No. 83. TUESDAY, JANUARY 1, 1751.
_Nisi utile est, quod facimus, stulta est gloria._
PHÆD. Lib. iii. Fab. xvii. 15.
All useless science is an empty boast.
The publication of the letter in my last paper has naturally led me to the
consideration of thirst after curiosities, which often draws contempt and
ridicule upon itself, but which is perhaps no otherwise blameable, than
as it wants those circumstantial recommendations which add lustre even to
moral excellencies, and are absolutely necessary to the grace and beauty
of indifferent actions.
Learning confers so much superiority on those who possess it, that they
might probably have escaped all censure had they been able to agree among
themselves; but as envy and competition have divided the republick of
letters into factions, they have neglected the common interest; each has
called in foreign aid, and endeavoured to strengthen his own cause by
the frown of power, the hiss of ignorance, and the clamour of popularity.
They have all engaged in feuds, till by mutual hostilities they
demolished those outworks which veneration had raised for their security,
and exposed themselves to barbarians, by whom every region of science is
equally laid waste.
Between men of different studies and professions, may be observed a
constant reciprocation of reproaches. The collector of shells and stones
derides the folly of him who pastes leaves and flowers upon paper,
pleases himself with colours that are perceptibly fading, and amasses
with care what cannot be preserved. The hunter of insects stands amazed
that any man can waste his short time upon lifeless matter, while many
tribes of animals yet want their history. Every one is inclined not only
to promote his own study, but to exclude all others from regard, and
having heated his imagination with some favourite pursuit, wonders that
the rest of mankind are not seized with the same passion.
There are, indeed, many subjects of study which seem but remotely allied
to useful knowledge, and of little importance to happiness or virtue;
nor is it easy to forbear some sallies of merriment, or expressions
of pity, when we see a man wrinkled with attention, and emaciated with
solicitude, in the investigation of questions, of which, without visible
inconvenience, the world may expire in ignorance. Yet it is dangerous
to discourage well-intended labours, or innocent curiosity; for he who
is employed in searches, which by any deduction of consequences tend
to the benefit of life, is surely laudable, in comparison of those who
spend their time in counteracting happiness, and filling the world with
wrong and danger, confusion and remorse. No man can perform so little
as not to have reason to congratulate himself on his merits, when he
beholds the multitudes that live in total idleness, and have never yet
endeavoured to be useful.
It is impossible to determine the limits of inquiry, or to foresee
what consequences a new discovery may produce. He who suffers not his
faculties to lie torpid, has a chance, whatever be his employment,
of doing good to his fellow creatures. The man that first ranged the
woods in search of medicinal springs, or climbed the mountains for
salutary plants, has undoubtedly merited the gratitude of posterity,
how much soever his frequent miscarriages might excite the scorn of his
contemporaries. If what appears little be universally despised, nothing
greater can be attained, for all that is great was at first little, and
rose to its present bulk by gradual accessions, and accumulated labours.
Those who lay out time or money in assembling matter for contemplation,
are doubtless entitled to some degree of respect, though in a flight of
gaiety it be easy to ridicule their treasure, or in a fit of sullenness
to despise it. A man who thinks only on the particular object before him,
goes not away much illuminated by having enjoyed the privilege of handling
the tooth of a shark, or the paw of a white bear; yet there is nothing
more worthy of admiration to a philosophical eye than the structure of
animals, by which they are qualified to support life in the elements or
climates to which they are appropriated; and of all natural bodies it must
be generally confessed, that they exhibit evidences of infinite wisdom,
bear their testimony to the supreme reason, and excite in the mind new
raptures of gratitude, and new incentives to piety.
To collect the productions of art, and examples of mechanical science or
manual ability, is unquestionably useful, even when the things themselves
are of small importance, because it is always advantageous to know
how far the human powers have proceeded, and how much experience has
found to be within the reach of diligence. Idleness and timidity often
despair without being overcome, and forbear attempts for fear of being
defeated; and we may promote the invigoration of faint endeavours, by
shewing what has been already performed. It may sometimes happen that
the greatest efforts of ingenuity have been exerted in trifles; yet the
same principles and expedients may be applied to more valuable purposes,
and the movements, which put into action machines of no use but to raise
the wonder of ignorance, may be employed to drain fens, or manufacture
metals, to assist the architect, or preserve the sailor.
