where taught, but in the Jewish Taimqd, only scWtjs to show his utter jgnorancebf (hesubject on which he write* Dr Clarkj Woert speaking of the gehenna of fire, spoke from his certain knowledge of the meaning of the phrase rendered hell fire, by the translators—but wheu he talks of a place of future ponishment, it is a mere speculative opion, in support of which, he recites a passage from the Jewish Talmud, and not from the .-Bible. If the Dr could imve found bis place of the damned, in the Bible, why not refer to it instead of a Jewish Targum?

But the most objectionable part of Philalethe’s communication is yet to be noticed. Instead of fairly stating Mr. Beard’s arguments, and showing wherein he considered them deficient* as every candid, judicious chrißtain had a right to do,He has garbled, misrepresented, and kept them back from your teasers, while a flood ofpitiful insinuations are poured forth with sublime bombastic r*nt, in verification of an old proverb —“massy words darken counsel All that can be known by reading Phil&lethe’s communication, is, flint a man by the name of John Beard, delivered a lecture in the Seminary at Centreville, la.—that he was a universalist,and that some Self-important person did not like the speaker, although to save his soul from perdition, he could not find language by which be could communicate his objections to the public. , v . .

Now if this writer, or any one else, will show that he has offered one sober argument against universalism, we will ackowledge we have done him injustice.—We would ask, through your columns Messrs. Editors, what was theobjeet of Philaletbe’s communication f He says he fell it bis duty to circumscribe universalism, which he considers erroneous: If so, why not make an attempt, at least, to prove that it is erroneous? Why give insult and abuse for argument? If it is a mighty crime not to believe in an all-wise, all-powerful, and omnipresent Devil, why not show that it isan indispen-, sible article in a christain’s faith? If the scriptures do teach that there is a place of future punishment in another mode of existence, why did noi Pbilalethe direct ua poor blind uni verbalists where W find ft? We

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solemnly protest wprannot see it fa torViW® B ** But*, a* friend oilalethe seem* to hay* strong prejudice* against uni versa) ism, like mo *y others, without knowing what ft is, we will give him theoutiines ofsour fait* s We believe God is tip common Gather ojall men that he find a gracious design in .view when he created them—that he resigned that the creafiita* of his hands s ould be happy beings—that notwftfastfndiii; aid end misery feigns here, and mortality Subject* uato death, God aeotiiM own son into the world, fti tbe likeness of sinful fk sh—that he condemned sin in the flesh—brjught life end immortality to light by tbe gcftel—ltecanme a sacrifice on toe cress for /mnelb—lhat be, by the grace of-G*d, tasted death for every man—that bo gave hfnwelt* ransom for all—and that be wifi, rcortihg to the determinate council of Gt I, raise all men to a state of holiness, ha; nntrak and immortality.. Now if Philateh* hu any ohjectfcns to this, our creed, et him state them fairly. j, , /k K.

