{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_2541/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_2541","id":"gutenberg_2541","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/2541","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Character","Conduct of life"],"text":"Produced by Sean Hackett\n\n\n\n\n\nCHARACTER\n\nBy Samuel Smiles\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I.--INFLUENCE OF CHARACTER.\n\n\n\n     \"Unless above himself he can Erect himself, how poor a thing\n     is man\"--DANIEL.\n\n     \"Character is moral order seen through the medium, of an\n     individual nature.... Men of character are the conscience of\n     the society to which they belong.\"--EMERSON.\n\n     \"The prosperity of a country depends, not on the abundance\n     of its revenues, nor on the strength of its fortifications,\n     nor on the beauty of its public buildings; but it consists\n     in the number of its cultivated citizens, in its men of\n     education, enlightenment, and character; here are to be\n     found its true interest, its chief strength, its real\n     power.\"--MARTIN LUTHER.\n\n\nCharacter is one of the greatest motive powers in the world. In its\nnoblest embodiments, it exemplifies human nature in its highest forms,\nfor it exhibits man at his best.\n\nMen of genuine excellence, in every station of life--men of industry,\nof integrity, of high principle, of sterling honesty of purpose--command\nthe spontaneous homage of mankind. It is natural to believe in such men,\nto have confidence in them, and to imitate them. All that is good in\nthe world is upheld by them, and without their presence in it the world\nwould not be worth living in.\n\nAlthough genius always commands admiration, character most secures\nrespect. The former is more the product of brain-power, the latter of\nheart-power; and in the long run it is the heart that rules in life. Men\nof genius stand to society in the relation of its intellect, as men\nof character of its conscience; and while the former are admired, the\nlatter are followed.\n\nGreat men are always exceptional men; and greatness itself is but\ncomparative. Indeed, the range of most men in life is so limited, that\nvery few have the opportunity of being great. But each man can act his\npart honestly and honourably, and to the best of his ability. He can use\nhis gifts, and not abuse them. He can strive to make the best of life.\nHe can be true, just, honest, and faithful, even in small things. In a\nword, he can do his Duty in that sphere in which Providence has placed\nhim.\n\nCommonplace though it may appear, this doing of one's Duty embodies the\nhighest ideal of life and character. There may be nothing heroic about\nit; but the common lot of men is not heroic. And though the abiding\nsense of Duty upholds man in his highest attitudes, it also equally\nsustains him in the transaction of the ordinary affairs of everyday\nexistence. Man's life is \"centred in the sphere of common duties.\" The\nmost influential of all the virtues are those which are the most\nin request for daily use. They wear the best, and last the longest.\nSuperfine virtues, which are above the standard of common men, may only\nbe sources of temptation and danger. Burke has truly said that \"the\nhuman system which rests for its basis on the heroic virtues is sure to\nhave a superstructure of weakness or of profligacy.\"\n\nWhen Dr. Abbot, afterwards Archbishop of Canterbury, drew the character\nof his deceased friend Thomas Sackville, [101] he did not dwell upon his\nmerits as a statesman, or his genius as a poet, but upon his virtues as\na man in relation to the ordinary duties of life. \"How many rare things\nwere in him!\" said he. \"Who more loving unto his wife? Who more kind\nunto his children?--Who more fast unto his friend?--Who more moderate\nunto his enemy?--Who more true to his word?\" Indeed, we can always\nbetter understand and appreciate a man's real character by the manner in\nwhich he conducts himself towards those who are the most nearly related\nto him, and by his transaction of the seemingly commonplace details of\ndaily duty, than by his public exhibition of himself as an author, an\norator, or a statesman.\n\nAt the same time, while Duty, for the most part, applies to the conduct\nof affairs in common life by the average of common men, it is also a\nsustaining power to men of the very highest standard of character. They\nmay not have either money, or property, or learning, or power; and\nyet they may be strong in heart and rich in spirit--honest, truthful,\ndutiful. And whoever strives to do his duty faithfully is fulfilling\nthe purpose for which he was created, and building up in himself the\nprinciples of a manly character. There are many persons of whom it\nmay be said that they have no other possession in the world but their\ncharacter, and yet they stand as firmly upon it as any crowned king.\n\nIntellectual culture has no necessary relation to purity or excellence\nof character. In the New Testament, appeals are constantly made to the\nheart of man and to \"the spirit we are of,\" whilst allusions to the\nintellect are of very rare occurrence. \"A handful of good life,\" says\nGeorge Herbert, \"is worth a bushel of learning.\" Not that learning is\nto be despised, but that it must be allied to goodness. Intellectual\ncapacity is sometimes found associated with the meanest moral character\nwith abject servility to those in high places, and arrogance to those of\nlow estate. A man may be accomplished in art, literature, and science,\nand yet, in honesty, virtue, truthfulness, and the spirit of duty, be\nentitled to take rank after many a poor and illiterate peasant.\n\n\"You insist,\" wrote Perthes to a friend, \"on respect for learned men. I\nsay, Amen! But, at the same time, don't forget that largeness of mind,\ndepth of thought, appreciation of the lofty, experience of the world,\ndelicacy of manner, tact and energy in action, love of truth, honesty,\nand amiability--that all these may be wanting in a man who may yet be\nvery learned.\" [102]\n\nWhen some one, in Sir Walter Scott's hearing, made a remark as to the\nvalue of literary talents and accomplishments, as if they were above all\nthings to be esteemed and honoured, he observed, \"God help us! what a\npoor world this would be if that were the true doctrine! I have read\nbooks enough, and observed and conversed with enough of eminent and\nsplendidly-cultured minds, too, in my time; but I assure you, I have\nheard higher sentiments from the lips of poor UNEDUCATED men and women,\nwhen exerting the spirit of severe yet gentle heroism under difficulties\nand afflictions, or speaking their simple thoughts as to circumstances\nin the lot of friends and neighbours, than I ever yet met with out of\nthe Bible. We shall never learn to feel and respect our real calling\nand destiny, unless we have taught ourselves to consider everything as\nmoonshine, compared with the education of the heart.\" [103]\n\nStill less has wealth any necessary connection with elevation of\ncharacter. On the contrary, it is much more frequently the cause of its\ncorruption and degradation. Wealth and corruption, luxury and vice, have\nvery close affinities to each other. Wealth, in the hands of men of weak\npurpose, of deficient self-control, or of ill-regulated passions,\nis only a temptation and a snare--the source, it may be, of infinite\nmischief to themselves, and often to others.\n\nOn the contrary, a condition of comparative poverty is compatible with\ncharacter in its highest form. A man may possess only his industry,\nhis frugality, his integrity, and yet stand high in the rank of true\nmanhood. The advice which Burns's father gave him was the best:\n\n   \"He bade me act a manly part, though I had ne'er a farthing,\n   For without an honest manly heart no man was worth regarding.\"\n\nOne of the purest and noblest characters the writer ever knew was\na labouring man in a northern county, who brought up his family\nrespectably on an income never amounting to more than ten shillings\na week. Though possessed of only the rudiments of common education,\nobtained at an ordinary parish school, he was a man full of wisdom\nand thoughtfulness. His library consisted of the Bible, 'Flavel,' and\n'Boston'--books which, excepting the first, probably few readers\nhave ever heard of. This good man might have sat for the portrait of\nWordsworth's well-known 'Wanderer.' When he had lived his modest life\nof work and worship, and finally went to his rest, he left behind him\na reputation for practical wisdom, for genuine goodness, and for\nhelpfulness in every good work, which greater and richer men might have\nenvied.\n\nWhen Luther died, he left behind him, as set forth in his will, \"no\nready money, no treasure of coin of any description.\" He was so poor\nat one part of his life, that he was under the necessity of earning his\nbread by turning, gardening, and clockmaking. Yet, at the very time when\nhe was thus working with his hands, he was moulding the character of\nhis country; and he was morally stronger, and vastly more honoured and\nfollowed, than all the princes of Germany.\n\nCharacter is property. It is the noblest of possessions. It is an estate\nin the general goodwill and respect of men; and they who invest in\nit--though they may not become rich in this world's goods--will find\ntheir reward in esteem and reputation fairly and honourably won. And it\nis right that in life good qualities should tell--that industry, virtue,\nand goodness should rank the highest--and that the really best men\nshould be foremost.\n\nSimple honesty of purpose in a man goes a long way in life, if founded\non a just estimate of himself and a steady obedience to the rule he\nknows and feels to be right. It holds a man straight, gives him strength\nand sustenance, and forms a mainspring of vigorous action. \"No man,\"\nonce said Sir Benjamin Rudyard, \"is bound to be rich or great,--no, nor\nto be wise; but every man is bound to be honest.\" [104]\n\nBut the purpose, besides being honest, must be inspired by sound\nprinciples, and pursued with undeviating adherence to truth, integrity,\nand uprightness. Without principles, a man is like a ship without rudder\nor compass, left to drift hither and thither with every wind that blows.\nHe is as one without law, or rule, or order, or government. \"Moral\nprinciples,\" says Hume, \"are social and universal. They form, in a\nmanner, the PARTY of humankind against vice and disorder, its common\nenemy.\"\n\nEpictetus once received a visit from a certain magnificent orator going\nto Rome on a lawsuit, who wished to learn from the stoic something of\nhis philosophy. Epictetus received his visitor coolly, not believing in\nhis sincerity. \"You will only criticise my style,\" said he; \"not really\nwishing to learn principles.\"--\"Well, but,\" said the orator, \"if I\nattend to that sort of thing; I shall be a mere pauper, like you, with\nno plate, nor equipage, nor land.\"--\"I don't WANT such things,\" replied\nEpictetus; \"and besides, you are poorer than I am, after all. Patron or\nno patron, what care I? You DO care. I am richer than you. I don't care\nwhat Caesar thinks of me. I flatter no one. This is what I have, instead\nof your gold and silver plate. You have silver vessels, but earthenware\nreasons, principles, appetites. My mind to me a kingdom is, and it\nfurnishes me with abundant and happy occupation in lieu of your restless\nidleness. All your possessions seem small to you; mine seem great to me.\nYour desire is insatiate--mine is satisfied.\" [105]\n\nTalent is by no means rare in the world; nor is even genius. But can the\ntalent be trusted?--can the genius? Not unless based on truthfulness--on\nveracity. It is this quality more than any other that commands the\nesteem and respect, and secures the confidence of others. Truthfulness\nis at the foundation of all personal excellence. It exhibits itself in\nconduct. It is rectitude--truth in action, and shines through every word\nand deed. It means reliableness, and convinces other men that it can\nbe trusted. And a man is already of consequence in the world when it is\nknown that he can be relied on,--that when he says he knows a thing, he\ndoes know it,--that when he says he will do a thing, he can do, and\ndoes it. Thus reliableness becomes a passport to the general esteem and\nconfidence of mankind.\n\nIn the affairs of life or of business, it is not intellect that tells so\nmuch as character,--not brains so much as heart,--not genius so much\nas self-control, patience, and discipline, regulated by judgment. Hence\nthere is no better provision for the uses of either private or public\nlife, than a fair share of ordinary good sense guided by rectitude. Good\nsense, disciplined by experience and inspired by goodness, issues in\npractical wisdom. Indeed, goodness in a measure implies wisdom--the\nhighest wisdom--the union of the worldly with the spiritual. \"The\ncorrespondences of wisdom and goodness,\" says Sir Henry Taylor, \"are\nmanifold; and that they will accompany each other is to be inferred, not\nonly because men's wisdom makes them good, but because their goodness\nmakes them wise.\" [106]\n\nIt is because of this controlling power of character in life that we\noften see men exercise an amount of influence apparently out of all\nproportion to their intellectual endowments. They appear to act by means\nof some latent power, some reserved force, which acts secretly, by mere\npresence. As Burke said of a powerful nobleman of the last century, \"his\nvirtues were his means.\" The secret is, that the aims of such men are\nfelt to be pure and noble, and they act upon others with a constraining\npower.\n\nThough the reputation of men of genuine character may be of slow\ngrowth, their true qualities cannot be wholly concealed. They may be\nmisrepresented by some, and misunderstood by others; misfortune\nand adversity may, for a time, overtake them but, with patience and\nendurance, they will eventually inspire the respect and command the\nconfidence which they really deserve.\n\nIt has been said of Sheridan that, had he possessed reliableness of\ncharacter, he might have ruled the world; whereas, for want of it, his\nsplendid gifts were comparatively useless. He dazzled and amused, but\nwas without weight or influence in life or politics. Even the poor\npantomimist of Drury Lane felt himself his superior. Thus, when Delpini\none day pressed the manager for arrears of salary, Sheridan sharply\nreproved him, telling him he had forgotten his station. \"No, indeed,\nMonsieur Sheridan, I have not,\" retorted Delpini; \"I know the difference\nbetween us perfectly well. In birth, parentage, and education, you are\nsuperior to me; but in life, character, and behaviour, I am superior to\nyou.\"\n\nUnlike Sheridan, Burke, his countryman, was a great man of character. He\nwas thirty-five before he gained a seat in Parliament, yet he found time\nto carve his name deep in the political history of England. He was a\nman of great gifts, and of transcendent force of character. Yet he had a\nweakness, which proved a serious defect--it was his want of temper; his\ngenius was sacrificed to his irritability. And without this apparently\nminor gift of temper, the most splendid endowments may be comparatively\nvalueless to their possessor.\n\nCharacter is formed by a variety of minute circumstances, more or less\nunder the regulation and control of the individual. Not a day passes\nwithout its discipline, whether for good or for evil. There is no act,\nhowever trivial, but has its train of consequences, as there is no\nhair so small but casts its shadow. It was a wise saying of Mrs.\nSchimmelpenninck's mother, never to give way to what is little; or\nby that little, however you may despise it, you will be practically\ngoverned.\n\nEvery action, every thought, every feeling, contributes to the\neducation of the temper, the habits, and understanding; and exercises\nan inevitable influence upon all the acts of our future life. Thus\ncharacter is undergoing constant change, for better or for worse--either\nbeing elevated on the one hand, or degraded on the other. \"There is no\nfault nor folly of my life,\" says Mr. Ruskin, \"that does not rise up\nagainst me, and take away my joy, and shorten my power of possession, of\nsight, of understanding. And every past effort of my life, every gleam\nof rightness or good in it, is with me now, to help me in my grasp of\nthis art and its vision.\" [107]\n\nThe mechanical law, that action and reaction are equal, holds true also\nin morals. Good deeds act and react on the doers of them; and so do\nevil. Not only so: they produce like effects, by the influence of\nexample, on those who are the subjects of them. But man is not the\ncreature, so much as he is the creator, of circumstances: [108] and, by\nthe exercise of his freewill, he can direct his actions so that they\nshall be productive of good rather than evil. \"Nothing can work me\ndamage but myself,\" said St. Bernard; \"the harm that I sustain I carry\nabout with me; and I am never a real sufferer but by my own fault.\"\n\nThe best sort of character, however, cannot be formed without effort.\nThere needs the exercise of constant self-watchfulness, self-discipline,\nand self-control. There may be much faltering, stumbling, and temporary\ndefeat; difficulties and temptations manifold to be battled with and\novercome; but if the spirit be strong and the heart be upright, no one\nneed despair of ultimate success. The very effort to advance--to arrive\nat a higher standard of character than we have reached--is inspiring and\ninvigorating; and even though we may fall short of it, we cannot fail to\nbe improved by every, honest effort made in an upward direction.\n\nAnd with the light of great examples to guide us--representatives of\nhumanity in its best forms--every one is not only justified, but bound\nin duty, to aim at reaching the highest standard of character: not to\nbecome the richest in means, but in spirit; not the greatest in worldly\nposition, but in true honour; not the most intellectual, but the most\nvirtuous; not the most powerful and influential, but the most truthful,\nupright, and honest.\n\nIt was very characteristic of the late Prince Consort--a man himself of\nthe purest mind, who powerfully impressed and influenced others by the\nsheer force of his own benevolent nature--when drawing up the conditions\nof the annual prize to be given by Her Majesty at Wellington College,\nto determine that it should be awarded, not to the cleverest boy, nor\nto the most bookish boy, nor to the most precise, diligent, and prudent\nboy,--but to the noblest boy, to the boy who should show the most\npromise of becoming a large-hearted, high-motived man. [109]\n\nCharacter exhibits itself in conduct, guided and inspired by principle,\nintegrity, and practical wisdom. In its highest form, it is the\nindividual will acting energetically under the influence of religion,\nmorality, and reason. It chooses its way considerately, and pursues\nit steadfastly; esteeming duty above reputation, and the approval\nof conscience more than the world's praise. While respecting the\npersonality of others, it preserves its own individuality and\nindependence; and has the courage to be morally honest, though it may be\nunpopular, trusting tranquilly to time and experience for recognition.\n\nAlthough the force of example will always exercise great influence upon\nthe formation of character, the self-originating and sustaining force of\none's own spirit must be the mainstay. This alone can hold up the life,\nand give individual independence and energy. \"Unless man can erect\nhimself above himself,\" said Daniel, a poet of the Elizabethan era, \"how\npoor a thing is man!\" Without a certain degree of practical efficient\nforce--compounded of will, which is the root, and wisdom, which is the\nstem of character--life will be indefinite and purposeless--like a body\nof stagnant water, instead of a running stream doing useful work and\nkeeping the machinery of a district in motion.\n\nWhen the elements of character are brought into action by determinate\nwill, and, influenced by high purpose, man enters upon and courageously\nperseveres in the path of duty, at whatever cost of worldly interest,\nhe may be said to approach the summit of his being. He then exhibits\ncharacter in its most intrepid form, and embodies the highest idea of\nmanliness. The acts of such a man become repeated in the life and action\nof others. His very words live and become actions. Thus every word of\nLuther's rang through Germany like a trumpet. As Richter said of him,\n\"His words were half-battles.\" And thus Luther's life became transfused\ninto the life of his country, and still lives in the character of modern\nGermany.\n\nOn the other hand, energy, without integrity and a soul of goodness,\nmay only represent the embodied principle of evil. It is observed by\nNovalis, in his 'Thoughts on Morals,' that the ideal of moral perfection\nhas no more dangerous rival to contend with than the ideal of the\nhighest strength and the most energetic life, the maximum of the\nbarbarian--which needs only a due admixture of pride, ambition, and\nselfishness, to be a perfect ideal of the devil. Amongst men of\nsuch stamp are found the greatest scourges and devastators of the\nworld--those elect scoundrels whom Providence, in its inscrutable\ndesigns, permits to fulfil their mission of destruction upon earth. [1010]\n\nVery different is the man of energetic character inspired by a noble\nspirit, whose actions are governed by rectitude, and the law of whose\nlife is duty. He is just and upright,--in his business dealings, in his\npublic action, and in his family life--justice being as essential in the\ngovernment of a home as of a nation. He will be honest in all things--in\nhis words and in his work. He will be generous and merciful to his\nopponents, as well as to those who are weaker than himself. It was truly\nsaid of Sheridan--who, with all his improvidence, was generous, and\nnever gave pain--that,\n\n     \"His wit in the combat, as gentle as bright,\n     Never carried a heart-stain away on its blade.\"\n\nSuch also was the character of Fox, who commanded the affection and\nservice of others by his uniform heartiness and sympathy. He was a man\nwho could always be most easily touched on the side of his honour.\nThus, the story is told of a tradesman calling upon him one day for the\npayment of a promissory note which he presented. Fox was engaged at the\ntime in counting out gold. The tradesman asked to be paid from the money\nbefore him. \"No,\" said Fox, \"I owe this money to Sheridan; it is a debt\nof honour; if any accident happened to me, he would have nothing\nto show.\" \"Then,\" said the tradesman, \"I change MY debt into one of\nhonour;\" and he tore up the note. Fox was conquered by the act: he\nthanked the man for his confidence, and paid him, saying, \"Then Sheridan\nmust wait; yours is the debt of older standing.\"\n\nThe man of character is conscientious. He puts his conscience into his\nwork, into his words, into his every action. When Cromwell asked the\nParliament for soldiers in lieu of the decayed serving-men and tapsters\nwho filled the Commonwealth's army, he required that they should be men\n\"who made some conscience of what they did;\" and such were the men of\nwhich his celebrated regiment of \"Ironsides\" was composed.\n\nThe man of character is also reverential. The possession of this quality\nmarks the noblest, and highest type of manhood and womanhood: reverence\nfor things consecrated by the homage of generations--for high objects,\npure thoughts, and noble aims--for the great men of former times, and\nthe highminded workers amongst our contemporaries. Reverence is alike\nindispensable to the happiness of individuals, of families, and of\nnations. Without it there can be no trust, no faith, no confidence,\neither in man or God--neither social peace nor social progress. For\nreverence is but another word for religion, which binds men to each\nother, and all to God.\n\n\"The man of noble spirit,\" says Sir Thomas Overbury, \"converts all\noccurrences into experience, between which experience and his reason\nthere is marriage, and the issue are his actions. He moves by affection,\nnot for affection; he loves glory, scorns shame, and governeth and\nobeyeth with one countenance, for it comes from one consideration.\nKnowing reason to be no idle gift of nature, he is the steersman of his\nown destiny. Truth is his goddess, and he takes pains to get her, not\nto look like her. Unto the society of men he is a sun, whose clearness\ndirects their steps in a regular motion. He is the wise man's friend,\nthe example of the indifferent, the medicine of the vicious. Thus time\ngoeth not from him, but with him, and he feels age more by the strength\nof his soul than by the weakness of his body. Thus feels he no pain, but\nesteems all such things as friends, that desire to file off his fetters,\nand help him out of prison.\" [1011]\n\nEnergy of will--self-originating force--is the soul of every great\ncharacter. Where it is, there is life; where it is not, there is\nfaintness, helplessness, and despondency. \"The strong man and the\nwaterfall,\" says the proverb, \"channel their own path.\" The energetic\nleader of noble spirit not only wins a way for himself, but carries\nothers with him. His every act has a personal significance, indicating\nvigour, independence, and self-reliance, and unconsciously commands\nrespect, admiration, and homage. Such intrepidity of character\ncharacterised Luther, Cromwell, Washington, Pitt, Wellington, and all\ngreat leaders of men.\n\n\"I am convinced,\" said Mr. Gladstone, in describing the qualities of\nthe late Lord Palmerston in the House of Commons, shortly after his\ndeath--\"I am convinced that it was the force of will, a sense of duty,\nand a determination not to give in, that enabled him to make himself\na model for all of us who yet remain and follow him, with feeble and\nunequal steps, in the discharge of our duties; it was that force of will\nthat in point of fact did not so much struggle against the infirmities\nof old age, but actually repelled them and kept them at a distance. And\none other quality there is, at least, that may be noticed without the\nsmallest risk of stirring in any breast a painful emotion. It is this,\nthat Lord Palmerston had a nature incapable of enduring anger or any\nsentiment of wrath. This freedom from wrathful sentiment was not the\nresult of painful effort, but the spontaneous fruit of the mind. It was\na noble gift of his original nature--a gift which beyond all others it\nwas delightful to observe, delightful also to remember in connection\nwith him who has left us, and with whom we have no longer to do, except\nin endeavouring to profit by his example wherever it can lead us in the\npath of duty and of right, and of bestowing on him those tributes of\nadmiration and affection which he deserves at our hands.\"\n\nThe great leader attracts to himself men of kindred character, drawing\nthem towards him as the loadstone draws iron. Thus, Sir John Moore early\ndistinguished the three brothers Napier from the crowd of officers by\nwhom he was surrounded, and they, on their part, repaid him by their\npassionate admiration. They were captivated by his courtesy, his\nbravery, and his lofty disinterestedness; and he became the model\nwhom they resolved to imitate, and, if possible, to emulate. \"Moore's\ninfluence,\" says the biographer of Sir William Napier, \"had a signal\neffect in forming and maturing their characters; and it is no small\nglory to have been the hero of those three men, while his early\ndiscovery of their mental and moral qualities is a proof of Moore's own\npenetration and judgment of character.