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to become a mutinous rabble. And it ought dian lakes or in New Zealand. Our island to be the guiding principle of all education, shores will be stretched till they cover high and low. We have not to look any half the globe. It was not so that we longer to this island only. There is an colonized America, and we are reaping abiding place now for Englishmen and now the reward of our carelessness. We Scots wherever our flag is flying. This sent America our convicts. We sent Amenarrow Britain, once our only home, has rica our Pilgrim Fathers, flinging them out become the breeding-place and nursery of as worse than felons. We said to the Irish a race which is spreading over the world. cottier, You are a burden upon the rates; Year after year we are swarming as the go find a home elsewhere. Had we offered bees swarm; and year after year, and I him a home in the enormous territories hope more and more, high-minded young that belong to us, we might have sent him men of all ranks will prefer free air and to places where he would have been no free elbow-room for mind and body to the burden but a blessing. But we bade him stool and desk of the dingy office, the ill- carelessly go where he would, and shift paid drudgery of the crowded ranks of as he could for himself; he went with a the professions, or the hopeless labor of sense of burning wrong, and he left a root our home farmsteads and workshops. of bitterness behind him. Injustice and
Education always should contemplate heedlessness have borne their proper fruits. this larger sphere, and cultivate the capa- We have raised up against us a mighty cities which will command success there. empire to be the rival, it may be the sucBritain may yet have a future before it cessful rival, of our power. grander than its past: instead of a coun- Loyalty, love of kindred, love of country standing alone, complete in itself, it try, we know not what we are doing may become the metropolis of an enor- when we trifle with feelings the most premous and coherent empire: but on this cious and beautiful that belong to uscondition only, that her children, when most beautiful, most enduring, most hard they leave her shores, shall look back upon to be obliterated-yet feelings which, her, not-like the poor Irish when they when they are obliterated, cannot change fly to America—as a stepmother who gave to neutrality and cold friendship. Amethem stones for bread, but as a mother to ricans still, in spite of themselves, speak whose care and nurture they shall owe of England as home. They tell us they their after prosperity. Whether this shall must be our brothers or our enemies, and be so, whether England has reached its which of the two they will ultimately be highest point of greatness, and will now is still uncertain. descend to a second place among the na- I beg your pardon for this digression; tions, or whether it has yet before it an- but there are subjects on which we teel other era of brighter glory, depends on sometimes compelled to speak in season ourselves, and depends more than any- and out of it. thing on the breeding which we give to To go back. our children. The boy that is kindly nur- I shall be asked whether, after all, this tured, and wisely taught and assisted to earning our living, this getting on in the make his way in life, does not forget his world, are not low objects for human befather and his mother. He is proud of his ings to set before themselves. Is not family, and jealous for the honor of the spirit more than matter? Is there no such name that he bears. If the million lads thing as pure intellectual culture ? 'Philothat swarm in our towns and villages are sophy,' says Novalis,'will bake no bread, so trained that at home or in the colo- but it gives us our souls; it gives us nies they can provide for themselves, with- Heaven; it gives us knowledge of those out passing first through a painful interval grand truths which concern us as immorof suffering, they will be loyal wherever 'tal beings.' Was it not said, " Take no they may be; good citizens at home, and thought what ye shall eat, or what ye shall still Englishmen and Scots on the Cana- drink, or wherewithal ye shall be clothed ?
Your Heavenly Father knoweth that ye to insist also on rough clothing, hard beds, have need of these things. Behold the and common food. For myself, I admire lilies of the field, they toil not, neither do that ancient rule of the Jews that every they spin. Yet Solomon in all his glory man, no matter of what grade or calling, was not arrayed like one of these.' Is this shall learn some handicraft; that the man a dream ? No, indeed! But such direc- of intellect, while, like St. Paul, he is tions as these are addressed only to a few; teaching the world, yet, like St. Paul, may and perhaps fewer still have heart to fol- be burdensome to no one. A man was low them. If you choose the counsels not considered entitled to live if he could of perfection, count the cost, and under- not keep himself from starving. Surely stand what they mean. I knew a stu- those University men who had taken hondent once from whose tongue dropped the ors, breaking stones on an Australian sublimest of sentiments; who was never road, were sorry spectacles; and still more weary of discoursing on beauty and truth sorry and disgraceful is the outery comand lofty motives; who seemed to be ing by every mail from our colonies: longing for some gulf to jump into, like 'Send us no more of what you call educathe Roman Curtius—some 'fine opening ted men; send us smiths, masons, carpenfor a young man’into which to plunge ters, day laborers; all of those will thrive, and devote himself for the benefit of man- will earn their eight, ten, or twelve shilkind. Yet he was running all the while lings a day; but your educated man is a into debt, squandering the money on idle log on our hands; he loafs in uselessness luxuries which his father was sparing out till his means are spent, he then turns of a narrow income to give him a college billiard-marker, enlists as a soldier, or education; dreaming of martyrdom, and starves.' It hurts no intellect to be able unable to sacrifice a single pleasure? to make a door or hammer a horse-shoe;
Consider to whom the words which I and if you can do either of these, you have quoted were spoken; not to all the dis- nothing to fear from fortune. “I will ciples, but to the Apostles who were work with my hands, and keep my brain about to wander over the world as mis- for myself,' said some one proudly, when sionaries.