IY'MPfTHYi BY BISBOr IKBEK. v A knight and • laity once met in agr v, ./ While each was ih quest of a fmvorit love-J' A river nn mournfully murmuring b;, And they wept in its waters for sympi Uty. j “O never was knight such a sorrow t at bote’.” “O never was maid sodeserled befor if* “From life and its woes let Ss instantly By, And jump in together for company!” . They searche.l for an eddy that suited fee deed, But here way a bramble and there was 4 weed; . “How tiresome it is!” said the fair with a sigh j* So (hey sat dow* to rtst them in company. They gasfd on each other, the majri and the knight, How fair was her form and how goodly his height, ‘One mournful embrace!’ sobb’d the youth ‘ere we So kissing and crying kept company, (die)’ ‘Oh had I but loved such an angel as ynujP ‘O had but my swain been a quarter as uue!’ ‘To miss such perfection how blhtded was 1!’ Sura now they were excellent company! At length spoke the lass, ’twist a smile and* tear, —‘The weather is cold for a waterv bier; 1 when summer returns we may easUy die— Till then let us sorrow in company.’ SIR yv ALTER SCOTT. > . From the North American Review. It is interesting to dwell upon this portion j of his life: those who ark early discouraged by neglect itiSy deiivaaoatruCtioh from witweamiqgritie aere riMSiptine nhichhe had to undergo. Two years after this, ho published * translation df Goethe’s Goeia'oH Berlichingen. His firdt original production was tbe tmlJedot'Gleafinhis, written in imitation of the fragmentr of Gaelic pnetr v, of Which he entertained a higher opinion than the critical remarks of Mr. Oldhuck would have led us to believe. This w*a*fidlmveil by another ballad, called the Evfe *RSt. John, composted for the pious jnirpose of'prvsorving Smallholm tower from dilapidation; its proprietor having promised Jo protect it, upon condition of being paid in poetry. These pieces were communicated to Iris friends, not precisely in the same manner as the homilies of the Archbishop of Granada to Gil Bias, but accompanied with an earnest request thst they should Criticise .them with ‘the utmost freedom, and mark the portions, which might be improved: atid With Such friendly alacrity did they execute tfikMruat, that not a verse was heft untouched, and hardly a single line; until, in a sort of desperation, he restored the work to tfe Original state, and bade defiance to the' critics. His friend Lewis was atthis time engaged upon hir Tales of Wonder, in which, at his solicitation, Scott’s two ballads were inserted: though not until Lewis had taken him to task, in a very lofty way, for the inaccuracy of his rhymes. Nothing can be more ludicrous than the grave and complacent style in which Lewis rebukes bin:, as Sir Geoffrey Hudson gives advice to his giant namesake of the Peak. The world, exhibited no great admiration of the IVIm of Wonder; Lewis made a total wreck of all the reputation ho> had previously gained, and went o( once to the bottom; and Sfiott was glad to reach the shore, without any loss of bis; his portion of the work was in-(ruth the only o*e, which was treated by the critics with the slightest mercy. Ail this was not remarkably encouraging: nor, according to hi* own account, did the Minstrelsy of the Scottish Bordsr, a work composed partly of ancient ballads, and partly of imitations of them, bring him much nearer te the fulfilment qf his hope deferred’ of feme, though Mr. Cunningham'assures us, that ibis was

the foundation of his glory. Hogg’S mother, a venerable lady, who was quite at home in the literature of the border, told him, that these ballads were made ‘for singing, and not for reading,*’ and the public inclined to the same opinion: many es them ate, however, remarkable for simplicity and beauty. It was not until the publication of the Lay of the Last Minstrel, that he stood forth l(ke Eneas from the cloud, with Use bearing of a son of light, and set the seat es immortality upon his name. " - Fortunate as Scott certainly was in the powers and attainments, which fitted him for his new career, no less thau in the discipline which bad strengthened and miitqradthem, he was still more so in the character pf the poetry of bitduy. It resembled the listless stillness of * summer noon. Tbe repose of tbe poetic*! regions had been not it all disturbed by the mighty convulsions, which,at

