Protean ignorance never dies; this is the problem which confronts us.
George Stephenson has only been my peg upon which I have hung this musty
old skin, indeed no golden fleece, but just as magical, so that I might
the better examine it; and a fine stout peg it is—all of British oak.
Stephenson was the father of the locomotive; as to this there can be no
dispute, and equally can there be no doubt that the locomotive has
changed the superstructure of the civilized world, yet its foundations
remain permanently fixed. Matter fluctuates as the will of man unmasks
the material world; but the soul of man remains fixed, abiding in the
solitude of his ignorance.
Ignorance and stupidity are always with us, they are the Dioscuri of the
temple of life. To change the material world is like changing our
clothes, to change the spiritual world is like changing our intestines.
Spiritual, I admit, is not the exact word, neither is moral nor human.
To me, the spiritual is all-pervading and uninfluenced by intelligence
or reason. A man who is grossly ignorant is grossly religious, for he is
a worshipper of idols.
To-day we see the multitudes bending the knee to Baal, and yet we see
them surrounded by misery, woe and suffering. No disease is incurable,
no ill cannot be conquered. But every would-be saviour, however humble,
must prepare for crucifixion, because the very multitudes they would
save are in themselves their worst enemies.
Henry Herbert never dies, he was here before Adam took form from out the
dust of Eden, and he will be the last man to leave this earth when the
last trumpet sounds, and I have not the slightest doubt that he will
then question the wisdom of the Almighty. He will question the wisdom of
all things new, and yet, to-day, the world is groaning for novelty, for
material growth means also material decay. Though very ordinary men can
build middens, it is only the extraordinary man who can shift these
piles of refuse—accumulations of old traditions, customs and accepted
things. To me the moral of this centenary is not the power of steam, but
the power of the will of man. George Stephenson triumphed over all
difficulties, because he was possessed of a will to win. The stronger
opposition grew the more mighty grew his will. Protean ignorance has,
therefore, its virtue; it renders progress difficult to attain; it is
the whetstone of genius. When we realize this, in place of wringing our
hands in lamentation when Henry Herbert beats his last against our door,
we open it and look at him, and laugh, and then close it and go on with
our work—in one word, we persevere. Laughter and Perseverance, surely
these two are the shield and sword of progress.