it was proposed to him that he should High above all occupations which have make a profession of literature. Spinoza, their beginning and end in the seventy the most powerful intellectual worker that years of mortal life, stand undoubtedly Europe has produced during the last two the unproductive callings which belong to centuries, waving aside the pensions and spiritual culture. Only, let not those who legacies that were thrust upon him, chose say we will devote ourselves to truth, to to maintain himself by grinding objectwisdom, to science, to art, expect to be glasses for microscopes and telescopes. rewarded with the wages of the other If a son of mine told me that he wished professions.
to devote himself to intellectual pursuits, University education in England was I would act as I should act if he wished devoted to spiritual culture, and assumed to make an imprudent marriage. I would its present character in consequence; but, absolutely prohibit him for a time, till the as I told you before, it taught originally firmness of his purpose had been tried. It the accompanying necessary lesson of he stood the test, and showed real talent, poverty. The ancient scholar lived, dur- I would insist that he should in some way ing his course, upon alms—alms either make himself independent of the profits from living patrons, or founders and bene- of intellectual work for subsistence. Scholfactors. But the scale of his allowance ars and philosophers were originally provided for no indulgences; either he clergymen. Nowadays a great many
a learnt something besides his Latin, or he people whose tendencies lie in the clerilearnt to endure hardship. And if a Uni- cal direction yet for various reasons shrink versity persists in teaching nothing but from the obligations which the office imwhat it calls the humanities, it is bound poses. They take, therefore, to litera
ture, and attempt and expect to make a ly greasitdi man has to create the taste with profession of it.
wło nich he is to be enjoyed. There are Now, without taking a transcendentabú splendid exceptions of merit eagerly review of the matter, literature happerxis to cognized and early rewarded—our honbe the only occupation in which she wa- ored English Laureate for instance, Alges are not in proportion to the goodness fred. Tennyson, or your own countryman of the work done. It is not that they Thomas Carlyle. Yet even Tennyson are generally small, but the adjustment waited through ten years of depreciation of them is awry. It is true that in all call- before poems which are now on every ings nothing great will be produced if the one's lips passed into a second edition. first object be what you can make by Carlyle, whose transcendent powers were them. To do what you do well should welcomed in their infancy by Goethe, who be the first thing, the wages the second; long years ago was recognized by statesbut except in the instances of which I am men and thinkers. in both hemispheres as speaking, the rewards of a man are in pro- the most remarkable of living men; yet, portion to his skill and industry. The if success be measured by what has been best carpenter receives the highest pay. paid him for his services, stands far below The better he works, the better for his your Belgravian novelist. A hundred prospects. The best lawyer, the best doc- years hence, perhaps, people at large will tor commands most practice and makes begin to understand how vast a man has the largest fortune. But with literature, been among them. a different element is introduced into the If you
make literature a trade to live problem. The present rule on which by, you will be tempted always to take authors are paid is by the page and the your talents to the most profitable market; sheet; the more words the more pay. It and the most profitable market will be no ought to be exactly the reverse. Great assurance to you that you are making a poetry, great philosophy, great scientific noble or even a worthy use of them. discovery, every intellectual production Better a thousand times, if your object which has genius, work, and permanence is to advance your position in life, that in it, is the fruit of long thought and pa- you should choose some other calling of tient and painful elaboration. Work of which making money is a legitimate aim, this kind, done hastily, would be better and where your success will vary as the not done at all. When completed, it will goodness of your work; better for yourbe small in bulk; it will address itself for selves, for your consciences, for your own a long time to the few and not to the souls, as we used to say, and for the many. The reward for it will not be world you live in. measurable, and not obtainable in money Therefore, I say, if any of you choose
Ι except after many generations, when the this mode of spending your existence, brain out of which it was spun has long re- choose it deliberately, with a full knowturned to its dust. Only by accident is a ledge of what you are doing. Reconcile work of genius immediately popular, in yourselves to the condition of the old the sense of being widely bought. No scholars. Make up your minds to be collected edition of Shakespeare's plays poor: care only for what is true and was demanded in Shakespeare's life. Mil- right and good. On those conditions ton received five pounds for • Paradise you may add something real to the intelLost.' The distilled essence of the thought lectual stock of mankind, and mankind in of Bishop Butler, the greatest prelate that return may perhaps give you bread the English Church ever produced, fills a enough to live upon, though bread exmoderate-sized octavo volume; Spinoza's tremely thinly spread with butter. works, including his surviving letters, fill I have detained you long, but I cannot but three; and though they have revolu- close without a few more general words. tionized the philosophy of Europe, have We live in times of change-political no attractions for the multitude. A real- change, intellectual change, change of all
are our own.
