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235
The Private Papers of Henry Ryecroft
·
George Gissing
47
In
my
youth,
looking
at
this
man
and
that,
I
marvelled
that
humanity
had
made
so
little
progress.
Now,
looking
at
men
in
the
multitude,
I
marvel
that
they
have
advanced
so
far.
Foolishly
arrogant
as
I
was,
I
used
to
judge
the
worth
of
a
person
by
his
intellectual
power
and
attainment.
I
could
see
no
good
where
there
was
no
logic,
no
charm
where
there
was
no
learning.
Now
I
think
that
one
has
to
distinguish
between
two
forms
of
intelligence,
that
of
the
brain,
and
that
of
the
heart,
and
I
have
come
to
regard
the
second
as
by
far
the
more
important.
I
guard
myself
against
saying
that
intelligence
does
not
matter;
the
fool
is
ever
as
noxious
as
he
is
wearisome.
But
assuredly
the
best
people
I
have
known
were
saved
from
folly
not
by
the
intellect
but
by
the
heart.
They
come
before
me,
and
I
see
them
greatly
ignorant,
strongly
prejudiced,
capable
of
the
absurdest
mis-reasoning;
yet
their
faces
shine
with
the
supreme
virtues,
kindness,
sweetness,
modesty,
generosity.
Possessing
these
qualities,
they
at
the
same
time
understand
how
to
use
them;
they
have
the
intelligence
of
the
heart.
This
poor
woman
who
labours
for
me
in
my
house
is
even
such
a
one.
From
the
first
I
thought
her
an
unusually
good
servant;
after
three
years
of
acquaintance,
I
find
her
one
of
the
few
women
I
have
known
who
merit
the
term
of
excellent.
She
can
read
and
write--that
is
all.
More
instruction
would,
I
am
sure,
have
harmed
her,
for
it
would
have
confused
her
natural
motives,
without
supplying
any
clear
ray
of
mental
guidance.
She
is
fulfilling
the
offices
for
which
she
was
born,
and
that
with
a
grace
of
contentment,
a
joy
of
conscientiousness,
which
puts
her
high
among
civilized
beings.
Her
delight
is
in
order
and
in
peace;
what
greater
praise
can
be
given
to
any
of
the
children
of
men?
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