ART. V.-POPULAR LECTURING.

Lectures on Subjects Connected with Literature and Life. By E. P. WHIPPLE. Second Edition. Boston: Ticknor, Reed, & Fields.

Representative Men: Seven Lectures. By R. W. EMERSON. Boston: Phillips, Sampson, & Co.

THE popular lecture is a species of literature of comparatively recent origin, and these volumes are among its first fruits. There have not been wanting, doubtless, in all ages, some who have devoted themselves with a truly nurse-like consecration to the business of "pouring the milk of science into the mouths of babes and sucklings ;" but never till of late has this benevolent employment acquired the dignity of a distinct profession, and secured the services of a large corps of practitioners. Knowledge, through a long series of ages, has been undergoing a constant process of disintegration and dilution, till it has reached a fineness of parts and a feebleness of strength suited to the weakest stomachs. It is no longer, as in days of yore, in huge, crude masses, so that only now and then a famished cub, of human kind, could hope to swallow and digest it; but it has been carefully parcelled out into homoeopathic doses, adapted to the most delicate organs of digestion-whether of men, women, or children.

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Nor are we among those who look upon this simplification of knowledge as an evil. It may be regarded as such by those who would make knowledge a species of craft, to be confined to a particular caste. It may tend to diminish the relative pre-eminence of professional scholars, by elevating somewhat in the scale of intelligence the masses around them. may even enfeeble the general type of scholarship, or rather the general tone of intellectual vigor in scholars, by making their path less rugged, and their task easier. But it is a great blessing after all. Indeed, this very facility of acquisition enables more to enter the lists, and thus introduces the stimulus of rivalry in place of the stimulus of obstacles, which it removes. Besides, it disenthralls knowledge, and leaves it to exert its legitimate influence. If knowledge is capable of simplification, as it undoubtedly is, it certainly should be simplified. It may fairly claim this service of its professors; nay, it is its natural and inevitable tendency. Observation,

study, thought, all tend to the more accurate discrimination of parts, the separation of elements, and the clearing up of difficulties. The first survey of any subject is necessarily general and superficial; but subsequent surveys penetrate deeper and deeper into its nature and essence, till it is resolved into its ultimate elements, and may then be presented in detail to others. Just as a landscape, at first view, presents to the eye only a confused mass of objects, which, on further observation, stand forth in their distinctive character, as hill and dale, tree and fence, earth and water. And the observer, having thus acquired a distinct conception of the elementary features of the scene, may in a few words point them out to others, and thus put them in possession of ideas which cost him repeated and long-continued observation and study. Thus it is with knowledge in general. It is constantly undergoing a series of simplifications under the observation and study of numerous laborers, which are taken up, popularized, and reported to the masses. And can any one reasonably object to this process? Nay, can any philanthropic mind fail to rejoice that it is ever going on, and, from the necessity of the case, must ever go on? If knowledge is a good, why should it not be diffused as widely as possible?

But we are more particularly concerned with that mode of simplifying knowledge which is presented in popular lecturing. In the present age the popular lecture occupies a very important sphere, and cannot properly be overlooked in estimating the influences at work in society. It clearly comes within the range of periodical literature, and forms a fitting subject for discussion in a critical and Christian Review. Popular lectures are either scientific or literary, but chiefly the latter. When scientific, their object is simply to report the facts or principles of science, in their most elementary, and often their most diluted form, in familiar language, and with appropriate and striking illustrations; and when literary, to present in a sprightly and attractive style such views of literature and life as are of common or universal interest. In this country they are mostly delivered in the winter season, before voluntary associations organized for the purpose, in nearly all our cities and larger villages, called Lyceums. They have grown up with the age, and are one of the evidences of its progress, since they presuppose the existence of some degree of knowledge in a community, and a commendable desire to acquire more of it. They presuppose also the existence of a spirit of freedom in a community, and flourish best where thought and its ex

pression are under no restraint. There are probably more lectures annually delivered before promiscuous assemblies in this country than in all the world beside. They disappear, like everything else which is valuable, before the jealous censorship of despotism. Reason and experience both prove that the lecture, like the play, must be free in order to flourish. Perfect liberty alone can impart to it that freshness, variety, and comprehensiveness of topics, which will give it currency and enable it to meet the wants of men. Hired lecturers may be employed by despotism to stupefy the people with the stale nonsense of the divine rights or the hereditary rights of kings; but how different such lectures from the free and racy lectures of our lyceums! Open to all professions and classes of the community, reflecting all shades of ideas, and advocating all interests; bold in speculation, prying into all subjects, earnest in tone and fresh in spirit, the popular lecture has come to be one of the most effective agencies in forming public opinion. Indeed, the lyceum may almost be considered as one of the institutions of the land; and being such, let us inquire a little more particularly what position it occupies among our institutions.