\"\n\nThere is a contagiousness in every example of energetic conduct. The\nbrave man is an inspiration to the weak, and compels them, as it were,\nto follow him. Thus Napier relates that at the combat of Vera, when\nthe Spanish centre was broken and in flight, a young officer, named\nHavelock, sprang forward, and, waving his hat, called upon the Spaniards\nwithin sight to follow him. Putting spurs to his horse, he leapt the\nabbatis which protected the French front, and went headlong against\nthem. The Spaniards were electrified; in a moment they dashed after him,\ncheering for \"EL CHICO BLANCO!\" [10the fair boy], and with one shock they\nbroke through the French and sent them flying downhill. [1012]\n\nAnd so it is in ordinary life. The good and the great draw others\nafter them; they lighten and lift up all who are within reach of their\ninfluence. They are as so many living centres of beneficent activity.\nLet a man of energetic and upright character be appointed to a position\nof trust and authority, and all who serve under him become, as it were,\nconscious of an increase of power. When Chatham was appointed minister,\nhis personal influence was at once felt through all the ramifications\nof office. Every sailor who served under Nelson, and knew he was in\ncommand, shared the inspiration of the hero.\n\nWhen Washington consented to act as commander-in-chief, it was felt as\nif the strength of the American forces had been more than doubled. Many\nyears late; in 1798, when Washington, grown old, had withdrawn from\npublic life and was living in retirement at Mount Vernon, and when it\nseemed probable that France would declare war against the United States,\nPresident Adams wrote to him, saying, \"We must have your name, if you\nwill permit us to use it; there will be more efficacy in it than in\nmany an army.\" Such was the esteem in which the great President's noble\ncharacter and eminent abilities were held by his countrymen! [1013]\n\nAn incident is related by the historian of the Peninsular War,\nillustrative of the personal influence exercised by a great commander\nover his followers. The British army lay at Sauroren, before which Soult\nwas advancing, prepared to attack, in force. Wellington was absent, and\nhis arrival was anxiously looked for. Suddenly a single horseman was\nseen riding up the mountain alone. It was the Duke, about to join his\ntroops. One of Campbell's Portuguese battalions first descried him,\nand raised a joyful cry; then the shrill clamour, caught up by the next\nregiment, soon swelled as it ran along the line into that appalling\nshout which the British soldier is wont to give upon the edge of\nbattle, and which no enemy ever heard unmoved. Suddenly he stopped at a\nconspicuous point, for he desired both armies should know he was there,\nand a double spy who was present pointed out Soult, who was so near that\nhis features could be distinguished. Attentively Wellington fixed his\neyes on that formidable man, and, as if speaking to himself, he said:\n\"Yonder is a great commander; but he is cautious, and will delay his\nattack to ascertain the cause of those cheers; that will give time for\nthe Sixth Division to arrive, and I shall beat him\"--which he did. [1014]\n\nIn some cases, personal character acts by a kind of talismanic\ninfluence, as if certain men were the organs of a sort of supernatural\nforce. \"If I but stamp on the ground in Italy,\" said Pompey, \"an army\nwill appear.\" At the voice of Peter the Hermit, as described by the\nhistorian, \"Europe arose, and precipitated itself upon Asia.\" It was\nsaid of the Caliph Omar that his walking-stick struck more terror into\nthose who saw it than another man's sword. The very names of some men\nare like the sound of a trumpet. When the Douglas lay mortally wounded\non the field of Otterburn, he ordered his name to be shouted still\nlouder than before, saying there was a tradition in his family that a\ndead Douglas should win a battle. His followers, inspired by the sound,\ngathered fresh courage, rallied, and conquered; and thus, in the words\nof the Scottish poet:--\n\n\"The Douglas dead, his name hath won the field.\" [1015]\n\nThere have been some men whose greatest conquests have been achieved\nafter they themselves were dead. \"Never,\" says Michelet, \"was Caesar\nmore alive, more powerful, more terrible, than when his old and worn-out\nbody, his withered corpse, lay pierced with blows; he appeared\nthen purified, redeemed,--that which he had been, despite his many\nstains--the man of humanity.\" [1016] Never did the great character of\nWilliam of Orange, surnamed the Silent, exercise greater power over his\ncountrymen than after his assassination at Delft by the emissary of the\nJesuits. On the very day of his murder the Estates of Holland resolved\n\"to maintain the good cause, with God's help, to the uttermost, without\nsparing gold or blood;\" and they kept their word.\n\nThe same illustration applies to all history and morals. The career of\na great man remains an enduring monument of human energy. The man\ndies and disappears; but his thoughts and acts survive, and leave\nan indelible stamp upon his race. And thus the spirit of his life is\nprolonged and perpetuated, moulding the thought and will, and thereby\ncontributing to form the character of the future. It is the men that\nadvance in the highest and best directions, who are the true beacons of\nhuman progress. They are as lights set upon a hill, illumining the moral\natmosphere around them; and the light of their spirit continues to shine\nupon all succeeding generations.\n\nIt is natural to admire and revere really great men. They hallow the\nnation to which they belong, and lift up not only all who live in their\ntime, but those who live after them. Their great example becomes the\ncommon heritage of their race; and their great deeds and great thoughts\nare the most glorious of legacies to mankind. They connect the present\nwith the past, and help on the increasing purpose of the future; holding\naloft the standard of principle, maintaining the dignity of human\ncharacter, and filling the mind with traditions and instincts of all\nthat is most worthy and noble in life.\n\nCharacter, embodied in thought and deed, is of the nature of\nimmortality. The solitary thought of a great thinker will dwell in the\nminds of men for centuries until at length it works itself into their\ndaily life and practice. It lives on through the ages, speaking as a\nvoice from the dead, and influencing minds living thousands of years\napart. Thus, Moses and David and Solomon, Plato and Socrates and\nXenophon, Seneca and Cicero and Epictetus, still speak to us as from\ntheir tombs. They still arrest the attention, and exercise an influence\nupon character, though their thoughts be conveyed in languages unspoken\nby them and in their time unknown. Theodore Parker has said that a\nsingle man like Socrates was worth more to a country than many such\nstates as South Carolina; that if that state went out of the world\nto-day, she would not have done so much for the world as Socrates. [1017]\n\nGreat workers and great thinkers are the true makers of history, which\nis but continuous humanity influenced by men of character--by great\nleaders, kings, priests, philosophers, statesmen, and patriots--the\ntrue aristocracy of man. Indeed, Mr. Carlyle has broadly stated that\nUniversal History is, at bottom, but the history of Great Men. They\ncertainly mark and designate the epochs of national life. Their\ninfluence is active, as well as reactive. Though their mind is, in a\nmeasure; the product of their age, the public mind is also, to a\ngreat extent, their creation. Their individual action identifies the\ncause--the institution. They think great thoughts, cast them abroad,\nand the thoughts make events. Thus the early Reformers initiated the\nReformation, and with it the liberation of modern thought. Emerson has\nsaid that every institution is to be regarded as but the lengthened\nshadow of some great man: as Islamism of Mahomet, Puritanism of Calvin,\nJesuitism of Loyola, Quakerism of Fox, Methodism of Wesley, Abolitionism\nof Clarkson.\n\nGreat men stamp their mind upon their age and nation--as Luther did upon\nmodern Germany, and Knox upon Scotland. [1018] And if there be one man\nmore than another that stamped his mind on modern Italy, it was Dante.\nDuring the long centuries of Italian degradation his burning words were\nas a watchfire and a beacon to all true men. He was the herald of his\nnation's liberty--braving persecution, exile, and death, for the love\nof it. He was always the most national of the Italian poets, the most\nloved, the most read. From the time of his death all educated Italians\nhad his best passages by heart; and the sentiments they enshrined\ninspired their lives, and eventually influenced the history of their\nnation. \"The Italians,\" wrote Byron in 1821, \"talk Dante, write Dante,\nand think and dream Dante, at this moment, to an excess which would be\nridiculous, but that he deserves their admiration.\" [1019]\n\nA succession of variously gifted men in different ages--extending from\nAlfred to Albert--has in like manner contributed, by their life and\nexample, to shape the multiform character of England. Of these, probably\nthe most influential were the men of the Elizabethan and Cromwellian,\nand the intermediate periods--amongst which we find the great names of\nShakspeare, Raleigh, Burleigh, Sidney, Bacon, Milton, Herbert, Hampden,\nPym, Eliot, Vane, Cromwell, and many more--some of them men of great\nforce, and others of great dignity and purity of character. The lives of\nsuch men have become part of the public life of England, and their deeds\nand thoughts are regarded as among the most cherished bequeathments from\nthe past.\n\nSo Washington left behind him, as one of the greatest treasures of his\ncountry, the example of a stainless life--of a great, honest, pure, and\nnoble character--a model for his nation to form themselves by in all\ntime to come. And in the case of Washington, as in so many other great\nleaders of men, his greatness did not so much consist in his intellect,\nhis skill, and his genius, as in his honour, his integrity, his\ntruthfulness, his high and controlling sense of duty--in a word, in his\ngenuine nobility of character.\n\nMen such as these are the true lifeblood of the country to which they\nbelong. They elevate and uphold it, fortify and ennoble it, and shed\na glory over it by the example of life and character which they have\nbequeathed. \"The names and memories of great men,\" says an able writer,\n\"are the dowry of a nation. Widowhood, overthrow, desertion, even\nslavery, cannot take away from her this sacred inheritance.... Whenever\nnational life begins to quicken.... the dead heroes rise in the memories\nof men, and appear to the living to stand by in solemn spectatorship and\napproval. No country can be lost which feels herself overlooked by such\nglorious witnesses. They are the salt of the earth, in death as well as\nin life. What they did once, their descendants have still and always\na right to do after them; and their example lives in their country, a\ncontinual stimulant and encouragement for him who has the soul to adopt\nit.\" [1020]\n\nBut it is not great men only that have to be taken into account in\nestimating the qualities of a nation, but the character that pervades\nthe great body of the people. When Washington Irving visited Abbotsford,\nSir Walter Scott introduced him to many of his friends and favourites,\nnot only amongst the neighbouring farmers, but the labouring peasantry.\n\"I wish to show you,\" said Scott, \"some of our really excellent plain\nScotch people. The character of a nation is not to be learnt from its\nfine folks, its fine gentlemen and ladies; such you meet everywhere,\nand they are everywhere the same.\" While statesmen, philosophers, and\ndivines represent the thinking power of society, the men who found\nindustries and carve out new careers, as well as the common body of\nworking-people, from whom the national strength and spirit are from\ntime to time recruited, must necessarily furnish the vital force and\nconstitute the real backbone of every nation.\n\nNations have their character to maintain as well as individuals;\nand under constitutional governments--where all classes more or less\nparticipate in the exercise of political power--the national character\nwill necessarily depend more upon the moral qualities of the many than\nof the few. And the same qualities which determine the character of\nindividuals, also determine the character of nations. Unless they are\nhighminded, truthful, honest, virtuous, and courageous, they will be\nheld in light esteem by other nations, and be without weight in\nthe world. To have character, they must needs also be reverential,\ndisciplined, self-controlling, and devoted to duty. The nation that has\nno higher god than pleasure, or even dollars or calico, must needs be in\na poor way. It were better to revert to Homer's gods than be devoted to\nthese; for the heathen deities at least imaged human virtues, and were\nsomething to look up to.\n\nAs for institutions, however good in themselves, they will avail but\nlittle in maintaining the standard of national character. It is the\nindividual men, and the spirit which actuates them, that determine the\nmoral standing and stability of nations. Government, in the long run, is\nusually no better than the people governed. Where the mass is sound in\nconscience, morals, and habit, the nation will be ruled honestly and\nnobly. But where they are corrupt, self-seeking, and dishonest in heart,\nbound neither by truth nor by law, the rule of rogues and wirepullers\nbecomes inevitable.\n\nThe only true barrier against the despotism of public opinion, whether\nit be of the many or of the few, is enlightened individual freedom and\npurity of personal character. Without these there can be no vigorous\nmanhood, no true liberty in a nation. Political rights, however broadly\nframed, will not elevate a people individually depraved. Indeed, the\nmore complete a system of popular suffrage, and the more perfect its\nprotection, the more completely will the real character of a people\nbe reflected, as by a mirror, in their laws and government. Political\nmorality can never have any solid existence on a basis of individual\nimmorality. Even freedom, exercised by a debased people, would come\nto be regarded as a nuisance, and liberty of the press but a vent for\nlicentiousness and moral abomination.\n\nNations, like individuals, derive support and strength from the feeling\nthat they belong to an illustrious race, that they are the heirs of\ntheir greatness, and ought to be the perpetuators of their glory. It is\nof momentous importance that a nation should have a great past [1021]\nto look back upon. It steadies the life of the present, elevates and\nupholds it, and lightens and lifts it up, by the memory of the great\ndeeds, the noble sufferings, and the valorous achievements of the men of\nold. The life of nations, as of men, is a great treasury of experience,\nwhich, wisely used, issues in social progress and improvement; or,\nmisused, issues in dreams, delusions, and failure. Like men, nations are\npurified and strengthened by trials. Some of the most glorious chapters\nin their history are those containing the record of the sufferings by\nmeans of which their character has been developed. Love of liberty and\npatriotic feeling may have done much, but trial and suffering nobly\nborne more than all.\n\nA great deal of what passes by the name of patriotism in these days\nconsists of the merest bigotry and narrow-mindedness; exhibiting itself\nin national prejudice, national conceit, amid national hatred. It does\nnot show itself in deeds, but in boastings--in howlings, gesticulations,\nand shrieking helplessly for help--in flying flags and singing\nsongs--and in perpetual grinding at the hurdy-gurdy of long-dead\ngrievances and long-remedied wrongs. To be infested by SUCH a patriotism\nas this is, perhaps, amongst the greatest curses that can befall any\ncountry.\n\nBut as there is an ignoble, so is there a noble patriotism--the\npatriotism that invigorates and elevates a country by noble work--that\ndoes its duty truthfully and manfully--that lives an honest, sober, and\nupright life, and strives to make the best use of the opportunities for\nimprovement that present themselves on every side; and at the same time\na patriotism that cherishes the memory and example of the great men of\nold, who, by their sufferings in the cause of religion or of freedom,\nhave won for themselves a deathless glory, and for their nation those\nprivileges of free life and free institutions of which they are the\ninheritors and possessors.\n\nNations are not to be judged by their size any more than individuals:\n\n    \"it is not growing like a tree\n    In bulk, doth make Man better be.\"\n\nFor a nation to be great, it need not necessarily be big, though bigness\nis often confounded with greatness. A nation may be very big in point of\nterritory and population and yet be devoid of true greatness. The people\nof Israel were a small people, yet what a great life they developed,\nand how powerful the influence they have exercised on the destinies of\nmankind! Greece was not big: the entire population of Attica was less\nthan that of South Lancashire. Athens was less populous than New York;\nand yet how great it was in art, in literature, in philosophy, and in\npatriotism! [1022]\n\nBut it was the fatal weakness of Athens that its citizens had no true\nfamily or home life, while its freemen were greatly outnumbered by its\nslaves. Its public men were loose, if not corrupt, in morals. Its\nwomen, even the most accomplished, were unchaste. Hence its fall became\ninevitable, and was even more sudden than its rise.\n\nIn like manner the decline and fall of Rome was attributable to the\ngeneral corruption of its people, and to their engrossing love of\npleasure and idleness--work, in the later days of Rome, being regarded\nonly as fit for slaves. Its citizens ceased to pride themselves on the\nvirtues of character of their great forefathers; and the empire fell\nbecause it did not deserve to live. And so the nations that are idle and\nluxurious--that \"will rather lose a pound of blood,\" as old Burton says,\n\"in a single combat, than a drop of sweat in any honest labour\"--must\ninevitably die out, and laborious energetic nations take their place.\n\nWhen Louis XIV. asked Colbert how it was that, ruling so great and\npopulous a country as France, he had been unable to conquer so small a\ncountry as Holland, the minister replied: \"Because, Sire, the greatness\nof a country does not depend upon the extent of its territory, but\non the character of its people. It is because of the industry, the\nfrugality, and the energy of the Dutch that your Majesty has found them\nso difficult to overcome.\"\n\nIt is also related of Spinola and Richardet, the ambassadors sent by the\nKing of Spain to negotiate a treaty at the Hague in 1608, that one day\nthey saw some eight or ten persons land from a little boat, and, sitting\ndown upon the grass, proceed to make a meal of bread-and-cheese and\nbeer. \"Who are those travellers?\" asked the ambassadors of a peasant.\n\"These are worshipful masters, the deputies from the States,\" was his\nreply. Spinola at once whispered to his companion, \"We must make peace:\nthese are not men to be conquered.\"\n\nIn fine, stability of institutions must depend upon stability of\ncharacter. Any number of depraved units cannot form a great nation.\nThe people may seem to be highly civilised, and yet be ready to fall\nto pieces at first touch of adversity. Without integrity of individual\ncharacter, they can have no real strength, cohesion, soundness. They may\nbe rich, polite, and artistic; and yet hovering on the brink of ruin.\nIf living for themselves only, and with no end but pleasure--each little\nself his own little god--such a nation is doomed, and its decay is\ninevitable.\n\nWhere national character ceases to be upheld, a nation may be regarded\nas next to lost. Where it ceases to esteem and to practise the virtues\nof truthfulness, honesty, integrity, and justice, it does not deserve\nto live. And when the time arrives in any country when wealth has so\ncorrupted, or pleasure so depraved, or faction so infatuated the people,\nthat honour, order, obedience, virtue, and loyalty have seemingly become\nthings of the past; then, amidst the darkness, when honest men--if,\nhaply, there be such left--are groping about and feeling for each\nother's hands, their only remaining hope will be in the restoration and\nelevation of Individual Character; for by that alone can a nation be\nsaved; and if character be irrecoverably lost, then indeed there will be\nnothing left worth saving.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.--HOME POWER.\n\n\n\n        \"So build we up the being that we are,\n         Thus deeply drinking in the soul of things,\n         We shall be wise perforce.\"  WORDSWORTH.\n\n    \"The millstreams that turn the clappers of the world\n     arise in solitary places.\"--HELPS.\n\n     \"In the course of a conversation with Madame Campan,\n     Napoleon Buonaparte remarked: 'The old systems of\n     instruction seem to be worth nothing; what is yet wanting in\n     order that the people should be properly educated?'\n     'MOTHERS,' replied Madame Campan. The reply struck the\n     Emperor. 'Yes!' said he 'here is a system of education in\n     one word. Be it your care, then, to train up mothers who\n     shall know how to educate their children.'\"--AIME MARTIN.\n\n        \"Lord! with what care hast Thou begirt us round!\n          Parents first season us.  Then schoolmasters\n         Deliver us to laws.  They send us bound\n          To rules of reason.\"--GEORGE HERBERT.\n\n\nHOME is the first and most important school of character. It is there\nthat every human being receives his best moral training, or his worst;\nfor it is there that he imbibes those principles of conduct which endure\nthrough manhood, and cease only with life.\n\nIt is a common saying that \"Manners make the man;\" and there is a\nsecond, that \"Mind makes the man;\" but truer than either is a third,\nthat \"Home makes the man.\" For the home-training includes not only\nmanners and mind, but character. It is mainly in the home that the\nheart is opened, the habits are formed, the intellect is awakened, and\ncharacter moulded for good or for evil.\n\nFrom that source, be it pure or impure, issue the principles and maxims\nthat govern society. Law itself is but the reflex of homes. The tiniest\nbits of opinion sown in the minds of children in private life afterwards\nissue forth to the world, and become its public opinion; for nations\nare gathered out of nurseries, and they who hold the leading-strings\nof children may even exercise a greater power than those who wield the\nreins of government. [111]\n\nIt is in the order of nature that domestic life should be preparatory\nto social, and that the mind and character should first be formed in the\nhome. There the individuals who afterwards form society are dealt with\nin detail, and fashioned one by one. From the family they enter life,\nand advance from boyhood to citizenship. Thus the home may be regarded\nas the most influential school of civilisation. For, after all,\ncivilisation mainly resolves itself into a question of individual\ntraining; and according as the respective members of society are well\nor ill-trained in youth, so will the community which they constitute be\nmore or less humanised and civilised.\n\nThe training of any man, even the wisest, cannot fail to be powerfully\ninfluenced by the moral surroundings of his early years. He comes into\nthe world helpless, and absolutely dependent upon those about him for\nnurture and culture. From the very first breath that he draws, his\neducation begins. When a mother once asked a clergyman when she should\nbegin the education of her child, then four years old, he replied:\n\"Madam, if you have not begun already, you have lost those four\nyears. From the first smile that gleams upon an infant's cheek, your\nopportunity begins.\"\n\nBut even in this case the education had already begun; for the child\nlearns by simple imitation, without effort, almost through the pores of\nthe skin. \"A figtree looking on a figtree becometh fruitful,\" says\nthe Arabian proverb. And so it is with children; their first great\ninstructor is example.\n\nHowever apparently trivial the influences which contribute to form the\ncharacter of the child, they endure through life. The child's character\nis the nucleus of the man's; all after-education is but superposition;\nthe form of the crystal remains the same. Thus the saying of the poet\nholds true in a large degree, \"The child is father of the man;\" or, as\nMilton puts it, \"The childhood shows the man, as morning shows the day.\"\nThose impulses to conduct which last the longest and are rooted the\ndeepest, always have their origin near our birth. It is then that\nthe germs of virtues or vices, of feelings or sentiments, are first\nimplanted which determine the character for life.\n\nThe child is, as it were, laid at the gate of a new world, and opens\nhis eyes upon things all of which are full of novelty and wonderment. At\nfirst it is enough for him to gaze; but by-and-by he begins to see, to\nobserve, to compare, to learn, to store up impressions and ideas; and\nunder wise guidance the progress which he makes is really wonderful.\nLord Brougham has observed that between the ages of eighteen and thirty\nmonths, a child learns more of the material world, of his own powers,\nof the nature of other bodies, and even of his own mind and other minds,\nthan he acquires in all the rest of his life. The knowledge which a\nchild accumulates, and the ideas generated in his mind, during this\nperiod, are so important, that if we could imagine them to be afterwards\nobliterated, all the learning of a senior wrangler at Cambridge, or a\nfirst-classman at Oxford, would be as nothing to it, and would literally\nnot enable its object to prolong his existence for a week.\n\nIt is in childhood that the mind is most open to impressions, and ready\nto be kindled by the first spark that falls into it. Ideas are then\ncaught quickly and live lastingly. Thus Scott is said to have received,\nhis first bent towards ballad literature from his mother's and\ngrandmother's recitations in his hearing long before he himself\nhad learned to read. Childhood is like a mirror, which reflects in\nafter-life the images first presented to it. The first thing continues\nfor ever with the child. The first joy, the first sorrow, the\nfirst success, the first failure, the first achievement, the first\nmisadventure, paint the foreground of his life.\n\nAll this while, too, the training of the character is in progress--of\nthe temper, the will, and the habits--on which so much of the happiness\nof human beings in after-life depends. Although man is endowed with\na certain self-acting, self-helping power of contributing to his own\ndevelopment, independent of surrounding circumstances, and of reacting\nupon the life around him, the bias given to his moral character in early\nlife is of immense importance. Place even the highest-minded philosopher\nin the midst of daily discomfort, immorality, and vileness, and he will\ninsensibly gravitate towards brutality. How much more susceptible is the\nimpressionable and helpless child amidst such surroundings! It is not\npossible to rear a kindly nature, sensitive to evil, pure in mind and\nheart, amidst coarseness, discomfort, and impurity.\n\nThus homes, which are the nurseries of children who grow up into men\nand women, will be good or bad according to the power that governs them.\nWhere the spirit of love and duty pervades the home--where head and\nheart bear rule wisely there--where the daily life is honest and\nvirtuous--where the government is sensible, kind, and loving, then\nmay we expect from such a home an issue of healthy, useful, and happy\nbeings, capable, as they gain the requisite strength, of following the\nfootsteps of their parents, of walking uprightly, governing themselves\nwisely, and contributing to the welfare of those about them.