LECTURE III. 281 the most remarkable of these; — but there is only one decisive criterion by which we may determine whether Genius has existed or has never existed in him; and that one decisive criterion can only be applied after the result has become apparent. Whoever has really become a perfect Scholar and Artist, in the sense in which we have used these words, — grasping the world in his clear, penetrating Idea, and able to impress that Idea upon the world at every point; — he has had Genius, he has been inspired by the Idea; and this may now confidently be said of him: — he who, not withstanding the most diligent study, has come to years of maturity without having raised himself to the Idea, — he has been without genius, without com munion with the Idea; and this may henceforth be said of him: — but of him who is still upon the way, neither of these judgments can be pronounced.
This disposition of things, which is as wise as it is necessary, leaves but one course open to the youthful student who cannot know with certainty whether or not Genius dwells within him, — this, namely, that he continue to act as though there were resident within him that which must at last come to light; that he subject himself to all conditions, and place himself in all circumstances, in which, if present, it may come to light; that, with untiring Industry and true devo tion of his whole mind, he avail himself of all the means which Learned Culture offers to him. In the worst case, — if at the termination of his studies he find that out of the mass of learning which he has accumu lated not one spark of the Idea has beamed upon him. there yet remains for him this consciousness at least, which is more indispensable to man than even Genius B b 2 282 THE NATURE OF THE SCHOLAR.
itself, and without which the possessor of the greatest Genius is far less worthy than he, — the consciousness that if he has not risen higher, no blame can attach itself to him, — that the point at which he has stopped short is the place which God has assigned to him, whose law he will joyfully obey. No one need pride himself upon Genius, for it is the free gift of God; but of honest Industry and true devotion to his destiny any man may well be proud; indeed this thorough integrity of purpose is itself the Divine Idea in its most common form, and no really honest mind is with out communion with God.
The knowledge which he has acquired by means of this sincere effort after something higher, will render him always a suitable instrument in the hands of the more perfect Scholar, — of him who has attained pos session of the Idea. To him he will unhesitatingly submit without grudge or jealousy, — without any unsatisfied struggle after an elevation for which he was not formed; his guidance he will follow with a true loyalty which shall have become to him a second nature, and thus he will obtain a sure consciousness of having fulfilled his vocation, as the last and highest destiny to which, in any sphere of life, man can attain.
(283) LECTURE IV.
OF INTEGRITY IN STUDY.
HE who is to become a True Scholar, so that in him the Divine Idea of the world may attain to such a measure of clearness and influence over the surround ing world as is possible in his circumstances, must be laid hold of by the Idea itself through its own in herent power, and by it be urged forward unceasingly towards the wished-for end.
In our portraiture of the Nature of the True Scholar, we are now engaged with the Progressive Scholar, or the Student.
If the Student be really inspired by the Idea, — or, what is the same thing, if he possess Genius and true talent, he is already far above all our counsels; Genius will fulfil its vocation in him without our aid, and even without his own concurrence: — of this we have spoken sufficiently in our last lecture.
But, as we have likewise seen in the same lecture, the Progressive Scholar can never determine for him self whether or not he possesses Gen1' as in our sense of the term, nor can any one else determine it for him: — hence there is nothing left for him, but with sincere and perfect Integrity so to act, as if Genius, which must ultimately come to light, lay now con- 284 THE NATURE OF THE SCHOLAR.
cealed within him. True Genius, when present, mani fests itself precisely in the same way as does this Integrity in Study; in appearance, both assume the same form, and cannot be distinguished the one from the other.
Turning away from the tests of Genius which, in the Progressive Scholar at least, are inscrutable, we have now only to exhaust the indications of Integrity in Study, and we shall then have completed the por traiture of the true follower of learning. The honest Scholar is to us the only True Scholar: the two ideas flow into each other.
Integrity in the abstract, as we have also remarked before, is itself a Divine Idea; it is the Divine Idea in its most general form, embracing all men. Hence, like the Idea itself, it acts by its own inherent power; — it forms itself, as we said before of Genius, without aid from the personal feeling of the individual, — nay, annihilating his self-love as far as possible, — into an independent life in man, irresistibly urging him for ward, and prevading all his thoughts and actions. His actions, I say; for the idea of Integrity is an immediately practical idea, determining the outward, visible, free doings of man; — whereas the influence of Genius is, in the first place, internal, — affecting spiri tual insight.- He who truly possesses Genius must be successful in his studies: to him light and knowledge will spring up on all sides from the objects of his contemplation. He who possesses Integrity in Study, of him this success cannot be so surely predicted; but should it not follow, he will at least be blameless, for he will neglect nothing within his power which may enable him to attain it; and even if he be not at last LECTURE IV. 285 a sharer in the triumph, he shall at all events have deserved to be so.
