524 rg4S 1 BACCALAUREATE, :a.Sf IS'^mw %^l& aUs ^^ .!&. i OF INDIANA I ADDRESSED TO THE SENIOR CLAS:'3 AT THE LAT - - r _. . _ . 45 .'• 'i ELOC:_._. -,...ANA„ C. DA^ I 3 3 N , r R o i • „■--__._•" BACCALAUREATE, BY ^^m^^^mw w^^^m^ w>^ m^ PRESIDENT OF IiNDIANA UNIVEESITY, ADDRESSED TO THE SENIOR CLASS, AT THE LATE COMMENCEMENT, September, 1845. BLOOMINGTON, INDIANA, C. DAVISSON, Pk . MDCCCXLV. J. I. ALEXANDER, J. A. CAMPBEL^L, JNO A. MILLEN, R. Q. ROACHE, W.E.SIMPSON, B. W. WILSON, BACCALAUREATE Young Gentlemen: — One, who along with you commenced that course of study which you have just finished, is not seen among you on this occasion. He is no more on earth. That delicate form which once lived and moved among you is a tenant of "the house appointed for all the living;"' and that kind and gentle spirit which animated it has gone, we doubt not, to enjoy the bliss of that kingdom which flesh and blood cannot inherit. He to whom I allude was loved and respect- ed by you all, for his sweet and amiable temper and child-like inno- cence, united to a sound understanding and a high sense of moral rec- titude. He was indeed a most lovely youth. He remembered affec- tionately his class-mates and teachers, even ia his last moments: and, though that Overruling Power to whose will it becomes us to bow, has denied us the pleasure of meeting him here, we take a mournful satis- faction in cherishing his memory. While we live let us cherish it.^ — It will do us good to contemplate that rare excellence of character which is associated with the name of George A. Hauser. Having paid this tribute of respect to our departed friend, we hasten to our subject. We would be pleased, to linger a while longer, as it were by the side of his humble grave, but the audience, to most of whom he was unknown, would not participate in our feelings. Other rea- sons might be given. This, however, may suffice; and 1 have assigned it because it leads me at onoe to the subject which I am about to pro- pose for your consideration, and'whichas — Common Sense. The phrase, though often used, is not very well, understood. This must be my apology for making. those distinctions which 1 am about to make and which, though they may seem to some, childish and trifiing, are necessary to a clear understanding of the subject. The word common, as it is to be understood in this phrase, common, sense, does not properly mean that which is usual among men, that de- gree of good sense which people generally have:, for^ though it sounds^ like a contradiction, it is nevertheless true, that common sense is rath- er a rare thing in this world: but it means the joint use of that sense \vhich is called common, as being a thing which a number of persons use or exercise in common; not every one for himself, but every one in connexion with all the rest, and as a part of the whole. In this sense of the word there is no one of those, which are common- ly called, The five senses, which is, or can be common- Every one who is not blind has the use of the sense of seeing; but it is for himself alone, and not for others that he sees; nor can he be at all aiTeclcd im- mediately by the use of this sense in others: he sees with his own eyes, and they with theirs; and the impressions and the information they get in the use of this sense are not common, but particular: and no one among them can lei I what it is that is conveyed through the eye of another to his mind. A number of persons may, at the same time, be engaged in looking at the same object; and they may cor- rectly judge that all see it alike; but they do not know this to be the case from the sense of sight, nor from any thing of which they are conscious vn themselves While looking at the object: it is an infer- ence derived from the comm.unication they have had by means of words with others in similar cases before. What has been just said respecting the sense of sight will apply to the four remaining senses. They are particular, not common. But there is a sense, which, though there is no organ of the body be- longing to it, as there is to sight, hearing, and taste, acts in each indi- vidual as if he were not a separate being, with distinct consciousness of his own, but a part of a larger being, made up of himself and as many others as are in connexion with him in this mysterious unity; or as if, by some influence more secret and powerful ihan that of Mesmer ism, the thoughts and feelings of one mind were made to pass into an other without the use of signs or any outward means of communication The word common is used in this same sense, in other connexions. — 'I'hus, property is said to be common which belongs to a number of per- sons conjointly ; that is called common prayer which is offered by a whole congregation uniting in the use of the same words; and ihat is called the Common Law in which all have an equal, -interest, and which applies to all alike. • As to the word sense, every one knows what ii means when it is used to designate the sense of hearing, or any other of the external senses, which are exercised