“If, in the paper herewith submitted, there may be any confusion, or supposed misapplication of terms, we claim our privilege. In old time, those who excelled in the sciences were called Sages, which was equivalent to our learned. This pedantic appellation, however, could not be tolerated by the modest Pythagoras, who, being merely an anxious searcher after knowledge, refused to arrogate to himself its actual possession, and therefore assumed the title of Philosopher, or Lover of Wisdom. He deserves immortal honor for this happy application of the word, yet we are not quite sure that he would have used it at all had he foreseen the consequences to which it has led. Ever since his day, it has become the custom to look upon all whose wild fancies are inexplicable, as “Philosophers;” and whenever a confused mass of nonsense is collected together, so heterogeneous that human ingenuity is at a loss to classify it, it is generally dubbed “Philosophy.” Whatever of incongruity, confusion, or misapplication may be detected in our essay, must, therefore, under the most approved customs of the times, be regarded as wonderfully philosophic, and being thus converted into a merit, we need add nothing in extenuation.”[2]
FOOTNOTES:
[2] Note.—The above introductory remarks, together with the paper which they accompanied, were read before the Association as the report of a Committee.—Editor.
AN ESSAY.
THE BEAUTY OF A WELL CULTIVATED HEART.
However high and exalted the achievements of mind, and whatever the pleasures and consolations of knowledge, these are small when contrasted with the beauties of a well-cultivated heart. The grand attainments of talent and genius, exhibiting man’s lofty superiority over all animated existence, may attract our admiration and elicit our surprise, but the manifestation of those noble qualities which we ascribe to the heart, alone can make us feel. Mind only appeals to mind: heart alone to heart.
“Knowledge is wealth,” was a favorite and perhaps somewhat egotistical saying of the ancient philosophers, and, indeed, without it man would be a most pitiable creature. It is a maxim ascribed to Zoroaster, that “he who lives in ignorance knoweth neither God nor religion,” and Thales, one of the seven wise men of Greece, and founder of the Ionic sect, calls him “who enjoys good health, finds fortune favorable, and has well cultivated his soul with sound learning,” the happy man. Without mental culture, we cannot appreciate the treasures of nature, and unless we have a knowledge of its laws, obtained through a study of the sciences, we cannot realize the comforts with which it is arrayed for the benefit of mankind. Even the merciful government of God is rendered one of terror and fear through ignorance, whilst the intercourse with our fellows so essential to social happiness, is restrained within the most narrow bounds, and we remain little better than barbarians. The Mitylenians esteemed ignorance of the liberal arts a deplorable punishment, and thus, when masters of the sea, they prohibited the revolted allies from teaching their children letters or music, as the most grievous penalty they could possibly inflict.
The affections, and those virtues which signally reach them, we have for ages been accustomed to place to the heart’s account. We yield to it all the virtues of sensibility, and thus it becomes the great source and centre of feeling. To it we ascribe that generous commiseration and sympathy which constitute the pillars of society, and which have long since confirmed the declaration of the great Roman orator, that no nation has ever existed where civility, good nature, and gratitude, were not had in esteem, and where the proud, the mischievous, the cruel, and ungrateful, were not had in contempt and abhorrence. Wisdom may flatter our self-love, and as it advances, justly challenge our respect, but we fail to see in it the power or the pleasure which is inseparable from the heart’s good sentiments. “It is to no purpose to be wise, unless we are rendered better,” truly observes Lucian. Life is made a blessing, not through the influence of mind, however much it may have done to surround us with the means of comfort and enjoyment, but through the great excellencies of man’s nature. It is a law of nature, as we are told by the most eminent moralists, that each should cultivate an agreeable sociability as the best means of promoting the end for which human society has been instituted. This can never be successfully done without the virtues of the heart—such as friendship and love, and above and including all, CHARITY.
The pleasure of man’s intercourse with his fellows depends principally upon the virtues that adorn him. The wise, if arrogant, vain, and ungrateful, may only succeed in awakening within the good feelings of mingled respect and contempt; whilst the generous, the humble, the just, will ever elicit universal esteem. We rely upon their gratitude and confide in their friendship, realizing the happiness of their guileless sincerity and truth. Without friendship, life would be a gift which we might well despise. “By what other means,” asks Seneca, “are we preserved, but by the mutual assistance of good turns?” It is this generous virtue, springing from the heart, that renders our associations agreeable, and throws around our existence the joys and pleasures of social life. “If any man,” says Xenophon, “a lover of virtue, ever found a more profitable companion than Socrates, I deem that man the happiest of human kind.” This celebrated ancient general and scholar, in thus speaking of his friend, utters but a truthful tribute to the virtue of friendship, as exemplified in the life of every honest man.