First, — In the actual world, the Life of Man, which is in truth essentially one and indivisible, is divided into the life of many proximate individuals, each of whom possesses freedom and independence. This di vision of the one Living Existence is an arrangement of nature, and hence is a hindrance or obstruction to the True Life, — and only exists in order that through it, and in conflict with it, that unity of Life which is demanded by the Divine Idea may freely fashion itself. Human Life has been divided by nature into many parts, in order that it may form itself to unity, and that all the separate individuals who compose it may through Life itself blend themselves together into oneness of mind. In the original state of nature, the various wills of these individuals, and the different powers which they call into play, mutually oppose and hinder each other, It is not so in the Divine Idea, and it shall not continue so in the visible world. The first interposing power (not founded in nature, but subsequently introduced into the world by a new creation) on which this strife of individual powers must break and expend itself until it shall entirely disappear in a general morality, is the founding of States, and of just relations between them; in short, all those institutions by which individual powers, single 268 THE NATURE OF THE SCHOLAR.
or united, have each their proper sphere assigned to them, to which they are confined, but in which at the same time they are secured against all foreign aggres sion. This institution lay in the Divine Idea; it was introduced into the world by inspired men in their efforts for the realization of the Divine Idea; by these efforts it will be maintained in the world, and con stantly improved until it attain perfection.
Secondly, — This Race of Man, thus raising itself through internal strife to internal unity, is surrounded by an inert and passive Nature, by which its free life is constantly hindered, threatened, and confined. So it must be, in order that this Life may win freedom by its own free effort; and, according to the Divine Idea, this strength, and independence of the sensual life, shall gradually unfold itself. To that end it is necessary that the powers of Nature be subjected to human purpose, and (in order that this subjection may be possible) that man should be acquainted with the laws by which these powers act, and be able to calculate beforehand the course of their operation. Moreover, Nature is not designed merely to be useful and profitable to man, but also to become his fitting companion, bearing the impress of his higher dignity, and reflecting it in radiant characters on every side. This dominion over Nature lies in the Divine Idea, and is ceaselessly extended by the power of that Idea through the agency of all in whom it dwells.
Lastly, — Man is not placed in the world of sense alone, but the essential root of his being is, as we have seen, in God. Hurried along by sense and its im pulses, the knowledge of this Life in God may readily depart from him, and then, however noble may be LECTURE II. 209 his nature, he lives in strife and disunion with himself, in discord and unhappiness, without true dignity and enjoyment of Life. But when the consciousness of the true source of his existence first rises upon him, and he joyfully resigns himself to it till his being is steeped in the thought, then peace, joy, and blessed ness flow in upon his soul. And it lies in the Divine Idea that all men must come to this gladdening con sciousness, — that the outward and tasteless Finite Life may be pervaded by the Infinite, and so enjoyed; and to this end all who have been filled with the Divine Idea have laboured and shall still labour, that this consciousness in its purest possible form may be spread throughout the race of man.
The modes of activity which we have indicated,— LEGISLATION, — SCIENCE (knowledge of nature — power over nature) — RELIGION, — are those in which the Divine Idea most commonly reveals and manifests itself through man in the world of sense. It is obvious that each of these chief branches has also its separate parts, in each of which, individually, the Idea may be revealed. Add to these the KNOWLEDGE of the Divine Idea, — knowledge that there is such a Divine Idea, as well as knowledge of its import, either in whole or in some of its parts, — and further, the ART or SKILL actually to exhibit to the world the Idea which is thus clearly seen and understood, — both of which, however, — Knowledge and Art — can only be acquired through the immediate impulse of the Divine Idea, — and then we have the five great modes in which the Idea reveals itself in man.
That mode of culture by which, in the view of any age, a man may attain to the possession of this Idea A a 2 270 THE NATURE OF THE SCHOLAR.
or these Ideas, we have named the Learned Culture of that age; and those who, by this culture, do ac tually attain the desired possession, we have named the Scholars of the age; — and from what we have said to-day you will be able more easily to recognise the truth of this statement, to refer back to it the different branches of knowledge recognised among men, or to deduce them from it; and thus test our principle by its applications.
(271 ) LECTURE III.
OF THE PROGRESSIVE SCHOLAR IN GENERAL; AND IN PARTICULAR OF GENIUS AND INDUSTRY.
