of love and hatred, of kindred and friendship, of benevolence and misanthropy, of robbery and mar* der, and of the wholesale massacre of thousands of human beings which are recorded in the page of history? We absolutely know nothing of the lives and actions of others but through the medium of material impulse. And, if you take away matter, the bodies of our fellow*men, does it not follow by irresistible consequence that all knowledge of their minds is taken away also? Am not I therefore (liie person engaged in reading the present Essay) the only being in existence, an entire universe to my- self?"
Certainly this is a very different conclusion from any that Berkeley ever contemplated. In the very title of the Treatise in which his notions on thi^ subject are unfolded, he professes his purpose to be to remove ^^ the grounds of scepticism, atheism and irreligion.*' Berkeley was a sincere Christian, and a man of the most ingenuous dispositions. Pope, in the Epilogue to his Satires, does not hesitate to ascribe to him " every virtue under h^ven," He was for twenty years a prelate of the Protestant church. And, though his personal sentiments were in the highest degree philanthropical and amiable, yet, in his most diffusive production, entitled The Minute Philosopher, he treats " those who are called Free Thinkers ' with a scorn and disdain, scarcely to be reconciled with the spirit of Christian meekness.
XXll.] OF THE MATERIAL UNIVEHSS. 449 There are examples however^ especially ia the fields of controversy, where an adventurous specu•^ latist has been known to lay down premises and principles, from which inferences might be fairly deduced, incompatible with the opinions entertained by him who delivered them^. It may therefore be no unprofitable research to enquire how fiu* the creed of the non-existence of matter is to be re^ garded as in truth and reality countenancing the inference which has just been recited.
The persons then, who refine with Berkeley upon the system of things so far, as to deny that there is any such thing as matter in the sense in which it is understood by the writers on natural philosophy, proceed on the ground of afHrming that we have no reason to believe that the causes of our sensa* tions have an express resemblance to the sensations themselves^. That which gives us a sensation of colour is not itself coloured: and the same may be affirmed of the sensations of hot and cold, of sweet and bitter, and of odours o£Pensive"or otherwise^ The immaterialist proceeds to say, that what we call matter has been shewn to be so exceedingly porous, that, for any thing we know, all the solid particles in the universe might be contained in a nutshell, that there is no such thing in the external world as actual contact, and that no two particles of matter were ever so near to each other, but that they might be brought nearer, if a sufficient force 444 OF TBK MATERIAL UNIVKE8B;i [ESSAY could be applied for that purpose. From these premises it seems to follow with sufficient evidence^ that the causes of our sensations, so far as the ma- terial universe is concemed/bear no express resem- blance to the sensations themselves.
How then does the question stand with relation to mind } Are Aose persons who den j the existence of matter, reduced, if they would be consistent in tbeir reasonings, to deny, each man fOr himself, that he has any proper evidence of the existtoce of other minds than his own?
c He dekiies, while he has the sensation of colour, that there exists colbur out of himself, unless in thinking and percipient beings constituted in a man- ner similar to that in which he is edfistituteid.'^ And the same of the siensaiibns 6t hot tod cold, sweet and bitter, and odours offensive or otherwise. He affirms, while he has the sensittion of len^h^ breadth and thickness, that there h no continuous sub- stance out of hrmself, possessing the attributes of length, breadth and thickness in toy way similar to the sensation of which he is conscious. He pro- fesses therefore that he hks no evidence, arising from his observation of what we call matter, of the actual existence of a material world. He lookis into himself, and all he finds is sensation; but sensation cannot be a property of inert maiter. There is therefore no assignable toalogy between the causes of his sensations, whatever they may be, and the sensations themselves; and the material world, such XXII.] OF THE MATERIAL UNIVBK8C. 44fi as we apprehend it, is the mere creature of his own xnind. >. * Let us next consider how this question stands as to the conceptions he entertains respecting the minds of other men. That which gives him the sensation of colour, is not any thing coloured out of himself; and that which gives him the sensation of lengthy breadth and thickness, is not any thing long, broad and thick in a manner corresponding with the impression he receives. There is nothing in the nature of a parallel, a type and its archetype, between that which is without him and that which is within, the impresser and the impression. This is the point suppqs/ed to be established by Locke and Newton, and by those who hajve followed the reasonings of these philosophers into their remotest consequences.
