No More Learning

Canst thou give to a frame tremblingly alive as the tortures of
suspense, the stability and hardihood of the rock that braves the
blast? If thou canst not do the least of these, why wouldst thou
disturb me in my miseries, with thy inquiries after me?

* * * * *

For these two months I have not been able to lift a pen. My
constitution and frame were, _ab origine_, blasted with a deep
incurable taint of hypochondria, which poisons my existence. Of late a
number of domestic vexations, and some pecuniary share in the ruin of
these cursed times; losses which, though trifling, were yet what I
could ill bear, have so irritated me, that my feelings at times could
only be envied by a reprobate spirit listening to the sentence that
dooms it to perdition.

Are you deep in the language of consolation? I have exhausted in
reflection every topic of comfort. _A heart at ease_ would have been
charmed with my sentiments and reasonings; but as to myself I was like
Judas Iscariot preaching the gospel; he might melt and mould the
hearts of those around him, but his own kept its native
incorrigibility.

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.