2524 
 1 
 
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 THE INDlVIDlJALi 
 
 A BACCALAUREATE, 
 
 DELIVERED TO 
 
 THE CLASS OF SENIORS, 
 
 AT THE COMMENCEMENT OF 
 
 THE INDIAM imVERSITY, v 
 
 AUGUST 13, 1851, 
 
 BY A. WYLIE, D. D., President. 
 
 PUBLISHED BY REQUEST. 
 
 INDIANAPOLIS: 
 PRINTED BY JOHN D. DEFEEES 
 
 1851. 
 
THE INDIVIDUAL: 
 
 A BACCALAUREATE, 
 
 DELIVERED TO 
 
 THE CLASS OF SENIORS, 
 
 AT THE COMMENCEMENT OF 
 
 THE IIDIAM UIIVEESITY, 
 
 AUGUST 13, 185 1, 
 BY A. WYLIE, D. D., President 
 
 PUBLISHED BY REQUEST 
 
 INDIANAPOLIS: 
 
 PRINTED BY JOHN D. DEFEEES. 
 
 1851. 
 

 
ADDRESS. 
 
 This occasion, young gentlemen, is called the Commence- 
 ment. The word is very significant. A commencement is 
 a beginning : and wherever there is a beginning there also is 
 an ending. The day is dawning and the night ending at the 
 same moment now to the people who live at a certain dis- 
 tance to the west of us; and, as the earth revolves on its 
 axis, this point is brought in succession to the eyes of all its 
 inhabitants : and, as it pursues its annual course through the 
 heavens, it brings, with the same unvarying regularity, the 
 point at which one season of the year goes away and the 
 next takes its place. What an impressive lesson does this 
 emblem hold forth to our consideration! One generation 
 cometh and another goeth. Life is a journey of successive 
 stages : and at the " ultima hnea rerum " where this life ends, 
 another hfe begins. 
 
 The most interesting difference between that portion of 
 life which with you is now ending and that which is in its 
 commencement, consists in this, that, from this time onward, 
 you are each of you to be more an individual than hitherto. 
 
 The Individual : let this be the theme, therefore, of our 
 present meditations. I shall not undertake to discuss it fully. 
 
[ 4 ] 
 
 but only to sug-gest a few things in relation to it, which may 
 afford matter for useful reflection in reference to that part 
 which you may severally be called upon to act in future life. 
 First of all, let us form to ourselves a distinct conception 
 of what we mean by an individual. 
 
 You have all noticed the way in which the strawberry 
 plant propagates itself From the parent stock is sent forth 
 what is called a runner, or, more properly, a creeper : for its 
 progress is slow and cautious; and it keeps close to the 
 ground in a lowly, unaspiring way. When it has extended 
 itself to a convenient distance, a knot is formed, from which 
 proceed a set of pointed fibres, which penetrate the soil and 
 become roots for the new plant, which, with its tender stem 
 and leaves, begins to shoot upwards. For some time the 
 connecting runner to which it is attached remains in full 
 vigor, conveying nourishment from the parent stock to the 
 young plant. But, as this thrives, and grows from day to 
 day stronger and stronger, less and less nourishment is sup- 
 plied from the parent stock ; and at length it entirely ceases ; 
 and then the connecting channel having performed its sus- 
 taining office, dies away, and is dried up. The whole process 
 is now complete, and the young plant is an individual Its 
 life is in itself It henceforth performs all its functions by 
 the independent working of its own inherent powers, drain- 
 ing no portion of its ahment any more from any other source 
 but the all-nourishing earth, the atmosphere, and the sun. 
 I need not stop here to explain the points of resemblance 
 between this phenomenon of nature and the case which it is 
 brought to illustrate. You see what they are. But permit 
 me, in following out the analogy a little further, to ask, Who 
 is the gardener ? For without the gardener strawberries do 
 not grow here. The time was — it is not so very long ago 
 but that some now living may have seen it — when, as I have 
 
[ 5 ] 
 
 been told, was the case in Harrison Prairie, there grew, near 
 the place where Terre Haute now stands, and doubtless 
 many other places in these western wilds, extensive thick set 
 plantations of this delightful vegetable, bearing their annual 
 crop of dehcious fruit spontaneously, a luxurious feast for 
 the roving birds. But this state of things, like the fabled 
 golden age of the poet, and the philosophers state of nature, 
 which is no less a fiction, — a fiction however which has 
 proved less innocent than that of the poet, — this state of 
 things has passed away, to return no more. The foot of the 
 grazing ox, the hoof of the wanton steed, the snout of the 
 swine turning up the sod in pursuit of worms, had by this 
 time extirpated the strawberry, even if the ploughshare and 
 the spade and the crushing wheel had spared it. The care 
 of the gardener, after enclosing his ground with a close and 
 strong fence, must be employed assiduously in its cultivation, 
 else no strawberry — not an individual plant, can be produced. 
 And, in the analogous case, I ask, Who is the gardener? 
 Under God, whose kingdom ruleth over all, and whose tender 
 care extends to all his creatures — under God, I reply, it is 
 the Genius of Civilization., working through the instrumen- 
 talities, or, if the term be thought more appropriate, the Or- 
 dinances of the Family, of the State, and of the Church. 
 Without this I am bold to affirm not only that man cannot 
 grow and flourish as a social being in communities of any 
 kind, but that he cannot exist as an individual : he must die 
 out and pass away into non-existence and obHvion. This is 
 the sure doom of the savage man ; and it is fast coming upon 
 him wherever he exists upon the face of the earth. I speak 
 of man and of the world as they now are. If there ever had 
 been such a state as that which philosophers of a certain 
 school love to talk of, called "A state of nature," in which 
 every individual was his own judge and his own avenger, a 
 
