How little can be known!This is the wise man's sigh;—how far we err!This is the good man's not unfrequent pang!Wordsworth.
How little can be known!This is the wise man's sigh;—how far we err!This is the good man's not unfrequent pang!Wordsworth.
How little can be known!This is the wise man's sigh;—how far we err!This is the good man's not unfrequent pang!Wordsworth.
There is no faculty of the mind, of which man is more proud, than ofREASON. It is this which most strikingly distinguishes him from the brute creation, to which he owes his empire over the elements, and by which he dares ever to explore the councils of the Deity. The triumphs of reason, however, have chiefly been in the fields of philosophy, and amidst the stillness of solitude, "in regions mild of calm and serene air." In the ordinary pursuits of life, her voice is drowned amidst the clamour of contending passions; and every successive generation of mankind, has to travel over the same course of inexperience and presumption, of error and misconduct, of remorse and repentance. The triumphs of reason in philosophy endure from age to age, and are not only glorious in themselves, butthe means of acquiring new conquests. Those victories, which she obtains over the passions, are confined to the lives, and written in the experience, of individuals. The truths, which it required the utmost capacity of the human intellect to develope, are now familiar to the apprehension of every school-boy: but human nature continues to be as prone to evil, as selfish and untoward, as if the divine Author of our religion had never walked on earth. There is, in this view of the subject, much that may humble the most aspiring intellect. It shows, that the greatest genius affords no exemption from the ordinary weaknesses and vices of our nature, and that the mere force of reason cannot destroy the propensities which for ever drag us down to earth.
Even in those pursuits which are purely abstract, the different degrees of intellect approximate more nearly to each other than we commonly imagine. There are certain brilliant talents which we are apt to regard with a kind of superstitious feeling, and which we suppose to be gifted with an almost intuitive knowledge. Yet, the truth is, that those qualities which most easily attract the vulgar gaze, are fallacious and superficial. The highest and most lasting rewards of fame, have been earned by slow and patient labour; while the more dazzling career of genius has often terminated in disappointment and obscurity. He who trusts to the mere force and splendour of his talents, will find that they cannot sustain his flight, and that the most brilliant inventions of the human mind fade before the realities of nature; that there is no real glory in philosophy, separate from that of truth, and no key which will unlock her treasures, save that of patient investigation. There can be no discipline, better fitted to humble the pride and silence the vanity of man, than that of the inductive philosophy; for it teaches him that the only disposition of mind, in which he can acquire substantial knowledge, is that of docility to the voice of experience; and that patience and humility are far more valuable and efficient in a philosopher, than the brightest genius. When Newton commenced the researches that conducted him to an eminence, which no other mortal has attained, it was by careful and unprejudiced observation. He suffered no previous opinion to mislead his judgment, no weak ambition to disturb his mind; but watched, with untiring patience, for the illuminations of truth. It was, probably, to this careful exclusion of prejudice and vanity, as much as to any other cause, that he owed his wonderful achievements; for they must have been attained by regular advances, by steps which the meanest understanding is capable of following.
If these remarks are correct as regards philosophical, they are more strikingly so in relation to moral truth. The fabric of philosophy is the work of ages, and its dimensions are as capacious as those of nature; but the edifice of moral truth can be perfected in the sphere of action, and during the life of every individual. Its foundation is laid by the hand of the Creator in the heart of every intelligent being, and is spoken of inScripture, as the rock on which the wise man built, and under the type of a light which has enlightened every man, of a word which is nigh us in our heart and in our mouth. This light may be darkened by superstition, distorted by prejudice, or buried beneath the cumbrous systems of a false philosophy; but can never be totally extinguished. He who would follow its illuminations, and become the votary of truth, must separate himself from these troubled elements of life. He must listen in quiet seclusion to her voice, and acquire, by humble and patient watchfulness, that habitual mastery over his mind, which is the groundwork, and the only foundation, of permanent excellence; and thus will he gradually come to know the truth as it is.
He who thinks to hear her still and small voice amidst the agitations of contending passions, will find himself deaf to its monitions. In our intercourse with the world, and our chase of its glittering phantoms, our interests and desires continually mislead us. We follow their guidance, rather than that of truth; we hurry down the stream of pleasure and business, and make our reason itself the slave of our appetites. There is something in the alternations of hope and fear, in the longings of ambition, and the first flushes of success, that engrosses and fills the mind. But when the zeal, with which we followed some object of unworthy ambition, is spent; when the violence of passion is exhausted, and satiety has succeeded to enjoyment, we sink down into the bitterness of self-reproach and remorse. We then perceive how fatally we have wandered from the path of reason, and determine, while our passions are spent and asleep, to chain them at her feet. Alas! they will awake, like the tiger from his lair, with the scent of blood in his nostrils, more furious and more powerful from every success.
These loose and general remarks may serve to illustrate the admirable economy of Providence. The truths, which it is important for us to know, are easily comprehended. Those qualities, by the possession of which the great end of our being is to be answered, are within the attainment of every rational creature. By a wonderful law of equality, the difference which appears to exist between different orders of intellect, is scarcely sensible in its effects upon the happiness and virtue of individuals. Brilliant talents, and rare accomplishments, do but expose their owner to more dangerous and subtle temptations, and too often furnish the weapon which destroys the peace of their possessor; while humbler virtues pass along, unconscious of these self-inflicted tortures. The latter pursue, from instinct and choice, that path of humble and quiet action, which the former will find, after all his wanderings, to be the only one that leads to peace, and is lighted by the pure and unwavering radiance of truth.