\n\nOn the other hand, if surrounded by ignorance, coarseness, and\nselfishness, they will unconsciously assume the same character, and\ngrow up to adult years rude, uncultivated, and all the more dangerous\nto society if placed amidst the manifold temptations of what is called\ncivilised life. \"Give your child to be educated by a slave,\" said an\nancient Greek, \"and instead of one slave, you will then have two.\"\n\nThe child cannot help imitating what he sees. Everything is to him a\nmodel--of manner, of gesture, of speech, of habit, of character. \"For\nthe child,\" says Richter, \"the most important era of life is that of\nchildhood, when he begins to colour and mould himself by companionship\nwith others. Every new educator effects less than his predecessor;\nuntil at last, if we regard all life as an educational institution, a\ncircumnavigator of the world is less influenced by all the nations\nhe has seen than by his nurse.\" [112] Models are therefore of every\nimportance in moulding the nature of the child; and if we would have\nfine characters, we must necessarily present before them fine models.\nNow, the model most constantly before every child's eye is the Mother.\n\nOne good mother, said George Herbert, is worth a hundred schoolmasters.\nIn the home she is \"loadstone to all hearts, and loadstar to all eyes.\"\nImitation of her is constant--imitation, which Bacon likens to \"a globe\nof precepts.\" But example is far more than precept. It is instruction\nin action. It is teaching without words, often exemplifying more than\ntongue can teach. In the face of bad example, the best of precepts are\nof but little avail. The example is followed, not the precepts. Indeed,\nprecept at variance with practice is worse than useless, inasmuch as\nit only serves to teach the most cowardly of vices--hypocrisy. Even\nchildren are judges of consistency, and the lessons of the parent who\nsays one thing and does the opposite, are quickly seen through. The\nteaching of the friar was not worth much, who preached the virtue of\nhonesty with a stolen goose in his sleeve.\n\nBy imitation of acts, the character becomes slowly and imperceptibly,\nbut at length decidedly formed. The several acts may seem in themselves\ntrivial; but so are the continuous acts of daily life. Like snowflakes,\nthey fall unperceived; each flake added to the pile produces no\nsensible change, and yet the accumulation of snowflakes makes the\navalanche. So do repeated acts, one following another, at length become\nconsolidated in habit, determine the action of the human being for good\nor for evil, and, in a word, form the character.\n\nIt is because the mother, far more than the father, influences the\naction and conduct of the child, that her good example is of so much\ngreater importance in the home. It is easy to understand how this should\nbe so. The home is the woman's domain--her kingdom, where she exercises\nentire control. Her power over the little subjects she rules there is\nabsolute. They look up to her for everything. She is the example and\nmodel constantly before their eyes, whom they unconsciously observe and\nimitate.\n\nCowley, speaking of the influence of early example, and ideas early\nimplanted in the mind, compares them to letters cut in the bark of a\nyoung tree, which grow and widen with age. The impressions then made,\nhowsoever slight they may seem, are never effaced. The ideas then\nimplanted in the mind are like seeds dropped into the ground, which\nlie there and germinate for a time, afterwards springing up in acts and\nthoughts and habits. Thus the mother lives again in her children.\nThey unconsciously mould themselves after her manner, her speech, her\nconduct, and her method of life. Her habits become theirs; and her\ncharacter is visibly repeated in them.\n\nThis maternal love is the visible providence of our race. Its influence\nis constant and universal. It begins with the education of the human\nbeing at the out-start of life, and is prolonged by virtue of the\npowerful influence which every good mother exercises over her children\nthrough life. When launched into the world, each to take part in its\nlabours, anxieties, and trials, they still turn to their mother\nfor consolation, if not for counsel, in their time of trouble and\ndifficulty. The pure and good thoughts she has implanted in their minds\nwhen children, continue to grow up into good acts, long after she is\ndead; and when there is nothing but a memory of her left, her children\nrise up and call her blessed.\n\nIt is not saying too much to aver that the happiness or misery, the\nenlightenment or ignorance, the civilisation or barbarism of the world,\ndepends in a very high degree upon the exercise of woman's power within\nher special kingdom of home. Indeed, Emerson says, broadly and truly,\nthat \"a sufficient measure of civilisation is the influence of good\nwomen.\" Posterity may be said to lie before us in the person of the\nchild in the mother's lap. What that child will eventually become,\nmainly depends upon the training and example which he has received from\nhis first and most influential educator.\n\nWoman, above all other educators, educates humanly. Man is the brain,\nbut woman is the heart of humanity; he its judgment, she its feeling;\nhe its strength, she its grace, ornament, and solace. Even the\nunderstanding of the best woman seems to work mainly through her\naffections. And thus, though man may direct the intellect, woman\ncultivates the feelings, which mainly determine the character. While he\nfills the memory, she occupies the heart. She makes us love what he can\nonly make us believe, and it is chiefly through her that we are enabled\nto arrive at virtue.\n\nThe respective influences of the father and the mother on the training\nand development of character, are remarkably illustrated in the life\nof St. Augustine. While Augustine's father, a poor freeman of Thagaste,\nproud of his son's abilities, endeavoured to furnish his mind with the\nhighest learning of the schools, and was extolled by his neighbours\nfor the sacrifices he made with that object \"beyond the ability of his\nmeans\"--his mother Monica, on the other hand, sought to lead her\nson's mind in the direction of the highest good, and with pious care\ncounselled him, entreated him, advised him to chastity, and, amidst much\nanguish and tribulation, because of his wicked life, never ceased to\npray for him until her prayers were heard and answered. Thus her love\nat last triumphed, and the patience and goodness of the mother were\nrewarded, not only by the conversion of her gifted son, but also of her\nhusband. Later in life, and after her husband's death, Monica, drawn by\nher affection, followed her son to Milan, to watch over him; and there\nshe died, when he was in his thirty-third year. But it was in the\nearlier period of his life that her example and instruction made the\ndeepest impression upon his mind, and determined his future character.\n\nThere are many similar instances of early impressions made upon a\nchild's mind, springing up into good acts late in life, after an\nintervening period of selfishness and vice. Parents may do all that they\ncan to develope an upright and virtuous character in their children, and\napparently in vain. It seems like bread cast upon the waters and lost.\nAnd yet sometimes it happens that long after the parents have gone to\ntheir Rest--it may be twenty years or more--the good precept, the good\nexample set before their sons and daughters in childhood, at length\nsprings up and bears fruit.\n\nOne of the most remarkable of such instances was that of the Reverend\nJohn Newton of Olney, the friend of Cowper the poet. It was long\nsubsequent to the death of both his parents, and after leading a vicious\nlife as a youth and as a seaman, that he became suddenly awakened to\na sense of his depravity; and then it was that the lessons which his\nmother had given him when a child sprang up vividly in his memory. Her\nvoice came to him as it were from the dead, and led him gently back to\nvirtue and goodness.\n\nAnother instance is that of John Randolph, the American statesman, who\nonce said: \"I should have been an atheist if it had not been for one\nrecollection--and that was the memory of the time when my departed\nmother used to take my little hand in hers, and cause me on my knees to\nsay, 'Our Father who art in heaven!'\"\n\nBut such instance must, on the whole, be regarded as exceptional. As the\ncharacter is biassed in early life, so it generally remains, gradually\nassuming its permanent form as manhood is reached. \"Live as long as you\nmay,\" said Southey, \"the first twenty years are the longest half of your\nlife,\" and they are by far the most pregnant in consequences. When the\nworn-out slanderer and voluptuary, Dr. Wolcot, lay on his deathbed, one\nof his friends asked if he could do anything to gratify him. \"Yes,\" said\nthe dying man, eagerly, \"give me back my youth.\" Give him but that, and\nhe would repent--he would reform. But it was all too late! His life had\nbecome bound and enthralled by the chains of habit.' [113]\n\nGretry, the musical composer, thought so highly of the importance of\nwoman as an educator of character, that he described a good mother as\n\"Nature's CHEF-D'OEUVRE.\" And he was right: for good mothers, far more\nthan fathers, tend to the perpetual renovation of mankind, creating,\nas they do, the moral atmosphere of the home, which is the nutriment of\nman's moral being, as the physical atmosphere is of his corporeal frame.\nBy good temper, suavity, and kindness, directed by intelligence, woman\nsurrounds the indwellers with a pervading atmosphere of cheerfulness,\ncontentment, and peace, suitable for the growth of the purest as of the\nmanliest natures.\n\nThe poorest dwelling, presided over by a virtuous, thrifty, cheerful,\nand cleanly woman, may thus be the abode of comfort, virtue, and\nhappiness; it may be the scene of every ennobling relation in family\nlife; it may be endeared to a man by many delightful associations;\nfurnishing a sanctuary for the heart, a refuge from the storms of life,\na sweet resting-place after labour, a consolation in misfortune, a pride\nin prosperity, and a joy at all times.\n\nThe good home is thus the best of schools, not only in youth but in age.\nThere young and old best learn cheerfulness, patience, self-control,\nand the spirit of service and of duty. Izaak Walton, speaking of George\nHerbert's mother, says she governed her family with judicious care, not\nrigidly nor sourly, \"but with such a sweetness and compliance with the\nrecreations and pleasures of youth, as did incline them to spend much of\ntheir time in her company, which was to her great content.\"\n\nThe home is the true school of courtesy, of which woman is always the\nbest practical instructor. \"Without woman,\" says the Provencal proverb,\n\"men were but ill-licked cubs.\" Philanthropy radiates from the home as\nfrom a centre. \"To love the little platoon we belong to in society,\"\nsaid Burke, \"is the germ of all public affections.\" The wisest and\nthe best have not been ashamed to own it to be their greatest joy and\nhappiness to sit \"behind the heads of children\" in the inviolable circle\nof home. A life of purity and duty there is not the least effectual\npreparative for a life of public work and duty; and the man who loves\nhis home will not the less fondly love and serve his country. But while\nhomes, which are the nurseries of character, may be the best of\nschools, they may also be the worst. Between childhood and manhood how\nincalculable is the mischief which ignorance in the home has the power\nto cause! Between the drawing of the first breath and the last, how vast\nis the moral suffering and disease occasioned by incompetent mothers and\nnurses! Commit a child to the care of a worthless ignorant woman, and no\nculture in after-life will remedy the evil you have done. Let the mother\nbe idle, vicious, and a slattern; let her home be pervaded by cavilling,\npetulance, and discontent, and it will become a dwelling of misery--a\nplace to fly from, rather than to fly to; and the children whose\nmisfortune it is to be brought up there, will be morally dwarfed and\ndeformed--the cause of misery to themselves as well as to others.\n\nNapoleon Buonaparte was accustomed to say that \"the future good or\nbad conduct of a child depended entirely on the mother.\" He himself\nattributed his rise in life in a great measure to the training of his\nwill, his energy, and his self-control, by his mother at home. \"Nobody\nhad any command over him,\" says one of his biographers, \"except his\nmother, who found means, by a mixture of tenderness, severity, and\njustice, to make him love, respect, and obey her: from her he learnt the\nvirtue of obedience.\"\n\nA curious illustration of the dependence of the character of children\non that of the mother incidentally occurs in one of Mr. Tufnell's school\nreports. The truth, he observes, is so well established that it has even\nbeen made subservient to mercantile calculation. \"I was informed,\" he\nsays, \"in a large factory, where many children were employed, that the\nmanagers before they engaged a boy always inquired into the mother's\ncharacter, and if that was satisfactory they were tolerably certain that\nher children would conduct themselves creditably. NO ATTENTION WAS PAID\nTO THE CHARACTER OF THE FATHER.\" [114]\n\nIt has also been observed that in cases where the father has turned out\nbadly--become a drunkard, and \"gone to the dogs\"--provided the mother is\nprudent and sensible, the family will be kept together, and the children\nprobably make their way honourably in life; whereas in cases of\nthe opposite sort, where the mother turns out badly, no matter how\nwell-conducted the father may be, the instances of after-success in life\non the part of the children are comparatively rare.\n\nThe greater part of the influence exercised by women on the formation of\ncharacter necessarily remains unknown. They accomplish their best work\nin the quiet seclusion of the home and the family, by sustained effort\nand patient perseverance in the path of duty. Their greatest triumphs,\nbecause private and domestic, are rarely recorded; and it is not often,\neven in the biographies of distinguished men, that we hear of the share\nwhich their mothers have had in the formation of their character, and\nin giving them a bias towards goodness. Yet are they not on that\naccount without their reward. The influence they have exercised,\nthough unrecorded, lives after them, and goes on propagating itself in\nconsequences for ever.\n\nWe do not often hear of great women, as we do of great men. It is of\ngood women that we mostly hear; and it is probable that by determining\nthe character of men and women for good, they are doing even greater\nwork than if they were to paint great pictures, write great books, or\ncompose great operas. \"It is quite true,\" said Joseph de Maistre, \"that\nwomen have produced no CHEFS-DOEUVRE. They have written no 'Iliad,' nor\n'Jerusalem Delivered,' nor 'Hamlet,' nor 'Phaedre,' nor 'Paradise Lost,'\nnor 'Tartuffe;' they have designed no Church of St. Peter's, composed\nno 'Messiah,' carved no 'Apollo Belvidere,' painted no 'Last Judgment;'\nthey have invented neither algebra, nor telescopes, nor steam-engines;\nbut they have done something far greater and better than all this, for\nit is at their knees that upright and virtuous men and women have been\ntrained--the most excellent productions in the world.\"\n\nDe Maistre, in his letters and writings, speaks of his own mother with\nimmense love and reverence. Her noble character made all other women\nvenerable in his eyes. He described her as his \"sublime mother\"--\"an\nangel to whom God had lent a body for a brief season.\" To her he\nattributed the bent of his character, and all his bias towards good;\nand when he had grown to mature years, while acting as ambassador at the\nCourt of St. Petersburg, he referred to her noble example and precepts\nas the ruling influence in his life.\n\nOne of the most charming features in the character of Samuel Johnson,\nnotwithstanding his rough and shaggy exterior, was the tenderness\nwith which he invariably spoke of his mother [115]--a woman of strong\nunderstanding, who firmly implanted in his mind, as he himself\nacknowledges, his first impressions of religion. He was accustomed, even\nin the time of his greatest difficulties, to contribute largely, out of\nhis slender means, to her comfort; and one of his last acts of filial\nduty was to write 'Rasselas' for the purpose of paying her little debts\nand defraying her funeral charges.\n\nGeorge Washington was only eleven years of age--the eldest of five\nchildren--when his father died, leaving his mother a widow. She was a\nwoman of rare excellence--full of resources, a good woman of business,\nan excellent manager, and possessed of much strength of character. She\nhad her children to educate and bring up, a large household to govern,\nand extensive estates to manage, all of which she accomplished with\ncomplete success. Her good sense, assiduity, tenderness, industry, and\nvigilance, enabled her to overcome every obstacle; and as the richest\nreward of her solicitude and toil, she had the happiness to see all her\nchildren come forward with a fair promise into life, filling the spheres\nallotted to them in a manner equally honourable to themselves, and to\nthe parent who had been the only guide of their, principles, conduct,\nand habits. [116]\n\nThe biographer of Cromwell says little about the Protector's father, but\ndwells upon the character of his mother, whom he describes as a woman of\nrare vigour and decision of purpose: \"A woman,\" he says, \"possessed\nof the glorious faculty of self-help when other assistance failed her;\nready for the demands of fortune in its extremest adverse turn; of\nspirit and energy equal to her mildness and patience; who, with the\nlabour of her own hands, gave dowries to five daughters sufficient to\nmarry them into families as honourable but more wealthy than their\nown; whose single pride was honesty, and whose passion was love; who\npreserved in the gorgeous palace at Whitehall the simple tastes that\ndistinguished her in the old brewery at Huntingdon; and whose only care,\namidst all her splendour, was for the safety of her son in his dangerous\neminence.\" [117]\n\nWe have spoken of the mother of Napoleon Buonaparte as a woman of\ngreat force of character. Not less so was the mother of the Duke of\nWellington, whom her son strikingly resembled in features, person, and\ncharacter; while his father was principally distinguished as a musical\ncomposer and performer. [118] But, strange to say, Wellington's mother\nmistook him for a dunce; and, for some reason or other, he was not such\na favourite as her other children, until his great deeds in after-life\nconstrained her to be proud of him.\n\nThe Napiers were blessed in both parents, but especially in their\nmother, Lady Sarah Lennox, who early sought to inspire her sons' minds\nwith elevating thoughts, admiration of noble deeds, and a chivalrous\nspirit, which became embodied in their lives, and continued to sustain\nthem, until death, in the path of duty and of honour.\n\nAmong statesmen, lawyers, and divines, we find marked mention made of\nthe mothers of Lord Chancellors Bacon, Erskine, and Brougham--all women\nof great ability, and, in the case of the first, of great learning;\nas well as of the mothers of Canning, Curran, and President Adams--of\nHerbert, Paley, and Wesley. Lord Brougham speaks in terms almost\napproaching reverence of his grandmother, the sister of Professor\nRobertson, as having been mainly instrumental in instilling into his\nmind a strong desire for information, and the first principles of that\npersevering energy in the pursuit of every kind of knowledge which\nformed his prominent characteristic throughout life.\n\nCanning's mother was an Irishwoman of great natural ability, for whom\nher gifted son entertained the greatest love and respect to the close of\nhis career. She was a woman of no ordinary intellectual power. \"Indeed,\"\nsays Canning's biographer, \"were we not otherwise assured of the fact\nfrom direct sources, it would be impossible to contemplate his profound\nand touching devotion to her, without being led to conclude that the\nobject of such unchanging attachment must have been possessed of rare\nand commanding qualities. She was esteemed by the circle in which she\nlived, as a woman of great mental energy. Her conversation was animated\nand vigorous, and marked by a distinct originality of manner and a\nchoice of topics fresh and striking, and out of the commonplace routine.\nTo persons who were but slightly acquainted with her, the energy of her\nmanner had even something of the air of eccentricity.\" [119]\n\nCurran speaks with great affection of his mother, as a woman of strong\noriginal understanding, to whose wise counsel, consistent piety, and\nlessons of honourable ambition, which she diligently enforced on the\nminds of her children, he himself principally attributed his success\nin life. \"The only inheritance,\" he used to say, \"that I could boast of\nfrom my poor father, was the very scanty one of an unattractive face\nand person; like his own; and if the world has ever attributed to me\nsomething more valuable than face or person, or than earthly wealth, it\nwas that another and a dearer parent gave her child a portion from the\ntreasure of her mind.\" [1110]\n\nWhen ex-President Adams was present at the examination of a girls'\nschool at Boston, he was presented by the pupils with an address which\ndeeply affected him; and in acknowledging it, he took the opportunity\nof referring to the lasting influence which womanly training and\nassociation had exercised upon his own life and character. \"As a child,\"\nhe said, \"I enjoyed perhaps the greatest of blessings that can be\nbestowed on man--that of a mother, who was anxious and capable to form\nthe characters of her children rightly. From her I derived whatever\ninstruction [11religious especially, and moral] has pervaded a long\nlife--I will not say perfectly, or as it ought to be; but I will say,\nbecause it is only justice to the memory of her I revere, that, in the\ncourse of that life, whatever imperfection there has been, or deviation\nfrom what she taught me, the fault is mine, and not hers.\"\n\nThe Wesleys were peculiarly linked to their parents by natural piety,\nthough the mother, rather than the father, influenced their minds and\ndeveloped their characters. The father was a man of strong will, but\noccasionally harsh and tyrannical in his dealings with his family; [1111]\nwhile the mother, with much strength of understanding and ardent love\nof truth, was gentle, persuasive, affectionate, and simple. She was the\nteacher and cheerful companion of her children, who gradually became\nmoulded by her example. It was through the bias given by her to her\nsons' minds in religious matters that they acquired the tendency which,\neven in early years, drew to them the name of Methodists. In a letter to\nher son, Samuel Wesley, when a scholar at Westminster in 1709, she said:\n\"I would advise you as much as possible to throw your business into a\ncertain METHOD, by which means you will learn to improve every precious\nmoment, and find an unspeakable facility in the performance of your\nrespective duties.\" This \"method\" she went on to describe, exhorting\nher son \"in all things to act upon principle;\" and the society which the\nbrothers John and Charles afterwards founded at Oxford is supposed to\nhave been in a great measure the result of her exhortations.\n\nIn the case of poets, literary men, and artists, the influence of the\nmother's feeling and taste has doubtless had great effect in directing\nthe genius of their sons; and we find this especially illustrated in the\nlives of Gray, Thomson, Scott, Southey, Bulwer, Schiller, and Goethe.\nGray inherited, almost complete, his kind and loving nature from his\nmother, while his father was harsh and unamiable. Gray was, in fact,\na feminine man--shy, reserved, and wanting in energy,--but thoroughly\nirreproachable in life and character. The poet's mother maintained the\nfamily, after her unworthy husband had deserted her; and, at her death,\nGray placed on her grave, in Stoke Pogis, an epitaph describing her as\n\"the careful tender mother of many children, one of whom alone had the\nmisfortune to survive her.\" The poet himself was, at his own desire,\ninterred beside her worshipped grave.\n\nGoethe, like Schiller, owed the bias of his mind and character to his\nmother, who was a woman of extraordinary gifts. She was full of\njoyous flowing mother-wit, and possessed in a high degree the art of\nstimulating young and active minds, instructing them in the science\nof life out of the treasures of her abundant experience. [1112] After a\nlengthened interview with her, an enthusiastic traveller said, \"Now do\nI understand how Goethe has become the man he is.\" Goethe himself\naffectionately cherished her memory. \"She was worthy of life!\" he\nonce said of her; and when he visited Frankfort, he sought out every\nindividual who had been kind to his mother, and thanked them all.\n\nIt was Ary Scheffer's mother--whose beautiful features the painter so\nloved to reproduce in his pictures of Beatrice, St. Monica, and others\nof his works--that encouraged his study of art, and by great self-denial\nprovided him with the means of pursuing it. While living at Dordrecht,\nin Holland, she first sent him to Lille to study, and afterwards to\nParis; and her letters to him, while absent, were always full of sound\nmotherly advice, and affectionate womanly sympathy. \"If you could but\nsee me,\" she wrote on one occasion, \"kissing your picture, then, after\na while, taking it up again, and, with a tear in my eye, calling you 'my\nbeloved son,' you would comprehend what it costs me to use sometimes the\nstern language of authority, and to occasion to you moments of pain. *\n* * Work diligently--be, above all, modest and humble; and when you find\nyourself excelling others, then compare what you have done with Nature\nitself, or with the 'ideal' of your own mind, and you will be secured,\nby the contrast which will be apparent, against the effects of pride and\npresumption.\"\n\nLong years after, when Ary Scheffer was himself a grandfather, he\nremembered with affection the advice of his mother, and repeated it to\nhis children. And thus the vital power of good example lives on from\ngeneration to generation, keeping the world ever fresh and young.\nWriting to his daughter, Madame Marjolin, in 1846, his departed mother's\nadvice recurred to him, and he said: \"The word MUST--fix it well in\nyour memory, dear child; your grandmother seldom had it out of hers. The\ntruth is, that through our lives nothing brings any good fruit except\nwhat is earned by either the work of the hands, or by the exertion of\none's self-denial. Sacrifices must, in short, be ever going on if we\nwould obtain any comfort or happiness. Now that I am no longer young, I\ndeclare that few passages in my life afford me so much satisfaction\nas those in which I made sacrifices, or denied myself enjoyments. 'Das\nEntsagen' [11the forbidden] is the motto of the wise man. Self-denial is\nthe quality of which Jesus Christ set us the example.\" [1113]\n\nThe French historian Michelet makes the following touching reference to\nhis mother in the Preface to one of his most popular books, the subject\nof much embittered controversy at the time at which it appeared:--\n\n\"Whilst writing all this, I have had in my mind a woman, whose\nstrong and serious mind would not have failed to support me in\nthese contentions. I lost her thirty years ago [11I was a child\nthen]--nevertheless, ever living in my memory, she follows me from age\nto age.