But the case is far otberit^ise in the impressions we receive respecting the minds of other men.. In colour it has been, proved by. these authors that there is no express correspondence and analogy between the c^use of the pensation and the sensar lion. They are not part and counterpart. But in mind there is a precis resemblance and analogy between the conceptions we are led to entertain respecting other men, and what we know of our« selves. I and my associate, or fellow-man, are like two instruments of music constructed upon the same model. We have each, of us, so to speak, the three great divisions of sound, base, tenor and treble* 446 or THE MATERIAL UNIVERSE. [esSAT We have each the same number of keys^ capable of being struck^ consecutively or with alternations, at the will of the master. We can utter the same Bound or series of sounds, or sounds of a different character, but which respond to each other. My neighbour therefore being of the same nature as myself, what passes within me may he regarded as amounting to a commanding evidence that he is a real being, having a proper and independent existence. There is further something still more impressive and irresistible in the notices I receive respecting the minds of. other men. The sceptics whose rea- sonings I am here taking into consideration, admit, each man for himself, the reality of his own ex- istence. There is such a thing therefore as human nature; for he is a specimen of it. Now diie idea of human nature, or of man, is a very complex thing. He is in the first place the subject of sen- sible impressions, however these impression3 are communicated to him. He has the faculties of thinking and feeling. He is subject to the law of the association of ideas, or, in other words, any one idea existing in his mind has a tendency to call up the ideas of other things which have been connected with it in his first experience. He has, be it delu- sive or otherwise, the sense of liberty of action.
But we will go still further into detail as to the » nature of man. Our lives are carried forward by the intervention of what we call meat, drink and sleep. We are liable to th6 accidents of health XXII.] OF THE MATERIAL UNIV£RS£; 447 and sickness. We are alternately the recipients of joy and sorrow, of cheerfulness and melancholy « Our passions are excited by similar means, whether of love or hatred, complacency or indignation, sym- pathy or resentment. I could fill many pages with a description of the properties or accidents, which belong to man as such, or to which he is Uable* Now with all these each man is acquainted in the sphere of his inward experience, whether he is a sin- gle being standing by himself, or is an individual belonging to a numerous species.
Observe then the difference between my acquaint- ance with the phenomena of the material universe, and with the individuals of my own species. The former say nothing to me; they are a series of events and no more; I cannot penetrate into their causes; that which gives rise to my sensations, may or may not be similar to the sensations themselves. The follower of Berkeley or Newton has satisfied himself in the negative.
But the case is very different in my intercourse with my fellow-men. Agreeably to the statement already made I know the reality of human nature; for I feel the particulars that constitute it within myself. The impressions I receive from that inter-i course say something to me; for they talk to me of beings lik« myself. My own existence becomes multiplied in infimtum. Of the possibility of mat^ ter I know nothing; but with the possibility of mind I am acquainted; for I am myself an example^ 448 OF THE MATJLRIAL UNIVERSE. [esSAT I am amazed at the consistency and systematic suc- cession of the phenomena of the material universe; though I cannot penetrate the veil which presents itself to my grosser sense, nor see effects in their causes. But I can see, in other words, I have the most cogent reasons to believe in, the causes of the phenomena that occur in my apparent intercourse with my fellow-men. What solution so natural, as that they are produced by beings like myself, the duplicates, with certain variations, of what I feel within me?
The belief in the reality of matter explains no- thing. Supposing it to exist, if Newton is right, no particle of extraneous matter ever touched the matter of my body; and therefore it is not just to regard it as the cause of my sensations. It would amount to no more than two systems going on at the same time by a preestablished harmony, but to- tally independent of and disjointed from each other.
But the belief in the existence of our fellow-men explains much. It makes level before us the won- der of the method of their proceedings, and affords an obvious reason why they should be in so many respects like our own. If I dismiss from my creed the existence of inert matter, I lose nothing. T^ie phenomena, the train of antecedents and conse- quents, remain as before; and this is all that I am truly concerned with. But take away the existence of my fellow-men; and you reduce all that is, and all that I experience, to a senseless wummery.
XXII.] OF THE MATERIAL UNIVERSE. 449 ^'You take my life, taking the thing whereon I live."