[ 6 ] 
 
 separate being, independent of every other, and under no 
 obligations to any, till he might choose to bring himself under 
 them, by a voluntary surrender of his so-called natural rights, 
 it must have ended in a very short time. 
 
 The law^s of man's nature forbid that he should prolong 
 his existence, and, indeed, that he should exist at all, in the 
 state of a separate, independent, individual. Unless he enters 
 into the bonds of domestic society he must, by the common 
 law of mortality, depart from his place, leaving no one to fill 
 the vacancy. And this shows that the family is not a piece 
 of human pohcy, but an ordinance of nature, and of Him 
 who is the Author of nature. Though man may modify, he 
 cannot destroy it, without, at the same time, destroying him- 
 self. If he pull down the pillars of this temple, he is crushed 
 and buried under its ruins. 
 
 That form of social life which we call The State, and 
 which is made up of a number of families united together by 
 an organic law called the Constitution, exists by a necessity, 
 not indeed essential to the being of man, but certainly to his 
 well-being. 
 
 The same is true, to some extent, of that other institution 
 called the Church. How far it is true I shall not now en- 
 quire. Nor shall I attempt, in this incidental notice of it 
 which I am now taking, to assign to the term any very strict 
 and definite meaning, such as it bears in the discourses of 
 theologians; but taking it in a wider and more general 
 sense to denote any Institution having for its end the culture 
 and training of the rehgious tendencies of our nature, I ob- 
 serve that we find distinct notices of its existence in the his- 
 tory of all nations. Prior to the calling of Abraham, which, 
 next to that of the Advent, is the most remarkable among 
 the epochs of the world's history, it seems to have existed in 
 the family; the patriarch being the priest, as well as ruler 
 
[ t ] 
 
 over his own household . Since that period it has existed not 
 only among his descendants, but among all other nations 
 who have made a figure in the world, in a form distinct from 
 that of the family, and been conducted on principles and by 
 means of an organization pecuhar to itself. 
 
 Having thus, as briefly as possible, brought under our view 
 the family, the state, and the church, let us see how the indi- 
 vidual is affected by them. 
 
 And here it is very obvious, that the influence of that 
 which is first in order, is pre-eminent also in importance. 
 The individual can hardly be said to exist so long as he is 
 growing up in the family. This is only the nursery of future 
 men. Here they are under a process by which they are 
 slowly and gradually but surely formed : and till this process 
 is finished, the individual is not complete, as has been already 
 shown ; and though the influence of both Church and State 
 may affect him, and must affect him, in many ways and in 
 all his interests, it reaches him only through the acts of the 
 parent, or some other guardian, who stands towards him in 
 the place of a parent; and this, according to the manifest 
 design and intention of nature, continues to be the case, till 
 the infant is developed into the man. Suppose, now, that he 
 becomes a member of the church — how much remains to 
 him of his individual self, will depend upon the character and 
 claims of that society, whatever it be, which, under the name 
 of a church, admits him into its communion. If the power 
 of pronouncing by its authoritative decrees what he is to be- 
 lieve and what he is not to beheve upon the peril of his soul, 
 be one of its attributes, implicit faith is his duty, as one of its 
 members ; and all further exercise of his reason, that prime 
 element of the individual man, is superseded, and may be 
 laid aside, except so far as may be necessary to learn what 
 the dogmas are. And if, further, the church, or whatever 
 
[ 8 ] 
 
 be the name of the society in question, claims, as another of 
 its attributes, the power of affecting his spiritual interests by 
 means of a virtue inherent in her official acts, and mechani- 
 cally exerting itself, then another, and the only remaining 
 element, which, in conjunction with the former, makes up the 
 individual man, I mean his will, with the other faculties which 
 ought to guide it to a proper determination, such as con- 
 science, and the other moral sentiments; — this also is super- 
 seded, and nothing of the individual man is left which he can 
 properly call his own, except his body. His soul is in the 
 hands of the Mandarin, or whatever be the name of the 
 functionary to whom the surrender of this part of himself 
 may have been made. ThinUng and willing are gone from 
 the man. They are absorbed in the church. Imphcit faith 
 and a passive reception of the "opus operatum" — as when 
 the heated iron receives the stroke of the hammer — have 
 been substituted in their place. 
 
