It is related that the Arve, a river of Switzerland, swollen by floods, sometimes drives the waters of the Rhone back into the Lake of Geneva; and the force is sometimes so great as to make the mill-wheels revolve in a contrary direction. There are too many in the world who by their efforts would cause the stream to flow back upon the fountain, and even make the mill-wheels revolve in a contrary direction.
Unhappily, this same bigotry,—conservatism, if you will,—which has blindly opposed improvement in physical comforts, sets its face more passionately still against those movements whose direct object is the elevation of the race. In all times and places it has persecuted the prophets and stoned the gifted messengers of truth. Of its professors Milton pictures the boldest type in Satan, who, knowing well the sins and offences of mortals, would keep them ever in their present condition, holding them fast in degradation, binding them in perpetual slavery, nor indulging in any aspiration, except of long dominion over a captive race, whose sorrows and hopes cannot touch his impenetrable soul. From a sketch by another hand we learn something of his activity. With honest plainness, characteristic of himself and his age, the early English prelate, Latimer, says, in one of his sermons, "The Devil is the most diligentest bishop and preacher in all England."[270] It may be said with equal truth,—and none can question it,—that he is the busiest and most offensive Conservative.
Time forbids my dwelling longer on the ample illustrations of this influence: nor need I. One world-renowned example shall suffice. The early efforts in England for the overthrow of the slave-trade were encountered by an enmity black as the bad passions of the crime itself. In Liverpool the excited slave-traders threatened to throw Clarkson into the dock. But gradually the heart of the nation was touched, until at last the people of England demanded the abolition of this Heaven-defying traffic.
Thus ever has Truth moved on,—though opposed and reviled, still mighty and triumphant. Rejected by the rich and powerful, by the favorites of fortune and of place, she finds shelter with those who often have no shelter for themselves. It is such as these that most freely welcome moral truth, with its new commandments. Not the dwellers in the glare of the world, but the humble and lowly, most clearly perceive this truth,—as watchers placed in the depths of a well observe the stars which are obscured to those who live in the effulgence of noon. Free from egotism and prejudice, whether of self-interest or of class, without cares and temptations, whether of wealth or power, dwelling in the mediocrity or obscurity of common life, they discern the new signal, and surrender unreservedly to its guidance. The Saviour knew this. He did not call upon Priest or Levite or Pharisee to follow him, but upon the humble fishermen by the Sea of Galilee.
Let us, then, be of good cheer. From the great Law of Progress we derive at once our duties and our encouragements. Humanity has ever advanced, urged by instincts and necessities implanted by God,—thwarted sometimes by obstacles, causing it for a time, a moment only in the immensity of ages, to deviate from its true line, or seem to retreat, but still ever onward. At last we know the law of this movement; we fasten our eyes upon that star, unobserved in the earlier ages, which lights the way to the Future, opening into vistas of infinite variety and extension. Amidst the disappointments which attend individual exertions, amidst the universal agitations which now surround us, let us recognize this law, let us follow this star, confident that whatever is just, whatever is humane, whatever is good, whatever is true, according to an immutable ordinance of Providence, in the sure light of the Future, must prevail. With this faith, we place our hands, as those of little children, in the great hand of God. He will guide and sustain us—through pains and perils it may be—in the path of Progress.
In such a faith there are motives to beneficent activity which will endure to the last syllable of life. Let the young embrace this law; it shall be to them an ever-living spring. Let the old cherish this law; it shall be to them a staff for support. It will give to all, young and old, a new appreciation of their existence, a new sentiment of their force, a new revelation of their destiny. It will be as another covenant, witnessed by the bow in the heavens, not only that no honest, earnest effort for the welfare of man can be in vain, but that it shall send a quickening influence through uncounted ages, and contribute to the coming of that Future of Intelligence, Freedom, Peace we would now secure for ourselves, but cannot. Though not ourselves partakers of these brighter days, ours may be the pleasure at least of foreseeing them, of enjoying them in happy vision, or the satisfaction, sweeter still, of hastening by some moments the too distant epoch.
A life filled with this thought will have comforts and consolations else unknown. In the flush of youthful ambition, or in the self-confidence of success, we may be indifferent to the calls of Humanity; but history, reason, and religion all speak in vain, if any selfish works, not helping the Progress of Man, although favored by worldly smile, can secure that happiness and content so much coveted as the crown of life. Look at the last days of Talleyrand, and learn the wretchedness of an old age enlightened by no memory of generous toil, by no cheerful hope for our fellow-men. When the weakness of years rendered him no longer able to grasp power or hold the threads of intrigue, he surrendered himself to discouragement and despair. By the light of a lamp trimmed in solitude he traced these lines, the most melancholy ever written by an old man,—think of them, politician!—"Eighty-three years of life are now passed! filled with what anxieties! what agitations! what enmities! what troublous complexities! And all this with no other result than a great weariness, physical and moral, and a profound sentiment of discouragement with regard to the Future and of disgust for the Past."[271] Poor old man! Poor indeed! In loneliness, in failing age, with death waiting at his palace-gate, what to him were the pomps he had enjoyed? what were titles? what were offices? what the lavish wealth in which he lived? More precious far at that moment the consolation that he had labored for his fellow-men, and the joyous confidence that all his cares had helped the Progress of his race!
Be it, then, our duty and our encouragement to live and to labor, ever mindful of the Future. But let us not forget the Past. All ages have lived and labored for us. From one has come art; from another jurisprudence; from another the compass; from another the printing-press; from all have descended priceless lessons of truth and virtue. The most distant are not without a present influence on our daily lives. The mighty stream of Progress, though fed by many tributary waters and hidden springs, derives something of its force from the earlier currents which leap and sparkle in distant mountain recesses, over precipices, among rapids, and beneath the shade of the primeval forest.
Nor should we be too impatient to witness the fulfilment of our aspirations. The daily increasing rapidity of discovery and improvement, and the daily multiplying efforts of beneficence, outstripping the imaginations of the most sanguine, furnish assurance that the advance of man will be with a constantly accelerating speed. The extending intercourse among the nations of the earth, and all the children of the Human Family, gives new promise of the complete diffusion of Truth, penetrating the most distant places, chasing away the darkness of night, and exposing the hideous forms of Slavery, War, and Wrong, which must be hated in proportion as they are seen. And yet, while confident of the Future, and surrounded by heralds of certain triumph, it becomes us to moderate our anticipations, nor imitate those children of the Crusades, who, in their long journey from Western Europe,
"to seek