\n\n\"She suffered with me in my poverty, and was not allowed to share my\nbetter fortune. When young, I made her sad, and now I cannot console\nher. I know not even where her bones are: I was too poor then to buy\nearth to bury her!\"\n\n\"And yet I owe her much. I feel deeply that I am the son of woman.\nEvery instant, in my ideas and words [11not to mention my features and\ngestures], I find again my mother in myself. It is my mother's blood\nwhich gives me the sympathy I feel for bygone ages, and the tender\nremembrance of all those who are now no more.\"\n\n\"What return then could I, who am myself advancing towards old age, make\nher for the many things I owe her? One, for which she would have thanked\nme--this protest in favour of women and mothers.\" [1114]\n\nBut while a mother may greatly influence the poetic or artistic mind\nof her son for good, she may also influence it for evil. Thus the\ncharacteristics of Lord Byron--the waywardness of his impulses, his\ndefiance of restraint, the bitterness of his hate, and the precipitancy\nof his resentments--were traceable in no small degree to the adverse\ninfluences exercised upon his mind from his birth by his capricious,\nviolent, and headstrong mother. She even taunted her son with his\npersonal deformity; and it was no unfrequent occurrence, in the violent\nquarrels which occurred between them, for her to take up the poker or\ntongs, and hurl them after him as he fled from her presence. [1115] It was\nthis unnatural treatment that gave a morbid turn to Byron's after-life;\nand, careworn, unhappy, great, and yet weak as he was, he carried about\nwith him the mother's poison which he had sucked in his infancy. Hence\nhe exclaims, in his 'Childe Harold':--\n\n      \"Yet must I think less wildly:--I have thought\n        Too long and darkly, till my brain became,\n      In its own eddy boiling and o'erwrought,\n        A whirling gulf of phantasy and flame:\n      And thus, UNTAUGHT IN YOUTH MY HEART TO TAME,\n        MY SPRINGS OF LIFE WERE POISONED.\"\n\nIn like manner, though in a different way, the character of Mrs. Foote,\nthe actor's mother, was curiously repeated in the life of her joyous,\njovial-hearted son. Though she had been heiress to a large fortune,\nshe soon spent it all, and was at length imprisoned for debt. In this\ncondition she wrote to Sam, who had been allowing her a hundred a year\nout of the proceeds of his acting:-\"Dear Sam, I am in prison for\ndebt; come and assist your loving mother, E. Foote.\" To which her son\ncharacteristically replied--\"Dear mother, so am I; which prevents\nhis duty being paid to his loving mother by her affectionate son, Sam\nFoote.\"\n\nA foolish mother may also spoil a gifted son, by imbuing his mind with\nunsound sentiments. Thus Lamartine's mother is said to have trained him\nin altogether erroneous ideas of life, in the school of Rousseau and\nBernardin de St.-Pierre, by which his sentimentalism, sufficiently\nstrong by nature, was exaggerated instead of repressed: [1116] and he\nbecame the victim of tears, affectation, and improvidence, all his life\nlong. It almost savours of the ridiculous to find Lamartine, in his\n'Confidences,' representing himself as a \"statue of Adolescence raised\nas a model for young men.\" [1117] As he was his mother's spoilt child, so\nhe was the spoilt child of his country to the end, which was bitter\nand sad. Sainte-Beuve says of him: \"He was the continual object of the\nrichest gifts, which he had not the power of managing, scattering\nand wasting them--all, excepting, the gift of words, which seemed\ninexhaustible, and on which he continued to play to the end as on an\nenchanted flute.\" [1118]\n\nWe have spoken of the mother of Washington as an excellent woman of\nbusiness; and to possess such a quality as capacity for business is not\nonly compatible with true womanliness, but is in a measure essential to\nthe comfort and wellbeing of every properly-governed family. Habits of\nbusiness do not relate to trade merely, but apply to all the practical\naffairs of life--to everything that has to be arranged, to be organised,\nto be provided for, to be done. And in all these respects the management\nof a family, and of a household, is as much a matter of business as\nthe management of a shop or of a counting-house. It requires method,\naccuracy, organization, industry, economy, discipline, tact, knowledge,\nand capacity for adapting means to ends. All this is of the essence of\nbusiness; and hence business habits are as necessary to be cultivated\nby women who would succeed in the affairs of home--in other words, who\nwould make home happy--as by men in the affairs of trade, of commerce,\nor of manufacture.\n\nThe idea has, however, heretofore prevailed, that women have no concern\nwith such matters, and that business habits and qualifications relate to\nmen only. Take, for instance, the knowledge of figures. Mr. Bright has\nsaid of boys, \"Teach a boy arithmetic thoroughly, and he is a made man.\"\nAnd why?--Because it teaches him method, accuracy, value, proportions,\nrelations. But how many girls are taught arithmetic well?--Very few\nindeed. And what is the consequence?--When the girl becomes a wife,\nif she knows nothing of figures, and is innocent of addition and\nmultiplication, she can keep no record of income and expenditure, and\nthere will probably be a succession of mistakes committed which may\nbe prolific in domestic contention. The woman, not being up to her\nbusiness--that is, the management of her domestic affairs in conformity\nwith the simple principles of arithmetic--will, through sheer ignorance,\nbe apt to commit extravagances, though unintentional, which may be most\ninjurious to her family peace and comfort.\n\nMethod, which is the soul of business, is also of essential importance\nin the home. Work can only be got through by method. Muddle flies\nbefore it, and hugger-mugger becomes a thing unknown. Method demands\npunctuality, another eminently business quality. The unpunctual woman,\nlike the unpunctual man, occasions dislike, because she consumes and\nwastes time, and provokes the reflection that we are not of sufficient\nimportance to make her more prompt. To the business man, time is money;\nbut to the business woman, method is more--it is peace, comfort, and\ndomestic prosperity.\n\nPrudence is another important business quality in women, as in men.\nPrudence is practical wisdom, and comes of the cultivated judgment. It\nhas reference in all things to fitness, to propriety; judging wisely of\nthe right thing to be done, and the right way of doing it. It calculates\nthe means, order, time, and method of doing. Prudence learns from\nexperience, quickened by knowledge.\n\nFor these, amongst other reasons, habits of business are necessary to\nbe cultivated by all women, in order to their being efficient helpers in\nthe world's daily life and work. Furthermore, to direct the power of the\nhome aright, women, as the nurses, trainers, and educators of children,\nneed all the help and strength that mental culture can give them.\n\nMere instinctive love is not sufficient. Instinct, which preserves the\nlower creatures, needs no training; but human intelligence, which is in\nconstant request in a family, needs to be educated. The physical health\nof the rising generation is entrusted to woman by Providence; and it is\nin the physical nature that the moral and mental nature lies enshrined.\nIt is only by acting in accordance with the natural laws, which before\nshe can follow woman must needs understand, that the blessings of health\nof body, and health of mind and morals, can be secured at home.\nWithout a knowledge of such laws, the mother's love too often finds its\nrecompence only in a child's coffin. [1119]\n\nIt is a mere truism to say that the intellect with which woman as well\nas man is endowed, has been given for use and exercise, and not \"to fust\nin her unused.\" Such endowments are never conferred without a purpose.\nThe Creator may be lavish in His gifts, but he is never wasteful.\n\nWoman was not meant to be either an unthinking drudge, or the merely\npretty ornament of man's leisure. She exists for herself, as well as\nfor others; and the serious and responsible duties she is called upon to\nperform in life, require the cultivated head as well as the sympathising\nheart. Her highest mission is not to be fulfilled by the mastery of\nfleeting accomplishments, on which so much useful time is now wasted;\nfor, though accomplishments may enhance the charms of youth and beauty,\nof themselves sufficiently charming, they will be found of very little\nuse in the affairs of real life.\n\nThe highest praise which the ancient Romans could express of a noble\nmatron was that she sat at home and span--\"DOMUM MANSIT, LANAM FECIT.\"\nIn our own time, it has been said that chemistry enough to keep the pot\nboiling, and geography enough to know the different rooms in her house,\nwas science enough for any woman; whilst Byron, whose sympathies for\nwoman were of a very imperfect kind, professed that he would limit\nher library to a Bible and a cookery-book. But this view of woman's\ncharacter and culture is as absurdly narrow and unintelligent, on the\none hand, as the opposite view, now so much in vogue, is extravagant and\nunnatural on the other--that woman ought to be educated so as to be as\nmuch as possible the equal of man; undistinguishable from him, except\nin sex; equal to him in rights and votes; and his competitor in all that\nmakes life a fierce and selfish struggle for place and power and money.\n\nSpeaking generally, the training and discipline that are most suitable\nfor the one sex in early life, are also the most suitable for the other;\nand the education and culture that fill the mind of the man will prove\nequally wholesome for the woman. Indeed, all the arguments which have\nyet been advanced in favour of the higher education of men, plead\nequally strongly in favour of the higher education of women. In all the\ndepartments of home, intelligence will add to woman's usefulness and\nefficiency. It will give her thought and forethought, enable her to\nanticipate and provide for the contingencies of life, suggest\nimproved methods of management, and give her strength in every way. In\ndisciplined mental power she will find a stronger and safer protection\nagainst deception and imposture than in mere innocent and unsuspecting\nignorance; in moral and religious culture she will secure sources of\ninfluence more powerful and enduring than in physical attractions; and\nin due self-reliance and self-dependence she will discover the truest\nsources of domestic comfort and happiness.\n\nBut while the mind and character of women ought to be cultivated with\na view to their own wellbeing, they ought not the less to be educated\nliberally with a view to the happiness of others. Men themselves cannot\nbe sound in mind or morals if women be the reverse; and if, as we hold\nto be the case, the moral condition of a people mainly depends upon the\neducation of the home, then the education of women is to be regarded as\na matter of national importance. Not only does the moral character but\nthe mental strength of man find their best safeguard and support in the\nmoral purity and mental cultivation of woman; but the more completely\nthe powers of both are developed, the more harmonious and well-ordered\nwill society be--the more safe and certain its elevation and\nadvancement.\n\nWhen about fifty years since, the first Napoleon said that the great\nwant of France was mothers, he meant, in other words, that the French\npeople needed the education of homes, provided over by good, virtuous,\nintelligent women. Indeed, the first French Revolution presented one of\nthe most striking illustrations of the social mischiefs resulting from\na neglect of the purifying influence of women. When that great national\noutbreak occurred, society was impenetrated with vice and profligacy.\nMorals, religion, virtue, were swamped by sensualism. The character of\nwoman had become depraved. Conjugal fidelity was disregarded; maternity\nwas held in reproach; family and home were alike corrupted. Domestic\npurity no longer bound society together. France was motherless; the\nchildren broke loose; and the Revolution burst forth, \"amidst the yells\nand the fierce violence of women.\" [1120]\n\nBut the terrible lesson was disregarded, and again and again France\nhas grievously suffered from the want of that discipline, obedience,\nself-control, and self-respect which can only be truly learnt at home.\nIt is said that the Third Napoleon attributed the recent powerlessness\nof France, which left her helpless and bleeding at the feet of her\nconquerors, to the frivolity and lack of principle of the people, as\nwell as to their love of pleasure--which, however, it must be confessed,\nhe himself did not a little to foster. It would thus seem that the\ndiscipline which France still needs to learn, if she would be good and\ngreat, is that indicated by the First Napoleon--home education by good\nmothers.\n\nThe influence of woman is the same everywhere. Her condition influences\nthe morals, manners, and character of the people in all countries.\nWhere she is debased, society is debased; where she is morally pure and\nenlightened, society will be proportionately elevated.\n\nHence, to instruct woman is to instruct man; to elevate her character is\nto raise his own; to enlarge her mental freedom is to extend and secure\nthat of the whole community. For Nations are but the outcomes of Homes,\nand Peoples of Mothers.\n\nBut while it is certain that the character of a nation will be elevated\nby the enlightenment and refinement of woman, it is much more than\ndoubtful whether any advantage is to be derived from her entering into\ncompetition with man in the rough work of business and polities. Women\ncan no more do men's special work in the world than men can do women's.\nAnd wherever woman has been withdrawn from her home and family to enter\nupon other work, the result has been socially disastrous. Indeed, the\nefforts of some of the best philanthropists have of late years been\ndevoted to withdrawing women from toiling alongside of men in coalpits,\nfactories, nailshops, and brickyards.\n\nIt is still not uncommon in the North for the husbands to be idle at\nhome, while the mothers and daughters are working in the factory; the\nresult being, in many cases, an entire subversion of family order, of\ndomestic discipline, and of home rule. [1121] And for many years past, in\nParis, that state of things has been reached which some women desire\nto effect amongst ourselves. The women there mainly attend to\nbusiness--serving the BOUTIQUE, or presiding at the COMPTOIR--while\nthe men lounge about the Boulevards. But the result has only been\nhomelessness, degeneracy, and family and social decay.\n\nNor is there any reason to believe that the elevation and improvement\nof women are to be secured by investing them with political power.\nThere are, however, in these days, many believers in the potentiality\nof \"votes,\" [1122] who anticipate some indefinite good from the\n\"enfranchisement\" of women. It is not necessary here to enter upon the\ndiscussion of this question. But it may be sufficient to state that\nthe power which women do not possess politically is far more than\ncompensated by that which they exercise in private life--by their\ntraining in the home those who, whether as men or as women, do all the\nmanly as well as womanly work of the world. The Radical Bentham has said\nthat man, even if he would, cannot keep power from woman; for that\nshe already governs the world \"with the whole power of a despot,\" [1123]\nthough the power that she mainly governs by is love. And to form the\ncharacter of the whole human race, is certainly a power far greater than\nthat which women could ever hope to exercise as voters for members of\nParliament, or even as lawmakers.\n\nThere is, however, one special department of woman's work demanding the\nearnest attention of all true female reformers, though it is one\nwhich has hitherto been unaccountably neglected. We mean the better\neconomizing and preparation of human food, the waste of which at\npresent, for want of the most ordinary culinary knowledge, is little\nshort of scandalous. If that man is to be regarded as a benefactor of\nhis species who makes two stalks of corn to grow where only one grew\nbefore, not less is she to be regarded as a public benefactor who\neconomizes and turns to the best practical account the food-products\nof human skill and labour. The improved use of even our existing supply\nwould be equivalent to an immediate extension of the cultivable acreage\nof our country--not to speak of the increase in health, economy, and\ndomestic comfort. Were our female reformers only to turn their energies\nin this direction with effect, they would earn the gratitude of\nall households, and be esteemed as among the greatest of practical\nphilanthropists.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.--COMPANIONSHIP AND EXAMPLES\n\n\n\n    \"Keep good company, and you shall be of the number.\"\n                                 -- GEORGE HERBERT.\n\n    \"For mine own part,\n    I Shall be glad to learn of noble men.\"--SHAKSPEARE\n\n    \"Examples preach to th' eye--Care then, mine says,\n    Not how you end but how you spend your days.\"\n                  HENRY MARTEN--'LAST THOUGHTS.'\n\n     \"Dis moi qui t'admire, et je dirai qui tu es.\"--SAINTE-BEUVE\n\n     \"He that means to be a good limner will be sure to draw\n     after the most excellent copies and guide every stroke of\n     his pencil by the better pattern that lays before him; so he\n     that desires that the table of his life may be fair, will be\n     careful to propose the best examples, and will never be\n     content till he equals or excels them.\"--OWEN FELTHAM\n\n\nThe natural education of the Home is prolonged far into life--indeed, it\nnever entirely ceases. But the time arrives, in the progress of years,\nwhen the Home ceases to exercise an exclusive influence on the formation\nof character; and it is succeeded by the more artificial education of\nthe school and the companionship of friends and comrades, which continue\nto mould the character by the powerful influence of example.\n\nMen, young and old--but the young more than the old--cannot help\nimitating those with whom they associate. It was a saying of George\nHerbert's mother, intended for the guidance of her sons, \"that as our\nbodies take a nourishment suitable to the meat on which we feed, so\ndo our souls as insensibly take in virtue or vice by the example or\nconversation of good or bad company.\"\n\nIndeed, it is impossible that association with those about us should not\nproduce a powerful influence in the formation of character. For men are\nby nature imitators, and all persons are more or less impressed by the\nspeech, the manners, the gait, the gestures, and the very habits of\nthinking of their companions. \"Is example nothing?\" said Burke. \"It is\neverything. Example is the school of mankind, and they will learn at\nno other.\" Burke's grand motto, which he wrote for the tablet of\nthe Marquis of Rockingham, is worth repeating: it was,\n\"Remember--resemble--persevere.\"\n\nImitation is for the most part so unconscious that its effects are\nalmost unheeded, but its influence is not the less permanent on that\naccount. It is only when an impressive nature is placed in contact with\nan impressionable one, that the alteration in the character becomes\nrecognisable. Yet even the weakest natures exercise some influence upon\nthose about them. The approximation of feeling, thought, and habit is\nconstant, and the action of example unceasing.\n\nEmerson has observed that even old couples, or persons who have been\nhousemates for a course of years, grow gradually like each other; so\nthat, if they were to live long enough, we should scarcely be able to\nknow them apart. But if this be true of the old, how much more true\nis it of the young, whose plastic natures are so much more soft and\nimpressionable, and ready to take the stamp of the life and conversation\nof those about them!\n\n\"There has been,\" observed Sir Charles Bell in one of his letters, \"a\ngood deal said about education, but they appear to me to put out of\nsight EXAMPLE, which is all-in-all. My best education was the example\nset me by my brothers. There was, in all the members of the family, a\nreliance on self, a true independence, and by imitation I obtained it.\"\n[121]\n\nIt is in the nature of things that the circumstances which contribute to\nform the character, should exercise their principal influence during the\nperiod of growth. As years advance, example and imitation become custom,\nand gradually consolidate into habit, which is of so much potency that,\nalmost before we know it, we have in a measure yielded up to it our\npersonal freedom.\n\nIt is related of Plato, that on one occasion he reproved a boy for\nplaying at some foolish game. \"Thou reprovest me,\" said the boy, \"for\na very little thing.\" \"But custom,\" replied Plato, \"is not a little\nthing.\" Bad custom, consolidated into habit, is such a tyrant that men\nsometimes cling to vices even while they curse them. They have become\nthe slaves of habits whose power they are impotent to resist. Hence\nLocke has said that to create and maintain that vigour of mind which is\nable to contest the empire of habit, may be regarded as one of the chief\nends of moral discipline.\n\nThough much of the education of character by example is spontaneous and\nunconscious, the young need not necessarily be the passive followers\nor imitators of those about them. Their own conduct, far more than\nthe conduct of their companions, tends to fix the purpose and form the\nprinciples of their life. Each possesses in himself a power of will and\nof free activity, which, if courageously exercised, will enable him to\nmake his own individual selection of friends and associates. It is only\nthrough weakness of purpose that young people, as well as old, become\nthe slaves of their inclinations, or give themselves up to a servile\nimitation of others.\n\nIt is a common saying that men are known by the company they keep. The\nsober do not naturally associate with the drunken, the refined with\nthe coarse, the decent with the dissolute. To associate with depraved\npersons argues a low taste and vicious tendencies, and to frequent their\nsociety leads to inevitable degradation of character. \"The conversation\nof such persons,\" says Seneca, \"is very injurious; for even if it does\nno immediate harm, it leaves its seeds in the mind, and follows us when\nwe have gone from the speakers--a plague sure to spring up in future\nresurrection.\"\n\nIf young men are wisely influenced and directed, and conscientiously\nexert their own free energies, they will seek the society of those\nbetter than themselves, and strive to imitate their example. In\ncompanionship with the good, growing natures will always find their best\nnourishment; while companionship with the bad will only be fruitful in\nmischief. There are persons whom to know is to love, honour, and admire;\nand others whom to know is to shun and despise,--\"DONT LE SAVOIR\nN'EST QUE BETERIE,\" as says Rabelais when speaking of the education of\nGargantua. Live with persons of elevated characters, and you will feel\nlifted and lighted up in them: \"Live with wolves,\" says the Spanish\nproverb, \"and you will learn to howl.\"\n\nIntercourse with even commonplace, selfish persons, may prove most\ninjurious, by inducing a dry, dull reserved, and selfish condition of\nmind, more or less inimical to true manliness and breadth of character.\nThe mind soon learns to run in small grooves, the heart grows narrow\nand contracted, and the moral nature becomes weak, irresolute,\nand accommodating, which is fatal to all generous ambition or real\nexcellence.\n\nOn the other hand, association with persons wiser, better, and more\nexperienced than ourselves, is always more or less inspiring and\ninvigorating. They enhance our own knowledge of life. We correct our\nestimates by theirs, and become partners in their wisdom. We enlarge our\nfield of observation through their eyes, profit by their experience,\nand learn not only from what they have enjoyed, but--which is still more\ninstructive--from what they have suffered. If they are stronger\nthan ourselves, we become participators in their strength. Hence\ncompanionship with the wise and energetic never fails to have a most\nvaluable influence on the formation of character--increasing our\nresources, strengthening our resolves, elevating our aims, and enabling\nus to exercise greater dexterity and ability in our own affairs, as well\nas more effective helpfulness of others.\n\n\"I have often deeply regretted in myself,\" says Mrs. Schimmelpenninck,\n\"the great loss I have experienced from the solitude of my early habits.\nWe need no worse companion than our unregenerate selves, and, by living\nalone, a person not only becomes wholly ignorant of the means of helping\nhis fellow-creatures, but is without the perception of those wants which\nmost need help. Association with others, when not on so large a scale as\nto make hours of retirement impossible, may be considered as furnishing\nto an individual a rich multiplied experience; and sympathy so drawn\nforth, though, unlike charity, it begins abroad, never fails to bring\nback rich treasures home. Association with others is useful also in\nstrengthening the character, and in enabling us, while we never lose\nsight of our main object, to thread our way wisely and well.\" [122]\n\nAn entirely new direction may be given to the life of a young man by\na happy suggestion, a timely hint, or the kindly advice of an honest\nfriend. Thus the life of Henry Martyn the Indian missionary, seems to\nhave been singularly influenced by a friendship which he formed, when a\nboy, at Truro Grammar School. Martyn himself was of feeble frame, and of\na delicate nervous temperament. Wanting in animal spirits, he took\nbut little pleasure in school sports; and being of a somewhat petulant\ntemper, the bigger boys took pleasure in provoking him, and some of\nthem in bullying him. One of the bigger boys, however, conceiving a\nfriendship for Martyn, took him under his protection, stood between him\nand his persecutors, and not only fought his battles for him, but helped\nhim with his lessons. Though Martyn was rather a backward pupil, his\nfather was desirous that he should have the advantage of a college\neducation, and at the age of about fifteen he sent him to Oxford to try\nfor a Corpus scholarship, in which he failed. He remained for two years\nmore at the Truro Grammar School, and then went to Cambridge, where he\nwas entered at St. John's College. Who should he find already settled\nthere as a student but his old champion of the Truro Grammar School?\nTheir friendship was renewed; and the elder student from that time\nforward acted as the Mentor, of the younger one. Martyn was fitful in\nhis studies, excitable and petulant, and occasionally subject to fits\nof almost uncontrollable rage. His big friend, on the other hand, was a\nsteady, patient, hardworking fellow; and he never ceased to watch over,\nto guide, and to advise for good his irritable fellow-student. He kept\nMartyn out of the way of evil company, advised him to work hard, \"not\nfor the praise of men, but for the glory of God;\" and so successfully\nassisted him in his studies, that at the following Christmas examination\nhe was the first of his year. Yet Martyn's kind friend and Mentor\nnever achieved any distinction himself; he passed away into obscurity,\nleading, most probably, a useful though an unknown career; his greatest\nwish in life having been to shape the character of his friend, to\ninspire his soul with the love of truth, and to prepare him for the\nnoble work, on which he shortly after entered, of an Indian missionary.