by the instrumentality of bodily organs. But there are other senses which seern to be exercised by the mind itself, without the use of any bodily organ. I say, seem to be: for whatever subserviency ihat great organ of thought, the Brain, may have in thi3 matter, we know it not by these senses. In the case of the external senses there is an organic impression, of which we are immediately conscious, whenever any one of them is exercised. If for example, a sa- pid body be taken into the mouth, we have not only the sensation wh'ch is proper to it, but we know by the manner in which the organs of laste are affected that these organs are somehow instrumental in con- veying the sensation to the mmd : so much so, indeed, that I suppose it is commonly thought that the sensation is in fact in the organ and not in the mind. In the case of the internal senses there is no sucli organic impression. So, if a man feels remorse, the anguish is in the conscience, v^hich has been not improperly called the moral sense: and there is no part of the body particularly affected by it. This difference is sufficient to mark the distinction between the ex- lernal senses and that other class of senses of which Common sense is one; and which, for this reason and because their objects are not of the material world, may be called internal. They are a sense of honor, a sense of shame, a sense of justice, a sense of fitness, a sense of the beau- tiful, of the sublime, of the ridiculous; and suchlike. By these senses it is that we learn what is that which we call honor, justice, beamy; and so on rand, were any one to be born without them, he could not be made to understand the meaning of such terms, any more than one born blind could be taught to distinguish colors. But by these senses we get not only the cognition of what is justice, honor, beauty and the like; but have the mind affected in the contemplation of them, in a way that cannot easily be explained in words. We call it senti- ment and feeling. But these words convey but a faint conception of what takes place in the mind when these internal senses are in a state of intense activity. They can either raise it into the highest transports of delight; or plunge it into the darkest depths of disgust and horror; impart to it a firmness of purpose which neither terrors can daunt nor sufferings subdue, or paralyze its strength, so that existence itself shall 6 become a burden: ihey can tranquilize it by a peace within which the storms of adversity cannot disturb, or make it like the troubled sea which cannot rest, whose waters cast up mire and dirt. They occupy that pan of the soul which we call the spirit, the region wherein are generated those notions towards good or evil which determine the char- acter. Common sense is one of them. In dignity it is among the lowest 01 their number: the influence which it exerts is nevertheless very great. It belongs to that part of our nature which is social. Some parts of the human constitution are evidently intended for the use of man as an individual. They are the charter of the Creator defining to every one severally that part of himself which, under God, he is permitted to hold as his exclusive property, the territory over which he is to rule,, and which he has a right to defend against all aggressors. He may not manage his territory well and wisely; but it is his own, and no one has the right to meddle with it or concern himself in any way a- l)out it, — unless, indeed, he can produce a warrant for so doing from the Author of nature. Now, what I have chiefly here to remark is, that it is the province •of Common Sense to trace out the boundary of t his peculium, this lot, this private domam which belongs to every man in particular, and' sacredly to observe it, so as neither to transgress it to the injury of an- other, nor to allow another to transgress it in detriment to himself. — And this office it is well fitted to perform, being endowed with a nice instinctive power of discrimination, resembling the external senses in this, that it is not only delighted with what it is proper for it to choose, but offended with whatever it is the design of nature that it should re- ject. The only additional remark of a general kind that I shall make on the nature of Common Sense, is that, of all the powers and capacities belonging to the nature of man it is the most susceptible of improvement and also the most liable to be perverted and led astray by the influence of circumstances: so that, except in things indifferent, we ought never implicitly to follow itsdictates. I shall illustrate this remark to a few examples. The first is taken from that class of persons of whom there are none in this country, persons who by birth and fortune are raised above the ne- ■cessily of following any kind of business for a livelihood. These peo- ple spend most of their time in social intercourse among themselves. — Their cares are expended in making this intercourse as agreeable as possible. To this end a code of laws has been provided. It is made up of a great number