EVENINGS WITH THE POETS. NO. VI. PARADISE LOST. THE GENIUS OF MILTON. If we are not called upon as literary critics to trace in their several bearings the theological characteristics of the writings of the poets, except so far as their influence is directly moral or the reverse, there is another influence, very intimately blended with Milton's representation of Satan and Hell, which falls more appropriately within our province in that capacity: How happens it that Milton so successfully undermines those conservative notions of Hell which we have imbibed from our fathers as a part of our religion, and accepted as veritable truth from the traditions of a thousand years? We are not less surprised at the change in our opinions, than puzzled about the means by which the poet effects it; and, like the Philistines of old in regard to the champion of Gath, have a wonderful curiosity to ascertain "where his great strength lieth." Let us not forget that poets are the priests of Nature-baptized in her living streams, and sworn at her mountain altars, to interpret to the dull ear of common humanity as they come directly from her, and not from those ordinary sources which are accessible to other men. Imbued with perfect consciousness of the dignity of his office, and in possession of a more than double portion of his predecessors' spirit, which the mantle worn by a hundred bards (whom in rapt vision he could trace in their ascent to the skies) has conferred upon him, though Milton reveres the Christian Scriptures much, he equally reveres his divine gift. He is the priest of Nature, and as such can not serve God in a ritual which she disap "I'm wae to think upo' your dea, said poor Burns. "Dear, hearty, nobleminded Burns," says Leigh Hunt," how Uncle Toby would have loved him for it!" he can not hate with right orthodoxy." "The very devil," says Thomas Carlyle, Such too was Milton, but he does not He resolves to create a sympathy for Sawaste his powers in useless whinings. tan; not among those worthless reproof debasing excesses, would lay the blame bates, who, after indulging in all manner of their disgusting conduct on a nobleminded spirit who can only view them with contempt; but among the good, the tender-hearted, and the merciful - the best of our species, who look not to the cause of misery so much as to its condition. He not only brings the unhappy spirits begoes cunningly to work. He late their convictions of being injured fore us in proper form, making them rewith forcible distinctness, but between us and them he interposes the veil of his magic genius, on which is represented a series of dissolving views of wonderful them appear whatever he has a mind to interest, by which he manages to make do. He means to steal our hearts! How can we elude the craft of such an inge‐ nious thief? As a first attempt, merely it would seem to show his power, he transformed Satan, lying at his length on the sulphurous waters of Hell, into "the sea-beast Leviathan slumbering on the Norway foam." From out one of the land-locked fiords of that country, at the head of which stands his little cottage, comes a venturous fisherman. We see him emerge from among the trees which surround its entrance to the ocean. The sun gradually descends, and shines horizontally on the golden-crested waves. He dips below the waters, and the lingering twilight sobers down into night. The fisherman cares not to return. He concludes to remain till morning; and mistaking the monster for an island, "With fixed anchor in his scaly rind, Moors by his side under the lee, while night Invests the sea, and wished-for morn delays." We shudder to think of the poor deluded fisherman, but the mighty master only smiles. He has accomplished his object. To use a homely metaphor from the Book of Job, "he has placed his hook in our nose," and is aware that he can make us forget Satan when he pleases, and follow himself wherever he has a mind. Even when our eyes are fixed on the gulf of Hell, he can "soothe our soul to pleasures." He exhibits in panoramic view the thronged legions of Satan. As we gaze upon them, the scene changes; we are in Etrurian shades, and the devils are magically transformed into the autumnal leaves of Vallombrosa. We are carried away into the cool retreats of the forest. We see the giant limbs of the trees meeting over our heads, and shaping its labyrinths and natural avenues into the architectural aisles, as superb as the grandest conceptions of art in the most gorgeous cathedral. Now, we fancy we hear "The river rushing o'er its pebbly bed;" Now, it seems the "diapason full" of the organ in harmony with the cathedral choir. Alas! it is but the hum of those poor unfortunates, half in sorrow, half in contempt, (as they think of scenes as lovely as these from which they have been exiled, and their cruel imprisonment) in response to their daring chief, who, with bitter sarcasm, is impressing on their minds how despisable, in his estimation, is the conqueror who could punish them so severely. "No matter," says he, "The mind is its own place, and in itself Can make a Heaven of Hell, a Hell of Heaven." Who does not perceive how cunningly Milton has contrived to introduce, as if in perfect simplicity, this representation of sylvan seclusion, to