THE Divine Idea, by its own inherent power, creates for itself an independent and personal life in man, constantly maintains itself in this life, and by means of it moulds the outward world in its own image. The natural man cannot, by his own power, raise himself to the supernatural; he must be raised thereto by the power of the supernatural. This self -forming and self-supporting life of the Idea in man manifests itself as Love; — strictly speaking, as Love of the Idea for itself; but, in the language of common appearance, as Love of man for the Idea. This was set forth in our first lecture.
So it is with Love in general; — and it is not other wise, in particular, with the love of the knowledge of the Idea, which knowledge the Scholar is called upon to acquire. The love of the Idea absolutely for itself, and particularly for its essential light, shows itself, in those men whom it has inspired, and of whose being it has fully possessed itself, as knoivledge of the Idea; — in the Finished Scholar, with a well-defined and perfect clearness, — in the Progressive Scholar, as a striving towards such a degree of clearness as it can attain 272 THE NATURE OF THE SCHOLAR.
under the circumstances in which he is placed. Fol lowing out the plan laid down in the opening lecture, we shall speak, in the first place, of the Progressive Scholar.
The Idea strives, in the first place, to assume a definite form within him, and to establish for itself a fixed place amid the tide of manifold images which flows in ceaseless change over his soul. In this effort he is seized with a presentiment of a truth still un known to him, of which he has as yet no clear con ception; he feels that every new acquisition which he makes still falls short of the full and perfect truth, without being able to state distinctly in what it is deficient, or how the fulness of knowledge which is to take its place can be attained or brought about. This eifort of the Idea within him becomes henceforward his essential life, — the highest and deepest impulse of his being, — superseding his hitherto sensual and egoistical impulse, which was only directed towards the maintenance of his personal existence and physical well-being, — subjecting this latter to itself, and thereby for ever extinguishing it as the one and fundamental impulse of his nature. Actual personal want does still, as hitherto, demand its satisfaction; but that satisfac tion does not continue, as it has hitherto continued, even when its present demands have been supplied, to be the engrossing thought, the ever-present object of contemplation, the motive to all the conduct and action of the thinking being. As sensual nature has hitherto asserted its rights, so does emancipated thought, armed with new power, in its own strength, and without outward compulsion or ulterior design, return from the strange land into which it has been carried captive, to LECTURE III. 273 its own proper home, and betake itself to the path which leads toward that much wished-for Unknown, whose light streams upon it from afar. Towards that unknown it is unceasingly attracted; in meditating upon it, in striving after it, it employs its best spiritual power.
This impulse towards an obscure, imperfectly dis cerned spiritual object, is commonly named Genius; — and it is so named on good grounds. It is a super natural instinct in man, attracting him to a super natural object, — thus indicating his relationship to the spiritual world, and his original home in that world. Whether we suppose that this impulse, which, absolutely considered, should prompt to the pursuit of the Divine Idea in its primitive unity and indivisibility, does originally, and at the first appearance of any individual in the \vorld of sense, so shape itself that this individual can only lay hold of the Idea at one particular point of contact, and only from that point penetrate gradually to the other parts of the spiritual universe; — or whether we hold that this peculiar point of contact for the individual only comes into existence during the first development of individual power on the manifold materials which are offered to it, and always occurs in that material which chance presents at the precise moment when the power is sufficiently developed; — which of these opinions soever we adopt, still, so far as its outward manifestation is concerned, the impulse which shows itself in man and urges him onward, will always exhibit itself as an impulse towards some particular side of the one indivisible Idea; or, as we may express it, after the investigations of our last lecture, without fear of being misunderstood, — as an 274 THE NATURE OF THE SCHOLAR.
impulse towards one particular idea in the sphere of all possible ideas; or if we give to this impulse the name of Genius, then Genius will always appear as a specific Genius, for philosophy, poetry, natural science, legis lation, or the like, — never clothed with an absolute character, as Genius in the abstract. According to the first opinion, this specific Genius possesses its distin guishing character as an innate peculiarity; according to the second, it is originally a universal Genius, which is only determined to a particular province by accident of culture. The decision of this controversy lies beyond the limits of our present task.
In whatever way it is decided, two things are evi dent: — in general, the necessity of previous spiritual culture, and of preliminary instruction in the manage ment and ordering of ideas and knowledge, so that Genius, if present, may disclose itself; and, in parti cular, the necessity of bringing within the reach of every man, ideas of many different kinds, so that either the inborn specific Genius may come into contact with its appropriate material, or the originally universal Genius may freely choose one particular object from among the many. Even in this preliminary spiritual culture, future Genius reveals itself; for its earliest impulse is directed towards Knowledge only as Know ledge, — merely for the sake of knowing; — and thus manifests itself solely as a desire to know.