The principal public institutions for the improvement of men, which have been long established and universally received in civilized society, are the Church and the School. To these the Lyceum has lately been added, though its claims have not yet been fully admitted, nor its relative rank fixed. Its position must be learned from its object. The object of the lyceum is to furnish to the community agreeable instruction, or, at the lowest, improving amusement. The idea of instruction is always predominant, and that of amusement only so far admitted as is necessary, under the circumstances, to make the instruction possible. It is always didactic. It always proposes to communicate some knowledge, to relate something, to describe something, or to discuss something. It always, however, proposes to do this in a popular way, and with such accompaniments of incident, of wit, or pleasantry, as to catch the attention and gain an easy admission for the instruction even to untrained minds. Still it rather proposes to teach everything in general, than anything in particular. It allows the utmost latitude of subjects, and almost every mode of treating them.

No person of sound views will venture, for a moment, to bring the lyceum into comparison with the church, as a beneficent institution to the public. This venerable institution, hoary with age and honors, stands confessedly at the

head of the benignant influences at work in society. Indeed, it is the mother of them all. Modelled by unerring wisdom, and charged with a divine message to man, it stands out distinctly and pre-eminently above all other instrumentalities employed for the improvement of society. Having its origin in the rude beginning of things, and gradually developed with the spread of our race, it has everywhere assumed the chief responsibility in the instruction and guidance of man through this world of sorrow and trial to a happier home on high. And it has everywhere proved itself equal to the task. It took our race in its infancy, and, confined to a single branch of the human family till it became thoroughly established in the earth, and thence reaching out its arms towards the other branches, it has gradually gathered in one nation after another, till it now promises, by the clearest indications, soon to embrace the whole race of man. And wherever its influence has extended, its course has been marked by light. Even the schoolboy may trace it upon his map. The bright lines of civilization are everywhere coincident with the borders of the Christian church. Whilst nations have risen and fallen, and thrones been established and overturned, through the depths of ages and amidst the wreck of human schemes of government and social reform, the church has held on her steady course, ever in the advance of society, and ever beckoning it on to higher purity and perfection. And it is just as much ahead of society now as it ever was. The petty schemes of human improvement which each age begets may work in co-operation with it, but in just so far as they are at variance with it, they must fail. No age has been more prolific in such schemes than the present, and none has put forward its claims to pre-eminence over the church with more confidence. "Great thinkers are let fall upon the earth in these days, who have thought out systems much more plausi ble than that of the Bible, and projected institutions which are entirely to supersede the, Christian church! Every petty reformer claims precedence of the established minister of the Word, and looks down upon him with pity, if not with contempt, as the expounder of obsolete ideas. Peace Societies, Temperance Societies, Abolition Societies, Mutual Relief Societies, and even Railroad Companies, are regarded by many as more efficient reformers than the church. We do not doubt that in their sphere much good may be done by such societies, but their claim to pre-eminence above the church is scarcely less than ludicrous. Some of them may survive the temporary causes which gave rise to them, and

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be acknowledged as permanent blessings to man; but we predict that the next generation, in reviewing the wondrous schemes of reform with which the age labors, will be compelled to say of most of them, with the caricaturist of the style of Dr. Johnson, "The parturient mountains brought forth muscipular abortions." But among these "abortions," we are persuaded, will not be reckoned the lyceum. contains, we conceive, a permanent element of good, though it cannot by any means be ranked with the Christian church. Indeed, it has no very direct connection with religion, otherwise than, as it professes to impart knowledge on all subjects indifferently, it may touch upon this; and as all true knowledge tends to virtue, may promote virtue by imparting in

struction.

The lyceum too, as we conceive, is below the school, as a beneficent instrumentality to man. They both work, to be sure, in the same line, but in very different ways. The school is thorough, systematic, and continuous in its efforts, while the lyceum is superficial, discursive, and occasional. The school, in its various forms of college, gymnasium, academy, &c., is the great educational institution for society, and occupies about the same position in intellectual, as the church does in moral affairs. It is subordinate to the church, it is true, and owes its origin and chief support to it, and is really one of her instruments, but the most polished and effective at her command. It is the product of the concentrated wisdom of ages in all parts of the civilized world. Its organization extends through the whole community, embracing a gradation of schools adapted to all ages and capacities, sustained by immense contributions of wealth, and embodying in its books the results of the scientific labors of all time. The brightest and profoundest men in the community are engaged in conducting its affairs, to which they give their daily and nightly study and toil. Extending thus over the whole community, providing for the intellectual wants of all classes, furnished with the best books, men, and means for imparting knowledge the most successfully, and conducting its operations systematically and continuously through the year, how preposterous for any mere temporary means of information, addressing itself merely to the eye or ear, injecting knowledge into the mind, as it were, from without, or swathing it in, as in a cold-water sweat, to pretend to vie with the school in importance! The tendency of the age in everything is to exaggeration. And because now and then some subordinate means of improvement is discovered,