“A little learning is a dangerous thing: Drink deep, or taste not the
Pierian spring.”
This hackneyed distich is most frequently used to convey an idea
of that arrogant confidence which attends the first superficial
acquisitions in knowledge, and the characteristic diffidence of the
profound mind. Whether this is the impression intended to be conveyed
by its excellent author, it is not necessary to inquire: it evidently
involves a principle, which is illustrated by the history of every
nation, and has an important application to our own.
In tracing society through the various stages of its progress from
barbarism to civilization, we observe, almost universally, a point
intermediate between the two, where the foundations of the social
system seem to be broken up, and anarchy and confusion prevail. Among
men in a state of the greatest rudeness and ignorance, customs and
manners are comparatively permanent. Ages on ages roll away, and the
same simple institutions are handed down from father to son with the
most scrupulous care, and with scarcely a perceptible change. In this
condition of man prejudice holds universal sway. The practice, or the
‘ipse dixit’ of a superior is the foundation upon which they rest
their belief, and the rule by which they govern their actions; and in
opinions resting upon such a basis, there is no doubt or wavering. No
intricate maze of reasoning leaves a dark corner to beget distrust, but
like the insect upon a flying fragment, the contracted vision of the
savage reaches not beyond the established creed of his predecessors;
and upon that, however far it may be from reason and truth, he rests
in secure repose. But when he has obtained one glance beyond that
rude fabric, he feels the trembling of his basis, and his inquisitive
mind becomes alive to all the realities of his situation. He begins
to reason--he begins to doubt--and confidence once shaken in former
belief, scepticism becomes universal. He is thrown upon the resources
of his own rude mind; prejudice wars with passion and impressions from
the world, and reason roams, and often roams in vain, in search of
those pure principles from which spring the happiness of enlightened
communities.
In this incipient stage of knowledge, the field from which individuals
derive their impressions and opinions is contracted; and influenced
as they are by different circumstances and associations, it is not
surprising that their ideas should rarely concur. Mind clashes
with mind, and from this collision necessarily arises a popular
effervescence. But as knowledge advances, the horizon of each
individual extends farther and farther, and consequently coincides
to a greater extent with that of those around him. Hence, after this
fiery ordeal of revolution, in proportion as intelligence prevails, the
sentiments of the community harmonize, civil institutions become more
permanent, and society settles down into a peaceful, happy condition.
This is, indeed, but the brief outline of a theory; and like all other
theories, it requires great modification in its application to the
world. Man in his progress to civilization is not always influenced by
the same principles operating in the same way. In one instance, as he
breaks through the spell of prejudice--grasps the sword of reason, and
enters upon his rude analysis of mind and matter, he is directed by
some apparently fortuitous agency, at once to the elements of peace and
happiness, and advances in rapid strides from barbarism to refinement.
In another instance, in the same rude contest--the same clashing of
mental and physical energy, a nation falls exhausted in the struggle,
and sinks, if possible, to a state even more hopeless than before.
Nor is this period of revolutions confined to the incipient stage of
science in all its branches. Nations, that have apparently past this
eventful period, and settled down into the uniformity of civilized
life, are sometimes shaken to their very foundations, by the agitation
of some subject that had before escaped the trying test of reason,
and from some peculiar cause, been suffered to remain upon the rotten
foundation of prejudice and superstition. Indeed, no nation is entirely
secure from revolution until all its institutions are established upon
the basis of truth--of truth that is seen and felt by the great body of
the community.
The French revolution is, perhaps, as good an illustration of this
subject, as can be found in the annals of history. There we behold
a people not utterly buried in ignorance, but even taking the lead
in the sciences and arts, and apparently approaching the peace and
security of an enlightened state. But presently we are startled at a
horrid revolution sweeping over her. Religion and politics had not yet
undergone a strict examination. It is true, religious controversies
had been carried on, and wars, bloody and protracted, had been waged
between the Huguenots and Catholics; but they were little more
than the collision of prejudices, and the quarrels of priests and
princes. But when that doubting, ridiculing philosophy had rent the
veil of superstition, and, united with a gleam of liberty from across
the waters, had opened to the gaze of the multitude those sinks of
corruption, the people were exasperated at the wrongs which they had
before piously endured; they swept the land with unprecedented fury,
and hurled to one promiscuous ruin every monument of royalty, nobility
and priestcraft. But--alas for France! in that eventful moment no kind
genius appeared to direct the awakened mind to the fountains of truth.
Disgusted and maddened by the absurdities and impositions of the church
and state, they were driven into the dreadful abyss of infidelity, and
at last, in the recklessness of despair, they relinquished the contest,
and were ready to kiss a yoke even more galling than the former. It is
not our intention to convey the idea, that the French revolution was
in no way beneficial. This is a question for a future age to decide.