make the contrast of Hell appear the more revolting? Nor is it common holiday sight-seers, or pleasure parties going a picnicing to the country, alone, whom he aspires to captivate. The learned naturalist does not escape his snares. When Satan leaves the infernal lake, and plants his feet on the solid brimstone, the circumjacent country seems "As when the force Of subterranean wind transports a hill and such men as Humboldt are something worth looking at. From amidst Sicilian groves, we observe the towering height of the snow-clad Etna; not only thundering from its crater flames, and smoke, and lava, but by means of accumulated gases tearing itself asunder, and presenting opportunities for scientific investigation, such as only learned men know how to appreciate. When he shows us the armor of Satan, he is equally learned, and equally seductive. He takes us to the top of Fesolé-one of Nature's own observatories that we may look with Galileo through his newly-invented telescope. We are admitted to the rare privilege of observing the enormously-magnified disc of the full moon. in the exhibitor? We take another look; Is the magic in the glass? or isles of the blessed, and the wondrous and as the astonished Mirza, who saw the bridge of life stretching its broken arches his spirit-guide departed, and instead of into the tide of time, on looking up found such interesting scenery his native valley of Bagdat, and the sheep and cattle grazing on its sides-so we, at one touch of the poet's magic wand, find that what we have mistaken for the moon is the shield of Satan, who stands before us in the full magnitude of his immense proportions. But all men have not poetic tendencies, neither are they all natural philosophers. The history of former times, and the lessons which they convey, have more charms for many than descriptions of scenery however grand or beautiful, or appeals to the feelings however direct and pathetic; and this class is too numerous for Milton to neglect. He need not call on them to appreciate the sylvan | on a rock in the ocean. shades of Vallombrosa, "The path that leads them to the grove, The leafy grove that covers." Their minds are cast in a different mould. ferior to the attractions of a good coal fire * * * Of locusts warping on the eastern wind," which the liberator Moses brought on the frightened Egyptians; then into Goths and Vandals, Scythians and Scandinavians, throwing off the shackles of imperial Rome, and pouring from "the populous North" in irresistible numbers. Here again we have a display of the same insidious ingenuity to accomplish the same object. The Israelites, in whose behalf their supernaturally gifted leader performed his wonders, were exposed to the oppression of a superior who treated them as slaves. The soldier from the frozen North had learned the fate of his countrymen, "Butchered to grace a Roman holiday." He yielded unwillingly to a power which had only the plea of supremaey, by which to justify its violation of the principle of equal right which he could never eradicate from his bosom. In both cases, the subdued successfully resented the injuries of their oppressors, and were free. Satan too is oppressed, and subjected to an extremity of punishment such as the most heartless tyrant on earth never dreamed of. What verdict can a jury of adepts in historical knowledge return in the teeth of historical testimony having such a close bearing on the case before them? The world cries shame on Britain for having condemned the great Napoleon, "The last single captive to millions in war," to wear his chain, like another Andromeda, But Britain was afraid of him. The Omnipotent can not have subjected the vanquished Arch-angel to a harsher punishment for a similar reason. Milton so far carries the learned world, and hearts poetically tender, along with him; but none of the illustrations quoted are sufficiently comprehensive to include the great bulk of mankind. Let him try again. The impressions and associations of early life are indelible. They cling to us wherever we go. "The adventurous boy, who asks his little share, And hies from home with many a gossip's prayer,' never can forget in after life the happiest of his days which were spent with "the old folks at home." The bride, "Who has pledged her faith of her own free will," and whose parents readily admit, that "Bright is the prospect her future spreads, And noble the heart which her girlhood weds," as she crosses the threshold of her home (no longer), has tears in her eyes, when she takes a parting view of "The sunny spot where her childhood played.” No matter whether learned or ignorant, the influence of such scenes and their memories find a chord in every bosom. "The days o' lang syne" outlive the excitement of yesterday. The tree, around which "In early life we sported," it would be sacrilege to cut down. Even "the old oaken bucket, which hung in the well," has twenty times the value of any new one by which it can be replaced. Milton knew all this right well, and he furnishes a domestic comparison which recalls our fondest memories and appeals to every heart. He makes Satan's associates convene as thick, "As bees In spring time, when the sun with Taurus rides, Crafty again; exceeding crafty! Satan a conference in