 Let this picture of the shadow of the individual, represent 
 whatever may be found any where to which it will apply. 
 Think not to find its original in the church of Rome only. 
 It exists there, and among Protestants also, though they all 
 disclaim it. Among the most recent of the formations calling 
 themselves by this general name — I mean the Mormons — 
 it is probable, judging from what we know of their history, 
 that it exists in specimens as numerous as the members. 
 
 Practically, any society of people may be thrown for a 
 time into a form answering to the portrait I have drawn. 
 They may be all of them members and not one of them an 
 individual, the mind of the individual being lost and absorbed 
 in that of the fraternity. The phenomenon has often been 
 seen on this earth. And it is always portentous. 
 
 Substituting temporal for spiritual matters, in the represen- 
 tation just given, you will have some idea — rude and imper- 
 
[ 9 ] 
 
 feet indeed, but still an idea — of what that society is, which 
 we call The State. This also may claim, and has often in 
 other countries claimed, and exercised, attributes correspond- 
 ing to those I have mentioned as being sometimes arrogated 
 by the church, — attributes which absorb the individual man, 
 and merge him into the member — the subject. That it may 
 ever on any emergency do so of rights is no part of my 
 creed : and I may be excused for mentioning it here, that the 
 good people of the State may know, that when they send 
 their sons to this University, they do not expose them to the 
 danger of imbibing the doctrine, once prevalent, but now 
 only held by semi-barbarous tyrants, — that, I mean, which 
 was once exploded by our fathers at the cannon''s mouth — 
 the doctrine of "unlimited obedience." 
 
 No individual can indeed have the right to resist the laws. 
 He must submit, in all cases, to the powers that be. But 
 submission is not obedience. If the law commands the indi- 
 vidual to do any thing which in his conscience he knows and 
 feels that it would be sinful for him to do, rather, infinitely 
 rather than obey, let him suffer the penalty, whatever it may 
 be. For there is no sin in submitting to wrong in such a 
 case, any more than to submit to sickness, or any other ca- 
 lamity which it may please a wise and righteous Providence 
 to inflict. As it respects the individual this rule is universal 
 and admits no exceptions. For the individual is always 
 a member of some state to which he owes allegiance. With 
 the people in a body, the case is different. They have the 
 right of organizing rebellion, with the view not only of re- 
 sisting the edicts of an oppressive and tyrannical government, 
 but of overturning it altogether. To deny this, and to main- 
 tain the doctrine that there is no higher law than the will of 
 government, is to sink, as with an earthquake, the whole 
 domain of individual rights — to destroy the very ground on 
 
[ 10 ] 
 
 which the individual stands, and to ascribe to government a 
 power which no government has, or can have, not even that 
 which belongs to the Supreme Ruler of the universe. It is 
 no want of reverence towards His Adorable Majesty to say, 
 that He^ cannot abolish the reality of moral distinctions by 
 an arbitrary decree, so as to make, for example, ingratitude 
 a duty, and honesty a crime. To ascribe to Him such a 
 power, would be the very height and extreme of blasphemy ; 
 since it would be to suppose Him indifferent in his regard 
 towards right and wrong. 
 
 If it be asked what becomes of the allegiance of the indi- 
 vidual when he joins in a revolutionary movement, the 
 answer is at hand. It has not perished. It cannot perish. 
 It is transformed to that organization which makes the move- 
 ment. From the moment of his connexion with it, it be- 
 comes, to him, the State. He has become a member of it. 
 His fate is bound up in it ; and, if it fails, he is well aware of 
 what he has to expect at the hands of that government which 
 he means to destroy. 
 
 The boundary which encloses what belongs to the individ- 
 ual, as distinct from what belongs to the State, cannot well 
 be understood without a distinct reference to land as a mat- 
 ter of property. Man is of the earth, earthy. Dust he is, 
 and unto dust he returns. During hfe he is fed and clothed 
 from the earth. The earth affords materials for a house and 
 for that variety of things necessary for his comfort with 
 which it is furnished. The earth is the material basis on 
 which his traveling, and all the operations of trade are 
 carried on. The earth has furnished the stuff of which books 
 and telescopes, microscopes, and thousands of other contri- 
 vances are constructed, for the purpose of facihtating the 
 operations of the intellect in its pursuit of knowledge. And, 
 what is more wonderful still, there seems to emanate from 
 
[.11 ] 
 
 the soil on which man treads, an influence which reaches 
 even to the depths of his moral nature, determining and 
 fixing his judgments as to right and wrong. Why else is it 
 that in one part of our country slavery is justified, while in 
 another it is regarded as a mortal sin? The reason seems 
 to be that the soil, in the one, is adapted to the growth of 
 cotton; and, in the other, not. Accordingly, it is found, that 
 when a man changes his residence from the one soil to the 
 other, a change of opinion is apt to follow. 
 
