Part 181 (1/2)
Our youth, proficients in a n.o.bLE art, Divide a farthing to the hundredth part.
Well done, my boy, the joyful father cries, ADDITION and SUBTRACTION make us wise.
FRANCIS.
It would scarcely inform my readers to a.s.sure them, that, when I was at College, my mathematical tutor shook his head, and dubbed me a stupid fellow. Whatever stress might be laid on the multiplication and pence tables by the sedate shop-keepers of State-street and Cornhill, it always appeared to me that a scholar could attain the object of his mission to the university, without any a.s.sistance from the four first rules. Hence, I was more ashamed to be surprised solving a sum in Pike, than a reputed virgin would be to have the unchaste poems of _Rochester_ plucked from her pillow. I contented myself with studying the ways of men and the works of Roman and English wits, without gaping with a foolish face of wonder, when told of the ”Square of the Hypothenuse,”
and the miracles that compound interest would perform in a term of years. Geometrical progression was not half so delightful to me as vehicular progression in a crazy Charlestown-car. That portion of arithmetic among merchants called fellows.h.i.+p, or company, I left to them to ascertain their shares of a cargo of sugar and mola.s.ses by; while the rules of good fellows.h.i.+p I made familiar both to my conception and practice. In fine, those of my prudent friends who observed the lankness of my purse, long before the expiration of a College term, merrily remarked, that REDUCTION was the only part of arithmetic in which I made a figure.
This avowed neglect of a darling study, so offended the lovers of straight lines, that every moment they could steal from their diagrams they employed in prognosticating my future fortune. They would sketch on the paper covers of EUCLID perspective views of my dilapidated estate; and by rhombus, rhomboid, and trapezium, barbarous terms, such as are ”a misery to hear,” they would conjure away my goods and chattles.
Those, who descending from the heights of abstraction, condescended to become mere mortals again, and to converse upon sublunary topics, were continually quoting and applying to me that elegant adage ”of bringing one's n.o.ble to a nine-pence,” &c. In vain I endeavoured to defend my practice, and to apologize for my disbelief in Euclid's infallibility.
In vain I suggested, that many of the brightest geniuses successfully clambered up the rugged steeps of Fame, without employing the nine digits, as pioneers, to smooth the way: that Shakespeare, with whom, as Cicero observes of Plato, I would rather _err_, than think right with all the philosophers, was not only a novice in the doctrine of ”nought and carry one,” but frankly indulges a laugh of contempt at computation:--that in Oth.e.l.lo, when Iago informs his Venitian dupe of Ca.s.sio's unjust preferment to a lieutenancy, and is asked ”what is he?”
the contemptuous response is ”forsooth a great arithmetician!” That in Love's Labour Lost, a pert page demands of Armado ”how many is one thrice told?” the solemn knight replies ”I am ill at reckoning, it fits the spirit of a tapster:” that Lord Lyttleton the elder, a _man of business_, emphasizing the phrase, honoured by his prince with a place in the exchequer and in the department of finance, could not, as we are a.s.sured by his son, count twenty pounds in different British coins; that the Dean of St. Patrick's, whose sterling sense and humour has pleased and informed men more than all the works of all the mathematicians, employed eight hours in a day in reading historians and poets, and composing the Tale of a Tub, and was refused by the university of Dublin, a degree, because he lampooned Locke and derided the aerial speculations of a mathematician. All these s.h.i.+ning examples, like Haman's prosperity, ”availed me nothing,” and the sticklers for science told me that I could not give directions to a carpenter without understanding--how shall I write so unpoetical a word--without understanding _parallelograms_.
Having thus far, in jocular phrase, discussed this _grave_ subject, I now seriously declare, it is not my wish to abrogate any branches of this recondite science. I am not possessed with such a Quixotish spirit of innovation, as to desire all concerned forthwith to make proclamation for mathematics and cousin german arithmetic to depart; but good-naturedly to deride that mode of education, which neglecting, or partially studying, eloquence, poetry, history, the cla.s.sics, and the world, devotes long and exclusive attention to things abstracted and foreign from men's business and bosoms. That great and universal scholar, Dr. Johnson, whose authority is of no trivial weight, decisively p.r.o.nounces that this science and the knowledge which it requires and includes, is not the great and frequent business of life.
It is of rare emergence. We are perpetually moralists, but we are geometricians only by chance. One may live long with a man and not discern his skill in hydrostatics, or astronomy, but his moral and prudential character immediately appears. The rigid Knox, who is a strenuous advocate for the severest school discipline, confesses, that a man may be very liberally educated, without much skill in this branch of learning. I remember reading, not many years since, a preface of Dr.
