Part 2 (1/2)
[Ill.u.s.tration]
Herman Hooker is one of the most able and peculiar writers in religion and religious philosophy now living in America. Indeed, we are inclined to doubt whether the Episcopal Church in the United States embraces another author whose name will be as long or as respectfully remembered in the Christian world. If he is not mentioned in ”every day's report,”
it is because he adds to genius an un.o.btrusive modesty, as rare as are the admirable qualities with which in his case it is a.s.sociated.
Dr. Hooker is a native of Poultney, Rutland county, Vermont. He was graduated at Middlebury College in 1825, and soon after entered upon the study of divinity at the Presbyterian Theological Seminary in Princeton.
He subsequently took orders in the Episcopal Church, and acquired considerable reputation as a preacher; but at the end of a few years ill health compelled him to abandon the pulpit, and he has since resided in Philadelphia. The distinction of Doctor in Divinity was conferred upon him three or four years ago by Union College.
Dr. Hooker published in 1835 _The Portion of the Soul, or Thoughts on its Attributes and Tendencies as Indications of its Destiny_; in the same year _Popular Infidelity_, which in later editions is ent.i.tled, _The Philosophy of Unbelief, in Morals and Religion, as discernible in the Faith and Character of Men_; in 1846, _The Uses of Adversity and the Provisions of Consolation_; in 1848, _The Christian Life a Fight of Faith_; and soon after, _Thoughts and Maxims_, a book worthy of Rochefoucauld for point, of Herbert for piety, and Bacon for wisdom.
Upon meeting with qualities like Dr. Hooker's in one not known among the popular authors of the country, we are prompted to say with Wordsworth, ”Strongest minds are often those of whom the world hears least,” or in the bolder words of Henry Taylor, ”The world knows nothing of its greatest men.” It is surprising that a voice like his should have awakened no echoes. He deserves a place among the first religious writers of the age: for he has been faithful to the great mission laid upon the priesthood, which is, not to labor upon ”forms, modes, shows,”
of devotion, nor to dispute of systems, schools, and theories of faith, but to be witnesses of a law above the world, and prophets of a consolation that is not of mortality. When we take up one of his books, we could imagine that we had fallen upon one of those great masters in divinity, who in the seventeenth century ill.u.s.trated the field of moral relations and affections with a power and splendor peculiar to that age.
These great writers possessed an apprehension of spiritual subjects, sensitive, yet profoundly rational; a vision on which the rays of a higher consciousness streamed in l.u.s.tre so transcending that the light of earth seemed like a shadow thrown across its course; which differed from inspiration in degree rather than in kind. The resemblance of Dr.
Hooker to these great authors is obviously not an affectation. It is not confined to style, but reaches to the const.i.tution and tone of the mind.
His productions indicate the same temper of deep thoughtfulness upon man's estate and destiny; the same union of a personal sympathy with a judicial superiority, which suffers in all the human weaknesses which it detects and condemns; the same earnest sense of their subjects as realities, clear, present and palpable; the same quick feeling, toned into dignity by pervading, essential wisdom; and that direct cognizance of the substances of religion, which does not deduce its great moral truths as consequences of an a.s.sumed theory, but seizes them as primary elements that verify themselves and draw the theories after them by a natural connection. Fretted and wearied with metaphysical theologies; vexed by the self-ill.u.s.tration, the want of candor, the fierceness, the ungenial and unsatisfying hollowness of popular religionism, we turn with a grateful relief to this soothing and impressive system which speculates not, wrangles not, reviles not, but, while it every where testifies of the degradation we are under, touches our spirits to power and purity by the constant exhortation of ”sursem corda!”