Human nature, and the nature of mind, are to us a theme of endless investigation. " The proper study of mankind is man." All the subtlety of me- taphysics, or (if there be men captious and preju-> diced enough to dislike that term) the science of ourselves, depends upon it. The science of morals hangs upon the actions of men, and the effects they produce upon our brother-men, in a narrower or a wider circle. The endless, and inexpressibly in- teresting, roll of history relies for its meaning and its spirit upon the reality and substance of the sub- jects of which it treats. Poetry, and all the wonders and endless varieties that imagination creates, have this for their solution and their soul. Sympathy is the only reality of which we are susceptible; it is our heart of hearts: and, if the world had been " one entire and perfect chrysolite," without this it would have been no more than one heap of rubbish^ Observe the difference between what we know of the material world, and what of the intellectuaL The material goes on for ever according to certain laws that admit of no discrimination. They proceed upon a first principle, an impulse given them from the beginning of things. Their effects are regulated by something that we call their nature: fire burns; water suffocates; the substances around us that we call solid, depend for their effects, when put in mon tion, upon momentum and gravity. The principle 2g 2g 450 OF THE MATERIAL UNIVERSE. [ESSAY that regulates the dead universe, ^^ acts by general, not by partial laws/* When the loose mountBin trembles from on high. Shall gravitation cease» if you go by?
No: the chain of antecedents and consequents pro- ceeds in this respect for ever the same. The laws of what we call the material world continue unvaried. And, when the vast system of things was first set in motion, every thing, so far as depends on inert matter, was determined to the minutest particle, even to the end of time.
The material world, or that train of antecedents and consequents which we understand by that term, goes on for ever in a train agreeably to the impulse previously given. It is deaf and inexorable. It is unmoved by the consideration of any accidents and miseries that may result, and unalterable. But man is a source of events of a very different nature. He looks to results, and is governed by views growing out of the contemplation of them. He acts in a way diametrically opposite to the action of inert matter, and ^^ turns, and turns, and turns again,'' at the impulse of the thought that strikes him, the appetite that prompts, the passions that move, and the effects that he anticipates. It is therefore in a high degree unreasonable, to make that train of in* ferences which may satisfy us on the subject of material phenomena, a standard of what we ought to think respecting the phenomena of mind.
It is further worthy of our notice to recollect^ XXllJ OF THE MATERIAL UNIVERSE. 451 that the same reasonings which apply to our bre* thren of mankind, apply also to the brute creation. They, like ourselves, act from motives; that is, the elections they form are adopted by them for the sake of certain consequences they expect to see re- sult from them. Whatever becomes therefore of the phenomena of what we call dead matter, we are here presented with tribes of bemg, susceptible of pleasure and pain^ of hope and fear, of regard and resentment. How beautifully does this conviction vary the scene of things! What a source to us is the animal creation, of amusement, of curious ob« servations upon the impulses of inferior intellect^ of the exhaustless varieties of what we call instinct^ of the care we can exercise for their accommodation and welfare^ and of the attachment and affection we win from them in return! If I travel alone through pathless deserts, if I journey from the rising to the setting sun, with no object around me but nature's desolation^ or the sublime, the magnificent and the exuberant scenery she occasionally presents, still I have that noble animal, the horse, and my faithful dog, the companions of my toil, and with whom, when my solitude would otherwise become insuf- ferable, I can hold communion, and engage in dumb dialogues of sentiment and affection.
I have heard of a man, who, talking to his friend on the subject of these speculations, said, ^^ What then, are you so poor and pusillanimous a creature^ that you could not preserve your serenity, be pep** 2g2 452 OF THE MATERIAL UNIVERSE. [ESSAY fectly composed and content^ and hold on your way unvaried^ though you were convinced that you were the only real being in existence, and all the rest were mere phantasies and shadows? " If I had been the person to whom this speech was addressed, I should have frankly acknowledged, " I am the poor and pusillanimous creature you are disposed to regard with so much scorn."
To adopt the sententious language of the Bible, " It is not good for man to be alone." All our fa- culties and attributes bear relation to, and talk to us of, other beings like ourselves. We might in- deed eat, drink and sleep, that is, submit to those necessities which we so denominate, without think- ing of any thing beyond ourselves; for these are the demands of our nature, and we know that we cannot subsist without them. We might make use of the alternate conditions of exercise and repose.
