Evening at Home 40

Evening at Home 40

Fa._ They can make known a few of their common wants and desires, but

they cannot _discourse_, or communicate ideas stored up in the memory.

It is this faculty which makes man an _improvable_ being, the wisdom and

experience acquired by one individual being thus transmitted to others,

and so on in an endless series of progression.

 

There is no reason to suppose that the dogs of the present day are more

knowing than those which lived a thousand years ago; but the men of this

age are much better acquainted with numberless arts and sciences than

their remote ancestors; since, by the use of speech and of writing

(which is speech addressed to the eye), every age adds its own

discoveries to all former ones. This knowledge of the past likewise

gives man a great insight into the future. Shakspeare excellently

defines man by saying that he is a creature “made with large discourse,

looking before and after.”

 

_Ch._ Animals must surely know something of the future, when they lay up

a store of provisions for the winter.

 

_Fa._ No—it is pretty certain that this is not the case, for they will

do it as much the first year of their lives as any other. Young bees

turned out of their hive, as soon as they have swarmed and got a

habitation, begin laying up honey, though they cannot possibly foresee

the use they shall have for it. There are a vast number of actions of

this kind in animals which are directed to a useful end, but an end

which the animal knows nothing of. And this is what we call _instinct_,

and properly distinguish from reason. Man has less of it than almost any

other animal, because he wants it less. Another point of essential

difference is, that man is the only animal that makes use of

_instruments_ in any of his actions. He is a _tool-making_ and

_machine-making_ animal. By means of this faculty alone he is every

where lord of the creation, and has equally triumphed over the subtlety

of the cunning, the swiftness of the fleet, and the force of the strong.

He is the only animal that has found out the use of _fire_, a most

important acquisition!

 

_Ch._ I have read of some large apes that will come and sit round a fire

in the woods when men have left it, but have not the sense to keep it

in, by throwing on sticks.

 

_Fa._ Still less then could they light a fire. In consequence of this

discovery man cooks his food, which no other animal does. He alone

fences against the cold by clothing as well as by fire. He alone

cultivates the earth, and keeps living animals for future uses.

 

_Ch._ But have not there been wild men bred in the woods that could do

none of these things?

 

_Fa._ Some instances of this kind are recorded, and they are not to be

wondered at; for man was meant to be a _gregarious_ animal, or one

living in society, in which alone his faculties have full scope, and

especially his power of improving by the use of speech. These poor

solitary creatures, brought up with the brutes, were in a state entirely

unnatural to them. A solitary bee, ant, or beaver, would have none of

the skill and sagacity of those animals in their proper social

condition. Society sharpens all the faculties, and gives ideas and views

which never could have been entertained by an individual.

 

_Ch._ But some men that live in society seem to be little above the

brutes, at least when compared with other men. What is a Hottentot in

comparison with one of us?

 

_Fa._ The difference, indeed, is great; but we agree in the most

essential characters of _man_, and perhaps the advantage is not all on

our side. The Hottentot cultivates the earth and rears cattle. He not

only herds with his fellows, but he has instituted some sort of

government for the protection of the weak against the strong; he has a

notion of right and wrong, and is sensible of the necessity of

controlling present appetites and passions for the sake of a future

good. He has therefore _morals_. He is possessed of weapons, tools,

clothing, and furniture of his own making. In agility of body, and the

knowledge of various circumstances relative to the nature of animals, he

surpasses us. His inferiority lies in those things in which many of the

lowest class among us are equally inferior to the instructed.

 

_Ch._ But Hottentots have no notion of a God or a future state.

 

_Fa._ I am not certain how far that is fact: but alas! how many among us

have no knowledge at all on these subjects, or only some vague notions

full of absurdity and superstition! People far advanced in civilization

have held the grossest errors on these subjects, which are only to be

corrected by the serious application of reason, or by a direct

revelation from Heaven.

 

_Ch._ You said man was an _improveable_ creature—but have not many

nations been a long time in a savage state without improvement?

