This has more especially happened in the chemical sciences, and those connected with them, a sphere to which, I may be allowed to observe, his system seems particularly applicable.There, science begins to lead and direct art;in other departments she rather follows and assists it.But, with regard to the general progress of art, even its recent history evinces the justice of these observations, and shows that "men estimate falsely both their possessions and their powers, deeming of the first more highly, and of the last more lightly, than they ought." (84) We shall admit this, if we consider the vast number of qualities and powers, and of new practical combinations of them, that, in our days, have been discovered and applied to use, and reflect on the long series of ages during which they were hid in darkness, on the proximity of men to them, and the ease with which they might have lighted on them, would they have turned their eyes, ever so little, out of the busy circle of actual life and occupations.
If, too, the history of the past tell us truly what the future will be, we may feel assured that, as it is not the powers of nature or of man, but the application of them, that is limited, if individuals be inclined by their own dispositions to apply themselves to purposes conducive to the general good, and if they be incited to do so by causes similar to such as have before operated, art and science will still stretch their capacities, until they may at length reach an extent of which it is impossible for us now to form any conception.
An attentive consideration of the history of art might also give rise to a series of reflections of another sort.It would show a purpose, which does not strike us on a first view of the creation.Nature, it would seem, if I may be allowed so to express myself, sensible of the combined pride and imbecility of man, was so arranged the world she has provided for him, as to make it the means of urging him on, in a continual progress, towards higher and higher attainments.Neither the defects of his limited and cloudy faculties, nor the intoxication of the vainglory, that, fed by his imitative propensities, is ever representing him to himself as having reached the summit of terrestrial perfection, can preserve him stationary.He is now impelled by necessity, now excited by hope, to attempt the amelioration of his condition, and thus gradually to develope the latent capacities of his own being, and of the sphere of existence in which he moves.By a diversity of climates, soils, and nations, steps are, as it were, arranged for him, up which he is gradually enticed, or compelled to mount, to fresh acquisitions of knowledge and power.He is never allowed to remain stationary.
A portion, indeed, of the race may, and for a limited time, but ultimately they either improve, or yield their place to surrounding peoples who have improved.
Some philosophers urge it as an objection against the world's having been formed by a designing cause, that so large a portion of its surface is useless to man.According to them, had it been formed by perfect and beneficent reason, it should have been such a level garden, as a certain theorist supposed it originally to have been.Had it been so, we may safely assert, that man, as man, could never have inhabited it.He must either have been formed above, or sunk below, his present condition.Because we do not turn to any account the sandy desert, or rugged mountain, we are not entitled to look on them as blots on the general utility of the creation, or suppose, even, that they may not be put to use by succeeding generations.
The savage of New Holland conceives every tree useless that does not soon rot, and so breed maggots for him.The ancient Romans scarcely conceived that the woods and morasses of Caledonia would, at any time, be abundantly useful.We judge rashly, then, in condemning as useless any portion of the earth.Even the barren deserts of Africa may, in after ages, be fertilized.
Art and industry may, in time, draw water plentifully from the depths of the earth, and cover them with treple harvests.To do so, human art must make great advances, and these and the other obstacles it has met with, and will meet with, are stimulants to its advance.
War itself, so great an evil to the individuals within the scope of its ravages, is evidently the only manner by which, in certain states of society, an amelioration can be induced.The destruction of the Roman Empire, and almost of the Roman race, by the barbarians, was, perhaps, ultimately, the most beneficial revolution ever brought about.Even in its minor consequences, this apparent evil produces also much of real good.Without it, many of the most useful inventions might never have been either propagated, or improved.
We are ever ready to forget the part which nature thus bears in our operations, and to lay the whole credit of our skill and industry to our own discernment.The slow and gradual manner in which she has led us on to the acquisition of every art, acting all along the part of the sagacious teacher, who puts before his scholar, at first, the most simple and easy lessons, and on his mastering these, by degrees, through the influence of suitable rewards and penalties, conducts him to more difficult efforts, meets not our notice, and rises not to our thoughts.
Were these or similar reflections fifty placed here, the subject might give occasion to many more of the sort.But, it seems to me, that we act always rashly and imprudently in bringing in such disquisitions into inductive inquiries.They belong to another subject.
The aim of science may be said to be, to ascertain the manner in which things actually exist.The doing so, indeed, has been generally found to bring to light some useful purpose in their arrangement, and the proofs of benevolent design thus exhibited, are exceedingly interesting in relation to the evidence they afford us of the attributes of the great first cause.
