in effect,
that, though Paul plant and Apollos water, yet fruit can come only out
of divine and infinite Nature,--only, that is, out of the native,
incommunicable resources of the soul. "No man can come to me," said
Jesus, "except the Father draw him." "To him that hath shall be given."
The frequent formula, "He that hath ears to hear, let him hear," is a
confession that no power of speech, no wisdom of instruction, can
command results. The grandest teacher, like the humblest, can but utter
his word, sure that the wealthy and prepared spirits will receive it,
and equally sure that shallow, sterile, and inane natures will either
not receive it at all, or do so to extremely little purpose.
And such, as I read, is the judgment of Plato; though, ever disposed to
explore the remote possibilities of education, he discusses the subject
in a tentative spirit, as if vaguely hoping that more might, through
some discovery in method, be accomplished by means of doctrine. But in
the "Republic" his permanent persuasion is shown. He there bases his
whole scheme of polity, as Goethe in the second part of "Wilhelm
Meister" bases his scheme of education, upon a primary inspection of
natures, in which it is assumed that culture must begin by humbly
accepting the work of Nature, forswearing all attempt to add one jot or
tittle to the native virtue of any human spirit.
It is always, however, less important for us to know what another thinks
upon any high matter than to know what is our own deepest and inevitable
thought concerning it; for, as the man himself thinketh, not as another
thinketh for him, so is he: his own thoughts are forces and engines in
his nature; those of any other are at best but candidates for these
profound effects. I propose, therefore, that we throw open the whole
question of man's benefit to man by means of words. Let us inquire--if
possible, with somewhat of courage and vigor--what are the limits and
what the laws of instructive communication.
And our first discovery will be that such communication has adamantine
limitations. The off-hand impression of most persons would probably be
that we are able to make literal conveyance of our thought. But, in
truth, one could as soon convey the life out of his veins into the veins
of another as transfer from his own mind to that of another any belief,
thought, or perception whatsoever.
Words are simply the signs, they are not the vehicles, of thought. Like
all signs,
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