regard to their state affairs. Milton compares them to bees doing the same thing, What a contrast! Satan is among "Sights and sounds, and shrieks unholy;" the bees, among fresh dews and flowers at the lovliest season of the year. Satan and his confederates are preparing to hold | for Heaven's Eternal King, and make us do homage to Satan whom we know to be his and our enemy? By no means. But before we can properly comprehend what he did mean, it is necessary to take into consideration the prevalent notions of the Deity in Milton's time, and the times immediately preceding. The religious sentiment of England, then, was very different from that of England or the United States, now. The inhabitants were divided into about as many sects, but on certain points they concurred; such as that the Deity had chiefly in view his own glory, that he was jealous of his faith; and such, from a principle of duty, power, and vindictive as to matters of has no friend but his associates in misfor tune to pity him; bees are objects of uni versal interest. There will come a time, no doubt, when the fate of both is singularly alike; when rapacious, selfish man, not content with robbing the "singing masons" of their hard earned sweets, to accomplish his purposes more effectually, will consign them, as Burns says, to were they. The catholics had been so before them, and for the same reason. The massacre of St. Bartholomew, and the cruelties of "the bloody Mary," were "The death o' devils, brimstone reek!" But Milton has sufficient cunning to keep this portion of their history out of view. We only see them at work in their "straw-looked upon by those who perpetrated built citadel," or fancy them holding consultations for their common good. Who does not dream over again the high hopes of his boyhood, when his mother's bees seemed part of the family, and he sat beside those who were nearest and dearest to his heart, and listened to their hum and the gay song of his sisters, alternately, or commingling together? Has Satan no recollections of former happiness correspondent with our own? Poor Satan! If this is not enough, the magician performs another charm, equally potent. Of all the superstitions of rural life, there is none more pleasing than the belief in fairies, those sportive spirits who occupy their time in mirth and dancing. The bulky forms of the infernal divinities may have overawed us. At his nod, they became such "fairy elves" as merrily trip the green wood-land slope, while even the moon appears bewitched, and lingers in her course to survey their gambols !. We cannot help inquiring, although it has nothing to do with the poet's merit as such, what he means by all this? Is he a mere scoffer? an atheist in disguise? one who would rob us of our due respec them, as acts well pleasing to God. So That his There is no possible position in life that can at any time justify a man in committing a wrong act. MEMORY'S DREAM. BY G. F. NOURSE. In the balmy hours of twilight, When nature, hushed, serenely sleeps, I'm happy, happy with the past, Of much loved forms and faces dear- And in the quaint old church-yard, too, Such blessed and hallowed scenes are mine, I lean upon my window-sill, And lost to every living thing, 'Tis thus I'd live and drink forever, Of thy blessed stream, thy heavenly river. BEARDS. In California all except women and boys wear beards. To this general remark there are few exceptions, so that a face shorn of its natural appendage, is as much an anomaly as a bearded face is in the other States. In fact, our people have almost come to think that a man is more manly when he appears as God made him.. They are just verging upon a conclusion from which they will never recede. Our people are destined to be still more noted as a bearded people; and the Californian will be distinguished in his visits to the older States by his appearing in this respect more natural, if he have the courage to withstand the false opinions of those he may meet. The charm of our custom is evinced by the fact that strangers of every class, with few exceptions, adopt it upon coming among us. The courtiers of a celebrated King of France who had ascended the throne while a mere youth, not wishing to appear superior to their monarch, were immediately shorn of their beards, and they appeared boyish also. An aping public imitated their court; and as France took the lead in all matters of fashion, other nations became beardless too. Such is the explanation of a troublesome and silly custom; let those who still persist in it have its full benefit. Eastern nations have ever considered the beard a badge of manhood and of honor, and it is still so considered. The beards of Californians may be regarded rather as a creation of circumstances. In the first settlement of our State, the facilities for shaving were not so great as now; and more than that, there were no ladies here to require men See, hear, feel naught but memory's dream. to shave. Men never would shave were O joy, O bliss, O ecstacy! O hallowed dream of memory! 'Tis thus I could forever dwell, Enraptured, charmed by twilight's spell; it not for the will of the better half of mankind; and I include these by all means when I say that our taste is improving. Custom is very powerful in its |