THE PHILOSOPHY OF EXPRESSION.
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��for the hero, or the dunce for the sage. V\^e not only presume to read the char- acters of men from external marks, but when the histories of men, good or bad, debased or exalted, are recited, the imagination of the hearer creates for itself a corresponding physical consti- tution. An artist or a poet would not represent a saint and an outlaw with sim- ilarfeatures. No one ever supposed that Judas the traitor, and John the beloved disciple, had the slightest personal re- semblance. Even the name of Judas has been banished from Christian so- ciety. Sterne represents Capt. Shandy as saying to his friend, " Your son, your dear son, from whose sweet and open temper you have so much to ex- pect — your Billy, sir — would you for the world have called him Judas?" "I never knew a man," adds the author, " who was able to answer this argu- ment." We never assign similar forms and features to men of dissimilar moral and mental habits. The heroes of Homer are no where minutely de- scribed. There are occasional allu- sions to personal qualities by the ap- plication of a single descriptive epithet. Their armor, dress, words and deeds, are graphically delineated. From these data we form a distinct notion of the men, as they moved and acted. We are as strongly impressed with the marked difference in personal appear- ance between Achilles and Paris, or Nestor and 1 )iomedes, as with the cor- responding difference of character as- signed to them by the poet. Writers of fiction are keen observers of men and manners. They usually draw their pictures from life. They are not apt to mistake in assigning to ideal characters an appropriate ideal form. The mere mention of some of the fine moral portraits of Scott awakens pleas- ing emotions, like the recollection of an old friend. The slightest allusion to others will as quickly excite loathing and disgust. With the names, the ideal forms return. Every intelligent reader of poetry or fiction has in his mind's eye the characters described. If they seem worthy of his affection,
��he bestows it upon them. After Rich- ardson had published the first four vol- umes of his Clarissa, which were de- voured with the utmost eagerness by the famished crowd, it was reported that the catastrophe in the forthcoming volume would be unfortunate. The public had become so interested in his imaginary beings, that they could not bear to part with them in a tragical manner. Remonstrances were poured in upon him from all quarters. " Old Abber," says Scott, "raved about it like a profane bedlamite ; and one sentimental young lady, eager for the conversion of Lovelace, one of the novelist's heroes, implored Richardson to save his soul, as though there were a living sinner in peril, and his future destiny depended upon the author." All who have read Ivanhoe, Scott's most celebrated novel, will remember with interest the Jewess, Rebecca. Her angelic loveliness and patient be- neficence never fail to win the heart of the reader. With the utterance of her name, that beautiful form in which such heaven-born charity resided, arises before the mind's eye. Who hears the name of Waverly without recalling the raven locks, the marble brow, the pensive eye and stately form of the high-soul^d, generous Flora Maclvor, or that elegant little personage that forms so fine a contrast with Flora, the Scotch beauty of sweet sixteen, " with a profusion of hair of paly gold, and a skin like the snow of her own moun- tains?" Who that has read the "Tales of my Landlord," does not remember the round face, plump form and mod- est mien of Jennie Deans? And who does not associate with her rustic man- ners and tidy dress those homely Christ- ian virtues that so adorned her charac- ter, and have made her, though a mere creation of genius, a model for imita- tion. Compare Jenny Deans with Becky Sharpe, of Thackeray. Homely, or home-like, ought never to be a term of reproach. The word only indicates a fondness for domestic lite. Says Milton —
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