For the utensils, arms, or dresses of foreign nations, which make the
greatest part of many collections, I have little regard when they are
valued only because they are foreign, and can suggest no improvement of
our own practice. Yet they are not all equally useless, nor can it be
always safely determined which should be rejected or retained; for they
may sometimes unexpectedly contribute to the illustration of history,
and to the knowledge of the natural commodities of the country, or of the
genius and customs of its inhabitants.
Rarities there are of yet a lower rank, which owe their worth merely to
accident, and which can convey no information, nor satisfy any rational
desire. Such are many fragments of antiquity, as urns and pieces of
pavement; and things held in veneration only for having been once the
property of some eminent person, as the armour of King Henry; or for
having been used on some remarkable occasion, as the lantern of Guy
Faux. The loss or preservation of these seems to be a thing indifferent,
nor can I perceive why the possession of them should be coveted. Yet,
perhaps, even this curiosity is implanted by nature; and when I find Tully
confessing of himself, that he could not forbear at Athens to visit the
walks and houses which the old philosophers had frequented or inhabited,
and recollect the reverence which every nation, civil and barbarous,
has paid to the ground where merit has been buried[52], I am afraid to
declare against the general voice of mankind, and am inclined to believe,
that this regard, which we involuntarily pay to the meanest relique of
a man great and illustrious, is intended as an incitement to labour,
and an encouragement to expect the same renown, if it be sought by the
same virtues.
The virtuoso therefore cannot be said to be wholly useless; but perhaps
he may be sometimes culpable for confining himself to business below his
genius, and losing, in petty speculations, those hours by which, if he
had spent them in nobler studies, he might have given new light to the
intellectual world. It is never without grief, that I find a man capable
of ratiocination or invention enlisting himself in this secondary class
of learning; for when he has once discovered a method of gratifying his
desire of eminence by expense rather than by labour, and known the sweets
of a life blest at once with the ease of idleness, and the reputation
of knowledge, he will not easily be brought to undergo again the toil of
thinking, or leave his toys and trinkets for arguments and principles,
arguments which require circumspection and vigilance, and principles
which cannot be obtained but by the drudgery of meditation. He will
gladly shut himself up for ever with his shells and medals, like the
companions of Ulysses, who, having tasted the fruit of Lotos, would not,
even by the hope of seeing their own country, be tempted again to the
dangers of the sea.
Αλλ' αυτου βουλοντο μετ ανδρασι Λωτοφαγοισι,
Λωτον ερεπτομενοι μενεμεν νοστου τε λαθεσθαι.
------Whoso tastes,
Insatiate riots in the sweet repasts;
Nor other home nor other care intends,
But quits his house, his country, and his friends.
POPE.
Collections of this kind are of use to the learned, as heaps of stones
and piles of timber are necessary to the architect. But to dig the quarry
or to search the field, requires not much of any quality beyond stubborn
perseverance; and though genius must often lie unactive without this
humble assistance, yet this can claim little praise, because every man
can afford it.
To mean understandings, it is sufficient honour to be numbered amongst the
lowest labourers of learning; but different abilities must find different
tasks. To hew stone, would have been unworthy of Palladio; and to have
rambled in search of shells and flowers, had but ill suited with the
capacity of Newton.
[Footnote 52: See this sentiment illustrated by a most splendid passage
in Dr. Johnson's "Journey to the Western Islands," when he was on the
Island of Iona.]
No. 84. SATURDAY, JANUARY 5, 1751.
_Cunarum fueras motor, Charideme, mearum;_
_Et pueri custos, assiduusque comes._
_Jam mihi nigrescunt tonsa sudaria barbam,----_
_Sed tibi non crevi: te noster villicus horret:_
_Te dispensator, te domus ipsa pavet.----_
_Corripis, observas, quereris, suspiria ducis;_
_Et vix a ferulis abstinet ira manum._
MART. Lib. xi. Ep. xxxix.
You rock'd my cradle, were my guide,
In youth still tending at my side:
But now, dear sir, my beard is grown,
Still I'm a child to thee alone.
Our steward, butler, cook, and all,
You fright, nay e'en the very wall;
You pry, and frown, and growl, and chide,
And scarce will lay the rod aside.
F. LEWIS.