of rules and ceremonies, which'are studied and practised with mora than religious zeal and exactness; so that, by show- ing himself ignorant of etiquette a man would incur greater loss of reputation, than by violating any precept of the decalogue, or, indeed, nil of them together, provided it were not done in a vulgar way . Now ihese rules are for the most part founded in common sense; that is, the 'CommoB sense of that class of people who have agreed to be governed 1)y them. The many minute forms and modes, in regard to dress, lan- guage and behavior, which these rules prescribe, are so many ways in which it has been tacitly stipulated that they will tnanifest, towards each other, deference, respect, kindness and good will. Now every man knows by his own consciousness that these sentiments, manifested towards himself, are very agreeable; but it is common sense that teach- •es him that they are equally so to others. It follows, therefore, thart not to comply with these rules proves a man to be deficient, either in benevolence, or in common sense, or in both. Yet there is something essentially and radically wrong in the rnan- ueroflife which these people live. It is frivolous, and the farthest possible from yielding that kind of satisfaction which is most proper for rational beings; to say nothing of that high obligation which rests -chiefly upon those on whom Providence has bestowed great riches. When this is taken into view, their conduct and way of life seems fair- ly to be,pictured in the Parable, which shows us a splendid mansion full of luxury and gayety within, while at the gate lies a sufferer to "whom no office of kindness is shown, except by "the dogs." Leaving out of view, however, such high and solemn considerations as these, and regarding the matter in that point of light only in which it is pre- sented by our subject, we must say, to spend one's life in cares about the frivolities of etiquette in regard to dress, balls, ceremonious, and half-ceremonious visits, evening parties, and I know not what, which go to make up that ceaseless round of petty cares and anxieties, which, under the name of amusement, make up the course and tenor of fash- ionable life, is surely beneath the dignity of a rational being, and tends io degrade the mind, by subjecting it to the domination of Fashion, the most arbitrary and capricious of tyrants. Wha^,tben,i3 a wise man to do? If he is cast by birth or fortune among that class of people which I have described, he must obey the dictates of common sense and do as they do; or, following the dictates of his own individual reason, he must pursue such a course as will cause him to be excluded from what is called the "best society," 1 leave you however to an- swer this question for yourselves, while I remark that the instances are indeed rare, in which, in this matter, men, and especially women, are not found to choose according to common sense and not according to reason. It is a case, indeed, in which common sense is perverted by circumstances and becomes too strong for reason. The next instance that I shall adduce is one in which, on the contra- ry, it is too weak. The instance is taken from a state of things with which we are better acquainted than we are with that from which the case just mentioned has been adduced. I shall therefore be in no dan- ger of misrepresenting or of being misunderstood. Let the one in- stance suffice for that whole class to which it belongs, and which is usually denominated rudencs and ill manners. There is a man about to enter his neighbor's house: observe his movements. There is a scraper before the door, and a rug, or what is better, a plat of green sward. He pays no attention to them, but goes strait on, making two or three oblique movements with his feet upon the steps, leaving on each one a quantity of the clay with which his boots are encumbered. The doorsil and entry receive a portion. A chair is offered, and no sooner is he seated than he begins to feel, first with one heel then whh the other, for a place on the front round of his chair where his feet may rest: and having disposed his lower limbs, like the two sides of an equilateral triangle, and thrown himself back, with the upper parts of the chair infringing against the wall, his sinciput resting against the same, he is prepared to open the matter of his visit, discussing, the while, a large quid of tobacco. His dog, no less studious of comfort has in the mean time knowingly disposed o( his huge bulk; and lies, all along with nose thrust out between his fore paws, in an attitude in- viting sleep. Now I find it written, in a book called "The Ladies' Science of Eti. quelle, by an English lady of rank," among the rules which, it seems, regulate, in England, the behavior of people of rank, in what is called ^'half-ceremoneous visits," that it is necessary to leave one's dog in 9 >the ante-rocm. In irr gard to vij-its of-cerfrrory the law is more strici; si»ce it prohibils dcg^— and childreri — alirgether Soihat,as to the mailer of ihe dcg, we tee that ihe ccnduct of cur visiter is not so very far from the ion. After he is gone, the maid, or rather the mistress of the family her- .self; — for as things are with us, she has generally to perform tht office of maid, as well as those of nurse, cook and laundress — has no little trouble, with shovel, brocmjtr.op and suds, to restore ihings to seme, thing Ijke the condition in .