CHAPTER XXIX.

ADVICE TO THE YOUNG.

In the 17th Number of "THE FRIEND," published on Dec. 14. 1809, is an interesting Letter to the Editor, from a correspondent who subscribes himself MATHETES, and who is generally understood to be a person eminent in the various departments of Poetry, Philosophy, and Criticism - Professor Wilson.

The writer begins with describing the danger to which a young man is exposed on emerging from a state of tutelage into the world. There are, he thinks, numerous causes conspiring to bring his mind into bondage to popular fallacies, which will impair its simplicity, its energy, and its love of truth. He is dazzled by the fame of those who occupy the highest places in the world; his affections attach him to them and their opinions; and, in a degenerate age, such as the writer affirms the present to be, the ardour and enthusiasm of youth is thus enlisted in the cause of what is often illusory and pernicious.

This danger, it is alleged, is increased by the common belief, that human nature is gradually advancing by a continuous progress towards perfection. The necessary consequence of this supposition is, a confident presumption that the opinions of the present time are wiser than those of the past; and an overweening reliance on contemporary judgment grows up with a contemptuous disregard for antiquity.

How are the young to be rescued from this perilous condition? Not, it is answered, by the voice of their own reason and affections, for they are already subjected to the dominion of false principles. It must be, by the warning voice of some contemporary teacher, who has won their respect by his intellectual powers, and has gained their affections by his ardent benevolence, and who will warn them against the delusions of the age, and instruct them to suspect, distrust, and analyze its opinions.

"If a Teacher," it is said, "should stand up in their generation conspicuous above the multitude in superior power, and yet more in the assertion and proclamation of disregarded truth,- to him, to his cheering and animating voice, all hearts would turn, whose deep sensibility has been oppressed by the indifference, or misled by the seduction of the times. Of one such teacher given to our own age, you have described the power when you say, that in his enunciation of truths he seems to speak in thunders.1

"I believe that mighty voice has not been poured out in vain; that there are hearts that have received into their inmost depths all its varying tones; and even now there are many to whom the name of Wordsworth calls up the recollection of their weakness and the consciousness of their strength."

Such was the appeal of "MATHETES." His letter was followed by some observations from the pen of him whom he had invoked as his teacher, W. Wordsworth.

1 Coleridge in "The Friend," vol. i. p. 317. had said of Wordsworth, quem quoties lego, non verba mihi videor audire, sed

66

tonitrua."

2 In Nos. 17. and 20.

He observes, that it is erroneous to imagine that there ever was an age in which objects did not exist to which even the wisest attached undue importance, and in which minds were not idolized that owed their influence to the frailty of their contemporaries rather than to their own strength. At all times young men have been exposed to injurious influences even from those persons whom they are bound to revere; and at all times, therefore, they have been in danger of delusion, frequent in proportion to the liveliness of their sensibility, and the strength of their imagination.

But we judge amiss both of the past and the present. In looking back on the past, we see certain prominent features, but we forget how much we do not see. Next, we weigh the whole past against the time present to us. Hence our comparison is fallacious, and our deductions from it erroneous.

Again, it may be quite true that certain minds, which have existed in past ages, such as Homer, Shakspeare, Bacon, Milton, Newton, may not be surpassed or equalled in the present time, yet it does not follow that the general course of human nature is not progressive. Nor are we to imagine, that, because we do not see progress continuously made, therefore it does not take place. There is progress in a winding river, as well as in a straight road. So it may be, so it probably is, with the human species.

Hence it follows, that the faith, which every generous mind would wish to cherish, in the advancement of society, ought not to dispose the young to an undue admiration of their own age, and so tend to degrade and enslave them.

The true protection against delusion is to be found in self-examination, and in independent exertion. Here youth has great advantages. Health, leisure, elasticity of spirit, hope, confidence, disinterestedness, these are some of its aids, which enable it to labour aright. And if we suppose youth to stand, as it does, in the bivium of Prodicus, it ought to put to itself certain searching questions, What are my own aims? why do I value my faculties and attainments? For any selfish advantage? or a nobler cause? Am I prepared to renounce applause, to forfeit wealth, to encounter toil, to disregard censure in the pursuit of virtue? Am I ready to do this cheerfully? If not, then I ought not to complain of any positive evil under which I labour from the circumstances of youth; but I ought to regret that I am defective in those courageous instincts which are the appropriate characteristics of that season of life.

What, however, can be gained by this admonition ? He cannot recal the past; he cannot begin his journey afresh; he cannot untwist the chain of images and sentiments in his mind. "He may, notwithstanding," says Mr. Wordsworth, whose exact words I will now cite 1, "be remanded to nature; and with trustworthy hopes; founded less upon his sentient than upon his intellectual being -- to nature, not as leading on insensibly to the society of reason; but to reason and will as leading back to the wisdom of nature. A reunion in this order accomplished, will bring reformation and timely support; and the two powers of reason and nature, thus reciprocally teacher and taught, may advance together in a track to which there is no limit.

"We have been discoursing (by implication at least) of infancy, childhood, boyhood, and youth-of pleasures lying upon the unfolding intellect plenteously as morning dew-drops- of knowledge inhaled insensibly like a fragrance - of dispositions stealing into the spirit like music from unknown quarters — of images uncalled for and rising up like exhalations of hopes plucked like beautiful wild-flowers from the ruined tombs that border the highways of antiquity to make a garland for a living forehead; in a word, we have been treating of nature as a teacher of truth through joy and through gladness, and as a creatress of the faculties by a process of smoothness and delight. We have made no mention of fear, shame, sorrow, nor of ungovernable and vexing thoughts; because, although these have been and have done mighty service, they are overlooked in that stage of life when youth is passing into manhood — overlooked, or forgotten. We now apply for succour which we need, to a faculty that works after a different course: that faculty is reason: she gives much spontaneously, but she seeks for more; she works by thought, through feeling; yet in thoughts she begins and ends."

He then proceeds to enlarge on the necessity of independent effort, and of an abiding sense of personal responsibility, as distinguished from and paramount to dependence on any living teacher, however eminent.1 Surely, if the being of the individual be under his own care; if it be his first care; if duty begin from the point of accountableness to our conscience, and, through that, to God and human nature; if without such primary sense of duty, all secondary care of teacher, of friend, of parent, must be baseless 1 Friend, No. 20. Jan. 4. 1810, p. 311.