FullReads

“Action is transitory–a step–a blow,
The motion of a muscle–this way or that;
‘Tis done–and in the after vacancy,
We wonder at ourselves like men betrayed.
Suffering” (obedience, or being as opposed to doing)–
“Suffering is permanent,—-
And has the nature of infinity.”

Dr. Chalmers was a man of genius–he had his own way of thinking, and saying, and doing, and looking everything. Men have vexed themselves in vain to define what genius is; like every ultimate term we may describe it by giving its effects, we can hardly succeed in reaching its essence. Fortunately, though we know not what are its elements, we know it when we meet it; and in him, in every movement of his mind, in every gesture, we had its unmistakable tokens. Two of the ordinary accompaniments of genius–Enthusiasm and Simplicity–he had in rare measure.

He was an enthusiast in its true and good sense; he was “entheat,” as if full of God, as the old poets called it. It was this ardor, this superabounding life, this immediateness of thought and action, idea and emotion, setting the whole man a-going at once–that gave a power and a charm to everything he did. To adopt the old division of the Hebrew Doctors, as given by Nathanael Culverwel, in his “Light of Nature:” In man we have–1st, {pneuma zoopoioun}, the sensitive soul, that which lies nearest the body–the very blossom and flower of life; 2d, {ton noun}, animam rationis, sparkling and glittering with intellectuals, crowned with light; and 3d, {ton thymon}, impetum animi, motum mentis, the vigor and energy of the soul–its temper–the mover of the other two–the first being, as they said, resident in hepate–the second in cerebro–the third in corde, where it presides over the issues of life, commands the circulation, and animates and sets the blood a-moving. The first and second are informative, explicative, they “take in and do”–the other “gives out.” Now in Dr. Chalmers, the great ingredient was the {ho thymos} as indicating vis animae et vitae,–and in close fellowship with it, and ready for its service, was a large, capacious {ho nous}, and an energetic, sensuous, rapid {to pneuma}. Hence his energy, his contagious enthusiasm–this it was which gave the peculiar character to his religion, to his politics, to his personnel; everything he did was done heartily–if he desired heavenly blessings he “panted” for them–“his soul broke for the longing.” To give again the words of the spiritual and subtle Culverwel, “Religion (and indeed everything else) was no matter of indifferency to him. It was {thermon ti pragma}, a certain fiery thing, as Aristotle calls love; it required and it got the very flower and vigor of the spirit–the strength and sinews of the soul–the prime and top of the affections–this is that grace, that panting grace–we know the name of it and that’s all–’tis called zeal–a flaming edge of the affection–the ruddy complexion of the soul.” Closely connected with this temperament, and with a certain keen sensation of truth, rather than a perception of it, if we may so express ourselves, an intense consciousness of objective reality,–was his simple animating faith. He had faith in God–faith in human nature–faith, if we may say so, in his own instincts–in his ideas of men and things–in himself; and the result was, that unhesitating bearing up and steering right onward–“never bating one jot of heart or hope” so characteristic of him. He had “the substance of things hoped for.” He had “the evidence of things not seen.”

By his simplicity we do not mean the simplicity of the head–of that he had none; he was eminently shrewd and knowing–more so than many thought; but we refer to that quality of the heart and of the life, expressed by the words, “in simplicity a child.” In his own words, from his Daily Readings,–

“When a child is filled with any strong emotion by a surprising event or intelligence, it runs to discharge it on others, impatient of their sympathy; and it marks, I fancy, the simplicity and greater naturalness of this period (Jacob’s), that the grown-up men and women ran to meet each other, giving way to their first impulses–even as children do.”