Integrity, as a living and governing principle, rises above the person of him who is animated by it, and regards this person as standing under a definite law, — as existing only for a certain purpose, and as a means to a higher end. Man shall be and do something; his temporal life shall leave behind it in the spiritual world an imperishable and eternal result, — a particular re sult arising from the life of each individual, belonging to him alone and demanded of him alone. It is thus that the true-minded man looks upon all personal Life in Time, and particularly on that life which lies near est to him, — namely, his own. He in whom this Integrity has become a living idea cannot conceive of human life in any other way than this; — from this principle he sets forth, to it he constantly returns, and by it he regulates all his other modes of thought. Only in so far as he obeys this law and fulfils this purpose, which he recognises as his being's end and aim, is he satisfied with himself: everything in him which is not directed to this high end, — which is not evidently a means to its attainment, he despises, hates, desires to have swept away. He looks upon his in dividual person as a thought of the Deity; and thus his vocation — the design of his being — is to him as a purpose of God himself. This, and nothing else, is the idea of Integrity, whether he who is ruled by it calls it by this name or by another.
Success cannot indeed be certainly predicted of mere Integrity as such, either in study or in any other purpose which it may propose to itself; but in all its pursuits it will surely display the independent power 286 THE NATURE OF THE SCHOLAR.
of the Idea pressing steadily forward to its mark; and of the true-minded man it may confidently be said, that in Integrity itself, his defence and support, he will find a noble reward. In advancing on the path of rectitude, it will become continually less needful for him to admonish, to arouse himself to the struggle against recurring evil desires; for the true feeling, the legitimate mode of thought, will spontaneously reveal itself to him, and become his ruling principle, — his second nature. Whatever thou doest, do it with In tegrity: if thou studiest, let it guide thy studies; and then, as to whether thou shalt prosper in what thou doest, — leave that to God; — thou hast most surely left it to Him, when thou goest to work with true and honest purpose: with the attainment of that Integrity thou shalt also attain unbroken peace, inward cheerful ness, and an unstained conscience; and in so far thou shalt assuredly prosper.
We have said that the honest man in general looks upon his free personal life as unalterably determined by the eternal thought of God; — the honest student in particular looks upon himself as designed by the thought of God to this end, — that the Divine Idea of the constitution of the world may enter his soul, shine in him with steady lustre, and through him maintain a definite influence on the surrounding world. Thus does he conceive of his vocation; for in this lies the essential Mature of the Scholar: — so surely as he has entered upon his studies with Integrity, i.e. with the persuasion that God has given a purpose to his life, and that he must direct all his free actions towards the fulfilment of that purpose, — so surely has he made the supposition that it is the Divine Will that he LECTURE IV. 287 should become a Scholar. It matters not whether we have chosen this condition for ourselves with freedom and foresight, or others have chosen it for us, placed us in the way of preparation for it, and closed every other condition of life against us. How could any one, at the early age at which this choice of a condition usually occurs, and in most cases must occur, have attained the mature wisdom by which to decide for himself whether or not he is possessed of the as yet untried and undeveloped capacity for knowledge? When we come to exercise our own understanding, the choice of a condition is already made, — it has been made with out our aid, because we were incapable at the time of rendering any aid in the matter; and now we cannot turn back, — a necessity precisely similar to the un alterable conditions under which our freedom is placed by the Divine Will. If an error should occur in the choice thus made for us by others, the fault is not ours; we could not decide whether or not an error had been committed, and could not venture to presuppose one: if it has occurred, then it is our business, so far as in us lies, to correct it. In any case, it is the Divine Will that every one, in the station where he has been placed by necessity, should do all things which properly belong to that station. We have met together to study; hence it is assuredly the Divine Will that we consider ourselves as Students, and apply to ourselves all that is comprehended in that idea.
This thought, with its indestructible certainty, en ters and fills the soul of every honest Student: — this, namely — " I, this sent, this expressly commissioned individual as I may now call myself, am actually here, have entered into existence for this cause and no other, 288 THE NATURE OF THE SCHOLAR.