■ (lie close of the last teSntary, wqre subvert tog thrones and pliers, and mveiling the i minds of men with thefearfttl energies of a • destroying angel: and the poets slept as 1 quietly as Aswad, when awakened by the toother of Thalaba in tbe Paradise of I rent. Wfecaji hardly, comprehend now; that Hayfey should aver have been mistaken for a poet, much less a great one; and the Pfeastowi of Memory must have delighted, rather bji the smoothness of the verse and the associations twining round,the subject, than bv any exhibition which it gave of real power. There were indeed twogreat osmes, which must be takbn ay exceptions, atid by no means as examples or the inspiratiou of the ‘.?*o Ok strangely contrasted In their moral qualities*** to the whale frame writtexture or ttfeir intellectual gifts. Those were Cowper, and Burns, of whom wte Have found occasion more than onde to spteak. The poetry of Burns was the reflection of a fierce and indignant sptirit, on fire with a tense of its imagined wrongs,and alternately breathing forth its notes of recklesi sarcasm, withering reproach, and wild Sensibility, with the blasting power of a fallen angel, or the burning accents of a seraph’s tongue; that of Cowper, in his better hotlrs, was the inspiration of the meek and lowly, walking abroad, at the eventide, under the influence of a blessed faith, to meditate among the works of God. Men were astonished to see a peasant rising froth the cottage fireside, with a proud consciousness Os his superiority, to take his plaee in the front rank of genius ; but it was the contrast between his condition.his pretension* which amazed them ; the full measure of his intellectual energy was hardly understood then, nor is it adequately now; and so it was with Cowper: they admired perhaps his portraiture of nature, which is truth itself, but they would have loved it better, had it been covered by some other than religious light. Apart from them, the poetry of England was like the spirit of the frozen sea; no expression played upon the mnrble stillness of its face, and no glow of life relieved its deep repose. There 19 no period in the history of England for centuries, when its inspiration was bound by so paralysing a spell. This was the very time for a great masj fer to appear, whose Voice should ring like a i rum pot-call over field and flood; but lt ; reunited no common power so to wind it, as to tlir heart. A certain measure of the admfrnticp of the hflur is at the command of all, who choose to play off an extravagant mimicry of models, Which the public are content to praise. Scott’s own experience was evidence enough of this, when he afterwards found himself attended, like Falstaf£ by a train of imitators, who were prouder to follow a tall gentleman and gallant leader, than he was to march to Coventry at

their head; but none but die highest talent can turn back the current of false taste, or induce the depraved appetite to drink at-the unpolluted fountain. False taste is but another name for false opinion; nothing but hand ofa mighty reformer can dash its idols to the earth. This was tile first part of Scott’s undertaking; and he was next to throw the attractions of romance and poetry over the rugaed features of border chivalry, a dispensation u hich' thte World had never admired before, and over a state of society, eminently destitute of those qualities, that sometimes give a grace and ornament to the wildest forms ofigpvage life. Ilia experiment was certainly a bold one, and lie so regarded it; two ofhis friends, to whom-he exhibited some portions of his unfinished work, shook their heads and went their way; but the critical imprimatur of Jeffrey was set upon it; and we need not attempt to describe the wonder and delight with which it was received. The impression of that event ia yet recent; ft burst *upon the world, like the icy covering of the boughs, beneath the glories of a winter’s sun.

it has been destined to be read hereafter; some infer this from itsnnusual popularity, as if nothing could be seen aright, except at the distance of a century. Even Sir James Mackintosh, no common judge, believed that it could not last, because none but the most elaborate poetry bad yet defied tbe test of time. This is, after ail, only saying, that it dues no square with our notions of what poetry ought to be. Some believe, that (he poet trespasses upon tbe province of another, when he deserts nature to find a subject in the world of art; others imagine, that the heart is his only true dominion; and there are very few, who do not set up a poetical definition of their own, like the image in the plain of Dura, and measure the desert ofall by the zeal with which they do it homage. But this is partial judgment; it takes one quality for all, unlike the Orientate, which represents the foot that kicked a vessel of water to a thirsty animal, as conveyed to Paradise to enjoy its reward, while tbe remainder of the man found no such recompense. It is possible, alfer all, that the waters of Israel may be found of not ess healing virtue than the rivers of Damascus; —that the very qualities which in eur opinjofp lead to death, may be the very ones which shall make the works of genius live. The poetry of Scott falls within qpne 4 o( these definitions. His versification, perfect as much of it may be, betrays in many instances very little of the care of preparation; there is nothing so aristocratic in bis love of nStore, ts tc make him Idok k ith inflif-