 These observations on the peculiar nature of property in 
 land, are intended to show that every State has an interest in 
 every foot of land within its limits, which interest it holds by 
 "the right of eminent domain," as the phrase is, to which the 
 right of individual ownership is, and must be, subordinate. 
 So that, should some wealthy individual buy up all the land 
 in this and the adjoining counties, for the purpose of convert- 
 ing the whole into a great park, to be peopled by deer in- 
 stead of human inhabitants, or by human inhabitants not 
 subject to the government of the state, the state would, in 
 either case, interpose to prevent the execution of such design. 
 Individuals secede from the state and from the Union, at 
 death. But their land remains, and the government with its 
 right of eminent domain remains ; so that, while "heir to heir 
 succeeds, as in a rolling flood wave follows wave," each gen- 
 eration enjoys the protection of government with the im- 
 mense advantages it implies, as surely as it does the kindly 
 influences of Nature existent in the steadfast earth and the 
 everlasting stars. And, as, in obedience to the decrees of 
 fate, individuals must, each at the appointed time, secede 
 from the government in leaving the world ; so they have the 
 undoubted right of seceding from it, at any time during life 
 which they themselves may choose, — leaving, in both cases, 
 their lands behind them, with the government's right of emi- 
 
[ 12.] 
 
 nent domain lying undisturbed upon them. The impossi- 
 bihty of doing otherwise, is, in the one case, a physical im- 
 possibihty : in the other, it is only a moral. But this moral 
 impossibility, the people of these United States can, if God 
 pleases, change into a physical impossibility, whenever the 
 crisis for making the experiment shall be forced upon them. 
 On this question they do not speak their minds. They ought 
 not. They cannot. It is not a theme for w^ords. Words 
 cannot utter the thoughts and feelings which true patriots have 
 deposited within them, deep in the calm and tranquil principles 
 of their hearts and souls, their minds and spirits. When the 
 occasion comes — O, God Who art terrible in Thy judgments 
 and W^ho dost sometimes send upon a people, whose crimes 
 have filled up the measure of Thy forbearance, strong delu- 
 sions that they may believe a He and so rush into ruin — 
 grant, we beseech Thee, that the occasion may never come! — 
 but if it must come, then will the mind of this great nation, 
 which has grown to its present greatness in so short a time 
 by virtue of the Union, speak out in the language of deeds, — 
 action, — slow it will certainly be, and reluctant, but — deci- 
 sive. But let me turn away from the contemplation of an 
 idea which ought seldom to be brought into view, and never 
 but to be loathed and deprecated. 
 
 The foregoing remarks have been made with the view of 
 preparing the way for the announcement of a very general 
 and comprehensive principle, which applies to the case of the 
 individual, in his relations to others. It is a principle so pow- 
 erful in its application, that it may well be called the law of 
 individual life relatively to others. It is, moreover, a law so 
 exceedingly plain and simple, that an apology seems neces- 
 sary for distinctly mentioning it, and still more for giving to it 
 that degree of prominence which it holds in the sequel of this 
 discourse. The apology shall be given, and it is this, that the 
 
[ 13 ] 
 
 principle, which is at the same time so plain and so important, 
 is one which in fact is too commonly either overlooked or 
 disregarded by men in their intercourse of life. The law is 
 this, that every relation into which a man enters with others, 
 as well as those relations in which the hand of Nature has 
 placed him, retrenches somewhat from his freedom of acting 
 as an individual. To be in the relation, whatever be its na- 
 ture, makes him a partner with another, and this is incom- 
 patible, to a certain extent, with his freedom as an individual : 
 and to be in a relation to a number of others, a body, a so- 
 ciety, an order, or whatever it may be called, makes him a 
 member of that body, society, or order. And, as there are, 
 or at least are supposed to be, some advantages attached to 
 membership, and other advantages belonging to the state of 
 individual freedom, no one can consistently claim to himself 
 the enjoyment of both. Mankind will not allow it. The 
 privileges which the individual hopes to enjoy by becoming a 
 member of an association, are the measure of his duties to it : 
 and it would be unfair for him to claim the privilege, while he 
 refuses to render the duty which is its equivalent. This law 
 is fundamental to all associations. If not enforced, the asso- 
 ciation goes to pieces, either in the shock of some sudden 
 convulsion, or in the melting away of a more gradual disso- 
 lution. 
 