^\hich itey were lefore he enieied. B*" the good honest nzan, never thought of all this. Why did he not? Clearly, because hewas deficient in common sense. The least grain of «!ense in common with the mistress of the , house, would have appri- sed him what would be lier slate of mind in the premises. Other instances similar in kind might be leadily adduced: but my object being rather to give a general view of ihe subject ihan to illus- trate it in any particular, application, I proceed to present it under a- nolher aspect. ;St. Paul, in describing charity, says <'it doth nr t behave itself unseem- ly ,•" and Aristotle, whose scheme of ethics is constructed on the prin- ciple that Virtue is the means between extremes, (that is to say, vices,) places the quality to which, as 1 suppose, the Apostle refers, (a posi- tive being. in\imated under two negatives — "no^ wnseemly'') in the mid- dle ; between Authadeia, which means a certain arrogant moroseness. or self-sufficient, self-pleasing temper, on t-hc one hand, and Areskia, which implies too much of the disposition to please others, on the oth- er. He calls it Semnotes. Though the Apostle uses different terms, his meaning is the same. I know not how better to describe it in gen- eral terms (for 1 know of no one word in our language into which it can be exactly translated,) than to sey, that it denotes that Delicacy of common sense which characterizes \\\e true gentleman, and which chiefly manifests itself in those cases where the person acting is, in certain important respects, in a situation difTerent from those who are lo be affected by his conduct, whether efTectively by some influence exerted upon them, or merely as spectators. In such circumstances it is a nice point to perceive what a man owes to them and what to him- self. Besides there are situations in life in which the swj^ibilities of cyr nature may be tortured by unskilful attempts to soothe them, Le the .great Port of human nature furnish us both an instance and the philosophy of it. ^ 10 Hero, ihe only daughter of Antonio, is dead of a broken heart (as i..> unhappy father supposes) when on the eve of being worthily nnarried| and, what is worse, her character is blasted by an accusation so artfully formed that her intended husband and her faiher himself are compelled to believe it. A friend attempts to check the father's grief, and he re- plies: "I pray thee, cease thy counsel, Which falls into mine ears as profitless As watei in a sieve, give not me counsel ; Nor let no comforter delight mine ear, But such a one whose wrongs do siiit with mine. Bring me a lather that bo loved his child, Whose joy of her is overwhelmed like mine, And bid him speak of patience — The whole passage is too long to be here quoted. The conplusion is, however, so exact to my purpose, that 1 cannot but repeat it. No, no; 'tis all men's office to speak patience To those that wring under the load of sorrow; But no man's virtue, nor sufficiency, To be so moral, when he shall endure The like himself; therefore give me no counsel My griefs cry louder than adveitisement. Much fMdo about JSothing. Act . V. What most soothes the heart crushed by the stroke of such a calam- ity, is the silent sympathy of friends— not lectures. Common sense, if it wants delicacy, does not perceive this. The same delicacy, in a still higher degree, is often requisite in the sufferer himself. Deep feeling is never noisy, or boisterous; whether i t be of joy, or grief. The latter especially seeks to hide itself from the public gaze. There are griefs, too, which all are not prepared to un- derstand; and which consequently they can not respect. The sufferer, owes it to himself to hide such griefs, as far as possible, from the view of others. Before the bar of Pilate the accused Savior of mankmd an- swered nothing: for he knew the court had previously resolved to give him up to the will of his accusers. It would have been unworthy of his innocence and dignity to make a defense against such accusers or before such judges. His conduct on the occasion was such, therefore, as became him — "not unseemly:" — it was — "Semnotes." Public servants are liable to be accused to their masters, the People: and it requires sometimes a nice adjustment between the claims of com- 11 mon sense and iho^e orons''s own proper sense; in other word?, between the consideraiioa which is due to the people and their interests, on the one hand, and that respect which every honest man owes to himself, oa the other, to enable the person accused to determine on the course he -ought to pursue. If he have a strong parly to back him. he may do as Jefferson did, treat all such accusations with silent contempt. But if