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ference on art; nothing so fervent in hi! contemplation of the heart, ** to make him insensible to human action. Action is indeed the living soul, winch quickens and. informs the whole; (he heart of bw reader beats high as it is borne along with the rush and sweep of its movement ; and if is vain to. 4y, that there w uothiug of pobtry ‘hi that there in toe .fiarpstfing of the ancient bard. The trutliis, diat it was a development of the same qualities, w hich were afterwards manifested in his romance* w;th such commanding poWer, in a form; tern fitted to reveal them in tjieir fen per-' section. FortuniteJiidißed it was; if that can be attributed to fortune, which is ah acctoent befidting genius only, thftirhe Rlfer‘ wards assumed another form; Better calculated for of character in all its shifting dlferbattons of light end shade, its infinite varieties of stern feeling; of high resolve, of playful humor, of every thing, in short, from the loftiest io the fewest. The ancients understood this, when they placed the region of song upon the mountain, abrow; open to communion 1 * with the grand and beautiful, the sunlight and the storm, and lifted above the crowd, that hurry onward in file paths ofUfe around its base. Shakspeare understood it no less, and uniformly throws aside the restraint of verse, when he has to deal with the familiar add the common. The romance, as Scott afterwards Was the discovery of his maturity ;it was poetry still; but he bad laid aside conventional restraint, and gone forth with the active bound of the mountaineer, when his foot is on his native hills. Any one will feel the force of this remark, who considers now perfectly impossible it would have been to present such'& personage as Captain Dalgetty in verse; while Ellen Douglasfe as delightful a vision Ss his pencil ever drew. It was thu6 that the form of verse became < limitation of his power. Still, though we do not incline to place the metrical romances among the highest efforts of talent, not even ofhis own, we believe that there ate redeeming virtues in them, which will not suffer them to be forgotten: What can be richer or more glowing than his descriptions. They are not like the images reflected dimly in the dark chamber, when the sun is shut in by clouds; they stand out in full distinctqeßs aud reality, like the outline 'mountains on the evening skies es autdnfe. What was ever more beautiful or truer, than his picture of thte Scenery of Loch Katrine in the Lady of the Lake, a poem by which the pilgrim traces out hiS path; as if directed by a golden bough? Thjs is the first of his poems; in which his descriptive power is revealed in a perfection, which not even he could afterwards excel; though probably no traveller will visit Melrese or Flodden; made so celebrated by bis earlier ones, hereafter, without recollecting their departed minstrel; or gaze upon a lake or mountain of Scotland, without bidding hs gentle spirit rest. It is a great prerogative of genius; thus to write itan&me upon every hitl and valley of its native land; so that alt coming generations shall read it there. Then his sentiments are always just, and flow natunllly, without enthusiasm, as if they merely shadowed forth the prevailing temper ofhis houl. But the real, inwrought, undying charih is that of which we have already spoken the life and sjjirit of the action, rolling onward In a deep and flashing tide; and this,iu spite of all definitions, will, Hardly fail to be regarded as an evidence of the existence and power of tbe art divine. Certain it is, that no conqueror ever gained a victory more decisive and complete; than that which was accomplished by author of the Lay of the Last Minstrel; and yet it is far Iro.n being the best of tbe class to which it belongs. Its characters are din} and shadowy, ami betray very little of that perfect mastery of the heart, which was afterwards so strikingly displayed. His heroes of border chivalry are no more distinguished by any peculiar qualities, thdnGyas and Cloantbus; the Lady of Buccleugh is of a higher mood; but it is vain to attempt to feel much interest in the others. There are many defects in the construction of the story, which seems io Have been formed without any regular plan, the writer having evidently drifted with the tide; and the supers stitions, however characteristic aud true; are sometime* startling and repulsive. All this is probably owing to the manner in which the tale was written. Scott was requested to write a ballad upon the legend of Gilpen Horner, which was expanded in its progress into this poem; and it was thus prepared under all the disadvantages of an involuntary, if not of a reluctant task. But all this and more would be atoned for by the bursts of genuine poetry, which are perpetually breaking forth; yet we remember it rather as a succession of beautiful fragments, flute a well compacted and perfect whole. I* Marmton, which appeared three years after, there were the same defects and beauties; each in loss degree, but other excellencies were added, which the Lay bad not tevee!. ed. The action of the Lay was spiritless, while that of Marmion was full of life; the construction of the story was not perfect, and the versification, though io many places rich - and beautiful, was in many others rode and careless; but tt led right onward to the glorious battle scene, one of the finest paseegew of narrative poetry ha the language; es