But even when this impulse has visibly manifested itself, either in the active investigation of some attrac tive problem or in happy anticipations of its solution, still persevering industry, uninterrupted labour, are imperatively requisite. The question has often been raised, whether Genius or Industry be more essential LECTURE III. 275 in science. I answer, both must be united: the one is but little worth without the other. Genius is nothing more than the effort of the Idea to assume a definite form. The Idea, however, has in itself neither body nor substance, but only shapes for itself an embodiment out of the scientific materials which environ it in Time, of which Industry is the sole purveyor. On the other hand, Industry can do nothing more than provide the elements of this embodiment; — to unite them organi cally, and to breathe into them a living spirit, is not the work of Idustry, but belongs only to the Idea revealing itself as Genius. To impress its image on the surrounding world is the object for which the living Idea dwelling in the True Scholar seeks for itself an embodiment. It is to become the highest life-principle, the innermost soul of the world around it; — it must therefore assume the same forms which are borne by the surrounding world, establish itself in these forms as its own proper dwelling-place, and with a free authority regulate the movements of all their individual parts according to the natural purposes of each, even as a healthy man can set in motion his own limbs. As for him with whom the indwelling Genius proceeds but half-way in its embodiment, and stops there. — whether it be because the paths of Learned Culture are inaccessible to him, or because, from idle ness or presumptuous self-conceit, he disdains to avail himself of them, — between him and his age, and con sequently between him and every possible age, and the whole human race in every point of its progress, an impassable gulf is fixed, and the means of mutual influ ence are cut off. Whatever may now dwell within him, — or, more strictly speaking, whatever he might have 276 THE NATURE OF THE SCHOLAR.
acquired in the course of his progressive culture, — he is unable to explain clearly either to himself or others, or to make it the deliberate rule of his actions and thus realize it in the world. He wants the two necessary elements of the true life of the Idea, — clearness and freedom. Clearness; — his fundamental principle not being thoroughly distinct to his own mind, he cannot follow it in its course, and keep it in view throughout all its modifications, from its innermost source where it is poured down immediately from the Divinity upon his soul, to all those points at which it has to manifest and embody itself in the visible world, and through all the different forms which, under every possible condition, it must assume. Freedom; — which springs from clear ness, and can never exist without it: for he cannot perceive at a glance the form which the Idea must assume in every phase of reality which presents itself, nor the proper means to the attainment of that object; — nor has he those means at his free disposal. He is commonly called a visionary, — and he is rightly so called. On the contrary, he in whom the Idea perfectly reveals itself, looks out from it, as his peculiar point of view, upon all reality and thoroughly penetrates the nature of outward things by the light of the Idea. Through the Idea itself he understands all its relative objects, — how they have become what they are, what in them is complete, what is still awanting, and how the want must be supplied; and he has, besides, the means of supplying that want completely in his power. The embodiment of the Idea is then for the first time completed in him, and he is a matured Scholar; — the point where the Scholar passes into the free Artist is the point of perfection for the former. Hence it is LECTURE III. 277 evident that even when Genius has shown itself, and visibly become a self-forming life of the Idea, untiring Industry is necessary to its perfect growth. To show that at the point where the Scholar reaches perfection the creative existence of the Artist begins; that this, too, requires Industry, that it is infinite; — lies not within our present inquiry; we only allude to it in passing.
But what did I say? — that even after the manifes tation of Genius, Industry is requisite? — as if I would call forth Industry by my prescription, my advice, my demonstration of its necessity, and thus expected to rouse to exertion those in whom it is wanting? Rather let us say, that where Genius is really present, Industry spontaneously appears, grows with a steady growth, and ceaselessly impels the advancing Scholar on towards perfection; — where, on the contrary, Industry is not to be found, it is not Genius nor the impulse of the Idea which has shown itself, but, in place of it, only some very mean and unworthy motive.