not--he may still do it, if his accuser conceals himself behind the hedge, shooting his poisoned arrows — poisoned, but harmless — except to the archer: — for the people have common sense enough to make the case of the accused their own, and, to a certain extent, to make common cause with him who is thus basely assailed. The case in which com- mon sense is m^st at fault is thai in which the people themselves have become so divided into parties, each party e iger to advance itself on the ruins of its antagonist, that, even in matters of great importance and of public notoriety, it is exceedingly difficult, unless for those who have not only capacity but leisure and opportunity, to find out what is the truth. Ha must be a great simpleton who believes whatever is said by a partizan, even though he find it in history; since there is no period of the past in which there have not baen parties on all those subjects in which are involved the great interests of human nature. Hence the propriety of the rule, which requires that we look at both sides of ev- ery question, and consider the statements of both parties, before mak ing up a judgment: — ^' Audi alteram partem. ^"^ After all, there is wanting, in such cases, some thing more than com- mon sense — namely a high philosophy. Common sense is good at the scent, but the ground has been so run over by all manner of animals, crossing and recrossing each other's tracks, and traversing the field in all possible directions, that by sense alone the traces of Truth cannot be followed. The-4^rther persons are separated in character and condition from one another the greater delicacy must be used in their intercourse, and especially by those who in these respects are superiors. For, as it is by common sense that people understand the feelings of each other, and as the greater difference there is between them in these respects the fewer the points of contact through which it can act, its power of discernment and feeling, that is to say, its delicacy, must be proportion- ally increased to produce its proper effects. Take the case of the young 12 and the old: the one cannot readily enter into the feelings of the other;' for though the old have been you^ng, yet it requires a higher dag res of- coaimon sense than it seen>5 soms old people possess to keep them in mind of this fact, obvious as it is; and as the young kaovv not by expe- rience what it is to b3 old, they c^a have but little' insight into that state of nnind which age produces. The same holds true of certain other distinctions, which, in proportion as they prevail, separate every community into classes. Such are the rich, the poor; the learned and ignorant; the polished, and the rude; the good, and the bad; those who command, and those who obey. To these may be added the classes into which people are divided according to their erg men as these term? imply: though in truth they themselves enierlain- no such opinion, baton the contrary feel in their hearts the profoundest contempt for those whom they flatter. There are some, also, and even am )ng those who write books, who-" we think, are altogether sincere in this opinion, being silly enough to believe any thing. One of these dealers in that kind of stuff which the English call twaddle breaks out in the following sensible style: 'How happy will be the day when there will be no such thing, known as two classes of persons in families, a higher and a lower — jailors and "risoners — but when all the family, however numerous and ho\V liiU© 13 soever unitod by lies of consanguinity, will be equal and free, dwelling together, eating and drinking together, and whether of one nation or a- nolher, always uniting around the same domestic altar. How happy the time when no restraint will be necessary to keep children from mix- ing too much with those who would degrade them or lead them into temptation;' — He might as well have exclaimed, how happy will be the day when there will be known in families no such classes as male and female; when children will be as old as their parents; and when there will be ,no such thing as tenpptation in human life. It is often a nice point to. determine how far persons of a superior .class ought to carry their condescension in their intercourse with their inferiors; and equally so to decide how far inferiors should manifest deference toward their superiors, I'he rules of etiquette are in this matter, as well as some others, very questionable. For instance, if you write to a person of distinction, it is required, accojding to these rules as they obtain in England, to pay the postage of your letter; Avhile you are forbidden to do it, if writing to a person who is poor. — In the first case it is required as a mark of respect; in the second it is forbidden, because the doing of it might seem like a reflection on the humble condition of the poor, which would be painful to him and un- generous in you. Again, common sense evidently requires that such as undertake to give instruction should suit themselves to the capacities of those for whom especiaiiy