A great mistake: to hold oneself too high and rate oneself too cheap.
I occasionally meet with young men in whom I see nothing I could wish altered or improved; nevertheless I feel anxious when I see them thoroughly able to swim with the current of the times; and I am continually impelled in this case to call their attention to the fact that man, in his frail boat, had the rudder placed in his hands in order that he might not allow himself to be swayed by chance currents, but by the dictates of his judgment.
But how shall a young man by his unaided efforts discover that which everybody does, approves, and promotes to be hurtful and reprehensible? How shall he not let his nature and temperament waft him in the same direction?
I must regard it as the greatest misfortune of our time, in which nothing is allowed to attain to maturity, that each moment is swallowed up by its successor, the day dissipated within the day, and that people thus continually live from hand to mouth, without in reality furthering anything. Do we not already possess newspapers for every hour of the day? A ready wit, certainly, might still intercalate this, that, and the other. Thus what everybody thinks, fancies, does, nay intends doing, is dragged into publicity. Nobody must suffer and rejoice but as a pastime for others, the news flying from house to house, from city to city, from country to country, and, at last, from continent to continent, with incredible velocity.
But we can as little hope to put down the steam-engine as these phenomena showing themselves in the moral world: the animation of commerce, the swift passage of paper money, the accumulation of debt to pay debt, such are the enormously complicated elements which the young man is called upon to deal with at present. It is well if he is endowed by nature with quiet and moderation, making no exorbitant claims on the world on the one hand, nor allowing himself to be swayed by it on the other.
In every circle the time-spirit lies in wait for him, and nothing is more necessary than to point out to him early enough the direction in which his will ought to steer.
The importance of the most innocent speeches and acts increases with our years, and I strive continually to direct the attention of those whom I see often about me, to the difference there is between sincerity, confidence, and indiscretion; nay, that in reality there is no difference, but rather a subtle transition — which ought to be noticed, or, better still, felt — from what is most harmless to the most mischievous.
To this end we ought to cultivate our tact, or we run the risk of inadvertently forfeiting people's favour from the same cause which first gained it us. We naturally learn this in our course through life, but only after having paid a heavy school-fee for it, which unfortunately we cannot prevent our successors from being obliged to pay likewise.
The relation of the arts and sciences to life varies in proportion to the stage of development they have attained, to the character of the times, and a thousand other accidental circumstances; it is not easy for any one, therefore, to form a sound conclusion on the subject as a whole.
Poetry acts chiefly at the earlier stage of human conditions, be they either quite rude, half-civilized, or in a transitional period of civilization; or at the first acquaintance with an alien civilization, so that one may say the action of novelty is always concerned in it.
Music, in the best sense, does not require novelty; nay, the older it is and the more we are accustomed to it, the greater its effect.
The dignity of art perhaps chiefly manifests itself in music, as it contains no adventitious elements. Consisting chiefly in form and feeling, it heightens and refines whatever it expresses.
Music is either sacred or profane. The sacred character is thoroughly suited to its dignity, and through this it exercises the most potent influence on life, an influence continuing the same at all times and epochs. Profane music ought to be permeated by cheerfulness.
That species of music which mixes up the sacred and profane character is godless, while that of a hybrid kind, which loves to express weak, pitiable, and miserable feelings, becomes absurd; for it is not grave enough for sacredness, and lacks the leading characteristics of its opposite — gaiety.
The sacred character of church music, the gaiety and sportiveness of popular melodies, are the two hinges on which music turns. An infallible effect is always produced by either kind — devotion or dancing. The blending of these two ele-
