Charles Reding and his thirst for reality
He could not endure their unreal way of talking, though they did not feel it to be unreal themselves .. they mistook words for things and so far forth.
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I'd give twopence if someone, whom I could trust, would say to me: 'This is true, this is not true"
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Alas, it announced the death of his dear father! .. It was the first great grief poor Charles had ever had, and he felt it to be real. How did the small anxieties which had of late teased him vanish before this tangible calamity! He then understood the difference between what was real and what was not. All the doubts, inquiries, surmises, views, which had of late haunted him on theological subjects, seemed like so many shams, which flitted before him in sun-bright hours, but had no root in his inward nature, and fell from him, like the helpless December leaves, in the hour of his affliction. He felt now where his heart and his life lay. His birth, his parentage, his education, his home, were great realities; to these his being was united; out of these he grew. He felt he must be what providence had made him. What is called the pursuit of truth seemed an idle dream. He had great tangible duties to his father's memory, to his mother and sisters, to his position; he felt sick of all theories as if they had taken him in, and he secretly resolved never more to have anything to do with them.
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What I like in him is that repose of his; always saying enough, never too much, never boring you, never taxing you; always pratical, never in the clouds. Save me from a viewy man, I could not live with him for a week.
JHN Extracts from Loss and Gain, 1.18 and passim
http://www.newmanreader.org/works/gain/chapter1-18.html
...
I'd give twopence if someone, whom I could trust, would say to me: 'This is true, this is not true"
...
Alas, it announced the death of his dear father! .. It was the first great grief poor Charles had ever had, and he felt it to be real. How did the small anxieties which had of late teased him vanish before this tangible calamity! He then understood the difference between what was real and what was not. All the doubts, inquiries, surmises, views, which had of late haunted him on theological subjects, seemed like so many shams, which flitted before him in sun-bright hours, but had no root in his inward nature, and fell from him, like the helpless December leaves, in the hour of his affliction. He felt now where his heart and his life lay. His birth, his parentage, his education, his home, were great realities; to these his being was united; out of these he grew. He felt he must be what providence had made him. What is called the pursuit of truth seemed an idle dream. He had great tangible duties to his father's memory, to his mother and sisters, to his position; he felt sick of all theories as if they had taken him in, and he secretly resolved never more to have anything to do with them.
...
What I like in him is that repose of his; always saying enough, never too much, never boring you, never taxing you; always pratical, never in the clouds. Save me from a viewy man, I could not live with him for a week.
JHN Extracts from Loss and Gain, 1.18 and passim
http://www.newmanreader.org/works/gain/chapter1-18.html