\n\nA somewhat similar incident is said to have occurred in the college\ncareer of Dr. Paley. When a student at Christ's College Cambridge, he\nwas distinguished for his shrewdness as well as his clumsiness, and\nhe was at the same time the favourite and the butt of his companions.\nThough his natural abilities were great, he was thoughtless, idle, and\na spendthrift; and at the commencement of his third year he had\nmade comparatively little progress. After one of his usual\nnight-dissipations, a friend stood by his bedside on the following\nmorning. \"Paley,\" said he, \"I have not been able to sleep for thinking\nabout you. I have been thinking what a fool you are! I have the means of\ndissipation, and can afford to be idle: YOU are poor, and cannot afford\nit. I could do nothing, probably, even were I to try: YOU are capable of\ndoing anything. I have lain awake all night thinking about your folly,\nand I have now come solemnly to warn you. Indeed, if you persist in\nyour indolence, and go on in this way, I must renounce your society\naltogether!\"\n\nIt is said that Paley was so powerfully affected by this admonition,\nthat from that moment he became an altered man. He formed an entirely\nnew plan of life, and diligently persevered in it. He became one of the\nmost industrious of students. One by one he distanced his competitors,\nand at the end of the year he came out Senior Wrangler. What he\nafterwards accomplished as an author and a divine is sufficiently well\nknown.\n\nNo one recognised more fully the influence of personal example on the\nyoung than did Dr. Arnold. It was the great lever with which he worked\nin striving to elevate the character of his school. He made it his\nprincipal object, first to put a right spirit into the leading boys,\nby attracting their good and noble feelings; and then to make them\ninstrumental in propagating the same spirit among the rest, by the\ninfluence of imitation, example, and admiration. He endeavoured to make\nall feel that they were fellow-workers with himself, and sharers with\nhim in the moral responsibility for the good government of the place.\nOne of the first effects of this highminded system of management was,\nthat it inspired the boys with strength and self-respect. They felt that\nthey were trusted. There were, of course, MAUVAIS SUJETS at Rugby, as\nthere are at all schools; and these it was the master's duty to watch,\nto prevent their bad example contaminating others. On one occasion\nhe said to an assistant-master: \"Do you see those two boys walking\ntogether? I never saw them together before. You should make an especial\npoint of observing the company they keep: nothing so tells the changes\nin a boy's character.\"\n\nDr. Arnold's own example was an inspiration, as is that of every great\nteacher. In his presence, young men learned to respect themselves; and\nout of the root of self-respect there grew up the manly virtues. \"His\nvery presence,\" says his biographer, \"seemed to create a new spring\nof health and vigour within them, and to give to life an interest and\nelevation which remained with them long after they had left him; and\ndwelt so habitually in their thoughts as a living image, that, when\ndeath had taken him away, the bond appeared to be still unbroken, and\nthe sense of separation almost lost in the still deeper sense of a life\nand a Union indestructible.\" [123] And thus it was that Dr. Arnold trained\na host of manly and noble characters, who spread the influence of his\nexample in all parts of the world.\n\nSo also was it said of Dugald Stewart, that he breathed the love of\nvirtue into whole generations of pupils. \"To me,\" says the late Lord\nCockburn, \"his lectures were like the opening of the heavens. I felt\nthat I had a soul. His noble views, unfolded in glorious sentences,\nelevated me into a higher world... They changed my whole nature.\" [124]\n\nCharacter tells in all conditions of life. The man of good character in\na workshop will give the tone to his fellows, and elevate their entire\naspirations. Thus Franklin, while a workman in London, is said to have\nreformed the manners of an entire workshop. So the man of bad character\nand debased energy will unconsciously lower and degrade his fellows.\nCaptain John Brown--the \"marching-on Brown\"--once said to Emerson,\nthat \"for a settler in a new country, one good believing man is worth a\nhundred, nay, worth a thousand men without character.\" His example is so\ncontagious, that all other men are directly and beneficially influenced\nby him, and he insensibly elevates and lifts them up to his own standard\nof energetic activity.\n\nCommunication with the good is invariably productive of good. The good\ncharacter is diffusive in his influence. \"I was common clay till roses\nwere planted in me,\" says some aromatic earth in the Eastern fable.\nLike begets like, and good makes good. \"It is astonishing,\" says Canon\nMoseley, \"how much good goodness makes. Nothing that is good is alone,\nnor anything bad; it makes others good or others bad--and that other,\nand so on: like a stone thrown into a pond, which makes circles that\nmake other wider ones, and then others, till the last reaches the\nshore.... Almost all the good that is in the world has, I suppose,\nthus come down to us traditionally from remote times, and often unknown\ncentres of good.\" [125] So Mr. Ruskin says, \"That which is born of evil\nbegets evil; and that which is born of valour and honour, teaches valour\nand honour.\"\n\nHence it is that the life of every man is a daily inculcation of good\nor bad example to others. The life of a good man is at the same time the\nmost eloquent lesson of virtue and the most severe reproof of vice. Dr.\nHooker described the life of a pious clergyman of his acquaintance as\n\"visible rhetoric,\" convincing even the most godless of the beauty of\ngoodness. And so the good George Herbert said, on entering upon the\nduties of his parish: \"Above all, I will be sure to live well, because\nthe virtuous life of a clergyman is the most powerful eloquence, to\npersuade all who see it to reverence and love, and--at least to desire\nto live like him. And this I will do,\" he added, \"because I know we live\nin an age that hath more need of good examples than precepts.\" It was a\nfine saying of the same good priest, when reproached with doing an\nact of kindness to a poor man, considered beneath the dignity of his\noffice,--that the thought of such actions \"would prove music to him at\nmidnight.\" [126] Izaak Walton speaks of a letter written by George Herbert\nto Bishop Andrewes, about a holy life, which the latter \"put into his\nbosom,\" and after showing it to his scholars, \"did always return it to\nthe place where he first lodged it, and continued it so, near his heart,\ntill the last day of his life.\"\n\nGreat is the power of goodness to charm and to command. The man inspired\nby it is the true king of men, drawing all hearts after him. When\nGeneral Nicholson lay wounded on his deathbed before Delhi, he dictated\nthis last message to his equally noble and gallant friend, Sir Herbert\nEdwardes:--\"Tell him,\" said he, \"I should have been a better man if\nI had continued to live with him, and our heavy public duties had not\nprevented my seeing more of him privately. I was always the better for\na residence with him and his wife, however short. Give my love to them\nboth!\"\n\nThere are men in whose presence we feel as if we breathed a spiritual\nozone, refreshing and invigorating, like inhaling mountain air, or\nenjoying a bath of sunshine. The power of Sir Thomas More's gentle\nnature was so great that it subdued the bad at the same time that it\ninspired the good. Lord Brooke said of his deceased friend, Sir Philip\nSidney, that \"his wit and understanding beat upon his heart, to make\nhimself and others, not in word or opinion, but in life and action, good\nand great.\"\n\nThe very sight of a great and good man is often an inspiration to the\nyoung, who cannot help admiring and loving the gentle, the brave, the\ntruthful, the magnanimous! Chateaubriand saw Washington only once,\nbut it inspired him for life. After describing the interview, he says:\n\"Washington sank into the tomb before any little celebrity had attached\nto my name. I passed before him as the most unknown of beings. He was\nin all his glory--I in the depth of my obscurity. My name probably dwelt\nnot a whole day in his memory. Happy, however, was I that his looks were\ncast upon me. I have felt warmed for it all the rest of my life. There\nis a virtue even in the looks of a great man.\"\n\nWhen Niebuhr died, his friend, Frederick Perthes, said of him: \"What a\ncontemporary! The terror of all bad and base men, the stay of all the\nsterling and honest, the friend and helper of youth.\" Perthes said\non another occasion: \"It does a wrestling man good to be constantly\nsurrounded by tried wrestlers; evil thoughts are put to flight when the\neye falls on the portrait of one in whose living presence one would have\nblushed to own them.\" A Catholic money-lender, when about to cheat, was\nwont to draw a veil over the picture of his favourite saint. So Hazlitt\nhas said of the portrait of a beautiful female, that it seemed as if an\nunhandsome action would be impossible in its presence. \"It does one good\nto look upon his manly honest face,\" said a poor German woman, pointing\nto a portrait of the great Reformer hung upon the wall of her humble\ndwelling.\n\nEven the portrait of a noble or a good man, hung up in a room, is\ncompanionship after a sort. It gives us a closer personal interest in\nhim. Looking at the features, we feel as if we knew him better, and were\nmore nearly related to him. It is a link that connects us with a higher\nand better nature than our own. And though we may be far from reaching\nthe standard of our hero, we are, to a certain extent, sustained and\nfortified by his depicted presence constantly before us.\n\nFox was proud to acknowledge how much he owed to the example and\nconversation of Burke. On one occasion he said of him, that \"if he was\nto put all the political information he had gained from books, all that\nhe had learned from science, or that the knowledge of the world and its\naffairs taught him, into one scale, and the improvement he had derived\nfrom Mr. Burke's conversation and instruction into the other, the latter\nwould preponderate.\"\n\nProfessor Tyndall speaks of Faraday's friendship as \"energy and\ninspiration.\" After spending an evening with him he wrote: \"His work\nexcites admiration, but contact with him warms and elevates the heart.\nHere, surely, is a strong man. I love strength, but let me not forget\nthe example of its union with modesty, tenderness, and sweetness, in the\ncharacter of Faraday.\"\n\nEven the gentlest natures are powerful to influence the character of\nothers for good. Thus Wordsworth seems to have been especially impressed\nby the character of his sister Dorothy, who exercised upon his mind\nand heart a lasting influence. He describes her as the blessing of\nhis boyhood as well as of his manhood. Though two years younger than\nhimself, her tenderness and sweetness contributed greatly to mould his\nnature, and open his mind to the influences of poetry:\n\n        \"She gave me eyes, she gave me ears,\n         And humble cares, and delicate fears;\n         A heart, the fountain of sweet tears,\n                 And love and thought and joy.\"\n\nThus the gentlest natures are enabled, by the power of affection and\nintelligence, to mould the characters of men destined to influence and\nelevate their race through all time.\n\nSir William Napier attributed the early direction of his character,\nfirst to the impress made upon it by his mother, when a boy; and\nafterwards to the noble example of his commander, Sir John Moore, when a\nman. Moore early detected the qualities of the young officer; and he\nwas one of those to whom the General addressed the encouragement, \"Well\ndone, my majors!\" at Corunna. Writing home to his mother, and describing\nthe little court by which Moore was surrounded, he wrote, \"Where shall\nwe find such a king?\" It was to his personal affection for his chief\nthat the world is mainly indebted to Sir William Napier for his great\nbook, 'The History of the Peninsular War.' But he was stimulated to\nwrite the book by the advice of another friend, the late Lord Langdale,\nwhile one day walking with him across the fields on which Belgravia is\nnow built. \"It was Lord Langdale,\" he says, \"who first kindled the fire\nwithin me.\" And of Sir William Napier himself, his biographer truly\nsays, that \"no thinking person could ever come in contact with him\nwithout being strongly impressed with the genius of the man.\"\n\nThe career of the late Dr. Marshall Hall was a lifelong illustration of\nthe influence of character in forming character. Many eminent men still\nliving trace their success in life to his suggestions and assistance,\nwithout which several valuable lines of study and investigation might\nnot have been entered on, at least at so early a period. He would say\nto young men about him, \"Take up a subject and pursue it well, and you\ncannot fail to succeed.\" And often he would throw out a new idea to a\nyoung friend, saying, \"I make you a present of it; there is fortune in\nit, if you pursue it with energy.\"\n\nEnergy of character has always a power to evoke energy in others. It\nacts through sympathy, one of the most influential of human agencies.\nThe zealous energetic man unconsciously carries others along with him.\nHis example is contagious, and compels imitation. He exercises a sort of\nelectric power, which sends a thrill through every fibre--flows into the\nnature of those about him, and makes them give out sparks of fire.\n\nDr. Arnold's biographer, speaking of the power of this kind exercised by\nhim over young men, says: \"It was not so much an enthusiastic admiration\nfor true genius, or learning, or eloquence, which stirred within them;\nit was a sympathetic thrill, caught from a spirit that was earnestly\nat work in the world--whose work was healthy, sustained, and constantly\ncarried forward in the fear of God--a work that was founded on a deep\nsense of its duty and its value.\" [127]\n\nSuch a power, exercised by men of genius, evokes courage, enthusiasm,\nand devotion. It is this intense admiration for individuals--such as\none cannot conceive entertained for a multitude--which has in all times\nproduced heroes and martyrs. It is thus that the mastery of character\nmakes itself felt. It acts by inspiration, quickening and vivifying the\nnatures subject to its influence.\n\nGreat minds are rich in radiating force, not only exerting power, but\ncommunicating and even creating it. Thus Dante raised and drew after him\na host of great spirits--Petrarch, Boccacio, Tasso, and many more. From\nhim Milton learnt to bear the stings of evil tongues and the contumely\nof evil days; and long years after, Byron, thinking of Dante under the\npine-trees of Ravenna, was incited to attune his harp to loftier strains\nthan he had ever attempted before. Dante inspired the greatest painters\nof Italy--Giotto, Orcagna, Michael Angelo, and Raphael. So Ariosto and\nTitian mutually inspired one another, and lighted up each other's glory.\n\nGreat and good men draw others after them, exciting the spontaneous\nadmiration of mankind. This admiration of noble character elevates\nthe mind, and tends to redeem it from the bondage of self, one of the\ngreatest stumbling blocks to moral improvement. The recollection of men\nwho have signalised themselves by great thoughts or great deeds, seems\nas if to create for the time a purer atmosphere around us: and we feel\nas if our aims and purposes were unconsciously elevated.\n\n\"Tell me whom you admire,\" said Sainte-Beuve, \"and I will tell you what\nyou are, at least as regards your talents, tastes, and character.\"\nDo you admire mean men?--your own nature is mean. Do you admire rich\nmen?--you are of the earth, earthy. Do you admire men of title?--you\nare a toad-eater, or a tuft-hunter. [128] Do you admire honest, brave, and\nmanly men?--you are yourself of an honest, brave, and manly spirit.\n\nIt is in the season of youth, while the character is forming, that the\nimpulse to admire is the greatest. As we advance in life, we crystallize\ninto habit; and \"NIL ADMIRARI\" too often becomes our motto. It is well\nto encourage the admiration of great characters while the nature is\nplastic and open to impressions; for if the good are not admired--as\nyoung men will have their heroes of some sort--most probably the great\nbad may be taken by them for models. Hence it always rejoiced Dr. Arnold\nto hear his pupils expressing admiration of great deeds, or full of\nenthusiasm for persons or even scenery. \"I believe,\" said he, \"that\n'NIL ADMIRARI' is the devil's favourite text; and he could not choose\na better to introduce his pupils into the more esoteric parts of his\ndoctrine. And, therefore, I have always looked upon a man infected with\nthe disorder of anti-romance as one who has lost the finest part of his\nnature, and his best protection against everything low and foolish.\" [129]\n\nIt was a fine trait in the character of Prince Albert that he was always\nso ready to express generous admiration of the good deeds of others. \"He\nhad the greatest delight,\" says the ablest delineator of his character,\n\"in anybody else saying a fine saying, or doing a great deed. He would\nrejoice over it, and talk about it for days; and whether it was a thing\nnobly said or done by a little child, or by a veteran statesman, it gave\nhim equal pleasure. He delighted in humanity doing well on any occasion\nand in any manner.\" [1210]\n\n\"No quality,\" said Dr. Johnson, \"will get a man more friends than a\nsincere admiration of the qualities of others. It indicates generosity\nof nature, frankness, cordiality, and cheerful recognition of merit.\" It\nwas to the sincere--it might almost be said the reverential--admiration\nof Johnson by Boswell, that we owe one of the best biographies ever\nwritten. One is disposed to think that there must have been some genuine\ngood qualities in Boswell to have been attracted by such a man as\nJohnson, and to have kept faithful to his worship in spite of rebuffs\nand snubbings innumerable. Macaulay speaks of Boswell as an altogether\ncontemptible person--as a coxcomb and a bore--weak, vain, pushing,\ncurious, garrulous; and without wit, humour, or eloquence. But Carlyle\nis doubtless more just in his characterisation of the biographer, in\nwhom--vain and foolish though he was in many respects--he sees a man\npenetrated by the old reverent feeling of discipleship, full of love\nand admiration for true wisdom and excellence. Without such qualities,\nCarlyle insists, the 'Life of Johnson' never could have been written.\n\"Boswell wrote a good book,\" he says, \"because he had a heart and an eye\nto discern wisdom, and an utterance to render it forth; because of\nhis free insight, his lively talent, and, above all, of his love and\nchildlike openmindedness.\"\n\nMost young men of generous mind have their heroes, especially if they\nbe book-readers. Thus Allan Cunningham, when a mason's apprentice in\nNithsdale, walked all the way to Edinburgh for the sole purpose of\nseeing Sir Walter Scott as he passed along the street. We unconsciously\nadmire the enthusiasm of the lad, and respect the impulse which impelled\nhim to make the journey. It is related of Sir Joshua Reynolds, that when\na boy of ten, he thrust his hand through intervening rows of people to\ntouch Pope, as if there were a sort of virtue in the contact. At a much\nlater period, the painter Haydon was proud to see and to touch Reynolds\nwhen on a visit to his native place. Rogers the poet used to tell of his\nardent desire, when a boy, to see Dr. Johnson; but when his hand was on\nthe knocker of the house in Bolt Court, his courage failed him, and he\nturned away. So the late Isaac Disraeli, when a youth, called at Bolt\nCourt for the same purpose; and though he HAD the courage to knock, to\nhis dismay he was informed by the servant that the great lexicographer\nhad breathed his last only a few hours before.\n\nOn the contrary, small and ungenerous minds cannot admire heartily. To\ntheir own great misfortune, they cannot recognise, much less reverence,\ngreat men and great things. The mean nature admires meanly. The toad's\nhighest idea of beauty is his toadess. The small snob's highest idea of\nmanhood is the great snob. The slave-dealer values a man according to\nhis muscles. When a Guinea trader was told by Sir Godfrey Kneller, in\nthe presence of Pope, that he saw before him two of the greatest men in\nthe world, he replied: \"I don't know how great you may be, but I don't\nlike your looks. I have often bought a man much better than both of you\ntogether, all bones and muscles, for ten guineas!\"\n\nAlthough Rochefoucauld, in one of his maxims, says that there is\nsomething that is not altogether disagreeable to us in the misfortunes\nof even our best friends, it is only the small and essentially mean\nnature that finds pleasure in the disappointment, and annoyance at the\nsuccess of others. There are, unhappily, for themselves, persons so\nconstituted that they have not the heart to be generous. The most\ndisagreeable of all people are those who \"sit in the seat of the\nscorner.\" Persons of this sort often come to regard the success of\nothers, even in a good work, as a kind of personal offence. They cannot\nbear to hear another praised, especially if he belong to their own art,\nor calling, or profession. They will pardon a man's failures, but cannot\nforgive his doing a thing better than they can do. And where they\nhave themselves failed, they are found to be the most merciless of\ndetractors. The sour critic thinks of his rival:\n\n    \"When Heaven with such parts has blest him,\n    Have I not reason to detest him?\"\n\nThe mean mind occupies itself with sneering, carping, and fault-finding;\nand is ready to scoff at everything but impudent effrontery or\nsuccessful vice. The greatest consolation of such persons are the\ndefects of men of character. \"If the wise erred not,\" says George\nHerbert, \"it would go hard with fools.\" Yet, though wise men may learn\nof fools by avoiding their errors, fools rarely profit by the example\nwhich, wise men set them. A German writer has said that it is a\nmiserable temper that cares only to discover the blemishes in the\ncharacter of great men or great periods. Let us rather judge them with\nthe charity of Bolingbroke, who, when reminded of one of the alleged\nweaknesses of Marlborough, observed,--\"He was so great a man that I\nforgot he had that defect.\"\n\nAdmiration of great men, living or dead, naturally evokes imitation\nof them in a greater or less degree. While a mere youth, the mind of\nThemistocles was fired by the great deeds of his contemporaries, and he\nlonged to distinguish himself in the service of his country. When the\nBattle of Marathon had been fought, he fell into a state of melancholy;\nand when asked by his friends as to the cause, he replied \"that the\ntrophies of Miltiades would not suffer him to sleep.\" A few years later,\nwe find him at the head of the Athenian army, defeating the Persian\nfleet of Xerxes in the battles of Artemisium and Salamis,--his country\ngratefully acknowledging that it had been saved through his wisdom and\nvalour.\n\nIt is related of Thucydides that, when a boy, he burst into tears on\nhearing Herodotus read his History, and the impression made upon\nhis mind was such as to determine the bent of his own genius.\nAnd Demosthenes was so fired on one occasion by the eloquence of\nCallistratus, that the ambition was roused within him of becoming an\norator himself. Yet Demosthenes was physically weak, had a feeble voice,\nindistinct articulation, and shortness of breath--defects which he was\nonly enabled to overcome by diligent study and invincible determination.\nBut, with all his practice, he never became a ready speaker; all his\norations, especially the most famous of them, exhibiting indications of\ncareful elaboration,--the art and industry of the orator being visible\nin almost every sentence.\n\nSimilar illustrations of character imitating character, and moulding\nitself by the style and manner and genius of great men, are to be found\npervading all history. Warriors, statesmen, orators, patriots, poets,\nand artists--all have been, more or less unconsciously, nurtured by the\nlives and actions of others living before them or presented for their\nimitation.\n\nGreat men have evoked the admiration of kings, popes, and emperors.\nFrancis de Medicis never spoke to Michael Angelo without uncovering,\nand Julius III. made him sit by his side while a dozen cardinals were\nstanding. Charles V. made way for Titian; and one day, when the brush\ndropped from the painter's hand, Charles stooped and picked it up,\nsaying, \"You deserve to be served by an emperor.\" Leo X. threatened\nwith excommunication whoever should print and sell the poems of Ariosto\nwithout the author's consent. The same pope attended the deathbed of\nRaphael, as Francis I. did that of Leonardo da Vinci.\n\nThough Haydn once archly observed that he was loved and esteemed by\neverybody except professors of music, yet all the greatest musicians\nwere unusually ready to recognise each other's greatness. Haydn himself\nseems to have been entirely free from petty jealousy. His admiration of\nthe famous Porpora was such, that he resolved to gain admission to his\nhouse, and serve him as a valet. Having made the acquaintance of the\nfamily with whom Porpora lived, he was allowed to officiate in that\ncapacity. Early each morning he took care to brush the veteran's coat,\npolish his shoes, and put his rusty wig in order. At first Porpora\ngrowled at the intruder, but his asperity soon softened, and eventually\nmelted into affection. He quickly discovered his valet's genius, and,\nby his instructions, directed it into the line in which Haydn eventually\nacquired so much distinction.\n\nHaydn himself was enthusiastic in his admiration of Handel. \"He is the\nfather of us all,\" he said on one occasion. Scarlatti followed Handel in\nadmiration all over Italy, and, when his name was mentioned, he crossed\nhimself in token of veneration. Mozart's recognition of the great\ncomposer was not less hearty. \"When he chooses,\" said he, \"Handel\nstrikes like the thunderbolt.\" Beethoven hailed him as \"The monarch of\nthe musical kingdom.\" When Beethoven was dying, one of his friends sent\nhim a present of Handel's works, in forty volumes. They were brought\ninto his chamber, and, gazing on them with reanimated eye, he exclaimed,\npointing at them with his finger, \"There--there is the truth!\"\n\nHaydn not only recognised the genius of the great men who had passed\naway, but of his young contemporaries, Mozart and Beethoven. Small men\nmay be envious of their fellows, but really great men seek out and love\neach other. Of Mozart, Haydn wrote \"I only wish I could impress on\nevery friend of music, and on great men in particular, the same depth\nof musical sympathy, and profound appreciation of Mozart's inimitable\nmusic, that I myself feel and enjoy; then nations would vie with each\nother to possess such a jewel within their frontiers. Prague ought not\nonly to strive to retain this precious man, but also to remunerate him;\nfor without this the history of a great genius is sad indeed.... It\nenrages me to think that the unparalleled Mozart is not yet engaged by\nsome imperial or royal court. Forgive my excitement; but I love the man\nso dearly!\"\n\nMozart was equally generous in his recognition of the merits of Haydn.\n\"Sir,\" said he to a critic, speaking of the latter, \"if you and I were\nboth melted down together, we should not furnish materials for one\nHaydn.\" And when Mozart first heard Beethoven, he observed: \"Listen to\nthat young man; be assured that he will yet make a great name in the\nworld.\"\n\nBuffon set Newton above all other philosophers, and admired him so\nhighly that he had always his portrait before him while he sat at work.