Literary cadet, and Saturday evening bulletin. [volume] (Providence, R.I.) 1826-1827, 1826-05-06

$50 SeDhhhNS a ~ ChCNouOu uou Deeo
rapid and enthusiastick.
The first sentence, with which he broke the aw.
full silence, was a quotation from Rousseau-"So-
crates died like a philosopher, but Jesus Christ like
d God
despair Of giving you any idea Of the effect pro-
duced by tins short sentence, unless you could per-
fectiy conceive the whole manner Of the man, az
well as the peculiar crisis in the discourse. Never
before did ! completely understand what Demos
themes meant by laying such stress on deliuery.-
You are to bring before you the venerable figure Of
the preacher his blindness, constantly recalling to
your recollection old Homer, Ossian and Milton,
and associaung with his performance, the melan-
choly grandeur OF their geniuses; you are to imsg-
Inc that you hear his slow, solemn, well-accented
enunciation, and his affecting, trembling melody:
you are to remember the pitch Of passion and enthu-
siasm TO which the congregation were raised and
then, the few minutes Of portentous, death like ST.
lence which reigned throughout the house the
preacher removing his white handkerchief from his
aged lace, (even yet wet from the recent torrent
ol MS 'ears) and slowly stretching forth the palsied
hand which holds 1t, begins the sentence" Socra-
ties died like a philosopher'-then pausing, raising
ms other hand, pressing them both clasped toseth.
err, with warmth and energy TO his breast, lifting
ms "sightless balls" to heaven, and pouring his
whole soul into his tremulous but Jesus
Christ-like a God /. he had been indeed and in
truth an angel Of light, the effect could scarcely have
been more divine.
Whatever had been able to conceive of the SUBJ
lmIty Of Massillon. or the force of Bourdaloue,
had iaEen lar short OF the power which | felt from
the se.iyery of this simple sentence. The blood.
which just before had rushed in q hurricane upon
my brain, and, Ill the violence and agony ofmy feel
ings, had held my whole system in suspense, now
ran back into my heart, with a sensation which I
cannot describe a kind of shuddering delicious hor-
ror! The paroxysm Of blended pity and indigna.
ton, to which ! had been transported, subsidized into
the deepest establishment, humility and alteration.
had just been lacerated and dissolved by sympathy
I,or our Savior as a fellow-creature but now, with
''ear aaJ trembling, | adorcd him as God"
II this description give you the impression that
this incompatible Minister had any thing Of shall
low, theatrical trick in his manner, it does him
great injustice. ! have never seen, in any other or
atOr, such an union Of simplicity and MAJESTY. He
has not a gesture, an attitude, or an accent, to which
he does not seem forced, by the sentiment which he
is expressing. His mind is too serious, too earnest,
too solicitous, aud, at the same time, too dignifed,
to stoop to srtiice. Although as far removed from
ostentation as a man can be, yet it j. clear from the
train, the style and substance of his thoughts, that
he is, not only a very polite scholar, but a man OF
extensive and profound erudition. was forcibly
struck with a short, yet beautiful character which
he drew OF our learned and amiable countryman,
Sir Robert Boyle he spoke of him, as if" his noble
mind had, even before death, Invested herself of all
influence from his frnil tabernacle of flesh - and
called him, III his peculiarly emphatic and Impress
i've manner, "a pure inteiligence-the link between
men and angels"
This man has been before my imagination almost
ever since. A thousand times, as | rode along,
dropped the relns of my bride, stretched forth my
hand, and tried to initiate his quotation from Rous-
seau ; a thousand times abandoned the attempt in
despair, and fel, persuaded that his peculiar man
ner and power arose from an energy Of soul, which
nature could give, but which no human being could
Justly copy. In short, he seems 10 be altogether 4
being OF a former age, or ola totally different nature
from the rest Of men. As recall, at this moment,
several of his awfully striking attitudes, the chilling
Idle, with which my blood begins to pour along nv
arteries, reminds me of the emotions produced by
TIE irSt sight OF Gray's Introductory picture of his
bard
On a rock, whose naughty brow,
Frowns DER old Conway's foaming food,
ROBBED in the sable earb of wo,
With ~haegard eyes the poet stood
(Loose his beard and hoary hair
otrcamed, like a meteor, to the troubled air y
And with a poets hand and prophets fire,
Struck the deep sorrows of his Tyre"
Guess my surprise, when, on my arrival at Rich.
mond, and mentioning the name of this man, I
found not one person who had ever before heard Of
James WaddeH! Is it not strange, that such a GEN.
Jus as this, so accomplished a scholar, so divine an
orator, should be permitted to languish and die in
obscurity, within eighty miles of the metropolis of
Virginia? To me it is a conclusive argument either
that the Virginians have no taste for the highest
strains Of the most sublime ~oratory, or that they are
destitute of a much more important quality, the love
Of genuine and exalted religion. Indeed, il i. too
clear, my friend, that this soil abounds more 10
weeds of foreign birth, than in good and salubri-
Gus fruits. Among others, the noxious weed of in
fidelity has struck a deep, u fatal root, and spread
its pcsti!ential branches far around. fear that our
eccentric and fanciful countryn,an, Goodwin, has
not a little to water and cherish this
pernicious exotick. There is a novelty, a splendor,
a boldness IN his scheme of morals, peculiarly fitted
to captivate a youthful and an ardent mind. A
young man feels his delicacy ~1attered, in the idea
OF being emancipated from the old, obsolete aud vul.
gar motives OF moral conduct and acting correctly
from motives quite new, refined and sublimated in
the crucible of pure, distracted reason. Unfortu-
nately, however, II this attempt to change the mo-
uves OF his conduct, he loses the old ones, while
the new, either from being too ethereal and SUBJ
lime, or from some other want Of consenialty, refuse
TO mix and lay hold of the gross materials Of his ma
ture. Thus he becomes emancipated indeed dis
charged not only from ancient and vulgar shackles;
but also, from the modern, fine-spun, tinselled re-
straints OF his divine Goodwin. Having imbibed the
high spirit of literary adventure, he disdains the
limits of the moral world and advancing boldly to
the throne of rod, he questions him OH his dispen-
sations, and demands the reasons Of his laws. But
the counsels Of heaven are above the ken, not confra-
ry 10 the voice, Of human reason and the uniorta.
nate youth, unable to reach and measure them, re-
coils from the attempt, with melancholy rasbness,
into infdelity and deisn. Godwin's %glittering theo-
ries are on his lips. Utopia or Mezorania boast not
pt a nurNr n0raltat- "a, sg,.H. to-, Al. .~,A- Cad