the instruction is intended. Hence it has come to pass that, of 1 he good bocks and the pretty books for children and ladies, so many are utterly worthless. Supposing the authors of such bcokF; capable of furnishing better mat ter, they seem to mc to com>mit two mistakes, l^irst, they condescend too much. Children and ladies are not qviie so silly °.s these authors seem to ihirik ihem. Secondly, if they would really \ns\ rod they ruust go before those whom they instruct ; and it is better that they should la sometimes out of sight to their scholars than to have ihem ever tread- ing on their heels. When at the age of puberty, 1 read Lccke's Essay on the Hurr.an Understonding, with n:ore intense delight than 1 had felt, several years before, in the perusal of Eobinson Ciusoe or the Pilgrim's Picgress:— end that was certainly not a little. But of Lccke ^4jndefslaoJ almost nothing at first. Bui by reading his work aga in 14 and again, pausing and thinking as I proceeded, I mastered it at last. And, I believe, t hat the raost of young persons might, if they would, accomplish the same achievment, at the expense of little more time and study than ihey generally bestow upon those light and frivolous pro- ductions which, while they inflame the passions and stimulate the im- agination, tend rather to mislead and corrupt the judgm.ent and tha heart than to enlighten and purify them. A similar mistake has originated ihe role of etiquette which has beea mentioned. People of fashion— and it is they who make the rules of et- iquette— are very sensitive to any 'hing which seems to convey an im- putation of poverty, which they regard with feelings of shame, as if it were a crime or a disgrace. But ihe hontst poor man h,as no such feel- ings, lie is sensible only of some of lis inconveniences, one of which perhaps is his inability to pay the postage on his 'etters. People of fashion forget that, were ihey in his circumstances, they should (eel as he does: did they reflect upon this, they would probably estauiish a different rule. Their error lies in supposing the poor man lo be equally sensitive as themselves in a point where he is not. In this country it is more common, especially for foreigners, to fall into the mistake of attributing too little rather than too much intelli- gence to the common people. This is proved in the numerous failures which are made by such as seek to advance their interests wiih the public by flattery and calumny, the arts of the sycophant. Instances do now and then occur of persons raising themselves to consequence by such means; but they are rare; and the popularity which is gained by them is apt to be transient. Common sense is not, it is true, always able of itself to distinguish between the unostentatious claims of real merit, and the empty plausibilities of the mere pretender; since it pro- ceeds, in forming a judgment, by signs which are sometimes found lo deceive; but when some experience and observation of the ways of men are added lo that native sagacity which Common Sense implies, it eel- dom fails to form a right estimate of character. 1 have said that Common Sense proceeds by signs in forming its judgment. The power to do so is mysterious in its mode of operation; but the fact of its existence is undeniable. The infant, "muling and puking in its nurse'sarms," shows ihat it can enter into the sentiments which she expresses by means of those signs, in the looks and voice, which nature has connected with them. And thus it is thai the charac^ 15 {er of the future man begins to bs formed in the first moments of his existence. As lime conducts the infant up to man's estate, he becomes acquainted with innumerable other ihinos, which common sense places -in the rank of signs. They are partly natural it may be; or they have become established by custom, which is a second nature; originating, one c?innot tell how, in the common course of things. These taken to- gether constitute what we commonly call Appearances. They are of some use even to the wise in determining their opinions of men and things. To common sense they are the ground of judgment; and by them common people are governed entirely. By common people 1 mean, not ihe poor, as distinguished from the rich, nor yet the unlearned as distinguished from men of letters, but all, whether rich or poor, whose minds are undisciplined.^ In the faculty of construing appearances women are uaturally more shrewd than men, and when it is exercised and sharpened by long and various intercourse with the world, it ig a keen instrument, very formid- able to all such a« practice the arts of imposture. Like instinct it is instantaneous in its decisions and next to infallible in cases which fall *ArFEARAACES. — The follovying anecdote I received from the late Dr. Jrio. Ander- son of Washington Pa. A preacher from the city of Charleston S. G. had b«en out into a remote part of the counuy, and had preached lo a congregation there. After ihe sermon Dr. A., v^ho was then a ^-^duih, noticed that tlie good people were earnestly engaged in riiscussing the question, 'how one u ho had no re/j'^jon could pieach so pious a discouise a* thatj"^ to which they lad been li^tnnng. That the prtar.her had no rehgion was not the question : it was piflin enough iiom hi? rirees. That the inriication of chfiracter affordi c] by dress was somewhat surer, in the ca?