But the life of our lives would be gone. As far as we bore in mind the creed we had adopted, of our single existence, we could neither love nor hate. Sympathy would be a solemn mockery. We could not communicate; for the being to whom our com- munication was addressed we were satisfied was a non-entity- We could not anticipate the pleasure or pain, the joy or sorrow, of another; for that other had no existence. We should be in a worse condition than Robinson Crusoe in the desolate island; for he believed in the existence of other men, and hoped and trusted that he should one day again XXII.] OF THE MATERIAL UNIVERSE. 453 enter into human society. We should be in a worse condition than Robinson Crusoe; for he at least was unannoyed in his solitude; while we are per- petually and per force intruded on, like a delirious man, by visions which we know to be unreal, but which we are denied the power to deliver ourselves from. We have no motive to any of the great and cardinal functions of human life; for there is no one in being, that we can benefit, or that we can affect. Study is nothing to us; for we have no use for it. Even science is unsatisfactory; unless we can communicate it by word or writing, can con- verse upon it, and compare notes with our neigh- bour. History is nothing; for there were no Greeks and no Romans; no freemen and no slaves; no kings and no subjects; no despots, nor victims of their tyranny; no republics, nor states immerged in brutal and ignominious servitude. Life mustb^ inevitably a burthen to us, a dreary, unvaried, mo- tiveless existence; and death must bei welcomed, as the most desirable blessing that can visit us. It is impossible indeed that we should always recollect this our, by supposition, real situation; bilt, as often as we did, it would come over us like a blight, wi- thering all the prospects of our industry, or like a scirocco, unbracing the nerves of our frame, and consigning us to the most pitiable depression.
Thus far I have allowed myself to follow the re- finements of those who profess to deny the exist- ence of the material universe. But it is satisfactory 454 OF THE MATERIAL UNIVERSE. [ESSAY to come back to that persuasion, which, from -what- ever cause it is derived, is incorporated with our very existence, and can never be shaken off by OS. Our senses are too powerfiil in their operation, for it to be possible for us to discard them, and to take as their substitute, in active life, and in the earnestness of pursuit, the deductions of our logical faculty, however well knit and irresistible we may apprehend them to be» Speculation and common sense are at war on this point; and however we may *^ think with the learned,*' and follow the abs- trusenesses of the philosopher, in the sequestered hour of our meditation, we must always act, and even feel, "with the vulgar," when we come abroad into the world* It is however no small gratification to the man of sober mind, that, from what has here been alleged, it seems to follow, that untutored mind, and the severest deductions of philosophy, agree in that most interesting of our concerns, our intercourse with our fellow-creatures. The inexorable reasoner, refining on the reports of sense, may dispose, as he pleases, of the chair, the table, and the so called material substances around him. He may include the whole solid matter of the universe in a nutshell, or less than a nutshell. But he cannot deprive me of that greatest of all consolations, the sustain- ing pillar of my existence, "the cordial drop Heaven in our cup has thrown," — ^the intercourse of my fel- low-creatures. When we read history, the subjects XXli.] OF THE MATERIAL UNIVERSE. 456 of which we read are realities; they do not "come like shadows^ so depart;'' they loved and acted in sober earnest; they sometimes perpetrated crimes; but they sometimes also achieved illustrious deeds, which angels might look down from their exalted abodes and admire. We are not deluded with mock- eries. The woman I love, and the man to whom I swear eternal friendship, are as much realities as myself. If I relieve the poor, and assist the pro- gress of genius and virtuous designs struggling with fearful discouragements, I do something upon the success of which I may safely congratulate myself. If I devote my energies to enlighten my fellow- creatures, to detect the weak places in our social institutions, to plead the cause of liberty, and to invite others to engage in noble actions and unite in effecting the most solid and unquestionable im- provements, 1 erect to my name an eternal monu- ment; or I do something better than this, — secure inestimable advantage to the latest posterity, the benefit of which they shall enjoy, long after the very name of the author shall, with a thousand other things great and small, have been swallowed up in the gulph of insatiable oblivion.
456 OF HUMAN VIRTUE. [ESSAY ESSAY XXIIL OF HUMAN VIRTUE. THE EPILOGUE.
The life of man is divided into many stages; and we shall not form a just estimate of our common natm-e, if we do not to a certain degree pass its successive periods in review, and observe it in its commencement, its progress, and its maturity.
It has been attempted to be established in ati early part of the present volume*, that all men, idiots and extraordinary cases being put out of the question, are endowed with talents, which, if rightly directed, would shew them to be apt, adroit, intelli- gent and acute, in the walk for which their organi- sation especially fitted them. We are bound there- fore, particularly in the morning of life, to consider every thing that presents itself to us in the human form, with deference and attention.
"God/* saith the Preacher, "made man upright; but he hath sought out many inventions." There is something loose and difficult of exposition in this statement; but we shall find an important truth hid beneath its obscurity.
Junius Brutus, in the play, says to his son, I like thy frame: the fingers of the Gods I see have left their mastery upon thee 3 And the majestic prints distinct appear.
XXIII.] OF HUMAN VIRTUE. 467 Such is the true description of every well-formed and healthful infant that is horn into the world.