Cheyne's to one of his medical tracts, wherein, after describing his devotion to triangles, &c. he pathetically deplores his waste of time, and adds, ”that in these exquisitely bewitching speculations, gentlemen of liberal leisure may riot; but for men of general learning, business, and the world, they are too empty and aerial.” My readers will perhaps yawn at these multiplied citations; but this is a science, supported so much by authority and opinion, that I must oppose it with equal arms.
We are magisterially told that this study, _of all others_, most closely fixes the attention. An argument shallow, untrue, and easily vanquished.
Any object that engrosses the mind, will induce a habit of attention.
Now I can warrantably a.s.sert, that a description from Virgil, a scene from Shakespeare, Robertson's narrative of the decollation of Mary, or any striking pa.s.sage from authors of polite literature, will accomplish this purpose. Why should the demonstrations of Euclid arrogate this honour to themselves? Have they an _exclusive privilege_ of enchanting the mind, or are they invested with a talismanic charm by which attention is at once conjured into mathematical circles? Addison wondered how _rational_ beings could for hours play with painted bits of paper; but he was manifestly a novice in whist, a game which, regularly played, is an unremitting exercise of two of the n.o.blest intellectual powers, memory and judgment. The acute Hume, when jaded with metaphysical research, invigorated his powers with a cheerful RUBBER.
From a fas.h.i.+onable amus.e.m.e.nt he derived that benefit which the wors.h.i.+ppers of Euclid would confine to their G.o.d. In fine, a _mere_ mathematician, without being a more cogent reasoner, is less learned, less eloquent, and less courtly than the Beauclercs, whose superficial talents he contemns. He is a solemn, absent, unaccommodating mortal.
Better therefore to imitate Cardinal de Retz and Chesterfield; better to study the useful and the pleasant, than to dream away life over the symbols and negative quant.i.ties of algebra.
I proposed to animadvert next on the influence that arithmetical minutiae gradually obtained over the heart. I was about adventuring to censure even the great Dr. Franklin, for insisting too much upon the mint, annise, and c.u.mmin of computation. I wished to brand avarice, and to deny the doctrine of ”uttermost farthings.” But I recollected that every penurious parent, who prescribes as a horn-book lesson to his son, that ”scoundrel maxim” a penny saved is a penny got, would cry--shame! The world, quoth prudence, will not bear it; 'tis a penny getting, pound h.o.a.rding world--I yielded; and shelter myself in my garret against that mob of misers and worldlings I see gathering to hoot me.
REFLECTIONS ON SCANDAL.
”Base Envy withers at another's joy, And hates that excellence it cannot reach.”
THOMSON.
There is not a greater enemy to the peace of individuals, and society at large, than Scandal; although it is much to be regretted, that, there is no frailty to which most people are so subject. Scandal is the offspring of Envy; and the only weapon of little minds against superior abilities.
But notwithstanding Scandal affects, more or less, every member of the community, it reigns with more distinguished power over some parts of society than others. On enquiry, it will appear that the female character sustains the most injury from this bane to human happiness. In the country, too, this species of Scandal is more prevalent than in the metropolis. The reason is obvious; in a country place, the number of inhabitants are so small, that each is frequently more acquainted with the character of his neighbour than his own. Every action is examined with the most critical severity; and often the best of characters lose the esteem of their acquaintance from the malignant aspersions of Ignorance and Envy. It is impossible for a lady to be seen walking with a gentleman, in such a place, without the immediate conclusion that they are lovers: it is even not uncommonly added, if their acquaintance should have lasted any length of time, that Miss Such-a-one appears to be in _fair way_. After a report of this nature has once spread, I have seen a company of females thrown into the greatest consternation, by the entrance of a lady who was the unfortunate subject of Slander. How busy is the silent whisper, on these occasions! It runs with amazing rapidity, from ear to ear, accompanied by nods and winks; with a--”You know who”--”So they say”--”Well, I could never have thought it!” and a variety of such phrases, which every one must at some time have heard.
Scandal is of a quality peculiarly distressing. Against the open shafts of violence, every one may defend himself; but, from Slander, and secret Calumny, the most deserving must suffer.
The only method to prevent this pest to society, is for every one to shut their ears against the officious tales of Scandal and Envy; since experience proves, that if people in general were not too much inclined to listen, when any account is brought of the faults and failings of others, the tongue of Scandal would no longer find the mean satisfaction it now enjoys.