But we do intend to assert, that a knowledge of literature and science
merely, however much they may contribute to it, is not sufficient for a
nation’s security; and that when man has been roused to investigation,
unless inexperienced reason is aided in its search after truth, he is
liable to fall into the most fatal errors. This height of civilization
has been attained only by the accumulated wisdom of ages, and it is
not, therefore, to be expected that unassisted reason will arrive at
it at once. Had not the French been left to be carried headlong by the
first transports of passion, or had the pure principles of religion and
freedom been presented in such a way as to be imbibed and felt, they
might have risen to a lofty elevation, and been able to look back upon
that horrid scene of anarchy and bloodshed only as the harbinger of
liberty and peace. As it is, she has only added another illustration to
the many that before existed, of the truth of our motto--of the danger
of rousing the inquisitive mind of man, without providing the means and
the opportunity of arriving at correct conclusions in his inquiries.
Man’s reason is not infallible; and thus to awaken the attention of the
ignorant or the inexperienced, destroy their confidence in established
institutions, and then leave them to grope their own way to the
fountains of truth, is like committing to the breeze a ship without a
helm, and expecting it to arrive safe at its distant destined port.
It may be supposed that this subject has little application to a
country so enlightened as ours, and so accustomed to submit every
thing to the scrutiny of unbiassed reason. When we consider that our
institutions derive their origin from the most profound minds our
country has ever produced, and that they have prospered, for more
than half a century, beyond the most sanguine expectations of their
founders, we are apt to forget that the prosperity of all institutions
depends upon the attachment of the people, and to imagine that ours
are inherently secure. It would be Natural also to suppose, that
the discrepancies between different portions of the country would
gradually wear away by continual contact and free intercourse, and that
the longer we existed in our present condition, the more consolidated
and unanimous we should become. But the crisis has not yet arrived. We
have received these institutions upon the faith of our fathers, and,
hitherto, been engaged, not in fairly discussing, but in eulogizing
and defending them, without ever allowing ourselves to doubt their
excellence and superiority over all others. These venerable fathers
have now gone down to their graves; our enemies have become our
friends; the distorting medium of prejudice through which we have
hitherto viewed the world is removed, and we are left to scrutinize
at our leisure the fair fabric which has been committed to us. Were
this investigation to be candid and serious, we should be safe. But he
who has the least acquaintance with human nature is aware, that when
our complacency proceeds from an influence prepossessing us in favor
of an object, there is a re-action in sentiment when that influence
is removed: complacency becomes disgust, and the more extravagant it
has been, the more powerful is the opposite bias. Upon this principle,
we may account for that complete change in the means by which power
and influence are sought from the people. Formerly, the only method
of finding favor with the multitude, was to enlist heart and hand
in supporting and extolling our glorious institutions; but he who
would succeed in pursuit of the same object, at the present day,
must find some real or imaginary imperfection, and by a torrent of
ranting eloquence, display, on every occasion, his superior sagacity
in detecting the errors of our fathers. Besides, the greater this
blind confidence we have acquired in our institutions, the more
negligent shall we be in support of them, and the more severe in
exposing and decrying their imperfections. Already we begin to hear,
on the one hand, the sneering taunt at the fickleness, inefficiency,
and illiberality of our proceedings, and the high encomium upon
aristocracy and its concomitant advantages, and on the other, the
expression of envy towards rising wealth and power, and utter contempt
towards law and all wholesome restraint. These floating insinuations
are the seeds of future public sentiment, and unless counteracted by
a salutary influence, the effect will be ruinous. It is true, we are
an intelligent people, and by no means blind to our own immediate
interests; but it is also indisputably certain, that the deliberate
judgment and profound thought of our predecessors have been, in
some measure, supplanted by a mere smattering of other men’s ideas.
Precocious demagogues and priests are taking the places of grave
statesmen and a sound, revered clergy. It is an idea instilled into us
in our childhood, and which we carry with us throughout our career,
that the present is an age far more effulgent than any that has before
dawned upon the world; and we therefore think ourselves warranted in
laying aside all past experience, and forming our conclusions upon
our own notions of expediency. The course of reasoning, which led to
the establishment of the noble institutions and customs which have
been handed down to us, is not at once comprehended, and we resolve
immediately to demolish, and substitute the frail creations of our own
fancy, which past experience and further reflection show to be ruinous.
In short, we have enjoyed the blessings of our government just long
enough to lose sight of the evils of others, and are just wise enough
to detect the imperfections of our own system, without being able, from
a deep sense of the injuries under which every other people groans,
to appreciate its excellence. It becomes, then, every lover of his
country, and, especially, him who, in the prime of youth, is looking
forward to it as the scene of a happy life, with high hopes of honor
and power, to beware how he lends his aid to alienate public sentiment
from this parent of his present joys and future hopes, and to enlist
heart and hand in support of a government which has certainly, for more
than half a century, secured to this community a greater amount of
happiness than was ever before enjoyed by any portion of the earth’s
population. The popular judgment will be sufficiently severe under the
most favorable circumstances. When that is passed, and the people are
satisfied from their own examination, that the regulations which govern
them are the most perfect in existence, then, or at least not till
then, may we esteem the crisis past, and our country safe.