He is placed on the threshold of existence; and an eventful journey is open before him. For the first four or five years of life indeed he has little apprehension of the scenes that await him. But a child of quick apprehension early begins to have day-dreams^ and to form imaginations of the various chances that may occur to him, and the things he shall have to do, when, according to the language of the story-books, he " goes out to seek his for- tune."
" God made man upright." Every child that is born, has within him a concealed magazine of ex- cellence. His heart beats for every thing that is lovely and good; and whatever Ls set before him of that sort in honest colours, rouses his emulation* By how many tokens does he prove himself worthy of our approbation and love — the unaffected and ingenuous sobriety with which he listens to what addresses itself to his attention, the sweetness of his smile, his hearty laugh, the clear, bell tones of his voice, his sudden and assured impulses, and his bounding step!
To his own heart he promises well of himself^ Like Lear in the play, he says, " I will do such things! — ^What they are, yet I know not." But he is assured, frank and light-spirited. He thinks of no disguise. He "wears his heart upon his sleeve." He looks in the face of his seniors with the glisten- 458 OF HUMAN VIRTU£. [ESSAY ing eye of confidence^ and expects to encounter sympathy and encouragement in return. Such is man^ as he comes from the hands of his maker* Thus prepared, he is turned into the great field of society. Here he meets with much that he had not anticipated, and with many rebuffs. He is taught that he must accommodate his temper and proceedings to the expectations and prejudices of those around him. He must be careful to give no offence. With how many lessons, not always the most salutary and ingenuous, is this maxim preg- nant! It calls on the neophyte to bear a wary eye, and to watch the first indications of disapprobation and displeasure in those among whom his lot is cast. It teaches him to suppress the genuine emo- tions of his soul. It informs him that he is not always to yield to his own impulses, but that he must ^^ stretch forth his hands to another, and be carried whither he would not.** It recommends to him falseness, and to be the thing in outward ap- pearance that he is not in his heart.
Still however he goes on. He shuts up his thoughts in his bosom; but they are not extermi- nated. On the contrary he broods over them with genial warmth; and the less they are exposed to the eye of day, the more perseveringly are they cherished. Perhaps he chooses some youthful con- fident of his imaginings: and the effect of this is, that he pours out his soul with uncontrolable co- piousness, and with the fervour of a new and un- XXIII.] OF HUMAN VIRTUE. 469 checked conceiving. It is received with answering warmth; or, if there is any deficiency in the sym- pathy of his companion, his mind is so earnest and full, that he does not perceive it. By and by, it may be, he finds that the discovery he had made of a friend, a brother of his soul, is, like so many of the visions of this world, hollow and fallacious. He grasped, as he thought, a jewel of the first water; and it turns out to be a vulgar pebble. No matter: he has gained something by the communication. He has heard from his own lips the imaginings of his mind shaped into articulate air; they grew more definite and distinct as he uttered them; they came by the very act to have more of reality, to be more tangible. He shakes off the ill-assorted companion that only encumbered him, and springs away in his race, more light of heart, and with a step more as- sured, than ever.
By and by he becomes a young man. And, what^ ever checks he may have received before, it usually happens that all his hopes and projects return to him now with recruited strength. He has no longer a master. He no longer crouches to the yoke of subjection, and is directed this way and that at the judgment of another. Liberty is at all times dear to the free-souled and ingenuous; but never so much so, as when we wear it in its full gloss and newness. He never felt before, that he was suiJuriSy that he might go whithersoever he would, without asking leave, without consulting any other director 460 OF HUMAN VIRTUE. [ESSAY than the law of his own mind. It is nearly at the same season that he arrives at the period of puberty, at the stature, and in a certain degree at the strength, which he is destined to attain. He is by general consent admitted to be at years of discretion.
Though I have put all these things together, they do not, in the course of nature, all come at the same time. It is a memorable period, when the ingenuous youth is transferred from the trammels of the schoolmaster to the residence of a college. It was at the age of seventeen that, according to the custom of Rome, the youthful citizen put on the manly gown, and was introduced into the forum. Even in college-life, there is a diflference in the pri- vileges of the mere freshman, and of the youth who has already completed the first half of his period in the university.
The season of what may be denominated the in- dependence of the individual, is certainly in no small degree critical. A human being, suddenly emanci- pated from a state of subjection, if we may not call it slavery, and transported into a state of freedom, must be expected to be guilty of some extrava- gancies and follies. But upon the whole, with a small number of exceptions, it is creditable to hu- man nature, that we take this period of our new powers and immunities with so much sobriety as we do.