 Never, perhaps, was there a country or a time, in which 
 there existed so many associations as in our own. Beside 
 Banks, Railroad Companies, and other corporations deriving 
 their existence by charter from the State, there are hundreds 
 of others having a visible organization, besides I know not 
 how many more that are invisible. Every adult individual 
 in the Union, and many a one who is not adult, belongs to 
 some one or other of these associations. Some individuals 
 belong to many ; so that, among hands, nothing of their indi- 
 
[ 14 ] 
 
 viduality is left for themselves ; part of it being absorbed by 
 one, and part by another of these greedy monsters. And, 
 not unfrequently, it happens, that a poor fellow, struggling 
 hard with the waves in the troubled voyage of life, falling in 
 with some one of them more voracious than the rest, is con- 
 tent to be taken and swallowed whole by it, without even the 
 chance, or the desire, of being vomited forth again upon dry 
 land. I desire to deal not in indiscriminate censure. There 
 are in this country, and in England, associations not a few, 
 some of them of long standing, which have been, and con- 
 tinue to be, instruments in the hands of Divine Providence of 
 diffusing, far and wide over the face of the earth, the richest 
 blessings. Long may they flourish, and may the blessing of 
 approving Heaven rest upon their benevolent labors! 
 
 But there are other combinations to which no such com- 
 mendation will apply; and there are others of a doubtful 
 tendency. 
 
 But, however excellent the constitution on which a society 
 may be based, and however desirable and important be the 
 ends towards which, in theory, it may tend, it is not possible 
 that it should practically accomphsh their ends when once it 
 is made up of unworthy members. Vicious men do not be- 
 come better by moving and acting in concert : they generally 
 become worse. And the line, which St. Paul, by quoting it 
 from one of the ancient heathen poets, has made sacred, 
 should ever be borne in mind, especially by those whose char- 
 acters are yet unformed: ''Evil communications corrupt 
 good manners." Indeed, so strong are the imitative propen- 
 sities of our nature, which, though diminished, are by no 
 means destroyed by advancing age, and so many and so 
 subtle are the sympathies which tend to assimilate the mem- 
 bers of a fraternity together, that even the man whose virtues 
 have become habits could not trust himself safely in the fel- 
 
[ 15 ] 
 
 lowship of bad men for any length of time. Every good 
 man knows this; and finds the blessedness of which the 
 Psalmist speaks in not walking in the counsel of the ungodly, 
 nor standing in the way of sinners, nor sitting in the seat of 
 the scornful. 
 
 The way to escape pollution is to recoil from its touch. To 
 maintain one's individuality is indeed often a hard matter. It 
 is like standing alone in the forest when the whirlwind passes, 
 uprooting or twisting off the trees of ordinary growth — an 
 honor which belongs to the poplar only, the stubborn oak not 
 being able to withstand the shock for the reason that, as if 
 vain and self-confident, it displays too much canvass. Some 
 who now hear me were residing in this place when the hur- 
 ricane swept through the till then unbroken forest north-east 
 of town. Not being then in the country, I can only conceive 
 the scene from the monuments of it which the tempest could 
 not overturn, and which, some of them, still remain ; though 
 it is about thirty yeeirs since all their fellows of the forest 
 were torn away by the furious blast. Often, in passing along 
 the road, I have looked up with admiration at those sound 
 hearted, straight, upright, towering trees! Noble trees! con- 
 querers of the storm! the dastard axe might have spared you! 
 But, though it dared not cut you through^ it has basely cut 
 off your sustenance from mother-earth, by girdling you 
 round ; yet still ye stand there in solitary grandeur, emblems, 
 methinks, of the truly great man, who not merely holds fast 
 his integrity when the storm of adversity, having swept away 
 his friends and companions from his side, spends its utmost 
 fury upon him alone, but stands erect after the keen edge of 
 treachery has caused his spreading honors to wither, calmly 
 waiting the hour, which, sooner or later, comes to level all 
 that the earth sustains. But here the emblem fails. For 
 Christianity assures the good man — or, if you prefer the ex- 
 
[ 16 ] 
 
 pression, the great man — for they are the same — in the 
 hopes of a contmued existence, in which what we call death 
 is but a change, a stage in his journey upward — a lifting of 
 the vail which now hides from our view — glories — glories 
 not utterable in human language. 
 
 In this remark I do not wander from my subject. It con- 
 ducts me to the very heart of it. For it is Christianity, more 
 than any thing else, more than all things else, which gives to 
 man an individuality of character. If Christianity were a 
 Fiction, I would say it was the most cunningly devised of all 
 fictions. Nothing could enter into the imagination of a Ho- 
 mer, a Scott, or a Shakspeare, so powerful to move the soul 
 in all its depths. By showing to man his nature, as a ration- 
 al and immortal being ; by setting clearly before him his rela- 
 tions to The Creator, on whom he depends, and to whom he 
 is accountable ; by informing him of the grand fact of his 
 Redemption by Jesus Christ, what it implies, and what is its 
 immediate result, that, namely, of putting him upon his trial 
 under a new dispensation of grace ; and thus operating at 
 once upon his hopes, fears, and affections ; in these and many 
 other ways, which need not here be mentioned, it Jinds man 
 amidst the throng of his companions, and arrests him, with a 
 strong, but friendly hand, takes him aside from the crowd, and 
 from the noise and bustle of life, and shows him his Worthy 
 and his Responsibility^ as an Individual Here is a mighty 
 change ; a change, may I not say, from zero to a positive 
 quantity. For what is a man without a sense of his worth 
 and responsibihty? A nothing; morally a nothing. You 
 may put him, like a nought, in connexion with one or more 
 integers, and then their value will be increased tenfold : but 
 by varying the connexion it may be diminished in the same 
 proportion. " Worth makes the man, and want of it, the 
 fellow :" and, in the mustering and arrangements of human 
 
[ 17 ] 
 
 life, it may happen, that the " fellow " may so stand in 
 reference to the "men" as to reduce their social value, in 
 the way of decimals, to a very small fraction. 
 
