I think very differently from most men of the time we have to pass,
and the business we have to do, in this world. I think we have more of
one, and less of the other, than is commonly supposed. Our want of
time, and the shortness of human life, are some of the principal
commonplace complaints which we prefer against the established order
of things; they are the grumblings of the vulgar, and the pathetic
lamentations of the philosopher; but they are impertinent and impious
in both. The man of business despises the man of pleasure for
squandering his time away; the man of pleasure pities or laughs at the
man of business for the same thing; and yet both concur superciliously
and absurdly to find fault with the Supreme Being for having given
them so little time. The philosopher, who misspends it very often as
much as the others, joins in the same cry, and authorizes this
impiety. Theophrastus thought it extremely hard to die at ninety, and
to go out of the world when he had just learned how to live in it. His
master Aristotle found fault with nature for treating man in this
respect worse than several other animals; both very unphilosophically!
and I love Seneca the better for his quarrel with the Stagirite[6] on
this head.
We see, in so many instances, a just proportion of things, according
to their several relations to one another, that philosophy should lead
as to conclude this proportion preserved, even where we can not
discern it; instead of leading us to conclude that it is not preserved
where we do not discern it, or where we think that we see the
contrary. To conclude otherwise is shocking presumption. It is to
presume that the system of the universe would have been more wisely
contrived, if creatures of our low rank among intellectual natures had
been called to the councils of the Most High; or that the Creator
ought to mend His work by the advice of the creature. That life which
seems to our self-love so short, when we compare it with the ideas we
frame of eternity, or even with the duration of some other beings,
will appear sufficient, upon a less partial view, to all the ends of
the creation, and of a just proportion in the successive course of
generations. The term itself is long; we render it short; and the want
we complain of flows from our profusion, not from our poverty.
Let us leave the men of pleasure and of business, who are often
candid enough to own that they throw away their time, and thereby to
confess that they complain of the Supreme Being for no other reason
than this, that He has not proportioned His bounty to their
extravagance. Let us consider the scholar and philosopher, who, far
from owning that he throws any time away, reproves others for doing
it; that solemn mortal who abstains from the pleasures, and declines
the business of the world, that he may dedicate his whole time to the
search of truth and the improvement of knowledge. When such a one
complains of the shortness of human life in general, or of his
remaining share in particular, might not a man more reasonable, tho
less solemn, expostulate thus with him: "Your complaint is indeed
consistent with your practise; but you would not possibly renew your
complaint if you reviewed your practise. Tho reading makes a scholar,
yet every scholar is not a philosopher, nor every philosopher a wise
man. It cost you twenty years to devour all the volumes on one side of
your library; you came out a great critic in Latin and Greek, in the
Oriental tongues, in history and chronology; but you were not
satisfied. You confest that these were the _literæ nihil sanantes_,
and you wanted more time to acquire other knowledge. You have had this
time; you have passed twenty years more on the other side of your
library, among philosophers, rabbis, commentators, school-men, and
whole legions of modern doctors. You are extremely well versed in all
that has been written concerning the nature of God, and of the soul of
man, about matter and form, body and spirit, and space and eternal
essences, and incorporeal substances, and the rest of those profound
speculations. You are a master of the controversies that have arisen
about nature and grace, about predestination and freewill, and all the
other abstruse questions that have made so much noise in the schools,
and done so much hurt in the world. You are going on, as fast as the
infirmities you have contracted will permit, in the same course of
study; but you begin to foresee that you shall want time, and you make
grievous complaints of the shortness of human life. Give me leave now
to ask you how many thousand years God must prolong your life in order
to reconcile you to His wisdom and goodness?
"It is plain, at least highly probable, that a life as long as that of
the most aged of the patriarchs would be too short to answer your
purposes; since the researches and disputes in which you are engaged
have been already for a much longer time the objects of learned
inquiries, and remain still as imperfect and undetermined as they were
at first. But let me ask you again, and deceive neither yourself nor
me, have you, in the course of these forty years, once examined the
first principles and the fundamental facts on which all those
questions depend, with an absolute indifference of judgment, and with
a scrupulous exactness? with the same care that you have employed in
examining the various consequences drawn from them, and the heterodox
opinions about them? Have you not taken them for granted in the whole
course of your studies? Or, if you have looked now and then on the
state of the proofs brought to maintain them, have you not done it as
a mathematician looks over a demonstration formerly made--to refresh
his memory, not to satisfy any doubt? If you have thus examined, it
may appear marvelous to some that you have spent so much time in many
parts of those studies which have reduced you to this hectic condition
of so much heat and weakness. But if you have not thus examined, it
must be evident to all, nay, to yourself on the least cool reflection,
that you are still, notwithstanding all your learning, in a state of
ignorance. For knowledge can alone produce knowledge; and without such
an examination of axioms and facts, you can have none about
inferences."
In this manner one might expostulate very reasonably with many a great
scholar, many a profound philosopher, many a dogmatical casuist. And
it serves to set the complaints about want of time, and the shortness
of human life, in a very ridiculous but a true light.