“Nothing
therefore is more unjust than to judge of man by too short an acquaintance, and
too slight inspection; for it often happens, that in the loose, and
thoughtless, and dissipated, there is a secret radical worth, which may shoot
out by proper cultivation; that the spark of heaven, though dimmed and
obstructed, is yet not extinguished, but may, by the breath of counsel and
exhortation, be kindled into flame.”
Rancorous fault-finding,
like cancer, metastasizes. If I’m already irked, but without redress, I’m
likelier to grandfather my irksomeness on someone who has done nothing to earn it.
It feels good. We seek resolution, moral symmetry. The better, infinitesimal part
of me chooses to disregard or even look for that elusively “secret radical
worth.” I take “radical” in its etymological sense of rootedness, an assumption
consistent with the subsequent reference to “cultivation.” Samuel Johnson’s
observation might serve as a ready pep talk for parents, teachers and others
who must focus on the present while never disregarding the future. Keeping the
faith in others is an unending moral challenge, one I fail on a semi-regular
basis. Three years later, Johnson writes:
“It is, indeed, with this as with other frailties inherent in our
nature; the desire of deferring to another time, what cannot be done without
endurance of some pain, or forbearance of some pleasure, will, perhaps, never
be totally overcome or suppressed; there will always be something that we shall
wish to have finished, and be nevertheless unwilling to begin: but against this
unwillingness it is our duty to struggle, and every conquest over our passions
will make way for an easier conquest: custom is equally forcible to bad and
good; nature will always be at variance with reason, but will rebel more feebly
as she is oftener subdued.”
Both
passages were published on this date, Nov. 17; the first in The Rambler #70 in 1750; the second in The Adventurer #108 in 1753.
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