\nSo Schiller looked up to Shakspeare, whom he studied reverently and\nzealously for years, until he became capable of comprehending nature at\nfirst-hand, and then his admiration became even more ardent than before.\n\nPitt was Canning's master and hero, whom he followed and admired with\nattachment and devotion. \"To one man, while he lived,\" said Canning, \"I\nwas devoted with all my heart and all my soul. Since the death of Mr.\nPitt I acknowledge no leader; my political allegiance lies buried in his\ngrave.\" [1211]\n\nA French physiologist, M. Roux, was occupied one day in lecturing to his\npupils, when Sir Charles Bell, whose discoveries were even better known\nand more highly appreciated abroad than at home, strolled into his\nclass-room. The professor, recognising his visitor, at once stopped his\nexposition, saying: \"MESSIEURS, C'EST ASSEZ POUR AUJOURD'HUI, VOUS AVEZ\nVU SIR CHARLES BELL!\"\n\nThe first acquaintance with a great work of art has usually proved an\nimportant event in every young artist's life. When Correggio first gazed\non Raphael's 'Saint Cecilia,' he felt within himself an awakened power,\nand exclaimed, \"And I too am a painter\" So Constable used to look back\non his first sight of Claude's picture of 'Hagar,' as forming an epoch\nin his career. Sir George Beaumont's admiration of the same picture was\nsuch that he always took it with him in his carriage when he travelled\nfrom home.\n\nThe examples set by the great and good do not die; they continue to\nlive and speak to all the generations that succeed them. It was very\nimpressively observed by Mr. Disraeli, in the House of Commons, shortly\nafter the death of Mr. Cobden:--\"There is this consolation remaining to\nus, when we remember our unequalled and irreparable losses, that those\ngreat men are not altogether lost to us--that their words will often be\nquoted in this House--that their examples will often be referred to\nand appealed to, and that even their expressions will form part of\nour discussions and debates. There are now, I may say, some members of\nParliament who, though they may not be present, are still members of\nthis House--who are independent of dissolutions, of the caprices of\nconstituencies, and even of the course of time. I think that Mr. Cobden\nwas one of those men.\"\n\nIt is the great lesson of biography to teach what man can be and can do\nat his best. It may thus give each man renewed strength and confidence.\nThe humblest, in sight of even the greatest, may admire, and hope, and\ntake courage. These great brothers of ours in blood and lineage, who\nlive a universal life, still speak to us from their graves, and beckon\nus on in the paths which they have trod. Their example is still with us,\nto guide, to influence, and to direct us. For nobility of character is\na perpetual bequest; living from age to age, and constantly tending to\nreproduce its like.\n\n\"The sage,\" say the Chinese, \"is the instructor of a hundred ages. When\nthe manners of Loo are heard of, the stupid become intelligent, and the\nwavering determined.\" Thus the acted life of a good man continues to be\na gospel of freedom and emancipation to all who succeed him:\n\n          \"To live in hearts we leave behind,\n          is not to die.\"\n\nThe golden words that good men have uttered, the examples they have set,\nlive through all time: they pass into the thoughts and hearts of their\nsuccessors, help them on the road of life, and often console them in the\nhour of death. \"And the most miserable or most painful of deaths,\" said\nHenry Marten, the Commonwealth man, who died in prison, \"is as nothing\ncompared with the memory of a well-spent life; and great alone is he\nwho has earned the glorious privilege of bequeathing such a lesson and\nexample to his successors!\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.--WORK.\n\n\n     \"Arise therefore, and be doing, and the Lord be with thee.\"\n     --l CHRONICLES xxii. 16.\n\n        \"Work as if thou hadst to live for aye;\n        Worship as if thou wert to die to-day.\"--TUSCAN PROVERB.\n\n          \"C'est par le travail qu'on regne.\"--LOUIS XIV\n\n       \"Blest work! if ever thou wert curse of God,\n        What must His blessing be!\"--J. B. SELKIRK.\n\n     \"Let every man be OCCUPIED, and occupied in the highest\n     employment of which his nature is capable, and die with the\n     consciousness that he has done his best\"--Sydney Smith.\n\n\nWORK is one of the best educators of practical character. It evokes\nand disciplines obedience, self-control, attention, application, and\nperseverance; giving a man deftness and skill in his special calling,\nand aptitude and dexterity in dealing with the affairs of ordinary life.\n\nWork is the law of our being--the living principle that carries men and\nnations onward. The greater number of men have to work with their hands,\nas a matter of necessity, in order to live; but all must work in one way\nor another, if they would enjoy life as it ought to be enjoyed.\n\nLabour may be a burden and a chastisement, but it is also an honour and\na glory. Without it, nothing can be accomplished. All that is great in\nman comes through work; and civilisation is its product. Were labour\nabolished, the race of Adam were at once stricken by moral death.\n\nIt is idleness that is the curse of man--not labour. Idleness eats the\nheart out of men as of nations, and consumes them as rust does iron.\nWhen Alexander conquered the Persians, and had an opportunity of\nobserving their manners, he remarked that they did not seem conscious\nthat there could be anything more servile than a life of pleasure, or\nmore princely than a life of toil.\n\nWhen the Emperor Severus lay on his deathbed at York, whither he\nhad been borne on a litter from the foot of the Grampians, his final\nwatchword to his soldiers was, \"LABOREMUS\" [we must work]; and nothing\nbut constant toil maintained the power and extended the authority of the\nRoman generals.\n\nIn describing the earlier social condition of Italy, when the ordinary\noccupations of rural life were considered compatible with the highest\ncivic dignity, Pliny speaks of the triumphant generals and their men,\nreturning contentedly to the plough. In those days the lands were tilled\nby the hands even of generals, the soil exulting beneath a ploughshare\ncrowned with laurels, and guided by a husbandman graced with triumphs:\n\"IPSORUM TUNC MANIBUS IMPERATORUM COLEBANTUR AGRI: UT FAS EST CREDERE,\nGAUDENTE TERRA VOMERE LAUREATO ET TRIUMPHALI ARATORE.\" [131] It was only\nafter slaves became extensively employed in all departments of industry\nthat labour came to be regarded as dishonourable and servile. And so\nsoon as indolence and luxury became the characteristics of the ruling\nclasses of Rome, the downfall of the empire, sooner or later, was\ninevitable.\n\nThere is, perhaps, no tendency of our nature that has to be more\ncarefully guarded against than indolence. When Mr. Gurney asked an\nintelligent foreigner who had travelled over the greater part of the\nworld, whether he had observed any one quality which, more than another,\ncould be regarded as a universal characteristic of our species, his\nanswer was, in broken English, \"Me tink dat all men LOVE LAZY.\" It is\ncharacteristic of the savage as of the despot. It is natural to men to\nendeavour to enjoy the products of labour without its toils. Indeed,\nso universal is this desire, that James Mill has argued that it was\nto prevent its indulgence at the expense of society at large, that the\nexpedient of Government was originally invented. [132]\n\nIndolence is equally degrading to individuals as to nations. Sloth never\nmade its mark in the world, and never will. Sloth never climbed a hill,\nnor overcame a difficulty that it could avoid. Indolence always failed\nin life, and always will. It is in the nature of things that it\nshould not succeed in anything. It is a burden, an incumbrance, and a\nnuisance--always useless, complaining, melancholy, and miserable.\n\nBurton, in his quaint and curious, book--the only one, Johnson says,\nthat ever took him out of bed two hours sooner than he wished to\nrise--describes the causes of Melancholy as hingeing mainly on Idleness.\n\"Idleness,\" he says, \"is the bane of body and mind, the nurse of\nnaughtiness, the chief mother of all mischief, one of the seven deadly\nsins, the devil's cushion, his pillow and chief reposal.... An idle dog\nwill be mangy; and how shall an idle person escape? Idleness of the\nmind is much worse than that of the body: wit, without employment, is a\ndisease--the rust of the soul, a plague, a hell itself. As in a standing\npool, worms and filthy creepers increase, so do evil and corrupt\nthoughts in an idle person; the soul is contaminated.... Thus much I\ndare boldly say: he or she that is idle, be they of what condition they\nwill, never so rich, so well allied, fortunate, happy--let them have\nall things in abundance and felicity that heart can wish and desire, all\ncontentment--so long as he, or she, or they, are idle, they shall never\nbe pleased, never well in body or mind, but weary still, sickly still,\nvexed still, loathing still, weeping, sighing, grieving, suspecting,\noffended with the world, with every object, wishing themselves gone or\ndead, or else carried away with some foolish phantasie or other.\" [133]\n\nBurton says a great deal more to the same effect; the burden and lesson\nof his book being embodied in the pregnant sentence with which it winds\nup:--\"Only take this for a corollary and conclusion, as thou tenderest\nthine own welfare in this, and all other melancholy, thy good health of\nbody and mind, observe this short precept, Give not way to solitariness\nand idleness. BE NOT SOLITARY--BE NOT IDLE.\" [134]\n\nThe indolent, however, are not wholly indolent. Though the body may\nshirk labour, the brain is not idle. If it do not grow corn, it will\ngrow thistles, which will be found springing up all along the idle\nman's course in life. The ghosts of indolence rise up in the dark, ever\nstaring the recreant in the face, and tormenting him:\n\n      \"The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices,\n       Make instrument to scourge us.\"\n\nTrue happiness is never found in torpor of the faculties, [135] but in\ntheir action and useful employment. It is indolence that exhausts, not\naction, in which there is life, health, and pleasure. The spirits may\nbe exhausted and wearied by employment, but they are utterly wasted by\nidleness. Hense a wise physician was accustomed to regard occupation as\none of his most valuable remedial measures. \"Nothing is so injurious,\"\nsaid Dr. Marshall Hall, \"as unoccupied time.\" An archbishop of Mayence\nused to say that \"the human heart is like a millstone: if you put wheat\nunder it, it grinds the wheat into flour; if you put no wheat, it grinds\non, but then 'tis itself it wears away.\"\n\nIndolence is usually full of excuses; and the sluggard, though unwilling\nto work, is often an active sophist. \"There is a lion in the path;\" or\n\"The hill is hard to climb;\" or \"There is no use trying--I have tried,\nand failed, and cannot do it.\" To the sophistries of such an excuser,\nSir Samuel Romilly once wrote to a young man:--\"My attack upon your\nindolence, loss of time, &c., was most serious, and I really think that\nit can be to nothing but your habitual want of exertion that can be\nascribed your using such curious arguments as you do in your defence.\nYour theory is this: Every man does all the good that he can. If a\nparticular individual does no good, it is a proof that he is incapable\nof doing it. That you don't write proves that you can't; and your want\nof inclination demonstrates your want of talents. What an admirable\nsystem!--and what beneficial effects would it be attended with, if it\nwere but universally received!\"\n\nIt has been truly said, that to desire to possess, without being\nburdened with the trouble of acquiring, is as much a sign of weakness,\nas to recognise that everything worth having is only to be got by paying\nits price, is the prime secret of practical strength. Even leisure\ncannot be enjoyed unless it is won by effort. If it have not been earned\nby work, the price has not been paid for it. [136]\n\nThere must be work before and work behind, with leisure to fall back\nupon; but the leisure, without the work, can no more be enjoyed than a\nsurfeit. Life must needs be disgusting alike to the idle rich man as to\nthe idle poor man, who has no work to do, or, having work, will not do\nit. The words found tattooed on the right arm of a sentimental beggar\nof forty, undergoing his eighth imprisonment in the gaol of Bourges\nin France, might be adopted as the motto of all idlers: \"LE PASSE M'A\nTROMPE; LE PRESENT ME TOURMENTE; L'AVENIR M'EPOUVANTE;\"--[13The past has\ndeceived me; the present torments me; the future terrifies me]\n\nThe duty of industry applies to all classes and conditions of society.\nAll have their work to do in the irrespective conditions of life--the\nrich as well as the poor. [137] The gentleman by birth and education,\nhowever richly he may be endowed with worldly possessions, cannot but\nfeel that he is in duty bound to contribute his quota of endeavour\ntowards the general wellbeing in which he shares. He cannot be satisfied\nwith being fed, clad, and maintained by the labour of others, without\nmaking some suitable return to the society that upholds him. An honest\nhighminded man would revolt at the idea of sitting down to and enjoying\na feast, and then going away without paying his share of the reckoning.\nTo be idle and useless is neither an honour nor a privilege; and though\npersons of small natures may be content merely to consume--FRUGES\nCONSUMERE NATI--men of average endowment, of manly aspirations, and of\nhonest purpose, will feel such a condition to be incompatible with real\nhonour and true dignity.\n\n\"I don't believe,\" said Lord Stanley [13now Earl of Derby] at Glasgow,\n\"that an unemployed man, however amiable and otherwise respectable, ever\nwas, or ever can be, really happy. As work is our life, show me what you\ncan do, and I will show you what you are. I have spoken of love of one's\nwork as the best preventive of merely low and vicious tastes. I will\ngo further, and say that it is the best preservative against petty\nanxieties, and the annoyances that arise out of indulged self-love. Men\nhave thought before now that they could take refuge from trouble and\nvexation by sheltering themselves as it were in a world of their own.\nThe experiment has, often been tried, and always with one result. You\ncannot escape from anxiety and labour--it is the destiny of humanity....\nThose who shirk from facing trouble, find that trouble comes to them.\nThe indolent may contrive that he shall have less than his share of the\nworld's work to do, but Nature proportioning the instinct to the work,\ncontrives that the little shall be much and hard to him. The man who has\nonly himself to please finds, sooner or later, and probably sooner than\nlater, that he has got a very hard master; and the excessive weakness\nwhich shrinks from responsibility has its own punishment too, for where\ngreat interests are excluded little matters become great, and the\nsame wear and tear of mind that might have been at least usefully and\nhealthfully expended on the real business of life is often wasted\nin petty and imaginary vexations, such as breed and multiply in the\nunoccupied brain.\" [138]\n\nEven on the lowest ground--that of personal enjoyment--constant useful\noccupation is necessary. He who labours not, cannot enjoy the reward of\nlabour. \"We sleep sound,\" said Sir Walter Scott, \"and our waking\nhours are happy, when they are employed; and a little sense of toil is\nnecessary to the enjoyment of leisure, even when earned by study and\nsanctioned by the discharge of duty.\"\n\nIt is true, there are men who die of overwork; but many more die of\nselfishness, indulgence, and idleness. Where men break down by overwork,\nit is most commonly from want of duly ordering their lives, and neglect\nof the ordinary conditions of physical health. Lord Stanley was probably\nright when he said, in his address to the Glasgow students above\nmentioned, that he doubted whether \"hard work, steadily and regularly\ncarried on, ever yet hurt anybody.\"\n\nThen, again, length of YEARS is no proper test of length of LIFE. A\nman's life is to be measured by what he does in it, and what he feels in\nit. The more useful work the man does, and the more he thinks and feels,\nthe more he really lives. The idle useless man, no matter to what extent\nhis life may be prolonged, merely vegetates.\n\nThe early teachers of Christianity ennobled the lot of toil by their\nexample. \"He that will not work,\" said Saint Paul, \"neither shall he\neat;\" and he glorified himself in that he had laboured with his hands,\nand had not been chargeable to any man. When St. Boniface landed in\nBritain, he came with a gospel in one hand and a carpenter's rule in the\nother; and from England he afterwards passed over into Germany, carrying\nthither the art of building. Luther also, in the midst of a multitude of\nother employments, worked diligently for a living, earning his bread by\ngardening, building, turning, and even clockmaking. [139]\n\nIt was characteristic of Napoleon, when visiting a work of mechanical\nexcellence, to pay great respect to the inventor, and on taking his\nleave, to salute him with a low bow. Once at St. Helena, when walking\nwith Mrs. Balcombe, some servants came along carrying a load. The\nlady, in an angry tone, ordered them out of the way, on which Napoleon\ninterposed, saying, \"Respect the burden, madam.\" Even the drudgery\nof the humblest labourer contributes towards the general wellbeing of\nsociety; and it was a wise saying of a Chinese Emperor, that \"if there\nwas a man who did not work, or a woman that was idle, somebody must\nsuffer cold or hunger in the empire.\"\n\nThe habit of constant useful occupation is as essential for the\nhappiness and wellbeing of woman as of man. Without it, women are apt to\nsink into a state of listless ENNUI and uselessness, accompanied by sick\nheadache and attacks of \"nerves.\" Caroline Perthes carefully warned her\nmarried daughter Louisa to beware of giving way to such listlessness. \"I\nmyself,\" she said, \"when the children are gone out for a half-holiday,\nsometimes feel as stupid and dull as an owl by daylight; but one must\nnot yield to this, which happens more or less to all young wives. The\nbest relief is WORK, engaged in with interest and diligence. Work, then,\nconstantly and diligently, at something or other; for idleness is the\ndevil's snare for small and great, as your grandfather says, and he says\ntrue.\" [1310]\n\nConstant useful occupation is thus wholesome, not only for the body, but\nfor the mind. While the slothful man drags himself indolently through\nlife, and the better part of his nature sleeps a deep sleep, if not\nmorally and spiritually dead, the energetic man is a source of activity\nand enjoyment to all who come within reach of his influence. Even any\nordinary drudgery is better than idleness. Fuller says of Sir Francis\nDrake, who was early sent to sea, and kept close to his work by his\nmaster, that such \"pains and patience in his youth knit the joints of\nhis soul, and made them more solid and compact.\" Schiller used to say\nthat he considered it a great advantage to be employed in the discharge\nof some daily mechanical duty--some regular routine of work, that\nrendered steady application necessary.\n\nThousands can bear testimony to the truth of the saying of Greuze, the\nFrench painter, that work--employment, useful occupation--is one of the\ngreat secrets of happiness. Casaubon was once induced by the entreaties\nof his friends to take a few days entire rest, but he returned to\nhis work with the remark, that it was easier to bear illness doing\nsomething, than doing nothing.\n\nWhen Charles Lamb was released for life from his daily drudgery of\ndesk-work at the India Office, he felt himself the happiest of men. \"I\nwould not go back to my prison,\" he said to a friend, \"ten years longer,\nfor ten thousand pounds.\" He also wrote in the same ecstatic mood to\nBernard Barton: \"I have scarce steadiness of head to compose a letter,\"\nhe said; \"I am free! free as air! I will live another fifty years....\nWould I could sell you some of my leisure! Positively the best thing\na man can do is--Nothing; and next to that, perhaps, Good Works.\" Two\nyears--two long and tedious years passed; and Charles Lamb's feelings\nhad undergone an entire change. He now discovered that official, even\nhumdrum work--\"the appointed round, the daily task\"--had been good for\nhim, though he knew it not. Time had formerly been his friend; it had\nnow become his enemy. To Bernard Barton he again wrote: \"I assure you,\nNO work is worse than overwork; the mind preys on itself--the most\nunwholesome of food. I have ceased to care for almost anything.... Never\ndid the waters of heaven pour down upon a forlorner head. What I can\ndo, and overdo, is to walk. I am a sanguinary murderer of time. But the\noracle is silent.\"\n\nNo man could be more sensible of the practical importance of industry\nthan Sir Walter Scott, who was himself one of the most laborious and\nindefatigable of men. Indeed, Lockhart says of him that, taking all ages\nand countries together, the rare example of indefatigable energy, in\nunion with serene self-possession of mind and manner, such as Scott's,\nmust be sought for in the roll of great sovereigns or great captains,\nrather than in that of literary genius. Scott himself was most anxious\nto impress upon the minds of his own children the importance of industry\nas a means of usefulness and happiness in the world. To his son Charles,\nwhen at school, he wrote:--\"I cannot too much impress upon your mind\nthat LABOUR is the condition which God has imposed on us in every\nstation of life; there is nothing worth having that can be had without\nit, from the bread which the peasant wins with the sweat of his brow,\nto the sports by which the rich man must get rid of his ENNUI.... As for\nknowledge, it can no more be planted in the human mind without labour\nthan a field of wheat can be produced without the previous use of\nthe plough. There is, indeed, this great difference, that chance or\ncircumstances may so cause it that another shall reap what the farmer\nsows; but no man can be deprived, whether by accident or misfortune, of\nthe fruits of his own studies; and the liberal and extended acquisitions\nof knowledge which he makes are all for his own use. Labour, therefore,\nmy dear boy, and improve the time. In youth our steps are light, and our\nminds are ductile, and knowledge is easily laid up; but if we neglect\nour spring, our summers will be useless and contemptible, our harvest\nwill be chaff, and the winter of our old age unrespected and desolate.\"\n[1311]\n\nSouthey was as laborious a worker as Scott. Indeed, work might almost\nbe said to form part of his religion. He was only nineteen when he\nwrote these words:--\"Nineteen years! certainly a fourth part of my life;\nperhaps how great a part! and yet I have been of no service to society.\nThe clown who scares crows for twopence a day is a more useful man; he\npreserves the bread which I eat in idleness.\" And yet Southey had\nnot been idle as a boy--on the contrary, he had been a most diligent\nstudent. He had not only read largely in English literature, but was\nwell acquainted, through translations, with Tasso, Ariosto, Homer, and\nOvid. He felt, however, as if his life had been purposeless, and he\ndetermined to do something. He began, and from that time forward he\npursued an unremitting career of literary labour down to the close of\nhis life--\"daily progressing in learning,\" to use his own words--\"not so\nlearned as he is poor, not so poor as proud, not so proud as happy.\"\n\nThe maxims of men often reveal their character. [1312] That of Sir Walter\nScott was, \"Never to be doing nothing.\" Robertson the historian, as\nearly as his fifteenth year, adopted the maxim of \"VITA SINE LITERIS\nMORS EST\" [13Life without learning is death]. Voltaire's motto was,\n\"TOUJOURS AU TRAVAIL\" [13Always at work]. The favourite maxim of Lacepede,\nthe naturalist, was, \"VIVRE C'EST VEILLER\" [13To live is to observe]:\nit was also the maxim of Pliny. When Bossuet was at college, he was so\ndistinguished by his ardour in study, that his fellow students, playing\nupon his name, designated him as \"BOS-SUETUS ARATRO\" [13The ox used to the\nplough]. The name of VITA-LIS [13Life a struggle], which the Swedish poet\nSjoberg assumed, as Frederik von Hardenberg assumed that of NOVA-LIS,\ndescribed the aspirations and the labours of both these men of genius.\n\nWe have spoken of work as a discipline: it is also an educator of\ncharacter. Even work that produces no results, because it IS work,\nis better than torpor,--inasmuch as it educates faculty, and is thus\npreparatory to successful work. The habit of working teaches method.\nIt compels economy of time, and the disposition of it with judicious\nforethought. And when the art of packing life with useful occupations is\nonce acquired by practice, every minute will be turned to account; and\nleisure, when it comes, will be enjoyed with all the greater zest.\n\nColeridge has truly observed, that \"if the idle are described as killing\ntime, the methodical man may be justly said to call it into life and\nmoral being, while he makes it the distinct object not only of the\nconsciousness, but of the conscience. He organizes the hours and gives\nthem a soul; and by that, the very essence of which is to fleet and to\nhave been, he communicates an imperishable and spiritual nature. Of\nthe good and faithful servant, whose energies thus directed are thus\nmethodized, it is less truly affirmed that he lives in time than that\ntime lives in him. His days and months and years, as the stops and\npunctual marks in the record of duties performed, will survive the wreck\nof worlds, and remain extant when time itself shall be no more.\" [1313]\n\nIt is because application to business teaches method most effectually,\nthat it is so useful as an educator of character. The highest working\nqualities are best trained by active and sympathetic contact with others\nin the affairs of daily life. It does not matter whether the business\nrelate to the management of a household or of a nation. Indeed, as we\nhave endeavoured to show in a preceding chapter, the able housewife must\nnecessarily be an efficient woman of business. She must regulate and\ncontrol the details of her home, keep her expenditure within her means,\narrange everything according to plan and system, and wisely manage and\ngovern those subject to her rule. Efficient domestic management implies\nindustry, application, method, moral discipline, forethought,\nprudence, practical ability, insight into character, and power of\norganization--all of which are required in the efficient management of\nbusiness of whatever sort.\n\nBusiness qualities have, indeed, a very large field of action. They mean\naptitude for affairs, competency to deal successfully with the practical\nwork of life--whether the spur of action lie in domestic management,\nin the conduct of a profession, in trade or commerce, in social\norganization, or in political government. And the training which gives\nefficiency in dealing with these various affairs is of all others the\nmost useful in practical life. [1314] Moreover, it is the best discipline\nof character; for it involves the exercise of diligence, attention,\nself-denial, judgment, tact, knowledge of and sympathy with others.