his character
retains all its unconscious effect, is converted in the mind into solid
and sweet wisdom,--it is a sign to us that his office is closing, and he
is commonly withdrawn from our sight in a short time.

CHAPTER VI.

IDEALISM.

THUS is the unspeakable but intelligible and practicable meaning of
the world conveyed to man, the immortal pupil, in every object of
sense. To this one end of Discipline, all parts of nature conspire.

A noble doubt perpetually suggests itself, whether this end be not
the Final Cause of the Universe; and whether nature outwardly
exists. It is a sufficient account of that Appearance we call the
World, that God will teach a human mind, and so makes it the
receiver of a certain number of congruent sensations, which we call
sun and moon, man and woman, house and trade. In my utter
impotence to test the authenticity of the report of my senses, to
know whether the impressions they make on me correspond with
outlying objects, what difference does it make, whether Orion is up
there in heaven, or some god paints the image in the firmament of
the soul? The relations of parts and the end of the whole remaining
the same, what is the difference, whether land and sea interact, and
worlds revolve and intermingle without number or end,--deep
yawning under deep, and galaxy balancing galaxy, throughout
absolute space,--or, whether, without relations of time and space, the
same appearances are inscribed in the constant faith of man?
Whether nature enjoy a substantial existence without, or is only in
the apocalypse of the mind, it is alike useful and alike venerable to
me. Be it what it may, it is ideal to me, so long as I cannot try the
accuracy of my senses.

The frivolous make themselves merry with the Ideal theory, if its
consequences were burlesque; as if it affected the stability of nature.
It surely does not. God never jests with us, and will not compromise
the end of nature, by permitting any inconsequence in its procession.
Any distrust of the permanence of laws, would paralyze the faculties
of man. Their permanence is sacredly respected, and his faith therein
is perfect. The wheels and springs of man are all set to the
hypothesis of the permanence of nature. We are not built like a ship
to be tossed, but like a house to stand. It is a natural consequence of
this structure, that, so long as the active powers predominate over
the reflective, we resist with indignation any hint that natu