Dear Charles,—Mr. Keen is certainly a keener! He
objects to the first poem because it seems to recommend
dancing! and to the second because it is—moonshiny! May-be
he expects pay for publishing them—he will whistle awhile
before that wind comes!
If, however, he be honest in his objection to the first, I
forgive his scruples, and the sentence it compels him to pass
upon the stanzas. Dancing, in the usual meaning attached
to the thing in the world, I cannot approve myself. In the
circumstances I saw it, the whole seemed on a par with
jumping the rope, or playing hide-and-go-seek. And could
dancing be always, as it was then, nothing could be, of a
mere worldly nature, so innocent—it was the joyous play of
little girls and young ladies! They looked so happy—so
guileless—so mutually loving—so like sisters of one family!
—pity an innocent amusement and healthful recreation
should be so abused, so prostituted! Alas! that fallen man
so pollutes and poisons!
As to “writing songs”—remember I do not write such
now. They were done in the past times—before the dark
hour, Charles! But, having a few among my papers, I
thought they would be harmless, if not actually profitable.
That is a very overstrained morality, which objects to every
thing not purely doctrinal and didactic. Thousands of
things in nature seem to have no use, except to recreate and
delight us;—the color and form of leaf and feather and
flower—the perfume of fragrant grass—the rich juice of
luscious fruits—the sparkle of dew-gems—the mysterious
dyes of the evening clouds—the voice of birds—the chirp
of insects—all, all are for harmless pleasure. And why not
moderately pursue the harmless pleasures of literature?
The severe censure cast by some worthy men upon all
poetry, not decidedly of a religious character, seems to me
unreasonable. Nor can I believe that all and every kind of
light literature is to be eschewed; nor that such has not a
valuable use. It may be of a bad character—and it may be
excessively indulged, both in writer and reader—but the
abuse and the excess are wholly unnecessary. Argument
against it, on such grounds, may easily be extended to overthrow
every thing in literature and learning, except Biblical
Criticism, Church History, and Sermonizing.
Light and playful literature differs from frothy and tasteless;
and it is not necessary to be silly in being cheerful.
Nor if literature, when merely playful, is not decidedly religious,
must it of consequence, become immoral? There is
unquestionably a common ground where moralities of the
world and of the church may stand; or where externally
good men may meet, and with what they hold in common.
How far professors of religion and doctors of divinity
may write out of their line, and occasionally indulge in the
harmless elegance and recreation of the allowable light literature,
is a question that each man must determine himself.
If others determine for him, let the others at least remember
the Saviour's admonition—“Judge not that ye be not
judged.” Some persons possess versatility of mind; and
amidst labors almost countless, and whilst discharging many
important offices, weighty with many grave responsibilities,
can yet, and in wonderfully short times, throw off many an
innocent pleasantry, and either from the mouth or the pen.
Let me commend to some censors Charlotte Elizabeth's
chapter on idols, in her Flower Garden; which, by the way,
has almost made me resolve, if not to write a sermon, yet
perhaps something worse—a book on idolatry.
Appended is another trifle.
