"If, as the result of your learning and meditation, you chanced to
discover some important truth, not only formerly unknown, but quite
unlooked for, and even antagonistic to the opinions of the day, you
must not anticipate in your lifetime any peculiar commendation for this
discovery. You will gain no esteem, even from the wise (except perhaps
from a very few), until by frequent and varied reiteration of these
truths the ears of men have become accustomed to their sound; then
only, after a long time, the intellect begins to receive them.
"For no truth contrary to current opinion, even though demonstrable
with almost geometrical certitude, can ever, unless capable of material
proof, be suddenly established. Time, custom, and example alone are
able to give it a solid foundation. Men accustom themselves to belief,
as to everything else; indeed they generally believe from habit, and
not from any sentiment of conviction within their minds. At length
it happens that the once-questioned truth is taught to children, and
is universally accepted. People are then astonished that it was ever
unknown to them, and they ridicule their ancestors and contemporaries
for the ignorance and obstinacy they manifested in opposing it. The
greater and more important the new truths, so much the greater will
be the difficulty of procuring acceptance for them; since they will
overthrow a proportionately large number of opinions hitherto rooted
in the minds of men. For even acute and practised intellects do not
easily enter into the spirit of reasonings which demonstrate new truths
that exceed the limits of their own knowledge; especially when these
are opposed to beliefs long established within them. Descartes, in
his geometrical discoveries, was understood by but very few of his
contemporaries. It was the same with Newton. Indeed, the condition of
men pre-eminent in knowledge is somewhat similar to that of literary
men, and 'savants' who live in places innocent of learning. The latter
are not deservedly esteemed by their neighbours; the former fail to be
duly appreciated by their contemporaries. Both are often despised for
their difference in manner of life and opinions from other men, who
neither do justice to their ability nor to the writings they put forth
in proof of it.
"There is no doubt that the human race makes continual progress in
knowledge. As a body, its march is slow and measured; but it includes
certain great and remarkable minds which, having devoted themselves
to speculation about the sensible or intelligible phenomena of the
universe, and the pursuit of truths, travel, nay sometimes flash, to
their conclusions in an immeasurably short space of time. And the rapid
progress of these intellects stimulates other men, who hasten their
foot-steps so as to reach, later on, the place where these superior
beings rested. But not until the lapse of a century or more do they
attain to the knowledge possessed by an extraordinary intellect of this
kind.
"It is ordinarily believed that human knowledge owes most of its
progress to these supreme intellects, which arise from time to time,
like miracles of nature.[1] I, on the contrary, think that it owes
more to men of common powers than to those who are exceptionally
endowed. Suppose a case, in which one of the latter, having rivalled
his contemporaries in knowledge, advances independently, and takes a
lead of, say ten paces. Most other men, far from feeling disposed
to follow him, regard his progress in silence, or else ridicule it.
Meanwhile, a number of moderately clever men, partly aided perhaps by
the ideas and discoveries of the genius, but principally through their
own endeavours, conjointly advance one step. The masses unhesitatingly
follow them, being attracted by the not inordinate novelty, and also by
the number of those who are its authors. In process of time, thanks to
the exertions of these men, the tenth step is accomplished; and thus
the opinions of the genius are universally received throughout the
civilised world. But their originator, dead long ago, only acquires a
late and unseasonable reputation. This is due partly to the fact that
he is forgotten, or to the low esteem in which he was held when living;
added to which men are conscious that they do not owe their knowledge
to him, and that they are already his equals in erudition, and will
soon surpass him, if they have not done so already. They are also his
superiors, in that time has enabled them to demonstrate and affirm
truths that he only imagined, to prove his conjectures, and give better
form and order to his inventions, almost, as it were, maturing them.
Perchance, after a time, some student engaged in historical research
may justly appraise the influence of this genius, and may announce him
to his countrymen with great _Èclat_; but the fame that may ensue from
this will soon give way to renewed oblivion.
"The progress of human knowledge, like a falling weight, increases
momentarily in its speed; none the less very rarely men of a generation
change their beliefs or recognise their errors, so as to believe at one
time the opposite of what they previously believed. Each generation
prepares the way for its successor to know and believe many things
contrary to its own knowledge and belief. But most men are as little
conscious of the increasing development of their knowledge, and the
inevitable mutation of their beliefs, as they are sensible of the
perpetual motion of the earth. And a man never alters his opinions so
as to be conscious of the alteration. But were he suddenly to embrace
an opinion totally discordant with his old beliefs, he could not fail
to perceive the change. It may therefore be said, that ordinarily no
truths, except such as are determinable by the senses, will be believed
by the contemporaries of their discoverer."
[Footnote 1: It is in the order of Providence that the inventive,
generative, constitutive mind should come first; and then that the
patient and collective mind should follow, and elaborate the pregnant
queries and illumining guesses of the former,--S. T. Coleridge, _Table
Talk_, Oct. 8, 1830.]