— that the eternal counsel of God in this universe may through me be seen of men in another, hitherto un known light, — may be made clearly manifest, and shine forth with inextinguishable lustre over the world; and this phase of the Divine Thought, thus bound up with my personality, is the only true living being within me; all else, though looked upon even by myself as belonging to my being, is dream, shadow, nothing; — this alone is imperishable and eternal within me; all else shall again disappear in the void from which it has seemingly, but never really come forth." This thought fills his whole soul: whether or not it be itself clearly conceived and expressed, every thing else which is there clearly conceived, expressed, wished, or willed, is referred back to it as to its first condition, can only be explained by it, and only con sidered possible on the supposition of its truth.
Through this fundamental principle of all his thoughts, he himself, and Knowledge, the object of his activity, become to him, before all other things, honourable and holy. He himself becomes honourable and holy. Not, by any means, that he dwells with self-complacent pride on the superiority of his vocation — to share in some degree the counsel of God and reveal it to the world — over other less distinguished callings, invidiously weighing them against each other, and thus esteeming himself as of more value than other men. If one form of human destiny appears to us superior to another, it is not because it offers a better field for personal distinction, but because in it the Divine Idea reveals itself with greater clearness. The individual man has no peculiar value beyond that of faithfully fulfilling his vocation, whatever that may LECTURE IV. 289 be; and of this all can partake, irrespective of the different natures of their callings. Moreover, the Pro gressive Scholar does not even know whether he shall attain the proper end of his studies, the possession of the Idea; nor, therefore, if that noble vocation be really his; — he is only bound to suppose the possibility of it. The perfect Scholar — of whom we do not now speak — when he has the completed result in his posses sion, can then indeed with certainty know his vocation; but even in him the cravings of the Idea for more extended manifestation still continue, and shall continue while life endures, so that he shall never have time to muse over the superiority of his vocation, even were such musings not utterly vain in themselves. All pride is founded on what we think we are, — are in settled and perfect being; and thus pride is in itself vain and contradictory, — for that which is our true being, — that to which endless growth belongs, — is precisely that to which we have not yet attained. Our true and underived being in the Divine Idea always shows itself as a desire of progress, and hence as dissatisfaction with our present state; and thus the Idea makes us truly modest, and bows us down to the dust before its majesty. By his pride itself, the proud man shows that, more than any one else, he has need of humility; for while he thinks of himself that he is something, he shows by his pride that he is really nothing.
Hence, in the thought to which we gave utterance, the Student is holy and honourable to himself above everything else, — not in respect of what he is, but of what he ought to be, and what he evermore must strive c c 290 THE NATURE OF THE SCHOLAR.
to become. The peculiar self-abasement of a man con sists in this, — when he makes himself an instrument of a temporary and perishable purpose, and deigns to spend care and labour on something else than the Imperishable and Eternal. In this view, every man should be honourable and holy to himself, — and so, too, should the Scholar.
To what end, then, O Student, dost thou give to Knowledge this attention, which, be it great or small, still costs thee some effort, — wherefore concentrate thy thoughts here, when thou wouldst rather let them rove abroad, — wherefore deny thyself so many enjoyments, for which, nevertheless, the appetite is not want ing in thee? Dost thou answer, — "That I may not some day come to want; — that I may acquire a suffi cient maintenance, a respectable competency, whereby I may satisfy myself with good things; — that my fellow-citizens may respect me, and that I may more easily move them to the fulfilment of my purposes"? I ask, — Who then is this thou, in whose future nursing and comfort thou art so keenly interested, and for whom thou dost now toil so hard and sacrifice so much? It is as yet quite uncertain whether it ever reach this hoped-for land of self - gratification: — but suppose it should do so, and even enjoy the pampering thou hast provided for it during a series of years, what will be the end of it all at last? All this nursing will have an end; the pampered body will sink and crumble into a heap of ashes; and for this wilt thou begin the monotonous, mechanical, often irksome business of life, and even add to its inherent bitterness by deliberating beforehand on the burden which it lays on thee? In such circumstances, I at least would rather begin at LECTURE IV. 291 the end of the romance, and go down this day to the grave, into which sooner or later I must descend. Or dost thou answer thus, more praiseworthily in ap pearance at least, but not more profoundly, — " i will thereby become useful to my fellow-men and promote their welfare"? — then I ask, What end will thy use fulness serve? In a few years, of all whom thou desirest to serve, and whom I freely grant thou mayest serve, not one shall remain, — not one shall have the least need of thy services any more: thou hast spent thy labour on perishable things; — they disappear, and thou disappearest with them, and a time comes when every trace of thy existence shall be utterly effaced. Not so the true Student, who has brought Integrity with him to his task. " I am," he may say; " but as surely as I am, is my existence a thought of God, for He alone is the fountain of all being, and besides Him there is no being. Whatever I am, in and by this thought, I am before all Time, and do so remain, independent of all time and change. This thought will I strive to know, — to its fulfilment I will apply all my powers; — then shall they be employed on what is eternal, and their result shall last for ever. I am Eternal, and it is below the dignity of the Eternal to waste itself on things that perish."