The young man then, calls to mind all that he imagined at an earlier season, and that he promised XXllI.] QF HUMAN VIRTUE. 461 himself. He adds to this the new lights that he has since obtained, and the nearer and more distinct view that he has reached, of the realities of life. He recollects the long noviciate that he served to reach this period, the twenty years that he passed in ardent and palpitating expectation; and he re- solves to do something worthy of all he had vowed and had imagined. He takes a full survey of his stores and endowments; and to the latter, from his enthusiasm and his self-love, he is morally sure to do justice. He says to himself, " What I purpose to do will not be achieved to-day. No; it shall be copious, and worthy of men's suffrage and appro- bation. But I will meditate it; I will sketch a grand outline; I will essay my powers in secret, and ascertain what I may be able to effect," The youth, whose morning of life is not utterly abortive, palpitates with the desire to promote the happiness of others, and with the desire of glory.
We have an apt specimen of this in the first pe- riod of the reign of Nero. The historians, Tacitus in particular, have treated this with ioo much in- credulity. It was the passion of that eminent man to indulge in subtleties, and to find hidden meanings in cases where in reality every thing is plain. We must not regard the panegyric of Seneca, and the devotion of Lucan to the imperial stripling, as un- worthy of our attention. He was declared emperor before he had completed the eighteenth year of his age. No occasion for the exhibition of liberality.
/ 462 OF HUMAN VIRTUE. [ESSAY clemency, courtesy or kindness escaped him. He called every one by his name^ and saluted all orders of men. When the senate shewed a disposition to confer on him peculiar honours, he interposed; he said, ^^Let them be bestowed when I have deserved them^.'* Seneca affirms, that in the first part of his reign, and to the time in which the philosopher de- dicated to him his treatise Of Clemency, he had ^ shed no drop of blood ^." He adds, " If the Gods were this day to call thee to a hearing, thou couldst account to them for every man that had been in- trusted to thy rule. Not an individual has been lost from the number, either by secret practices, or by open violence. This could scarcely have been, if thy good dispositions had not been natural, but assumed. No one can long personate a character. A pretended goodness will speedily give place to the real temper; while a sincere mind, and acts prompted by the heart, will not fail to go on from one stage of excellence to another^."
The philosopher expresses himself in raptures on that celebrated phrase of Nero, fVould 1 had never learned to write! " An exclamation/* he says, " not studied, not uttered for the purpose of courting po- pularity, but bursting insuppressibly from thy lips, and indicating the vehemence of the struggle be- tween the kindness of thy disposition and the du- ties of thy office®."
*» Suetonius, Nero, cap. 10. * De Clementia, Lib. I, cap. 11. ^ De Clementia, cap. 1. • Ibid., Lib. II, cap.!.
XXIII.] OF HUMAN VIRTUE. 468 How many generous purposes^ what bright and heart-thrilling visions of beneficence and honour^ does the young man^ just starting in the race of life, conceive! There is no one in that period of existence, who has received a reasonable education, and has not in his very nonage been trod down in the mire of poverty and oppression, that does not say to himself, " Now is the time; and I will do something worthy to be remembered by myself and by others." Youth is. the season of generosity. He / calls over the catalogue of his endowments, his atr tainments, and his powers, and exclaims, ^^ To that which I am, my contemporaries are welcome; it shall all be expended for their service and advan- tage."
With what disdain he looks at the temptations of selfishness, effeminate indulgence, and sordid gain! He feels within himself that he was bom for better things. His elders, and those who have already been tamed down and emasculated by the corrupt commerce of the world, tell him, " All this is the rhapsody of youth, fostered by inexperience; you will soon learn to know better; in no long time you will see these things in the same light in which we see them." But he despises the sinister prognostic that is held out to him, and feels proudly conscious that the sentiments that now live in his bosom, will continue to animate him to his latest breath.
Youth is necessarily ingenuous in its thoughts/ / 464 or HUMAN VIRTUE. [essay and sanguine in its anticipations of the future. But the predictions of the seniors I have quoted^ are unfortunately in too many cases fulfilled. The out- line of the scheme of civil society is in a high de- gree hostile to the growth and maturity of human virtue. Its unavoidable operation, except in those rare cases where positive institutions have arrested its tendency, has been to divide a great portion of its members^ especially in large and powerful states, into those who are plentifully supplied with the means of luxury and indulgence, and those who are condemned to suffer the rigours of indigence.