with a
traditional supply. Others ask for science because it will help them
make, or work, and perchance _become_ machines, whereby they may earn
bread: and oftentimes, says the writer, "does this mere irritability of
the coating of the stomach pass itself off as the waking up the life of
the soul, and the sublime and pure aspirations of the spirit, for high
and ultimate truths, pure as itself." Then, it is the fashion to be
learned, and the fops of literature, who must "follow the fashion," of
course, get wisdom as quickly and easily as possible. These are the main
features of that demand for science, which is now so clamorous. Mr.
Pease divides the lectures of the day into three classes; first those of
which the object is instruction, then those designed to amuse, and last,
those which profess to serve both these purposes; and he thinks it may
be said of all, that they have no _vital, form-giving, organific
principle_, running through them, developing properly each separate
part, and uniting them all by its own power.
In these discourses he says: "The carpenter is the actual model; for
like him the discourser cuts and fits his timber according to rules the
grounds of which it concerns not him to understand, with little labor
beyond that of hacking and hewing--materials being ever ready at his
hand: for the world is full of books as the forest is of trees and the
market of lumber. And this is done to instruct us; to build us up
inwardly; to administer food to our intellect; to nourish our souls; to
kindle the imagination and awaken to energetic action the living but
slumbering world within. But, alas! this inner world cannot be kindled
like a smouldering fire, by a basket of chips and a puff of wind! This
inner world is a world of spirits, which feed on thoughts full of truth
and living energy. And thought alone can kindle thought: and truth alone
can waken truth: not veracity, not fact, but truth vital,
'Truth that wakes
To perish never.'
This is the bread for which the soul is pining, and such are the husks
with which its calls are answered."
There is in this statement of the predominant character of our popular
lectures much that is true, as we could easily show by a definite
examination of the most popular discourses to which our audiences
listen. Every one can see that their aim is, not to announce great
truths, which are essential to the well-being of society, and the
instruction of the soul,
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