\n\nSuch a discipline is far more productive of happiness as well as useful\nefficiency in life, than any amount of literary culture or meditative\nseclusion; for in the long run it will usually be found that practical\nability carries it over intellect, and temper and habits over talent. It\nmust, however, he added that this is a kind of culture that can only be\nacquired by diligent observation and carefully improved experience. \"To\nbe a good blacksmith,\" said General Trochu in a recent publication, \"one\nmust have forged all his life: to be a good administrator one should\nhave passed his whole life in the study and practice of business.\"\n\nIt was characteristic of Sir Walter Scott to entertain the highest\nrespect for able men of business; and he professed that he did not\nconsider any amount of literary distinction as entitled to be spoken of\nin the same breath with a mastery in the higher departments of practical\nlife--least of all with a first-rate captain.\n\nThe great commander leaves nothing to chance, but provides for every\ncontingency. He condescends to apparently trivial details. Thus, when\nWellington was at the head of his army in Spain, he directed the precise\nmanner in which the soldiers were to cook their provisions. When in\nIndia, he specified the exact speed at which the bullocks were to be\ndriven; every detail in equipment was carefully arranged beforehand. And\nthus not only was efficiency secured, but the devotion of his men, and\ntheir boundless confidence in his command. [1315]\n\nLike other great captains, Wellington had an almost boundless capacity\nfor work. He drew up the heads of a Dublin Police Bill [13being still the\nSecretary for Ireland], when tossing off the mouth of the Mondego,\nwith Junot and the French army waiting for him on the shore. So Caesar,\nanother of the greatest commanders, is said to have written an essay\non Latin Rhetoric while crossing the Alps at the head of his army.\nAnd Wallenstein when at the head of 60,000 men, and in the midst of\na campaign with the enemy before him, dictated from headquarters the\nmedical treatment of his poultry-yard.\n\nWashington, also, was an indefatigable man of business. From his boyhood\nhe diligently trained himself in habits of application, of study, and of\nmethodical work. His manuscript school-books, which are still preserved,\nshow that, as early as the age of thirteen, he occupied himself\nvoluntarily in copying out such things as forms of receipts, notes of\nhand, bills of exchange, bonds, indentures, leases, land-warrants, and\nother dry documents, all written out with great care. And the habits\nwhich he thus early acquired were, in a great measure, the foundation of\nthose admirable business qualities which he afterwards so successfully\nbrought to bear in the affairs of government.\n\nThe man or woman who achieves success in the management of any great\naffair of business is entitled to honour,--it may be, to as much as the\nartist who paints a picture, or the author who writes a book, or the\nsoldier who wins a battle. Their success may have been gained in the\nface of as great difficulties, and after as great struggles; and where\nthey have won their battle, it is at least a peaceful one, and there is\nno blood on their hands.\n\nThe idea has been entertained by some, that business habits are\nincompatible with genius. In the Life of Richard Lovell Edgeworth, [1316]\nit is observed of a Mr. Bicknell--a respectable but ordinary man, of\nwhom little is known but that he married Sabrina Sidney, the ELEVE of\nThomas Day, author of 'Sandford and Merton'--that \"he had some of\nthe too usual faults of a man of genius: he detested the drudgery of\nbusiness.\" But there cannot be a greater mistake. The greatest geniuses\nhave, without exception, been the greatest workers, even to the extent\nof drudgery. They have not only worked harder than ordinary men, but\nbrought to their work higher faculties and a more ardent spirit. Nothing\ngreat and durable was ever improvised. It is only by noble patience and\nnoble labour that the masterpieces of genius have been achieved.\n\nPower belongs only to the workers; the idlers are always powerless. It\nis the laborious and painstaking men who are the rulers of the world.\nThere has not been a statesman of eminence but was a man of industry.\n\"It is by toil,\" said even Louis XIV., \"that kings govern.\" When\nClarendon described Hampden, he spoke of him as \"of an industry and\nvigilance not to be tired out or wearied by the most laborious, and\nof parts not to be imposed on by the most subtle and sharp, and of a\npersonal courage equal to his best parts.\" While in the midst of his\nlaborious though self-imposed duties, Hampden, on one occasion, wrote\nto his mother: \"My lyfe is nothing but toyle, and hath been for many\nyeares, nowe to the Commonwealth, nowe to the Kinge.... Not so much\ntyme left as to doe my dutye to my deare parents, nor to sende to them.\"\nIndeed, all the statesmen of the Commonwealth were great toilers;\nand Clarendon himself, whether in office or out of it, was a man of\nindefatigable application and industry.\n\nThe same energetic vitality, as displayed in the power of working, has\ndistinguished all the eminent men in our own as well as in past\ntimes. During the Anti-Corn Law movement, Cobden, writing to a friend,\ndescribed himself as \"working like a horse, with not a moment to spare.\"\nLord Brougham was a remarkable instance of the indefatigably active and\nlaborious man; and it might be said of Lord Palmerston, that he worked\nharder for success in his extreme old age than he had ever done in the\nprime of his manhood--preserving his working faculty, his good-humour\nand BONHOMMIE, unimpaired to the end. [1317] He himself was accustomed to\nsay, that being in office, and consequently full of work, was good for\nhis health. It rescued him from ENNUI. Helvetius even held, that it is\nman's sense of ENNUI that is the chief cause of his superiority over the\nbrute,--that it is the necessity which he feels for escaping from its\nintolerable suffering that forces him to employ himself actively, and is\nhence the great stimulus to human progress.\n\nIndeed, this living principle of constant work, of abundant occupation,\nof practical contact with men in the affairs of life, has in all times\nbeen the best ripener of the energetic vitality of strong natures.\nBusiness habits, cultivated and disciplined, are found alike useful in\nevery pursuit--whether in politics, literature, science, or art. Thus, a\ngreat deal of the best literary work has been done by men systematically\ntrained in business pursuits. The same industry, application, economy\nof time and labour, which have rendered them useful in the one sphere of\nemployment, have been found equally available in the other.\n\nMost of the early English writers were men of affairs, trained to\nbusiness; for no literary class as yet existed, excepting it might\nbe the priesthood. Chaucer, the father of English poetry, was first a\nsoldier, and afterwards a comptroller of petty customs. The office was\nno sinecure either, for he had to write up all the records with his\nown hand; and when he had done his \"reckonings\" at the custom-house, he\nreturned with delight to his favourite studies at home--poring over his\nbooks until his eyes were \"dazed\" and dull.\n\nThe great writers in the reign of Elizabeth, during which there was such\na development of robust life in England, were not literary men according\nto the modern acceptation of the word, but men of action trained in\nbusiness. Spenser acted as secretary to the Lord Deputy of Ireland;\nRaleigh was, by turns, a courtier, soldier, sailor, and discoverer;\nSydney was a politician, diplomatist, and soldier; Bacon was a laborious\nlawyer before he became Lord Keeper and Lord Chancellor; Sir Thomas\nBrowne was a physician in country practice at Norwich; Hooker was the\nhardworking pastor of a country parish; Shakspeare was the manager of a\ntheatre, in which he was himself but an indifferent actor, and he seems\nto have been even more careful of his money investments than he was\nof his intellectual offspring. Yet these, all men of active business\nhabits, are among the greatest writers of any age: the period of\nElizabeth and James I. standing out in the history of England as the era\nof its greatest literary activity and splendour.\n\nIn the reign of Charles I., Cowley held various offices of trust and\nconfidence. He acted as private secretary to several of the royalist\nleaders, and was afterwards engaged as private secretary to the Queen,\nin ciphering and deciphering the correspondence which passed between her\nand Charles I.; the work occupying all his days, and often his nights,\nduring several years. And while Cowley was thus employed in the royal\ncause, Milton was employed by the Commonwealth, of which he was the\nLatin secretary, and afterwards secretary to the Lord Protector. Yet, in\nthe earlier part of his life, Milton was occupied in the humble vocation\nof a teacher. Dr. Johnson says, \"that in his school, as in everything\nelse which he undertook, he laboured with great diligence, there is no\nreason for doubting\" It was after the Restoration, when his official\nemployment ceased, that Milton entered upon the principal literary work\nof his life; but before he undertook the writing of his great epic,\nhe deemed it indispensable that to \"industrious and select reading\"\nhe should add \"steady observation\" and \"insight into all seemly and\ngenerous arts and affairs.\" [1318]\n\nLocke held office in different reigns: first under Charles II. as\nSecretary to the Board of Trade and afterwards under William III. as\nCommissioner of Appeals and of Trade and Plantations. Many literary\nmen of eminence held office in Queen Anne's reign. Thus Addison\nwas Secretary of State; Steele, Commissioner of Stamps; Prior,\nUnder-Secretary of State, and afterwards Ambassador to France; Tickell,\nUnder-Secretary of State, and Secretary to the Lords Justices of\nIreland; Congreve, Secretary of Jamaica;, and Gay, Secretary of Legation\nat Hanover.\n\nIndeed, habits of business, instead of unfitting a cultivated mind for\nscientific or literary pursuits, are often the best training for them.\nVoltaire insisted with truth that the real spirit of business and\nliterature are the same; the perfection of each being the union of\nenergy and thoughtfulness, of cultivated intelligence and practical\nwisdom, of the active and contemplative essence--a union commended by\nLord Bacon as the concentrated excellence of man's nature. It has been\nsaid that even the man of genius can write nothing worth reading in\nrelation to human affairs, unless he has been in some way or other\nconnected with the serious everyday business of life.\n\nHence it has happened that many of the best books, extant have been\nwritten by men of business, with whom literature was a pastime rather\nthan a profession. Gifford, the editor of the 'Quarterly,' who knew the\ndrudgery of writing for a living, once observed that \"a single hour of\ncomposition, won from the business of the day, is worth more than the\nwhole day's toil of him who works at the trade of literature: in the one\ncase, the spirit comes joyfully to refresh itself, like a hart to the\nwaterbrooks; in the other, it pursues its miserable way, panting and\njaded, with the dogs and hunger of necessity behind.\" [1319]\n\nThe first great men of letters in Italy were not mere men of letters;\nthey were men of business--merchants, statesmen, diplomatists, judges,\nand soldiers. Villani, the author of the best History of Florence, was\na merchant; Dante, Petrarch, and Boccacio, were all engaged in more or\nless important embassies; and Dante, before becoming a diplomatist, was\nfor some time occupied as a chemist and druggist. Galileo, Galvani,\nand Farini were physicians, and Goldoni a lawyer. Ariosto's talent\nfor affairs was as great as his genius for poetry. At the death of his\nfather, he was called upon to manage the family estate for the benefit\nof his younger brothers and sisters, which he did with ability and\nintegrity. His genius for business having been recognised, he was\nemployed by the Duke of Ferrara on important missions to Rome and\nelsewhere. Having afterwards been appointed governor of a turbulent\nmountain district, he succeeded, by firm and just governments in\nreducing it to a condition of comparative good order and security. Even\nthe bandits of the country respected him. Being arrested one day in the\nmountains by a body of outlaws, he mentioned his name, when they at once\noffered to escort him in safety wherever he chose.\n\nIt has been the same in other countries. Vattel, the author of the\n'Rights of Nations,' was a practical diplomatist, and a first-rate man\nof business. Rabelais was a physician, and a successful practitioner;\nSchiller was a surgeon; Cervantes, Lope de Vega, Calderon, Camoens,\nDescartes, Maupertius, La Rochefoucauld, Lacepede, Lamark, were soldiers\nin the early part of their respective lives.\n\nIn our own country, many men now known by their writings, earned their\nliving by their trade. Lillo spent the greater part of his life as a\nworking jeweller in the Poultry; occupying the intervals of his leisure\nin the production of dramatic works, some of them of acknowledged power\nand merit. Izaak Walton was a linendraper in Fleet Street, reading much\nin his leisure hours, and storing his mind with facts for future use in\nhis capacity of biographer. De Foe was by turns horse-factor, brick and\ntile maker, shopkeeper, author, and political agent.\n\nSamuel Richardson successfully combined literature, with business;\nwriting his novels in his back-shop in Salisbury Court, Fleet Street,\nand selling them over the counter in his front-shop. William Hutton, of\nBirmingham, also successfully combined the occupations of bookselling\nand authorship. He says, in his Autobiography, that a man may live half\na century and not be acquainted with his own character. He did not know\nthat he was an antiquary until the world informed him of it, from having\nread his 'History of Birmingham,' and then, he said, he could see\nit himself. Benjamin Franklin was alike eminent as a printer and\nbookseller--an author, a philosopher and a statesman.\n\nComing down to our own time, we find Ebenezer Elliott successfully\ncarrying on the business of a bar-iron merchant in Sheffield, during\nwhich time he wrote and published the greater number of his poems; and\nhis success in business was such as to enable him to retire into the\ncountry and build a house of his own, in which he spent the remainder\nof his days. Isaac Taylor, the author of the 'Natural History of\nEnthusiasm,' was an engraver of patterns for Manchester calico-printers;\nand other members of this gifted family were followers of the same\nbranch of art.\n\nThe principal early works of John Stuart Mill were written in the\nintervals of official work, while he held the office of principal\nexaminer in the East India House,--in which Charles Lamb, Peacock the\nauthor of 'Headlong Hall,' and Edwin Norris the philologist, were also\nclerks. Macaulay wrote his 'Lays of Ancient Rome' in the War Office,\nwhile holding the post of Secretary of War. It is well known that the\nthoughtful writings of Mr. Helps are literally \"Essays written in the\nIntervals of Business.\" Many of our best living authors are men holding\nimportant public offices--such as Sir Henry Taylor, Sir John Kaye,\nAnthony Trollope, Tom Taylor, Matthew Arnold, and Samuel Warren.\n\nMr. Proctor the poet, better known as \"Barry Cornwall,\" was a barrister\nand commissioner in lunacy. Most probably he assumed the pseudonym for\nthe same reason that Dr. Paris published his 'Philosophy in Sport made\nScience in Earnest' anonymously--because he apprehended that, if known,\nit might compromise his professional position. For it is by no means an\nuncommon prejudice, still prevalent amongst City men, that a person who\nhas written a book, and still more one who has written a poem, is\ngood for nothing in the way of business. Yet Sharon Turner, though an\nexcellent historian, was no worse a solicitor on that account; while the\nbrothers Horace and James Smith, authors of 'The Rejected Addresses,'\nwere men of such eminence in their profession, that they were selected\nto fill the important and lucrative post of solicitors to the Admiralty,\nand they filled it admirably.\n\nIt was while the late Mr. Broderip, the barrister, was acting as a\nLondon police magistrate, that he was attracted to the study of natural\nhistory, in which he occupied the greater part of his leisure. He wrote\nthe principal articles on the subject for the 'Penny Cyclopaedia,'\nbesides several separate works of great merit, more particularly\nthe 'Zoological Recreations,' and 'Leaves from the Notebook of a\nNaturalist.' It is recorded of him that, though he devoted so much of\nhis time to the production of his works, as well as to the Zoological\nSociety and their admirable establishment in Regent's Park, of which\nhe was one of the founders, his studies never interfered with the real\nbusiness of his life, nor is it known that a single question was ever\nraised upon his conduct or his decisions. And while Mr. Broderip devoted\nhimself to natural history, the late Lord Chief Baron Pollock devoted\nhis leisure to natural science, recreating himself in the practice\nof photography and the study of mathematics, in both of which he was\nthoroughly proficient.\n\nAmong literary bankers we find the names of Rogers, the poet; Roscoe, of\nLiverpool, the biographer of Lorenzo de Medici; Ricardo, the author of\n'Political Economy and Taxation; [1320] Grote, the author of the 'History\nof Greece;' Sir John Lubbock, the scientific antiquarian; [1321] and\nSamuel Bailey, of Sheffield, the author of 'Essays on the Formation and\nPublication of Opinions,' besides various important works on ethics,\npolitical economy, and philosophy.\n\nNor, on the other hand, have thoroughly-trained men of science and\nlearning proved themselves inefficient as first-rate men of business.\nCulture of the best sort trains the habit of application and industry,\ndisciplines the mind, supplies it with resources, and gives it freedom\nand vigour of action--all of which are equally requisite in the\nsuccessful conduct of business. Thus, in young men, education and\nscholarship usually indicate steadiness of character, for they imply\ncontinuous attention, diligence, and the ability and energy necessary to\nmaster knowledge; and such persons will also usually be found possessed\nof more than average promptitude, address, resource, and dexterity.\n\nMontaigne has said of true philosophers, that \"if they were great in\nscience, they were yet much greater in action;... and whenever they have\nbeen put upon the proof, they have been seen to fly to so high a pitch,\nas made it very well appear their souls were strangely elevated and\nenriched with the knowledge of things.\" [1322]\n\nAt the same time, it must be acknowledged that too exclusive a devotion\nto imaginative and philosophical literature, especially if prolonged in\nlife until the habits become formed, does to a great extent incapacitate\na man for the business of practical life. Speculative ability is one\nthing, and practical ability another; and the man who, in his study, or\nwith his pen in hand, shows himself capable of forming large views of\nlife and policy, may, in the outer world, be found altogether unfitted\nfor carrying them into practical effect.\n\nSpeculative ability depends on vigorous thinking--practical ability on\nvigorous acting; and the two qualities are usually found combined in\nvery unequal proportions. The speculative man is prone to indecision:\nhe sees all the sides of a question, and his action becomes suspended in\nnicely weighing the pros and cons, which are often found pretty nearly\nto balance each other; whereas the practical man overleaps logical\npreliminaries, arrives at certain definite convictions, and proceeds\nforthwith to carry his policy into action. [1323]\n\nYet there have been many great men of science who have proved efficient\nmen of business. We do not learn that Sir Isaac Newton made a worse\nMaster of the Mint because he was the greatest of philosophers. Nor were\nthere any complaints as to the efficiency of Sir John Herschel, who held\nthe same office. The brothers Humboldt were alike capable men in all\nthat they undertook--whether it was literature, philosophy, mining,\nphilology, diplomacy, or statesmanship.\n\nNiebuhr, the historian, was distinguished for his energy and success as\na man of business. He proved so efficient as secretary and accountant\nto the African consulate, to which he had been appointed by the Danish\nGovernment, that he was afterwards selected as one of the commissioners\nto manage the national finances; and he quitted that office to undertake\nthe joint directorship of a bank at Berlin. It was in the midst of\nhis business occupations that he found time to study Roman history, to\nmaster the Arabic, Russian, and other Sclavonic languages, and to\nbuild up the great reputation as an author by which he is now chiefly\nremembered.\n\nHaving regard to the views professed by the First Napoleon as to men\nof science, it was to have been expected that he would endeavour to\nstrengthen his administration by calling them to his aid. Some of his\nappointments proved failures, while others were completely successful.\nThus Laplace was made Minister of the Interior; but he had no sooner\nbeen appointed than it was seen that a mistake had been made. Napoleon\nafterwards said of him, that \"Laplace looked at no question in its true\npoint of view. He was always searching after subtleties; all his ideas\nwere problems, and he carried the spirit of the infinitesimal calculus\ninto the management of business.\" But Laplace's habits had been formed\nin the study, and he was too old to adapt them to the purposes of\npractical life.\n\nWith Darn it was different. But Darn had the advantage of some practical\ntraining in business, having served as an intendant of the army in\nSwitzerland under Massena, during which he also distinguished himself as\nan author. When Napoleon proposed to appoint him a councillor of state\nand intendant of the Imperial Household, Darn hesitated to accept the\noffice. \"I have passed the greater part of my life,\" he said, \"among\nbooks, and have not had time to learn the functions of a courtier.\" \"Of\ncourtiers,\" replied Napoleon, \"I have plenty about me; they will never\nfail. But I want a minister, at once enlightened, firm, and vigilant;\nand it is for these qualities that I have selected you.\" Darn complied\nwith the Emperor's wishes, and eventually became his Prime Minister,\nproving thoroughly efficient in that capacity, and remaining the same\nmodest, honourable, and disinterested man that he had ever been through\nlife.\n\nMen of trained working faculty so contract the habit of labour that\nidleness becomes intolerable to them; and when driven by circumstances\nfrom their own special line of occupation, they find refuge in other\npursuits. The diligent man is quick to find employment for his leisure;\nand he is able to make leisure when the idle man finds none. \"He hath no\nleisure,\" says George Herbert, \"who useth it not.\" \"The most active or\nbusy man that hath been or can be,\" says Bacon, \"hath, no question, many\nvacant times of leisure, while he expecteth the tides and returns of\nbusiness, except he be either tedious and of no despatch, or lightly and\nunworthily ambitious to meddle with things that may be better done by\nothers.\" Thus many great things have been done during such \"vacant times\nof leisure,\" by men to whom industry had become a second nature, and who\nfound it easier to work than to be idle.\n\nEven hobbies are useful as educators of the working faculty. Hobbies\nevoke industry of a certain kind, and at least provide agreeable\noccupation. Not such hobbies as that of Domitian, who occupied\nhimself in catching flies. The hobbies of the King of Macedon who made\nlanthorns, and of the King of France who made locks, were of a more\nrespectable order. Even a routine mechanical employment is felt to be\na relief by minds acting under high-pressure: it is an intermission of\nlabour--a rest--a relaxation, the pleasure consisting in the work itself\nrather than in the result.\n\nBut the best of hobbies are intellectual ones. Thus men of active\nmind retire from their daily business to find recreation in other\npursuits--some in science, some in art, and the greater number in\nliterature. Such recreations are among the best preservatives against\nselfishness and vulgar worldliness. We believe it was Lord Brougham\nwho said, \"Blessed is the man that hath a hobby!\" and in the abundant\nversatility of his nature, he himself had many, ranging from literature\nto optics, from history and biography to social science. Lord Brougham\nis even said to have written a novel; and the remarkable story of the\n'Man in the Bell,' which appeared many years ago in 'Blackwood,' is\nreputed to have been from his pen. Intellectual hobbies, however, must\nnot be ridden too hard--else, instead of recreating, refreshing, and\ninvigorating a man's nature, they may only have the effect of sending\nhim back to his business exhausted, enervated, and depressed.\n\nMany laborious statesmen besides Lord Brougham have occupied their\nleisure, or consoled themselves in retirement from office, by the\ncomposition of works which have become part of the standard literature\nof the world. Thus 'Caesar's Commentaries' still survive as a classic;\nthe perspicuous and forcible style in which they are written placing\nhim in the same rank with Xenophon, who also successfully combined the\npursuit of letters with the business of active life.\n\nWhen the great Sully was disgraced as a minister, and driven into\nretirement, he occupied his leisure in writing out his 'Memoirs,'\nin anticipation of the judgment of posterity upon his career as a\nstatesman. Besides these, he also composed part of a romance after the\nmanner of the Scuderi school, the manuscript of which was found amongst\nhis papers at his death.\n\nTurgot found a solace for the loss of office, from which he had been\ndriven by the intrigues of his enemies, in the study of physical\nscience. He also reverted to his early taste for classical literature.\nDuring his long journeys, and at nights when tortured by the gout, he\namused himself by making Latin verses; though the only line of his\nthat has been preserved was that intended to designate the portrait of\nBenjamin Franklin:\n\n      \"Eripuit caelo fulmen, sceptrumque tyrannis.\"\n\nAmong more recent French statesmen--with whom, however, literature\nhas been their profession as much as politics--may be mentioned\nDe Tocqueville, Thiers, Guizot, and Lamartine, while Napoleon III.\nchallenged a place in the Academy by his 'Life of Caesar.'\n\nLiterature has also been the chief solace of our greatest English\nstatesmen. When Pitt retired from office, like his great contemporary\nFox, he reverted with delight to the study of the Greek and Roman\nclassics. Indeed, Grenville considered Pitt the best Greek scholar he\nhad ever known. Canning and Wellesley, when in retirement, occupied\nthemselves in translating the odes and satires of Horace. Canning's\npassion for literature entered into all his pursuits, and gave a colour\nto his whole life. His biographer says of him, that after a dinner at\nPitt's, while the rest of the company were dispersed in conversation, he\nand Pitt would be observed poring over some old Grecian in a corner of\nthe drawing-room. Fox also was a diligent student of the Greek authors,\nand, like Pitt, read Lycophron. He was also the author of a History\nof James II., though the book is only a fragment, and, it must be\nconfessed, is rather a disappointing work.