 Look where you will through nature, and the ranks of men, 
 and you will find that all the realities are individuals. This 
 assembly now before me is nothing in itself. When the 
 occasion shall have passed, and the individuals, which col- 
 lectively compose it, shall have left the hall, and gone their 
 ways, where will the assembly be? Nowhere. It will have 
 no existence. What gives it its existence now? Not any 
 mind that is in it : nothing but the accordance of the several 
 minds of the individuals in one small point : differing in almost 
 all things else, they agree in remaining together till the ex- 
 ercises are over. Hence the assembly. 
 
 Now, I say, that the faith of the Christian concerns him 
 most as an individual, and tends, if I may so say, to make of 
 him more of an individual than he was before, or than he 
 ever could be without it. I speak with reference to worldly 
 relations. What is it to him who has faith in Christ, what 
 the world thinks, or says, or does? The spring and source of 
 his interests and pohcy are not in the world, but in the things 
 which are above. A light emanating from the cross, or, to 
 speak more properly, from the vacated tomb of Him who ex- 
 pired upon the cross, and casting its rays upwards along the 
 path of life, takes his eye; — why should he walk by the light 
 of men's fires, and the sparks which they have kindled? 
 There is one Master of whom he learns ; one Leader whose 
 voice he knows and follows ; one Lord whom he serves, to 
 whose hands he has confided himself, and who, he doubts not, 
 is both faithful to the trust, and able to keep it safe "until 
 that day;" to whom else should he go? 
 
 But since the faith of which I am speaking " cometh by 
 hearing," let me not be understood as intimating that he who 
 3 
 
[ 18 ] 
 
 has it, holds it apart by himself, as if it were excogitated by 
 his own individual reason, or given personally to himself by 
 immediate revelation. The first of these notions is absurd, 
 and contrary to the very nature of the christian faith ; the 
 second is a most pernicious fancy, fruitful of impostures. 
 The '-word of faith," as St. Paul calls it, was preached by 
 those who were " sent,'''' commissioned to preach it. It was 
 a creative word. It made the church, which is the mother of 
 true believers ; and of which no individual believer seeks to 
 be independent. Yet the church member remains an indi- 
 vidual still : and the church can not beheve for him ; nor per- 
 form any of his other personal duties ; nor give him a dispen- 
 sation from the obligation of performing them, any more 
 than it can die for him, or be answerable for him at the bar 
 of his Final Judge. 
 
 Whatever be the relations which place an individual in con- 
 nexion with others, wdiether it be those of the family, those 
 of the state, those of the church, those of the neighborhood, 
 those of the school, or those of that unorganized society, 
 which, existing under cover of the State, is regulated by the 
 law of public sentiment alone, in matters, which, however 
 important they may be as it respects decency, good order, 
 and the enjoyments of social life, cannot be reached by any 
 other law, — in all these relations, it is important practically 
 to keep in view the distinction between approbation and tol- 
 eration. This is a distinction so obviously dictated by the 
 rule, founded on the necessary diversities of character and 
 opinion in the world, which requires of every one to concede 
 to others the liberty which he claims for himself, that one 
 would think it could not be overlooked so frequently as it is. 
 Whenever it is altogether neglected in any community, there 
 ensues such a scene of confusion and strife, so much jealousy 
 and suspicion, so much impertinence and intermeddling, so 
 
[ 19 ] 
 
 many jars and bickerings, that one who loves peace, rather 
 than submit to so much annoyance, would prefer to seclude 
 himself entirely from the world, and take up his residence in 
 the cell of the hermit. But as this would not be right, were 
 it even practicable, it becomes his duty as clearly as it is his 
 interest, to tolerate^ in his relations with others, some things 
 which he does not approve. How much, or how little, must 
 depend on the nature of those relations. From himself as 
 the centre — that I may express the idea the more briefly, let 
 me. represent it in terms borrowed from geometry — let there 
 be drawn a succession of concentric circles, each successive 
 circle being described by the sweep of a radius longer than 
 that of the preceding, till the last and widest shall inclose 
 the whole human family. Let there be also, as in the solar 
 system, elliptical orbits in the scheme, such as those in which 
 the comets move. Such a scheme may well represent the 
 relations in which man as an individual is more or less closely 
 connected with others ; the circles representing those w^hich 
 are more natural, permanent and useful, such as those of the 
 family, those of the church, those of the state, those of friend- 
 ship, those of local vicinage, and the like ; and the ellipses, 
 those which depend more upon choice ; such as those of the 
 Sons of Temperance, the Odd Fellows, Free Masons, and 
 other fraternities without number, which diversify the firma- 
 ment of social life. Now, it is nianifest that, in reference to 
 the persons, their opinions and conduct, who are considered 
 as included within these several circles, the things to be tole- 
 rated, the points of difference between them and the individu- 
 al, are more or less numerous, according as the radius vector 
 which sweeps the area of the circle in which they stand 
 shall be longer or shorter. The individual is a unit, a point : 
 the wrong that there is in himself he ought not to tolerate. 
 Let him give no quarters within himself to the evil which he 
 