 

_Fa._ Man is always _capable of improvement_; but he may exist a long

time, in society, without _actually improving_ beyond a certain point.

There is little improvement among nations who have not the art of

_writing_, for tradition is not capable of preserving very accurate or

extensive knowledge; and many arts and sciences, after flourishing

greatly, have been entirely lost, in countries which have been overrun

by barbarous and illiterate nations. Then there is a principle which I

might have mentioned as one of those that distinguish man from brutes,

but it as much distinguishes some men from others. This is _curiosity_,

or the love of knowledge for its own sake. Most savages have little or

nothing of this; but without it we should want one of the chief

inducements to exert our faculties. It is curiosity that impels us to

search into the properties of every part of nature, to try all sorts of

experiments, to visit distant regions, and even to examine the

appearances and motions of the heavenly bodies. Every fact thus

discovered leads to other facts; and there is no limit to be set to this

progress. The time may come, when what we now know may seem as much

ignorance to future ages as the knowledge of early times does to us.

 

_Ch._ What nations know the most at present?

 

_Fa._ The Europeans have long been distinguished for superior ardour

after knowledge, and they possess beyond comparison the greatest share

of it, whereby they have been enabled to command the rest of the world.

The countries in which the arts and sciences most flourish at present

are the northern and middle parts of Europe, and also North America,

which, is inhabited by descendants of Europeans. In these countries man

may be said to be _most man_; and they may apply to themselves the

poet’s boast:—

 

“Man is the nobler growth these realms supply,

And souls are ripened in our northern sky.”

 

 

 

 

WALKING THE STREETS.—A PARABLE.

 

 

Have you ever walked through the crowded streets of a great city?

 

What shoals of people pouring in from opposite quarters, like torrents

meeting in a narrow valley! You would imagine it impossible for them to

get through; yet all pass on their way without stop or molestation.

 

Were each man to proceed exactly in the line in which he set out, he

could not move many paces without encountering another full in his

track. They would strike against each other, fall back, push forward

again, block up the way for themselves and those after them, and throw

the whole street into confusion. All this is avoided by every man’s

_yielding a little_.

 

Instead of advancing square, stiff, with arms stuck out, every one who

knows how to walk the streets glides along, his arms close, his body

oblique and flexible, his track gently winding, leaving now a few inches

on this side, now on that, so as to pass and be passed without touching,

in the smallest possible space.

 

He pushes no one into the kennel, nor goes into it himself. By _mutual

accommodation_, the path, though narrow, holds them all.

 

He goes neither much faster nor much slower than those who go in the

same direction. In the first case he would elbow, in the second he would

be elbowed.

 

If any accidental stop arises, from a carriage crossing, a cask rolled,

a pickpocket detected, or the like, he does not increase the bustle by

rushing into the midst of it, but checks his pace, and patiently waits

for its removal.

 

Like this is the _march of life_.

 

In our progress through the world a thousand things stand continually in

our way. Some people meet us full in the face with opposite opinions and

inclinations. Some stand before us in our pursuit of pleasure or

interest, and others follow close upon our heels. Now, we ought in the

first place to consider, that the _road is as free for one as another_;

and therefore we have no right to expect that persons should go out of

their way to let us pass, any more than we out of ours. Then, if we do

not mutually yield and accommodate a little, it is clear that we must

all stand still, or be thrown into a perpetual confusion of squeezing

and jostling. If we are all in a hurry to get on as fast as possible to

some point of pleasure or interest in our view, and do not occasionally

hold back, when the crowd gathers, and angry contentions arise, we shall

only augment the tumult, without advancing our own progress. On the

whole, it is our business to move onward, steadily, but quietly,

obstructing others as little as possible, yielding a little to this

man’s prejudices, and that man’s desires, and doing everything in our

power to make the _journey of life_ easy to all our fellow-travellers as

well as to ourselves.

 

[Illustration:

 

Presence of Mind, p. 192.

 

EVENING XVI.

]

 

 

 

 

THE COMPOUND-FLOWERED PLANTS.

 

_Tutor_