kinds. You whose minds are'l active, upon it, leads to no healthy conclusions, especially such of you as give yourselve’es No one can thrive upon denials: positive much to speculation, will be drawn in- *vtruth of some kind is essential as food evitably into profoundly interesting yet bouh for mind and character. Depend perplexing questions, of which our fa- upon nit, that in all long-established practhers and grandfathers knew nothing. tices or spiritual formulas there has been Practical men engaged in business take some living truth; and if you have not formulas for granted. They cannot be discovered and learnt to respect it, you for ever running to first principles. They do not yet understand the questions hate to see established opinions disturb- which you are in a hurry to solve. And ed. Opinions, however, will and must again, intellectually impatient people be disturbed from time to time. There should remember the rules of social couris no help for it. The minds of ardent tesy, which forbid us in private to say and clever students are particularly apt things, however true, which can give to move fast in these directions; and pain to others. These rules forbid us thus when they go out into the world, equally in public to obtrude opinions they find themselves exposed to one of which offend those who do not share two temptations, according to their tem- them. Our thoughts and our conduct perament: either to lend themselves to
We may say justly to any what is popular and plausible, to conceal one, You shall not make me profess to their real convictions, to take up with think true what I believe to be false; you what we call in England humbug, to shall not make me do what I do not think humbug others, or perhaps, to keep mat- just: but there our natural liberty ends. ters still smoother, to humbug them- Others have as good a right to their opiselves; or else to quarrel violently with nion as we have to ours. To any one things which they imagine to be passing who holds what are called advanced away, and which they consider should be views on 'serious subjects, I recommend quick in doing it, as having no basis in a patient reticence and the reflection truth. A young man of ability, nowa- that, after all, he may possibly be wrong. days, is extremely likely to be tempted Whether we are Radicals or Conservainto one or other of these lines. The tives, we require to be often reminded first is the more common on my side of that truth or falsehood, justice and injusthe Tweed; the harsher and more tho- tice, are no creatures of our own belief. roughgoing, perhaps, on yours. Things We cannot make true things false, or false are changing, and have to change, but things true, by choosing to think them they change very slowly. The estab- so. We cannot vote right into wrong or lished authorities are in possession of the wrong into right. The eternal truths and field, and are naturally desirous to keep rights of things exist, fortunately, indeit. And there is no kind of service which pendent of our thoughts or wishes, fixed they more eagerly reward than the sup- as mathematics, inherent in the nature port of clever fellows who have dipped of man and the world. They are no over the edge of latitudinarianism, who more to be trified with than gravitation. profess to have sounded the disturbing If we discover and obey them, it is well currents of the intellectual-seas, and dis- with us; but that is all we can do. You covered that they are accidental or un- can no more make a social regulation important.
work well which is not just than you can On the other hand, men who cannot make water run uphill. away with this kind of thing are likely to I tell you therefore, who take up with be exasperated into unwise demonstra- plausibilities, not to trust your weight tiveness, to become radicals in politics too far upon them, and not to condemn and radicals in thought. Their private others for having misgivings which at disapprobation bursts into open enmity; the bottom of your own minds, if you and this road too, if they continue long look so deep, you will find that you share yourselves with them. You, who believe est with yourselves, whatever the tempthat you have hold of newer and wider tation; say nothing to others that you truths, show it, as you may and must do not think, and play no tricks with show it, unless you are misled by your your own minds. own dreams, in leading wider, simpler, Of all the evil spirits abroad at this and nobler lives. Assert your own free-hour in the world, humbug is the most dom if you will, but assert it modestly dangerous. and quietly; respecting others as you This above all. To your own selves be true, wish to be respected yourselves. Only And it will follow, as the night the day, and especially I would say this: be hon- You cannot then be false to any man.
MID-DAY IN SUMMER.
scene, I say, till surprised into a smile, AN OLD RELIGIOUS HOUSE.
or, it may be, into a tear.
This mansion, as may be inferred from
its name, was monastic; or, as Crashaw
says, “An old Religious House.” The And all but he departed.
oldest part dated from the time of king O TIE merry days at Compton Friars! Edward the Fourth, when it had been At that time between daylight and dark, a lesser monastery of Cistercian monks; called “blind man's holiday," when peo- but later additions, made at widely differple sit round the fire before candles are ent times, rendered it what I knew it—a lighted, chatting or thinking of old times, good, substantial, and very quaint old I often recall memories of the dear family family house. that lived once in that old country house. I seem to see it now, as I first saw it, I see its gray moss-grown walls, its heavy on a fine October evening. There had roofs, its many gables, its glittering vane, been a school girl friendship between my its ancient sun-dial, its tall, dark, weird mother and Mrs. Hartlepool, though their pines, its crooked cherry-trees and appl - marriages placed them in spheres widely trees-the old place seems steeped in removed. They saw nothing of each quiet, till the silence is broken perhaps other for many years, nor did they often by the chattering of jays, the caw of a exchange letters. But Mrs. Hartlepool rook, or the sweet, sudden laugh of a was kindness itself; and when she heard lovely little boy running out of the house I was drooping a little, she invited me and brightening the whole scene with for a month to Compton Friars. I need joy and life. I sit and think on this not say how delighted I was—I had never