& I am about to mt niicn, will, I fijppcfe, be prtrtiy generaUy admitted. Tiu^ugh noi apt ;o notice pec pie's fljes!^, my aitentirn was'drawn lo ihatof ayouig man who was on board the san e boat with i, e last f^ll, descendir^ ihe Ohio. Bis profane way of talk- ing first caufan naturCj however sunk and corrupted by vice, a disposition to hate virtue for its own sake. The difficulty is that the wicked cannot .^-"^ it — till it is with the dead. There is noi, perhaps, on earth '■ zzle than that which a pure and upright mind, in the living man, presents to the view of one that is thoroughly corrupt. - Deportment, conversation, motives, every thing is seen, not as it is, but ,as it is painted on an imagination which draws i(s colors from within — I'rpm the subject and not from the object. 'J'his, i do not think, will, of 17 (self, fc ount fo*. il.e very rciVnikfcLlo fact, ihat so few ofthe pcetsand other writers of fiction have succeeded so welj in drawing portraits oi virtue, as of vice; for 1 should be loth to think that in such a case '.heir experience aided their invention: but that it has sonnething to do with the fact there is reason to believe. In Shakspeare, vve have lago, Shy- lock, llichard, and Aaron — which las!, however, is a character over- drawn; not a man but a devil; — these, and 1 kn ow not how many more each in his sort the very personification of wickedness: while of the opposite class there is not one. Even Milton has done better in his de- scription of Satan and the bad angels, than when he undertakes the good: though Eve is finely drawn. I am almost ready to make an ex-^ cepiion in favor of Eugene Sue, when I look at those exquisite creationSj Fleur de iMarie, Morel the Lapidary, and Rigolette!— but Farrand and Roden and Bras Rouge and Morok and Mailre d^ I'Ecole — and that hor- rid female group glare out upon me, like so many fiends — and I am forced to arrest the compliment. Among Homer's heroes there is brav" ery enough on both sides: with the Greeks, cunning more than enough. Penelope is chaste, and Nestor wise. Examples 6f political virtue there are. Of moral virtue almost none. On the other side, what a picture! His very gods are a pack of immortal villains, and his goddesses no bet- ter. With Byron I am not familiar; but, so far as my memory serves,* I cannot give him credit for one virtuous character. Virgil one can love as well as admire ia some of hid characters; and Sir Waller Scott still more. In the preceding remarks I have considered common sense in its actings towards the living. It connects us also with the dead, and with the whole of nature, animate, and inanimate. In its wilder and more extravagant movements, it attempts to go along with Faith into the region of things invisible. In these connexions it may afford a' theme for useful reflectron, on some future occasion. At present, I con- clude with this general remark, that the more we extend our acquaint- ance whh mankind, in all their diversities of condition and character, the more will our common sense improve itself, and the more we shali have the opportunity of freeing ourselves from whatever unseemly pe- culiarities may be attached to our character. The Belvidere Apollo is not the copy of any individual human form, but the perfect type ofthe Species, the concentration of what surpasses- in every individual into' one idea of faultless beauty and manly strength. It is by studying many minds, in their many ways of thinking, that we learn to correct what is amiss in our own. We may derive advantage in this way even from 'he vices and follies of men: for if we contemplate them aright, we shall see, mixed up with them, the elements of good, which may be separated fron) the evil. But it is to the contemplation of what is lovely and grand in human nature that I would have you chiefly to di- rect } our thoughts, — to men who have distinguished themselves by their virtues — to such, still more especially, as being cast into the midst of a corrupt system and a misguided age, had not the aid of common sense and the sympathies of the world on their side, but against them, — the heroes and sages, that worked their way to the accomplishment of great and lasting good to the human race, while they bore the scorn of contemporaries, because they were not, — as it was impossible that, by such men, they should be — understood:— the Pauci, quos sequus amavit Jupiter et ardens evixit ad asthera virtus Dis gen ill. Impressions upon your character received from the virtue of such men ^ will exalt you to a place in their communion, by sympathy wi th what- iever is great and pure in human nature, so that you shall feel the great heart of humanity beating within your bosoms. 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