Have the courage to be ignorant of a great number of things, in

“Have the courage to be ignorant of a great number of things, in order to avoid the calamity of being ignorant of everything.” Thus spoke Sydney Smith, the English wit and philosopher of reason, whose words carry the serene force of deep understanding. In this brief and radiant command, he reveals a wisdom as necessary today as in any age — that to know all things is impossible, and that the attempt to do so leads not to knowledge, but to confusion and ignorance. His counsel is not an invitation to sloth, but to discipline — the art of knowing what is worth knowing, and of letting go of what distracts and overwhelms the mind.

The meaning of his words is clear yet profound. In an age of endless information — as in Smith’s own — the mind is tempted to scatter itself upon a thousand trivial pursuits. The curious man, wishing to appear wise, may try to know everything — and in doing so, he learns nothing well. True wisdom, however, demands selection. It is not in the quantity of knowledge, but in its quality, that greatness is born. To “have the courage to be ignorant” is to admit that one’s attention is precious, and that to protect it is an act of bravery. The weak are distracted by everything; the strong choose what is worthy of their thought.

The origin of this teaching lies in Smith’s own life and vocation. A man of learning, humor, and faith, he lived in the early nineteenth century — an era brimming with new discoveries, philosophies, and reforms. As a clergyman, writer, and reformer, Smith understood that the human spirit is not nourished by endless accumulation of facts, but by clarity and focus. He saw scholars lost in minutiae, politicians drowning in trivial detail, and preachers distracted from truth by vain disputation. His advice, then, was a shield against intellectual vanity — a call to cultivate depth rather than breadth, to build the house of the mind upon firm stones rather than sand.

History bears witness to the power of this principle. Consider Leonardo da Vinci, whose genius spanned art, science, and invention. Yet even Leonardo, with his boundless curiosity, chose focus within diversity. He studied deeply the flight of birds, the movement of water, the structure of the human form — not everything, but the essential. His ignorance was not failure, but selection. It was this discipline that allowed him to transform knowledge into creation. Or recall Socrates, who, though called the wisest of men, confessed, “I know that I know nothing.” It was not ignorance that made him wise, but the humility to seek truth in what mattered most.

Smith’s teaching also warns against the calamity of intellectual pride — that subtle disease of the spirit that confuses noise with insight. The mind, stuffed with trivia, becomes restless and shallow. It can no longer distinguish what is good from what is worthless. This is the ignorance of everything that Smith condemns: a condition where a person knows much, yet understands nothing. To fill one’s mind with unexamined facts is like pouring water into a broken vessel — the effort is endless, and the result is emptiness.

To live by this wisdom requires courage, for it means to defy the vanity of appearing knowledgeable. It means to say, “I do not know,” and to say it with peace, not shame. It means to turn one’s mind away from distraction and toward mastery. Choose a few things and know them well: your craft, your calling, your character. Let the rest pass by, like clouds across the sky. The one who guards the focus of his attention becomes a master; the one who pursues all knowledge becomes its servant.

The lesson, then, is this: guard your mind as you would guard your life. Be brave enough to admit your ignorance, and wise enough to direct your learning. Do not waste your strength chasing every shadow of knowledge that crosses your path. Instead, follow the light of truth in one steady direction, and you will reach a depth unknown to those who wander endlessly upon the surface. For as Sydney Smith teaches, the mind that chooses wisely what to ignore becomes truly free — and in that freedom lies the only knowledge worth possessing: the knowledge of what truly matters.