To a great experience one thing is essential, an experiencing nature.
It is not enough to have opportunity, it is essential to feel it. Some
occasions come to all men; but to many they are of little use, and to
some they are none. What, for example, has experience done for the
distinguished Frenchman, the name of whose essay is prefixed to this
paper. M. Guizot is the same man that he was in 1820, or, we believe as
he was in 1814. Take up one of his lectures, published before he was
a practical statesman; you will be struck with the width of view, the
amplitude and the solidity of the reflections; you will be amazed that
a mere literary teacher could produce anything so wise; but take up
afterwards an essay published since his fall—and you will be amazed to
find no more. Napoleon the First is come and gone—the Bourbons of the old
_régime_ have come and gone—the Bourbons of the new _régime_ have had
their turn. M. Guizot has been first minister of a citizen king; he has
led a great party; he has pronounced many a great _discours_ that was
well received by the second elective assembly in the world. But there
is no trace of this in his writings. No one would guess from them that
their author had ever left the professor’s chair. It is the same, we
are told, with small matters: when M. Guizot walks the street, he seems
to see nothing; the head is thrown back, the eye fixed, and the mouth
working. His mind is no doubt at work, but it is not stirred by what is
external. Perhaps it is the internal activity of mind that overmasters
the perceptive power. Anyhow there might have been an _émeute_ in the
street and he would not have known it; there have been revolutions in his
life and he is scarcely the wiser. Among the most frivolous and fickle of
civilised nations he is alone. They pass from the game of war to the game
of peace, from the game of science to the game of art, from the game of
liberty to the game of slavery, from the game of slavery to the game of
licence; he stands like a schoolmaster in the play-ground, without sport
and without pleasure, firm and sullen, slow and awful.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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