PROSPECTS.
IN inquiries respecting the laws of the world and the frame of things,
the highest reason is always the truest. That which seems faintly
possible--it is so refined, is often faint and dim because it is deepest
seated in the mind among the eternal verities. Empirical science is
apt to cloud the sight, and, by the very knowledge of functions and
processes, to bereave the student of the manly contemplation of the
whole. The savant becomes unpoetic. But the best read naturalist
who lends an entire and devout attention to truth, will see that there
remains much to learn of his relation to the world, and that it is not
to be learned by any addition or subtraction or other comparison of
known quantities, but is arrived at by untaught sallies of the spirit,
by a continual self-recovery, and by entire humility. He will
perceive that there are far more excellent qualities in the student
than preciseness and infallibility; that a guess is often more fruitful
than an indisputable affirmation, and that a dream may let us deeper
into the secret of nature than a hundred concerted experiments.
For, the problems to be solved are precisely those which the
physiologist and the naturalist omit to state. It is not so pertinent to
man to know all the individuals of the animal kingdom, as it is to
know whence and whereto is this tyrannizing unity in his
constitution, which evermore separates and classifies things,
endeavoring to reduce the most diverse to one form. When I behold
a rich landscape, it is less to my purpose to recite correctly the order
and superposition of the strata, than to know why all thought of
multitude is lost in a tranquil sense of unity. I cannot greatly honor
minuteness in details, so long as there is no hint to explain
the relation between things and thoughts; no ray upon the
_metaphysics_ of conchology, of botany, of the arts, to show the
relation of the forms of flowers, shells, animals, architecture, to the
mind, and build science upon ideas. In a cabinet of natural history,
we become sensible of a certain occult recognition and sympathy in
regard to the most unwieldly and eccentric forms of beast, fish, and
insect. The American who has been confined, in his own country, to
the sight of buildings designed after foreign models, is surprised on
entering York Minster or St. Peter's at Rome, by the feeling that
these structures are imitations also,--faint copies of an invisible
archetype. Nor has science sufficient humanity, so long as the
naturalist overlooks that wonderful congruity which subsists
between man and the world; of which he is lord, not because he is
the most subtile inhabitant, but because he is its head and heart, and
finds something of himself in every great and small thing, in every
mountain stratum, in every new law of color, fact of astronomy, or
atmospheric influence which observation or analysis lay open. A
perception of this mystery inspires the muse of George Herbert, the
beautiful psalmist of the seventeenth century. The following lines
are part of his little poem on Man.
"Man is all symmetry,
Full of proportions, one limb to another,
And to all the world besides.
Each part may call the farthest, brother;
For head with foot hath private amity,
And both with moons and tides.
"Nothing hath got so far
But man hath caught and kept it as his prey;
His eyes dismount the highest star;
He is in little all the sphere.
Herbs gladly cure our flesh, because that they
Find their acquaintance there.
"For us, the winds do blow,
The earth doth rest, heaven move, and fountains flow;
Nothing we see, but means our good,
As our delight, or as our treasure;
The whole is either our cupboard of food,
Or cabinet of pleasure.
"The stars have us to bed:
Night draws the curtain; which the sun withdraws.
Music and light attend our head.
All things unto our flesh are kind,
In their descent and being; to our mind,
In their ascent and cause.
"More servants wait on man
Than he'll take notice of. In every path,
He treads down that which doth befriend him
When sickness makes him pale and wan.
Oh mighty love! Man is one world, and hath
Another to attend him."
The perception of this class of truths makes the attraction which
draws men to science, but the end is lost sight of in attention to the
means. In view of this half-sight of science, we accept the sentence
of Plato, that, "poetry comes nearer to vital truth than history."
Every surmise and vaticination of the mind is entitled to a certain
respect, and we learn to prefer imperfect theories, and sentences,
which contain glimpses of truth, to digested systems which have no
one valuable suggestion. A wise writer will feel that the ends
of study and composition are best answered by announcing
undiscovered regions of thought, and so communicating, through
hope, new activity to the torpid spirit.
I shall therefore conclude this essay with some traditions of man and
nature, which a certain poet sang to me; and which, as they have
always been in the world, and perhaps reappear to every bard, may
be both history and prophecy.
'The foundations of man are not in matter, but in spirit. But the
element of spirit is eternity. To it, therefore, the longest series of
events, the oldest chronologies are young and recent. In the cycle of
the universal man, from whom the known individuals proceed,
centuries are points, and all history is but the epoch of one
degradation.
'We distrust and deny inwardly our sympathy with nature. We own
and disown our relation to it, by turns. We are, like Nebuchadnezzar,
dethroned, bereft of reason, and eating grass like an ox. But who can
set limits to the remedial force of spirit?
'A man is a god in ruins. When men are innocent, life shall be longer,
and shall pass into the immortal, as gently as we awake from dreams.
Now, the world would be insane and rabid, if these disorganizations
should last for hundreds of years. It is kept in check by death and
infancy. Infancy is the perpetual Messiah, which comes into the
arms of fallen men, and pleads with them to return to paradise.
'Man is the dwarf of himself. Once he was permeated and dissolved
by spirit. He filled nature with his overflowing currents. Out from
him sprang the sun and moon; from man, the sun; from woman, the
moon. The laws of his mind, the periods of his actions externized
themselves into day and night, into the year and the seasons. But,
having made for himself this huge shell, his waters retired; he no
longer fills the veins and veinlets; he is shrunk to a drop. He sees,
that the structure still fits him, but fits him colossally. Say, rather,
once it fitted him, now it corresponds to him from far and on high.