The style of Dr. Hooker abounds in spontaneous interest and unexpected graces. It seems to result immediately from his character, and to be an inseparable part of it. It is free from all the commonplaces of fine writing; has nothing of the formal contrivance of the rhetorician, the balanced period, the pointed turn, the recurring cadence. Yet the charms of a genuine simplicity, of a directness almost quaint, of primitive gravity, and calm, native good sense, renders it singularly agreeable to a cultivated taste. Undoubtedly there is in spiritual sensibility something akin to genius, and like it tending to utterance in language significant and beautiful. We meet at times in Dr. Hooker's writings with phrases of the rarest felicity and of great delicacy and expressiveness; in which we know not whether most to admire the vigor which has conceived so striking a thought, or the refinement of art which has fixed it in words so beautifully exact.
SUNSET.
WRITTEN FOR THE INTERNATIONAL MAGAZINE.
BY R. S. CHILTON
See with what pomp the golden sun goes down Behind yon purple mountain!--far and wide His mellow radiance streams; the steep hill-side Is clothed with splendor, and the distant town Wears his last glory like a blazing crown.
We cannot see him now, and yet his fire Still lingers on the city's tallest spire,-- Chased slowly upward by the gathering frown Of the approaching darkness. G.o.d of light!
Thou leavest us in gloom,--but other eyes Watch thy faint coming now in distant skies:-- There drooping flowers spring up, and streams grow bright, And singing birds plume their moist wings for flight, And stars grow pale and vanish from the sight!
NEW-YORK SOCIETY, BY THE LAST ENGLISH TRAVELLER.
The Hon. HENRY COPE has lately published in London a _Ride across the Rocky Mountains, to California_--a book abounding in striking adventure and description, and ill.u.s.trating in its general tone the spirit of an English gentleman. Its temper and good sense may be inferred from the following specimen, on the never-failing subject of Society in New-York:
”Any observations I might be tempted to make on New-York, or even, I am inclined to think, on any of the civilized parts of the states, would probably be neither novel nor interesting. I am not ambitious of circulating more 'American notes,' nor do I care to follow in the footsteps of Mrs. Trollope. Enough has been written to ill.u.s.trate the singularities of second-rate American society. Good society is the same all over the world. General remarks I hold to be fair play. But to indulge in personalities is a poor return for hospitality; and those Americans who are most willing to be civil to foreigners, receive little enough encouragement to extend that civility, when, as is too often the case, those very foreigners afterwards attempt to amuse their friends on one side of the Atlantic, at the expense of a breach of good faith to their friends on the other. Every one has his prejudices: I freely confess I have mine. I like London better than New-York, but it does not, therefore, follow that I dislike New-York, or Americans either. I have a great respect for almost every thing American--I do not mean to say that I have any affection for a thorough bred Yankee, in our acceptation of the term; far from it, I think him the most offensive of all bipeds in the known world.
Yankee sn.o.bs too I hate--such as infest Broadway, for instance, genuine specimens of the genus, according to the highest authorities. The worst of New-York is its superabundance of sn.o.bbism. The sn.o.b here is a sn.o.b ”_sui generis_” quite beyond the capacities of the old world.
There is no mistaking him. He is cut out after the most approved pattern. If he differs from the original, or whatever that might have been, it must be in a surpa.s.sing excellence of sn.o.bbism which does credit to the progressive order of things. Tuft-hunting is a sport he pursues with delight to himself, but without remorse or pity for his victim. It is necessary for the object of his persecutions to be constantly on the alert. He is frequently seen prowling about in white kid gloves, patent leather boots, and Parisian hat. Whenever this is the case, he must be considered dangerous and b.l.o.o.d.y-minded, for in all probability he is meditating a call. Often he has been known to run his prey to ground in the Opera or other public places, and there to worry them within less than an inch of their good temper. Offensive as he is, generally speaking, he sometimes acts on the defensive; for, not very well convinced of his own infallibility, he is particularly susceptible of affronts, to which his a.s.sumed consequence not unfrequently makes him liable. Baits are often proffered by these swell-catchers to lure the unwary. Such as an introduction to the nymphs of the _corps de ballet_; the _entre_ to all the theatres, private gambling-houses, &c., &c. But beware of such seductions.”
EMILIE DE COIGNY.
WRITTEN FOR THE INTERNATIONAL MONTHLY MAGAZINE.