[ 20 ] 
 
 condemns. But when he comes out of the sphere of his per- 
 sonal responsibilities, the first woman that he meets — for it 
 is always a woman — he must 
 
 " Be to her faults a little blind ; 
 " Be to her virtues very kind ; 
 "Let all her ways be unconfined" — 
 
 or, if that would be a little too tolerant, he must — do the best 
 
 he can in the case; — still, he is bound to be, to some extent, 
 
 tolerant. To a friend he should be still more so ; to a neighbor 
 
 more so than to a friend; and to a fellow citizen more so than 
 
 to a neighbor ; and to one of another State, than to one of his 
 
 own State ; and to a foreigner more than to a fellow citizen ; 
 
 and so on in all analogous cases. Now, if an individual 
 
 should yield to any one in the attempt, or to the whole world, 
 
 should the whole world combine in the attempt, to cause him 
 
 to do any thing which in his conscience he condemns, he 
 
 would degrade himself from his state of individuality, into 
 
 the condition of an appendage, a tool, a slave. The conduct of 
 
 Jenny Lind, in such a case, shows her not to be a "vox et pre- 
 
 terea nihil," but as strong and as noble in mind as she is sweet 
 
 and captivating in song. The King of Sweden had desired her 
 
 to sing in a concert, which was to be performed at his palace 
 
 on Sunday. He even visited her in person with his request. It 
 
 was in vain. As her sovereign he changed the request into a 
 
 command. Still it was in vain. Her reply was respectful, 
 
 and at the same time sublimely just and noble: "There is a 
 
 higher King, Sire, to whom I owe my first allegiance." It is 
 
 to the spirit which prompted the heroic songstress to speak 
 
 thus to the King of Sweden, that the world is indebted for 
 
 whatever of civil and religious liberty is to be found any 
 
 where among its inhabitants. The truth of this assertion 
 
 will not be doubted by any one who has read history with an 
 
 eye to the laws by which human nature is governed. It is a 
 
 momentous truth. Never let it be forgotten by the lover of 
 
[ 21 ] 
 
 his country and of the rights of man, that allegiance to the 
 Supreme Ruler of the Universe, acknowledged and felt in 
 the hearts of the individuals composing a nation, is the spring 
 of that nation's liberty, and of that happiness and prosperity, 
 and national greatness, which are its fruits. Without a sense 
 of personal worth and individual responsibility, as we have 
 before intimated, no man is prepared to act his part either as 
 a citizen, or as a member of society. But without faith in 
 God, what is his worth, or what is the estimate in which he 
 holds his fellow. He is a reasoning animal, mortal as other 
 animals : and to take his life is a matter of little moment. It 
 is only diverting a few ounces of red fluid out of their natu- 
 ral current — which must soon become stagnant at any rate. 
 And without faith in the moral government of God, which 
 looks into the hidden man of the heart, takes cognizance of 
 the overt acts which the darkness may conceal, or accompli- 
 ces may cover from the scrutiny of human law, and which 
 carries the thoughts forward to a future reckoning, in which 
 there will be no respect of persons, — without this, where is 
 the sense of individual responsibihty ? What is there to 
 nourish it and make it strong? Honor? A love of distinc- 
 tion? This is a sentiment of great potency, I admit; and it 
 has done great things. But not always on the side of liberty. 
 Too often on the other side. Like the Argyraspides, honored 
 by Alexander the Great, who, in the heat of an engagement, 
 deserted the standard of Eumenes, their general, and joining 
 the other side turned the day against him, it is open to bribery 
 and corruption, and has, indeed, no very acute discernment 
 in moral qualities. In monarchy, the king is the fountain of 
 honor : and we know that in Great Britain distinction has 
 frequently by the monarch been worthily bestowed. How 
 often unworthily, I need not say : for it is nothing to us. 
 Here the people are the fountain of honor, and distinctions 
 
[ 22 ] 
 
 flow from their favor. I rejoice that it is so. Long may it 
 continue so to be. All I mean to sa}^ is, that honor, as a pre- 
 vailing- public sentiment, is capable of yielding neither sup- 
 port nor security to liberty, which, properly understood, is 
 only another name for the public good, any longer than the 
 people remain such as to be able to distinguish sohd merit 
 from empty pretension, a thing which sounds the loudest pre- 
 cisely for the reason that it is empty. And this brings us 
 back to the individual again. For the character of the people 
 in the aggregate, is made up of the characters of the indi- 
 viduals, counted one by one. 
 