He adores timidly his own work. Now is man the follower of the sun,
and woman the follower of the moon. Yet sometimes he starts in his
slumber, and wonders at himself and his house, and muses strangely
at the resemblance betwixt him and it. He perceives that if his law is
still paramount, if still he have elemental power, if his word is
sterling yet in nature, it is not conscious power, it is not inferior but
superior to his will. It is Instinct.' Thus my Orphic poet sang.
At present, man applies to nature but half his force. He works on the
world with his understanding alone. He lives in it, and masters it by
a penny-wisdom; and he that works most in it, is but a half-man, and
whilst his arms are strong and his digestion good, his mind is
imbruted, and he is a selfish savage. His relation to nature, his power
over it, is through the understanding; as by manure; the economic
use of fire, wind, water, and the mariner's needle; steam, coal,
chemical agriculture; the repairs of the human body by the dentist
and the surgeon. This is such a resumption of power, as if a banished
king should buy his territories inch by inch, instead of vaulting at
once into his throne. Meantime, in the thick darkness, there are not
wanting gleams of a better light,--occasional examples of the action
of man upon nature with his entire force,--with reason as well as
understanding. Such examples are; the traditions of miracles in the
earliest antiquity of all nations; the history of Jesus Christ; the
achievements of a principle, as in religious and political revolutions,
and in the abolition of the Slave-trade; the miracles of enthusiasm,
as those reported of Swedenborg, Hohenlohe, and the Shakers; many
obscure and yet contested facts, now arranged under the name of
Animal Magnetism; prayer; eloquence; self-healing; and the wisdom
of children. These are examples of Reason's momentary grasp of the
sceptre; the exertions of a power which exists not in time or space,
but an instantaneous in-streaming causing power. The difference
between the actual and the ideal force of man is happily figured by
the schoolmen, in saying, that the knowledge of man is an evening
knowledge, _vespertina cognitio_, but that of God is a morning
knowledge, _matutina cognitio_.
The problem of restoring to the world original and eternal beauty, is
solved by the redemption of the soul. The ruin or the blank, that we
see when we look at nature, is in our own eye. The axis of vision is
not coincident with the axis of things, and so they appear not
transparent but opake. The reason why the world lacks unity, and
lies broken and in heaps, is, because man is disunited with himself.
He cannot be a naturalist, until he satisfies all the demands of the
spirit. Love is as much its demand, as perception. Indeed, neither
can be perfect without the other. In the uttermost meaning of the
words, thought is devout, and devotion is thought. Deep calls unto
deep. But in actual life, the marriage is not celebrated. There are
innocent men who worship God after the tradition of their fathers,
but their sense of duty has not yet extended to the use of all their
faculties. And there are patient naturalists, but they freeze their
subject under the wintry light of the understanding. Is not prayer
also a study of truth,--a sally of the soul into the unfound infinite?
No man ever prayed heartily, without learning something. But when
a faithful thinker, resolute to detach every object from personal
relations, and see it in the light of thought, shall, at the same time,
kindle science with the fire of the holiest affections, then will God
go forth anew into the creation.
It will not need, when the mind is prepared for study, to search for
objects. The invariable mark of wisdom is to see the miraculous in
the common. What is a day? What is a year? What is summer? What
is woman? What is a child? What is sleep? To our blindness, these
things seem unaffecting. We make fables to hide the baldness of the
fact and conform it, as we say, to the higher law of the mind. But
when the fact is seen under the light of an idea, the gaudy fable
fades and shrivels. We behold the real higher law. To the wise,
therefore, a fact is true poetry, and the most beautiful of fables.
These wonders are brought to our own door. You also are a man.
Man and woman, and their social life, poverty, labor, sleep, fear,
fortune, are known to you. Learn that none of these things is
superficial, but that each phenomenon has its roots in the faculties
and affections of the mind. Whilst the abstract question occupies
your intellect, nature brings it in the concrete to be solved by your
hands. It were a wise inquiry for the closet, to compare, point by
point, especially at remarkable crises in life, our daily history, with
the rise and progress of ideas in the mind.
So shall we come to look at the world with new eyes. It shall answer
the endless inquiry of the intellect,--What is truth? and of the
affections,--What is good? by yielding itself passive to the educated
Will. Then shall come to pass what my poet said; 'Nature is not
fixed but fluid. Spirit alters, moulds, makes it. The immobility or
bruteness of nature, is the absence of spirit; to pure spirit, it is fluid,
it is volatile, it is obedient. Every spirit builds itself a house; and
beyond its house a world; and beyond its world, a heaven. Know
then, that the world exists for you. For you is the phenomenon
perfect. What we are, that only can we see. All that Adam had, all
that Caesar could, you have and can do. Adam called his house,
heaven and earth; Caesar called his house, Rome; you perhaps call
yours, a cobler's trade; a hundred acres of ploughed land; or a
scholar's garret. Yet line for line and point for point, your dominion
is as great as theirs, though without fine names. Build, therefore,
your own world. As fast as you conform your life to the pure idea in
your mind, that will unfold its great proportions. A correspondent
revolution in things will attend the influx of the spirit. So fast will
disagreeable appearances, swine, spiders, snakes, pests, madhouses,
prisons, enemies, vanish; they are temporary and shall be no more
seen. The sordor and filths of nature, the sun shall dry up, and the
wind exhale. As when the summer comes from the south; the
snow-banks melt, and the face of the earth becomes green before it, so
shall the advancing spirit create its ornaments along its path, and
carry with it the beauty it visits, and the song which enchants it; it
shall draw beautiful faces, warm hearts, wise discourse, and heroic
acts, around its way, until evil is no more seen. The kingdom of man
over nature, which cometh not with observation,--a dominion such
as now is beyond his dream of God,--he shall enter without more
wonder than the blind man feels who is gradually restored to perfect
sight.'