No More Learning

Still there are two great pillars that bear us up, amid the wreck of
misfortune and misery. The one is composed of the different
modifications of a certain noble stubborn something in man, known by
the names of courage, fortitude, magnanimity. The other is made up of
those feelings and sentiments, which, however the sceptic may deny
them, or the enthusiast disfigure them, are yet, I am convinced,
original and component parts of the human soul; those _senses of the
mind_, if I may be allowed the expression, which connect us with, and
link us to, those awful, obscure realities--an all-powerful, and
equally beneficent God; and a world to come, beyond death and the
grave. The first gives the nerve of combat, while a ray of hope beams
on the field: the last pours the balm of comfort into the wounds which
time can never cure.

I do not remember, my dear Cunningham, that you and I ever talked on
the subject of religion at all. I know some who laugh at it, as the
trick of the crafty few, to lead the undiscerning MANY; or at
most as an uncertain obscurity, which mankind can never know anything
of, and with which they are fools if they give themselves much to do.
Nor would I quarrel with a man for his irreligion, any more than I
would for his want of a musical ear. I would regret that he was shut
out from what, to me and to others, were such superlative sources of
enjoyment. It is in this point of view, and for this reason, that I
will deeply imbue the mind of every child of mine with religion. If my
son should happen to be a man of feeling, sentiment, and taste, I
shall thus add largely to his enjoyments. Let me flatter myself that
this sweet little fellow, who is just now running about my desk, will
be a man of a melting, ardent, glowing heart; and an imagination,
delighted with the painter, and rapt with the poet. Let me figure him
wandering out in a sweet evening, to inhale the balmy gales, and enjoy
the growing luxuriance of spring; himself the while in the blooming
youth of life. He looks abroad on all nature, and through nature up to
nature's God. His soul, by swift delighting degrees, is rapt above
this sublunary sphere, until he can be silent no longer, and bursts
out into the glorious enthusiasm of Thomson,

"These, as they change, Almighty Father, these
Are but the varied God. --The rolling year
Is full of thee.
"

And so on, in all the spirit and ardour of that charming hymn. These
are no ideal pleasures, they are real delights; and I ask what of the
delights among the sons of men are superior, not to say equal to them?
And they have this precious, vast addition, that conscious virtue
stamps them for her own; and lays hold on them to bring herself into
the presence of a witnessing, judging, and approving God.

R. B.

* * * * *




CCXCIII.


TO THE EARL OF GLENCAIRN.

[The original letter is in the possession of the Hon. Mrs. Halland, of
Poynings: it is undated, but from a memorandum on the back it appears
to have been written in May, 1794. ]

_May, 1794. _

MY LORD,

When you cast your eye on the name at the bottom of this letter, and
on the title-page of the book I do myself the honour to send your
lordship, a more pleasurable feeling than my vanity tells me that it
must be a name not entirely unknown to you. The generous patronage of
your late illustrious brother found me in the lowest obscurity: he
introduced my rustic muse to the partiality of my country; and to him
I owe all. My sense of his goodness, and the anguish of my soul at
losing my truly noble protector and friend, I have endeavoured to
express in a poem to his memory, which I have now published. This
edition is just from the press; and in my gratitude to the dead, and
my respect for the living (fame belies you, my lord, if you possess
not the same dignity of man, which was your noble brother's
characteristic feature), I had destined a copy for the Earl of
Glencairn. I learnt just now that you are in town:--allow me to
present it you.