 But here, leaving unfinished the thought which I had in- 
 tended to present more fully in the progress of this discourse 
 than I find I have been able to do, I must hasten to a close. 
 
 There are now, as there always have been in the world, 
 two sorts of men that are very distinguishable from each 
 other. One is the self-made man ; the other is the people- 
 made man. The first is apt to be a strong man, but rough, 
 conceited, self-willed, head-strong, hard to get along with, 
 and, in short, an egoist : and yet it is possible to have all the 
 other of these properties without the first, — to be a very 
 weak man, and yet an egoist. But such never live long in 
 the public eye, and may be left out of the account. The 
 second sort are weak, but plausible, smooth, complaisant, 
 pliant to the will of others, as having none of their own. 
 These men are not social, but rather gregarious. They may 
 be intensely selfish ; hunting their prey in companies like the 
 wolf 
 
 But is human nature capable of no better character than 
 either of these? I cannot allow myself to think so meanly of 
 it. Let me rather think of it as ol that wonderful element 
 which performs so many useful ofiices in the grand economy 
 of nature — water. Water is made up of drops, kindred. 
 
[ 23 ] 
 
 indeed, but separate, and capable of the most free and easy 
 motion among themselves ; and pure no longer than such mo- 
 tion is allowed. See them rolling in the wide, deep, ocean; — 
 see them rising in vapor, and diffusing themselves in clouds 
 through the sky; — see them careering on the wings of the 
 winds; — congregating over the mountain tops; — descending 
 in copious showers; — dancing in rivulets down the slopes of 
 the hills; — dripping from the rocks; — flashing in the cas- 
 cade; — sporting through the gay meadows, and coming to- 
 gether in larger streams ; uniting their force to turn the use- 
 ful wheel, and to buoy up and bear along the heavy freighted 
 vessel ; till they return from their circuit to their ocean-home. 
 Were the waters endowed with hfe, this is the kind of life 
 they would choose — free, yet not lawless; individual, yet con- 
 genial : and therefore happy. Yes, happ)^ Hear ye not the 
 joyous music of the waters, singing their song of ever-vary- 
 ing notes, as they travel merrily on in their constant journey 
 through sea, and air, and land ? 
 
 But see them in another and very different state, lying sul- 
 len and silent, consolidated by the binding frost of winter, — 
 fit emblem of that power, whether exerted by a single despot 
 or by a pa,rty, to which we give the name of tyranny — con- 
 gealed into aflat, even and treacherous plain, on which every 
 filthy sewer and gutter may discharge its reeking contents ; 
 and every vile beast may insultingly tread; — there it remains, 
 inert, passive, and motionless, till broken up by the flood ; then 
 the huge mass drives on, crashing and demolishing in its re- 
 sistless course, factory and mill house and bridge, and what- 
 ever useful structure it may impinge against. 
 
 Were there none but the two sorts of characters, just now 
 mentioned, in the world, or to be in the world, there could 
 be no hope for mankind in their social state : it must always 
 
[ 24 ] 
 
 be either frozen into a solid mass, or broken up and driving 
 on in the angry, headlong flood of revolution. 
 
 But there are other characters beside these two; men 
 vs^ho — to keep up our figure of the waters — have in them 
 and diffuse around them enough of the vital warmth of high 
 moral and religious principle, to keep the mass of society 
 from congelation, men in whose souls dwell the heaven-born 
 triad. Faith, Hope and Charity, honest men and true ; true to 
 themselves, and true to their country, as being in the first 
 place, true to their God. These men are, in the true sense of 
 the term, conservative — a sense which the mere pohtician 
 cannot understand ; they are the salt of the earth, and the real 
 conservatives of the State; and though they be rarely found 
 in office, as indeed they do not usually aspire after it, yet, in 
 their quiet and peaceable ways of hfe, they do more to promote 
 the real welfare of the nation, I mean the happiness of the 
 citizens in the aggregate, than all the public functionaries by 
 their official acts. May I not call them the God-made men? 
 
 Young Gentlemen : by wisely considering your individual 
 characters, by knowing yourselves, and of what you are ca- 
 pable, you may be able to judge, with some degree of cer- 
 tainty, to what course of life you are called by Him in whose 
 hand are your destinies. You will naturally, henceforth, feel 
 a burden of cares and responsibilities resting upon you, from 
 which, hitherto, you have been free. Minute instructions 
 sufficient for your future guidance, I do not pretend to give. 
 I cannot. Nor can any human being. You know to whom 
 this title, "The Counsellor," belongs, and what awful words 
 they are which He spake concerning the two ways, " the nar- 
 row" and "the broad! " To Him allow me, in parting, to 
 commend you, not only for guidance, but protection. 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
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LIBRARY OF CONG 
 
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