By the same principle does Knowledge, the object of his activity, become honourable to the Student. At his entrance into the world of science, he meets with many things which seem to him strange and unaccountable, insignificant or unseemly; — he cannot conceive the grounds of their necessity, nor their influence on the great whole of Knowledge, which he is as yet unable to embrace in one view. How shall the beginner, who 292 THE NATURE OF THE SCHOLAR.
must first gather together the different parts, — how shall he see and understand them in the light of the whole, to which he has not yet attained? Whilst one man thoughtlessly neglects and despises whatever is unintelligible to him, and so remains ignorant; whilst another learns it mechanically, with blind faith, or in the hope that it may prove useful in some business of life; — the True Scholar worthily and nobly wel comes it into the general idea of Knowledge which he already possesses. All which comes before him belongs in every case to the circle of things out of which the Divine Idea is to appear to him, and to the material in which the Eternal Life within him shall reveal itself and assume a definite form. If Know ledge appear to those who want both Genius and In tegrity, only as a means to the attainment of certain wrorldly ends, she reveals herself to him who with honest heart consecrates himself to her service, not only in her highest branches which touch closely upon things divine, but down even to her meanest elements, as something originating in, and determined by, the Eternal Thought of God himself, — originated there expressly for, and in relation to, him, and destined to be perfected by its action upon him, and, through him, upon the whole Eternal Universe.
And so does his own person ever become holier to him through the holiness of Knowledge, and Know ledge again holier through the holiness of his person. His whole life, however unimportant it may outwardly seem, has acquired an inward meaning, — a new signi ficance. Whatever may or may not flow from it, it is still a god-like life. And in order to become a par taker in this life, neither the Student of science nor LECTURE IV. 203 the follower of any other human pursuit needs peculiar talents, but only a living and active Integrity of pur pose, to which the thought of our high vocation and of our allegiance to an Eternal Law, with all that flows from these, will be spontaneously revealed.
HOW THE INTEGRITY OF THE STUDENT MANIFESTS ITSELF.
THE lectures which I now resume have been begun under many unfavourable circumstances. In the first place, I have had to contemplate my subject from a point of view much higher than the common one, — from an elevation to which every Student may not have been prepared to rise. A newly-installed teacher in a University cannot be well acquainted with the extent to which scientific culture has hitherto been introduced into the public course; and yet it is natu rally expected that he should employ the same means towards such a culture which have already been long in use. But could I have known, even to certainty, that the public as a whole were not sufficiently pre pared for such views, yet I must have treated my subject precisely in the way in which I have treated it, or else have never touched it at all. No man should linger about the surface of a thought, and repeat in another form what has been said an hundred times before: he who can do no more than this, had better be silent altogether; but he who can do otherwise, will never hesitate to do so. Further, the individual parts of what is in itself a systematic whole, have been ne- LECTURE V. 295 LECTURE V. 295 cessarily broken up by intervals of weeks; and pro priety forbade me, in these lectures, strictly to observe the practice which I have generally adopted in all purely philosophical instruction, — i. e. before every new lecture to recapitulate the substance of the previous one in its connexion with the subject at large, and thus conduct the hearer once more over all that has gone before, and enable him again to grasp the spirit of the whole. Lastly, in these lectures my discourse is not, as in my other lectures, entirely free, descending to the familiar tones of conversation; but is deliberately composed, and delivered as it is written down. This too, I conceive, is demanded by propriety, — that I should give these lectures all the outward polish which is possible, in the only available time which I can spare from my other duties to devote to them. Public lectures are the free gifts of an academical teacher; and he who is not ignoble would willingly make his gifts the best which he has it in his power to bestow.
The two last-mentioned circumstances are unavoid able, and nothing remains for you but to change them into favourable conditions for yourselves. The first is already obviated, for such of you as attend my private course, by my last lecture upon the distinction between the philosophical and historical points of view; and I therefore consider you to be sufficiently prepared by that lecture, for the reception of the views we shall take of our present subject. To-day I shah1, in the first place, survey the whole of that subject in the form to which you have been accustomed in the other course, and in that form exhibit and repeat it to you.
Any subject whatever which engages the attention of man, may be considered in a double aspect, and, as 296 THE NATURE OF THE SCHOLAR.