Truly may we say, that never did men grow old in so short a time! We
have crowded the business of an age into the compass of a few
months, and have been driven through such a rapid succession of
things, that for the want of leisure to think, we unavoidably wasted
knowledge as we came, and have left nearly as much behind us as we
brought with us: but the road is yet rich with the fragments, and,
before we finally lose sight of them, will repay us for the trouble of
stopping to pick them up.
Were a man to be totally deprived of memory, he would be incapable
of forming any just opinion; every thing about him would seem a chaos:
he would have even his own history to ask from every one; and by not
knowing how the world went in his absence, he would be at a loss to
know how it ought to go on when he recovered, or rather, returned to
it again. In like manner, though in a less degree, a too great
inattention to past occurrences retards and bewilders our judgment
in everything; while, on the contrary, by comparing what is past
with what is present, we frequently hit on the true character of both,
and become wise with very little trouble. It is a kind of
counter-march, by which we get into the rear of time, and mark the
movements and meaning of things as we make our return. There are
certain circumstances, which, at the time of their happening, are a
kind of riddles, and as every riddle is to be followed by its
answer, so those kind of circumstances will be followed by their
events, and those events are always the true solution.
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