rness of
things unnumbered and unknown, conscious only of the living banks, on
which they partly refresh and partly reflect the flowers, and so pass
on.

Sec. XXIX. Let each man answer for himself how far his knowledge has made
him this, or how far it is loaded upon him as the pyramid is upon the
tomb. Let him consider, also, how much of it has cost him labor and time
that might have been spent in healthy, happy action, beneficial to all
mankind; how many living souls may have been left uncomforted and
unhelped by him, while his own eyes were failing by the midnight lamp;
how many warm sympathies have died within him as he measured lines or
counted letters; how many draughts of ocean air, and steps on
mountain-turf, and openings of the highest heaven he has lost for his
knowledge; how much of that knowledge, so dearly bought, is now
forgotten or despised, leaving only the capacity of wonder less within
him, and, as it happens in a thousand instances, perhaps even also the
capacity of devotion. And let him,--if, after thus dealing with his own
heart, he can say that his knowledge has indeed been fruitful to
him,--yet consider how many there are who have been forced by the
inevitable laws of modern education into toil utterly repugnant to their
natures, and that in the extreme, until the whole strength of the young
soul was sapped away; and then pronounce with fearfulness how far, and
in how many senses, it may indeed be true that the wisdom of this world
is foolishness with God.

Sec. XXX. Now all this possibility of evil, observe, attaches to knowledge
pursued for the noblest ends, if it be pursued imprudently. I have
assumed, in speaking of its effect both on men generally and on the
artist especially, that it was sought in the true love of it, and with
all honesty and directness of purpose. But this is granting far too much
in its favor. Of knowledge in general, and without qualification, it is
said by the Apostle that "it puffeth up;" and the father of all modern
science, writing directly in its praise, yet asserts this danger even in
more absolute terms, calling it a "venomousness" in the very nature of
knowledge itself.

Sec. XXXI. There is, indeed, much difference in this respect between the
tendencies of different branches of knowledge; it being a sure rule that
exactly in proportion as they are inferior, nugatory, or limited in
scope, their power of feeding pride is greater. Thus philology, logic,
rhetoric,