pointed. I believe that all history has become more grave, and terrible, and full of significance, since that time, because the present has become more grave and terrible also; but, that if we have faith to look upon both, to see in each the interpretation of the other, we shall not shrink from the thought of the future, because it must compel us to meet the whole problem of human society, because it must compel us to seek for a divine solution of that problem.

Burke died in the year 1797; he belongs emphatically to the last age. He left no successor, as he once dreamt that he might, who should maintain his principles and support his name in the coming age. He died childless. It was the loss of his son, on whom he had looked with an affection which belonged to his character, with an exaggerated admiration which was a most pardonable exercise of his fancy, which struck the final blow to his spirit as well as to his body. There is no decline of intellectual power in his later works. His eloquence perhaps reaches its highest point in them; but there is the irritation and despondency which I have endeavoured to account for. There is the lesson to us, that each man has his appointed work to do, that more than that work he cannot do; that if he does it as ever in his great Taskmaster's eye, the times to come may bless his memory and give thanks for his wisdom; but that we are not to expect from men past, present, or coming, that which we may look for and shall find in Him who is, and was, and is to

come.

XII.

ACQUISITION AND ILLUMINATION.1

I HAVE been reflecting upon some phrases which most of us adopt almost without knowing that we adopt them, and which, it seems to me, have done no little harm to our studies. We are apt to draw our language respecting knowledge from that which of right belongs to property. We talk of transmitting knowledge as we talk of transmitting lands from father to son. We talk of acquiring knowledge as we talk of acquiring money. Perhaps it scarcely occurs to you-it often does not occur to me-that these are metaphorical or artificial expressions. They have become so worked into our speech that we suppose they are just as applicable to learning as they are to houses or to the funds. And I am far from denying that they have a good sense. I should be very sorry to banish them altogether.

There is a most important

principle involved in the doctrine that a father may leave intellectual treasures to his sons as well as

1 Part of a New Year's Address to the Pupils of some of the Classes at the Working Men's College.

1863.

material treasures. There is an important truth in the saying, that knowledge, like bread, is to be acquired by the sweat of the brow. I would keep up the recollection of these facts by occasionally using these familiar expressions, because, if we destroy the connection between knowledge and property, we shall make property and all that has to do with it more sordid and base. I would say to the rich man, "There is something in this language which is worth your remembering." But I would say to him also, "There is a better and nobler language than this; one which tells us what it cannot tell us. The poor man, if you will listen to him, will teach you that language.” What is that language? A man goes out to his work, say at six or seven on a January morning; the same miracle occurs every twenty-four hours. The streets are dark, only made more dismal by a few gas lamps which are gradually put out. The sun appears; there is a light upon his path; the light is upon all the houses and shops amidst which he is walking. The light may not be mixed with much warmth on these wintry days; but he knows there is warmth as well as light there for him, and for all who are out in these streets; for all England, for countries utterly unlike England. Light has been associated with knowledge -has been the symbol of the way in which men come to know, in all regions and in all ages. Is it not the natural, the true symbol? If we take those that are derived from property in change for it, do not you think we shall suffer greatly? For see what the

difference is! If knowledge comes to us as light comes to us, it can never be third-hand or second-hand knowledge. The sun is very, very old; but he is new to me every time I welcome him. He is still the bridegroom fresh from his chamber. He is not the least worn or tarnished because my ancestors of the generations of old rejoiced at the sight of him. And again, it does not the least interfere with the illumination which I receive from him, that tens of thousands of others are illuminated by him at the same instant. I have, no doubt, acquired the illumination-if you mean I am the better for it. I have not acquired it the least, if you mean that I can claim it as mine to the injury or exclusion of any other creature. And as to imparting or diffusing it, what I can do in that way is to invite all I know to leave their close houses and enjoy it with me; or to let it into their houses when that is possible. If I take any other course than that, I shall not diffuse light, but perhaps darkness.

You may think me perverse for insisting so strongly upon the distinction between these two forms of expression, each of which I allow, within due limits, to be reasonable. But I cannot tell you how much I think is involved in it. I believe that your tasks in each one of your class-rooms will be fruitful or barren in proportion as you remember or forget it. I will go with you from one to the other that you may see whether your experience confirms or refutes mine.

I cannot begin better than with your Drawing-classes. Those who have studied in those classes have a great

excuse for using the words with which I appear to be finding fault. They do, I am satisfied, acquire a great power of using their hands, and directing their pencils. They acquire a faculty of observing, which they had not before they came here. No one has less right than I have to dispute that these are peculiar gifts, since I can put in a singularly little claim to either. And it is equally true that these gifts are not new powers. Men, in other days, have had them. Hints have been left for the exercise of them, which may warrant us in saying that they have been transmitted to us. All this is true. And yet when I go into your rooms, it is not for these I envy you; it is that those leaves which you are copying have actually discovered to you their cunning workmanship, their secret beauty. It is that human faces have told you a little of the wonder that is in them. I rejoice that you can express with your pencils something of what they have said to you; that you can help us to understand them a little. A light has burst upon you, which shows you those forms and colours, with which you have been familiar so long. The old things have not changed their own nature, but they have become new to you. You like them all the better because they are the same that you have had with you since you were children. You may indeed have a desire kindled in you to see the places of which you have only heard. In the midst of close streets you may dream of mountains and lakes, and wish to come in contact with them, that they may be facts, not dreams, in your minds. It is well to have your horizon

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