There is much only hinted, more unsaid. My limits allow no exeursions into the fields of theology. Nor have I introspected the human heart, to find its legions of devils, who harbor along its sinuous avenues, and revel in its chambers of imagery. We may feel bold at the idea that the material devil has disappeared; may draw a relieving sigh that all these creations we have considered are but the figments of the imagination; but this one fact remains as palpable as granite, that there is a devil, all the more real because viewless, all the more subtle because concealed, all the more dangerous because he hides in our hearts, befools our senses, and makes his hell in our own unhappiness. His is a spiritual existence, and therefore a more terrible reality!
Is, then, the "Paradise Regained" but a song? And shall the fact ever be a Paradise Lost—lost—lost for ever! Shall those mysterious relations of the soul to evil, emblemed in these creations of literature, continue? Shall the soul for ever "lacerate itself with sin and misery, like a captive bird against the iron limits which necessity has drawn around it?" We answer fearfully, Yes; yet hopefully, No!
Fearfully, Yes; for while the human intellect is prostituted through print, there is the most enduring of wrongs, the most irrevocable of evils. It is the angel of light, fallen, and eclipsed of his glory, and dragging other angels with him. Wit, fancy, talent, humor, judgment, and genius join in some gifted mind with the cunning craft of deviltry, and an influence like that of a leprous spot enters and defiles the soul for ever.
Hopefully, No; for as the age grows brighter and warmer, a kindlier philosophy bedews the lip of song, and a holier spirit enkindles the fire of enthusiasm. The works of those who refuse consocration at the font of purity, who would wanton with licentiousness and error, will be thrown aside among the rubbish of dullness and duncery. The splendors of genius will not save them from the eclipses of neglect. This idolatry of the Satanic will pass away, and the prince of the power of the air will in vain seek for his old alliance with the genius of print, so long as virtue is regarded as better