The Idea is not the ornament of the individual (for, strictly speaking, there is no such thing as individu ality in the Idea), but it seeks to flow forth in the whole human race, to animate it with new life, and to mould it after its own image. This is the distinctive character of the Idea; and whatever is without this character is not the Idea. Wherever, therefore, it attains an existence, it irresistibly strives after this universal activity, not through the life of the indi vidual, but through its own essential life. It thus impels every one in whom it has an abode, even against the will and wish of his sensuous, personal nature, and as though he were a passive instrument, B b 278 THE NATURE OF THE SCHOLAR.
forward to this universal activity, — to the skill which is demanded in its exercise, and to the Industry which is necessary for the acquisition of that skill. It never ceases from spontaneous activity and self-development, feeling no need of outward incentive thereto, until it has attained such a living and efficient form as it is possible for it to attain under these conditions. Wher ever a man, having availed himself of the existing and accessible means for the acquirement of Learned Cul ture — (for the second case, where those means do not exist, or are inaccessible, docs not belong to our present subject) — wherever, I say, in the first case, a man remains inactive, satisfied with the persuasion that he is in possession of something resembling the Idea or Genius, — then in him there is neither Idea nor Genius, but only a vain ostentatious disposition, which assumes a singular and fantastic costume in order to attract attention. Such a disposition shows itself at once, in self-gratulatory contemplation of its own parts and endowments, dwelling on these in com placent indolence, commonly accompanied by con temptuous disparagement of the personal qualities and gifts of others; while, on the contrary, he who is restlessly urged on by the Idea has no time left to think of his own personality; — lost with all his powers in the object he has in view, he never weighs his own capacities of grasping it against those of others. Genius, where it is present, see its object only — never sees itself; — as the sound eye fixes itself upon some thing beyond it, but never looks round upon its own brightness. In such an one the Idea does certainly not abide. What is it, then, that animates him, — that moves him to those eager and active exertions LECTURE III. 279 which we behold? It is intense pride and self-conceit, and the desperate purpose, despite of natural disquali fication, to assume a character which does not belong to him; — these animate, impel, and spur him on, and stand to him in the room of Genius. And what is it which he produces, which appears to the common eye (itself neither clear nor pure, and in particular incapable of appreciating the sole criteria of all true Ideals — clearness, freedom, depth, artistic form) as if it were the Idea? — what is it? Either something which he has himself invented or which has occurred to him by accident, which, indeed, he does not under stand, but which he hopes, nevertheless, may appear new, striking, paradoxical, and therefore blaze forth far and wide; — with this he commits himself to the chance of fortune, trusting that in the sequel he him self or some one else may discover a meaning therein. Or else he has borrowed it from others, — cunningly distorting, disarranging, and unsettling it, so that its original form cannot easily be recognised; and by way of precaution depreciating the source whence it came, as utterly barren and unprofitable, lest the unpreju diced observer might be led to inquire whether he has not possibly obtained from thence that which he calls his own.
In one word, — self-contemplation, self-admiration, and self-flattery, although the last may remain unex pressed, and even carefully shrouded from the eye of every beholder, — these, and the indolence and disdain of the treasures already gathered together in the store houses of learning which spring from these, are sure signs of the absence of true Genius; whilst forgetful - ness of self in the object pursued, entire devotion to 280 THE NATURE OF THE SCHOLAR.
that object, and inability to entertain any thought of self in its presence, are the inseparable accompani ments of true Genius. It follows that true Genius in every stage of its growth, but particularly during its early development, is marked by amiable modesty and retiring bashfulness. Genius knows least of all about itself; it is there, and works and rules with silent power long before it comes to consciousness of its own nature. Whoever is constantly looking back upon himself, to see how it stands with him, of what powers he can boast, and who is himself the first discoverer of these, — in him truly there is nothing great.
Should there then be here among you any opening Genius, far be it from me to wound its native modesty and diffidence by any general invitation to you to examine yourselves, and see whether or not you are in possession of the Idea; — I would much rather earnestly dissuade you from such self-examination. And that this advice may not seem to you the sug gestion of mere pedantic school- wisdom, and perhaps of extravagant caution, but may approve itself to your minds as arising from absolute necessity, I would add that this question can neither be answered by yourselves, nor can you obtain any sure answer to it from any one else; that therefore truth is not elicited by such a premeditated self-examination, but, on the contrary, the youth is taught a self -contemplation and conceited brooding over his own nature, through which the man becomes at length an intellectual and moral ruin. There are many signs by which we may know that the Genius whicli possibly lies concealed in a Student has not yet declared itself, — and we shall afterwards find occasion in the sequel to point out LECTURE III. 281