\n\nOne of the most able and laborious of our recent statesmen--with whom\nliterature was a hobby as well as a pursuit--was the late Sir George\nCornewall Lewis. He was an excellent man of business--diligent, exact,\nand painstaking. He filled by turns the offices of President of the\nPoor Law Board--the machinery of which he created,--Chancellor of the\nExchequer, Home Secretary, and Secretary at War; and in each he\nachieved the reputation of a thoroughly successful administrator. In the\nintervals of his official labours, he occupied himself with inquiries\ninto a wide range of subjects--history, politics, philology,\nanthropology, and antiquarianism. His works on 'The Astronomy of the\nAncients,' and 'Essays on the Formation of the Romanic Languages,' might\nhave been written by the profoundest of German SAVANS. He took especial\ndelight in pursuing the abstruser branches of learning, and found\nin them his chief pleasure and recreation. Lord Palmerston sometimes\nremonstrated with him, telling him he was \"taking too much out of\nhimself\" by laying aside official papers after office-hours in order to\nstudy books; Palmerston himself declaring that he had no time to read\nbooks--that the reading of manuscript was quite enough for him.\n\nDoubtless Sir George Lewis rode his hobby too hard, and but for his\ndevotion to study, his useful life would probably have been prolonged.\nWhether in or out of office, he read, wrote, and studied. He\nrelinquished the editorship of the 'Edinburgh Review' to become\nChancellor of the Exchequer; and when no longer occupied in preparing\nbudgets, he proceeded to copy out a mass of Greek manuscripts at the\nBritish Museum. He took particular delight in pursuing any difficult\ninquiry in classical antiquity. One of the odd subjects with which he\noccupied himself was an examination into the truth of reported cases of\nlongevity, which, according to his custom, he doubted or disbelieved.\nThis subject was uppermost in his mind while pursuing his canvass of\nHerefordshire in 1852. On applying to a voter one day for his support,\nhe was met by a decided refusal. \"I am sorry,\" was the candidate's\nreply, \"that you can't give me your vote; but perhaps you can tell me\nwhether anybody in your parish has died at an extraordinary age!\"\n\nThe contemporaries of Sir George Lewis also furnish many striking\ninstances of the consolations afforded by literature to statesmen\nwearied with the toils of public life. Though the door of office may\nbe closed, that of literature stands always open, and men who are at\ndaggers-drawn in politics, join hands over the poetry of Homer and\nHorace. The late Earl of Derby, on retiring from power, produced his\nnoble version of 'The Iliad,' which will probably continue to be read\nwhen his speeches have been forgotten. Mr. Gladstone similarly occupied\nhis leisure in preparing for the press his 'Studies on Homer,' [1324] and\nin editing a translation of 'Farini's Roman State;' while Mr. Disraeli\nsignalised his retirement from office by the production of his\n'Lothair.' Among statesmen who have figured as novelists, besides Mr.\nDisraeli, are Lord Russell, who has also contributed largely to history\nand biography; the Marquis of Normandy, and the veteran novelist,\nLord Lytton, with whom, indeed, politics may be said to have been his\nrecreation, and literature the chief employment of his life.\n\nTo conclude: a fair measure of work is good for mind as well as body.\nMan is an intelligence sustained and preserved by bodily organs, and\ntheir active exercise is necessary to the enjoyment of health. It is\nnot work, but overwork, that is hurtful; and it is not hard work that is\ninjurious so much as monotonous work, fagging work, hopeless work. All\nhopeful work is healthful; and to be usefully and hopefully employed is\none of the great secrets of happiness. Brain-work, in moderation, is\nno more wearing than any other kind of work. Duly regulated, it is as\npromotive of health as bodily exercise; and, where due attention is paid\nto the physical system, it seems difficult to put more upon a man than\nhe can bear. Merely to eat and drink and sleep one's way idly through\nlife is vastly more injurious. The wear-and-tear of rust is even faster\nthan the tear-and-wear of work.\n\nBut overwork is always bad economy. It is, in fact, great waste,\nespecially if conjoined with worry. Indeed, worry kills far more than\nwork does. It frets, it excites, it consumes the body--as sand and grit,\nwhich occasion excessive friction, wear out the wheels of a machine.\nOverwork and worry have both to be guarded against. For over-brain-work\nis strain-work; and it is exhausting and destructive according as it is\nin excess of nature. And the brain-worker may exhaust and overbalance\nhis mind by excess, just as the athlete may overstrain his muscles and\nbreak his back by attempting feats beyond the strength of his physical\nsystem.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V.--COURAGE.\n\n\n        \"It is not but the tempest that doth show\n         The seaman's cunning; but the field that tries\n         The captain's courage; and we come to know\n         Best what men are, in their worst jeopardies.\"--DANIEL.\n\n    \"If thou canst plan a noble deed,\n     And never flag till it succeed,\n     Though in the strife thy heart should bleed,\n     Whatever obstacles control,\n     Thine hour will come--go on, true soul!\n     Thou'lt win the prize, thou'lt reach the goal.\"--C. MACKAY.\n\n     \"The heroic example of other days is in great part the\n     source of the courage of each generation; and men walk up\n     composedly to the most perilous enterprises, beckoned\n     onwards by the shades of the brave that were.\"--HELPS.\n\n            \"That which we are, we are,\n      One equal temper of heroic hearts,\n      Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will\n      To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.\"--TENNYSON.\n\n\nTHE world owes much to its men and women of courage. We do not mean\nphysical courage, in which man is at least equalled by the bulldog; nor\nis the bulldog considered the wisest of his species.\n\nThe courage that displays itself in silent effort and endeavour--that\ndares to endure all and suffer all for truth and duty--is more truly\nheroic than the achievements of physical valour, which are rewarded by\nhonours and titles, or by laurels sometimes steeped in blood.\n\nIt is moral courage that characterises the highest order of manhood and\nwomanhood--the courage to seek and to speak the truth; the courage to\nbe just; the courage to be honest; the courage to resist temptation; the\ncourage to do one's duty. If men and women do not possess this virtue,\nthey have no security whatever for the preservation of any other.\n\nEvery step of progress in the history of our race has been made in the\nface of opposition and difficulty, and been achieved and secured by men\nof intrepidity and valour--by leaders in the van of thought--by great\ndiscoverers, great patriots, and great workers in all walks of life.\nThere is scarcely a great truth or doctrine but has had to fight its\nway to public recognition in the face of detraction, calumny, and\npersecution. \"Everywhere,\" says Heine, \"that a great soul gives\nutterance to its thoughts, there also is a Golgotha.\"\n\n    \"Many loved Truth and lavished life's best oil,\n       Amid the dust of books to find her,\n    Content at last, for guerdon of their toil,\n       With the cast mantle she had left behind her.\n    Many in sad faith sought for her,\n    Many with crossed hands sighed for her,\n    But these, our brothers, fought for her,\n    At life's dear peril wrought for her,\n    So loved her that they died for her,\n    Tasting the raptured fleetness\n    Of her divine completeness.\" [141]\n\nSocrates was condemned to drink the hemlock at Athens in his\nseventy-second year, because his lofty teaching ran counter to the\nprejudices and party-spirit of his age. He was charged by his accusers\nwith corrupting the youth of Athens by inciting them to despise the\ntutelary deities of the state. He had the moral courage to brave not\nonly the tyranny of the judges who condemned him, but of the mob who\ncould not understand him. He died discoursing of the doctrine of the\nimmortality of the soul; his last words to his judges being, \"It is now\ntime that we depart--I to die, you to live; but which has the better\ndestiny is unknown to all, except to the God.\"\n\nHow many great men and thinkers have been persecuted in the name of\nreligion! Bruno was burnt alive at Rome, because of his exposure of the\nfashionable but false philosophy of his time. When the judges of the\nInquisition condemned him, to die, Bruno said proudly: \"You are more\nafraid to pronounce my sentence than I am to receive it.\"\n\nTo him succeeded Galileo, whose character as a man of science is almost\neclipsed by that of the martyr. Denounced by the priests from the\npulpit, because of the views he taught as to the motion of the earth,\nhe was summoned to Rome, in his seventieth year, to answer for his\nheterodoxy. And he was imprisoned in the Inquisition, if he was not\nactually put to the torture there. He was pursued by persecution even\nwhen dead, the Pope refusing a tomb for his body.\n\nRoger Bacon, the Franciscan monk, was persecuted on account of his\nstudies in natural philosophy, and he was charged with, dealing in\nmagic, because of his investigations in chemistry. His writings were\ncondemned, and he was thrown into prison, where he lay for ten years,\nduring the lives of four successive Popes. It is even averred that he\ndied in prison.\n\nOckham, the early English speculative philosopher, was excommunicated\nby the Pope, and died in exile at Munich, where he was protected by the\nfriendship of the then Emperor of Germany.\n\nThe Inquisition branded Vesalius as a heretic for revealing man to man,\nas it had before branded Bruno and Galileo for revealing the heavens to\nman. Vesalius had the boldness to study the structure of the human body\nby actual dissection, a practice until then almost entirely forbidden.\nHe laid the foundations of a science, but he paid for it with his\nlife. Condemned by the Inquisition, his penalty was commuted, by the\nintercession of the Spanish king, into a pilgrimage to the Holy Land;\nand when on his way back, while still in the prime of life, he died\nmiserably at Zante, of fever and want--a martyr to his love of science.\n\nWhen the 'Novum Organon' appeared, a hue-and-cry was raised against it,\nbecause of its alleged tendency to produce \"dangerous revolutions,\" to\n\"subvert governments,\" and to \"overturn the authority of religion;\"\n[142] and one Dr. Henry Stubbe [14whose name would otherwise have been\nforgotten] wrote a book against the new philosophy, denouncing the\nwhole tribe of experimentalists as \"a Bacon-faced generation.\" Even\nthe establishment of the Royal Society was opposed, on the ground that\n\"experimental philosophy is subversive of the Christian faith.\"\n\nWhile the followers of Copernicus were persecuted as infidels, Kepler\nwas branded with the stigma of heresy, \"because,\" said he, \"I take that\nside which seems to me to be consonant with the Word of God.\" Even the\npure and simpleminded Newton, of whom Bishop Burnet said that he had the\nWHITEST SOUL he ever knew--who was a very infant in the purity of his\nmind--even Newton was accused of \"dethroning the Deity\" by his sublime\ndiscovery of the law of gravitation; and a similar charge was made\nagainst Franklin for explaining the nature of the thunderbolt.\n\nSpinoza was excommunicated by the Jews, to whom he belonged, because of\nhis views of philosophy, which were supposed to be adverse to religion;\nand his life was afterwards attempted by an assassin for the same\nreason. Spinoza remained courageous and self-reliant to the last, dying\nin obscurity and poverty.\n\nThe philosophy of Descartes was denounced as leading to irreligion; the\ndoctrines of Locke were said to produce materialism; and in our own\nday, Dr. Buckland, Mr. Sedgwick, and other leading geologists, have been\naccused of overturning revelation with regard to the constitution and\nhistory of the earth. Indeed, there has scarcely been a discovery in\nastronomy, in natural history, or in physical science, that has not been\nattacked by the bigoted and narrow-minded as leading to infidelity.\n\nOther great discoverers, though they may not have been charged with\nirreligion, have had not less obloquy of a professional and public\nnature to encounter. When Dr. Harvey published his theory of the\ncirculation of the blood, his practice fell off, [143] and the medical\nprofession stigmatised him as a fool. \"The few good things I have been\nable to do,\" said John Hunter, \"have been accomplished with the greatest\ndifficulty, and encountered the greatest opposition.\" Sir Charles Bell,\nwhile employed in his important investigations as to the nervous system,\nwhich issued in one of the greatest of physiological discoveries, wrote\nto a friend: \"If I were not so poor, and had not so many vexations\nto encounter, how happy would I be!\" But he himself observed that his\npractice sensibly fell off after the publication of each successive\nstage of his discovery.\n\nThus, nearly every enlargement of the domain of knowledge, which has\nmade us better acquainted with the heavens, with the earth, and with\nourselves, has been established by the energy, the devotion, the\nself-sacrifice, and the courage of the great spirits of past times, who,\nhowever much they have been opposed or reviled by their contemporaries,\nnow rank amongst those whom the enlightened of the human race most\ndelight to honour.\n\nNor is the unjust intolerance displayed towards men of science in the\npast, without its lesson for the present. It teaches us to be forbearant\ntowards those who differ from us, provided they observe patiently, think\nhonestly, and utter their convictions freely and truthfully. It was a\nremark of Plato, that \"the world is God's epistle to mankind;\" and to\nread and study that epistle, so as to elicit its true meaning, can\nhave no other effect on a well-ordered mind than to lead to a deeper\nimpression of His power, a clearer perception of His wisdom, and a more\ngrateful sense of His goodness.\n\nWhile such has been the courage of the martyrs of science, not less\nglorious has been the courage of the martyrs of faith. The passive\nendurance of the man or woman who, for conscience sake, is found\nready to suffer and to endure in solitude, without so much as the\nencouragement of even a single sympathising voice, is an exhibition of\ncourage of a far higher kind than that displayed in the roar of battle,\nwhere even the weakest feels encouraged and inspired by the enthusiasm\nof sympathy and the power of numbers. Time would fail to tell of the\ndeathless names of those who through faith in principles, and in the\nface of difficulty, danger, and suffering, \"have wrought righteousness\nand waxed valiant\" in the moral warfare of the world, and been content\nto lay down their lives rather than prove false to their conscientious\nconvictions of the truth.\n\nMen of this stamp, inspired by a high sense of duty, have in past times\nexhibited character in its most heroic aspects, and continue to present\nto us some of the noblest spectacles to be seen in history. Even women,\nfull of tenderness and gentleness, not less than men, have in this cause\nbeen found capable of exhibiting the most unflinching courage. Such, for\ninstance, as that of Anne Askew, who, when racked until her bones were\ndislocated, uttered no cry, moved no muscle, but looked her tormentors\ncalmly in the face, and refused either to confess or to recant; or such\nas that of Latimer and Ridley, who, instead of bewailing their hard\nfate and beating their breasts, went as cheerfully to their death as\na bridegroom to the altar--the one bidding the other to \"be of good\ncomfort,\" for that \"we shall this day light such a candle in England, by\nGod's grace, as shall never be put out;\" or such, again, as that of Mary\nDyer, the Quakeress, hanged by the Puritans of New England for preaching\nto the people, who ascended the scaffold with a willing step, and, after\ncalmly addressing those who stood about, resigned herself into the hands\nof her persecutors, and died in peace and joy.\n\nNot less courageous was the behaviour of the good Sir Thomas More, who\nmarched willingly to the scaffold, and died cheerfully there, rather\nthan prove false to his conscience. When More had made his final\ndecision to stand upon his principles, he felt as if he had won a\nvictory, and said to his son-in-law Roper: \"Son Roper, I thank Our Lord,\nthe field is won!\" The Duke of Norfolk told him of his danger, saying:\n\"By the mass, Master More, it is perilous striving with princes; the\nanger of a prince brings death!\". \"Is that all, my lord?\" said More;\n\"then the difference between you and me is this--that I shall die\nto-day, and you to-morrow.\"\n\nWhile it has been the lot of many great men, in times of difficulty and\ndanger, to be cheered and supported by their wives, More had no such\nconsolation. His helpmate did anything but console him during his\nimprisonment in the Tower. [144] She could not conceive that there was any\nsufficient reason for his continuing to lie there, when by merely doing\nwhat the King required of him, he might at once enjoy his liberty,\ntogether with his fine house at Chelsea, his library, his orchard, his\ngallery, and the society of his wife and children. \"I marvel,\" said she\nto him one day, \"that you, who have been alway hitherto taken for wise,\nshould now so play the fool as to lie here in this close filthy prison,\nand be content to be shut up amongst mice and rats, when you might be\nabroad at your liberty, if you would but do as the bishops have done?\"\nBut More saw his duty from a different point of view: it was not a mere\nmatter of personal comfort with him; and the expostulations of his wife\nwere of no avail. He gently put her aside, saying cheerfully, \"Is not\nthis house as nigh heaven as my own?\"--to which she contemptuously\nrejoined: \"Tilly vally--tilly vally!\"\n\nMore's daughter, Margaret Roper, on the contrary, encouraged her father\nto stand firm in his principles, and dutifully consoled and cheered\nhim during his long confinement. Deprived of pen-and-ink, he wrote his\nletters to her with a piece of coal, saying in one of them: \"If I were\nto declare in writing how much pleasure your daughterly loving letters\ngave me, a PECK OF COALS would not suffice to make the pens.\" More was\na martyr to veracity: he would not swear a false oath; and he perished\nbecause he was sincere. When his head had been struck off, it was placed\non London Bridge, in accordance with the barbarous practice of the\ntimes. Margaret Roper had the courage to ask for the head to be taken\ndown and given to her, and, carrying her affection for her father beyond\nthe grave, she desired that it might be buried with her when she died;\nand long after, when Margaret Roper's tomb was opened, the precious\nrelic was observed lying on the dust of what had been her bosom.\n\nMartin Luther was not called upon to lay down his life for his faith;\nbut, from the day that he declared himself against the Pope, he daily\nran the risk of losing it. At the beginning of his great struggle, he\nstood almost entirely alone. The odds against him were tremendous. \"On\none side,\" said he himself, \"are learning, genius, numbers, grandeur,\nrank, power, sanctity, miracles; on the other Wycliffe, Lorenzo Valla,\nAugustine, and Luther--a poor creature, a man of yesterday, standing\nwellnigh alone with a few friends.\" Summoned by the Emperor to appear at\nWorms; to answer the charge made against him of heresy, he determined to\nanswer in person. Those about him told him that he would lose his life\nif he went, and they urged him to fly. \"No,\" said he, \"I will repair\nthither, though I should find there thrice as many devils as there are\ntiles upon the housetops!\" Warned against the bitter enmity of a certain\nDuke George, he said--\"I will go there, though for nine whole days\nrunning it rained Duke Georges.\"\n\nLuther was as good as his word; and he set forth upon his perilous\njourney. When he came in sight of the old bell-towers of Worms, he\nstood up in his chariot and sang, \"EIN FESTE BURG IST UNSER GOTT.\"--the\n'Marseillaise' of the Reformation--the words and music of which he is\nsaid to have improvised only two days before. Shortly before the meeting\nof the Diet, an old soldier, George Freundesberg, put his hand upon\nLuther's shoulder, and said to him: \"Good monk, good monk, take heed\nwhat thou doest; thou art going into a harder fight than any of us have\never yet been in.\" But Luther's only answer to the veteran was, that he\nhad \"determined to stand upon the Bible and his conscience.\"\n\nLuther's courageous defence before the Diet is on record, and forms one\nof the most glorious pages in history. When finally urged by the Emperor\nto retract, he said firmly: \"Sire, unless I am convinced of my error by\nthe testimony of Scripture, or by manifest evidence, I cannot and will\nnot retract, for we must never act contrary to our conscience. Such is\nmy profession of faith, and you must expect none other from me. HIER\nSTEHE ICH: ICH KANN NICHT ANDERS: GOTT HELFE MIR!\" [14Here stand I: I\ncannot do otherwise: God help me!]. He had to do his duty--to obey\nthe orders of a Power higher than that of kings; and he did it at all\nhazards.\n\nAfterwards, when hard pressed by his enemies at Augsburg, Luther said\nthat \"if he had five hundred heads, he would lose them all rather than\nrecant his article concerning faith.\" Like all courageous men, his\nstrength only seemed to grow in proportion to the difficulties he had to\nencounter and overcome. \"There is no man in Germany,\" said Hutten, \"who\nmore utterly despises death than does Luther.\" And to his moral courage,\nperhaps more than to that of any other single man, do we owe the\nliberation of modern thought, and the vindication of the great rights of\nthe human understanding.\n\nThe honourable and brave man does not fear death compared with ignominy.\nIt is said of the Royalist Earl of Strafford that, as he walked to the\nscaffold on Tower Hill, his step and manner were those of a general\nmarching at the head of an army to secure victory, rather than of a\ncondemned man to undergo sentence of death. So the Commonwealth's\nman, Sir John Eliot, went alike bravely to his death on the same spot,\nsaying: \"Ten thousand deaths rather than defile my conscience, the\nchastity and purity of which I value beyond all this world.\" Eliot's\ngreatest tribulation was on account of his wife, whom he had to leave\nbehind. When he saw her looking down upon him from the Tower window, he\nstood up in the cart, waved his hat, and cried: \"To heaven, my love!--to\nheaven!--and leave you in the storm!\" As he went on his way, one in the\ncrowd called out, \"That is the most glorious seat you ever sat on;\" to\nwhich he replied: \"It is so, indeed!\" and rejoiced exceedingly. [145]\n\nAlthough success is the guerdon for which all men toil, they have\nnevertheless often to labour on perseveringly, without any glimmer\nof success in sight. They have to live, meanwhile, upon their\ncourage--sowing their seed, it may be, in the dark, in the hope that it\nwill yet take root and spring up in achieved result. The best of causes\nhave had to fight their way to triumph through a long succession of\nfailures, and many of the assailants have died in the breach before\nthe fortress has been won. The heroism they have displayed is to be\nmeasured, not so much by their immediate success, as by the opposition\nthey have encountered, and the courage with which they have maintained\nthe struggle.\n\nThe patriot who fights an always-losing battle--the martyr who goes to\ndeath amidst the triumphant shouts of his enemies--the discoverer, like\nColumbus, whose heart remains undaunted through the bitter years of his\n\"long wandering woe\"--are examples of the moral sublime which excite a\nprofounder interest in the hearts of men than even the most complete and\nconspicuous success. By the side of such instances as these, how small\nby comparison seem the greatest deeds of valour, inciting men to rush\nupon death and die amidst the frenzied excitement of physical warfare!\n\nBut the greater part of the courage that is needed in the world is not\nof a heroic kind. Courage may be displayed in everyday life as well\nas in historic fields of action. There needs, for example, the common\ncourage to be honest--the courage to resist temptation--the courage\nto speak the truth--the courage to be what we really are, and not to\npretend to be what we are not--the courage to live honestly within our\nown means, and not dishonestly upon the means of others.\n\nA great deal of the unhappiness, and much of the vice, of the world is\nowing to weakness and indecision of purpose--in other words, to lack\nof courage. Men may know what is right, and yet fail to exercise the\ncourage to do it; they may understand the duty they have to do, but\nwill not summon up the requisite resolution to perform it. The weak and\nundisciplined man is at the mercy of every temptation; he cannot say\n\"No,\" but falls before it. And if his companionship be bad, he will be\nall the easier led away by bad example into wrongdoing.\n\nNothing can be more certain than that the character can only be\nsustained and strengthened by its own energetic action. The will,\nwhich is the central force of character, must be trained to habits of\ndecision--otherwise it will neither be able to resist evil nor to\nfollow good. Decision gives the power of standing firmly, when to yield,\nhowever slightly, might be only the first step in a downhill course to\nruin.\n\nCalling upon others for help in forming a decision is worse than\nuseless. A man must so train his habits as to rely upon his own powers\nand depend upon his own courage in moments of emergency. Plutarch tells\nof a King of Macedon who, in the midst of an action, withdrew into the\nadjoining town under pretence of sacrificing to Hercules; whilst his\nopponent Emilius, at the same time that he implored the Divine aid,\nsought for victory sword in hand, and won the battle. And so it ever is\nin the actions of daily life.\n\nMany are the valiant purposes formed, that end merely in words; deeds\nintended, that are never done; designs projected, that are never begun;\nand all for want of a little courageous decision. Better far the silent\ntongue but the eloquent deed. For in life and in business, despatch is\nbetter than discourse; and the shortest answer of all is, DOING. \"In\nmatters of great concern, and which must be done,\" says Tillotson,\n\"there is no surer argument of a weak mind than irresolution--to be\nundetermined when the case is so plain and the necessity so urgent. To\nbe always intending to live a new life, but never to find time to set\nabout it,--this is as if a man should put off eating and drinking and\nsleeping from one day to another, until he is starved and destroyed.\"\n\nThere needs also the exercise of no small degree of moral courage to\nresist the corrupting influences of what is called \"Society.\" Although\n\"Mrs. Grundy\" may be a very vulgar and commonplace personage, her\ninfluence is nevertheless prodigious. Most men, but especially women,\nare the moral slaves of the class or caste to which they belong. There\nis a sort of unconscious conspiracy existing amongst them against each\nother's individuality. Each circle and section, each rank and class, has\nits respective customs and observances, to which conformity is required\nat the risk of being tabooed. Some are immured within a bastile of\nfashion, others of custom, others of opinion; and few there are who have\nthe courage to think outside their sect, to act outside their party,\nand to step out into the free air of individual thought and action.\nWe dress, and eat, and follow fashion, though it may be at the risk of\ndebt, ruin, and misery; living not so much according to our means, as\naccording to the superstitious observances of our class. Though we may\nspeak contemptuously of the Indians who flatten their heads, and of the\nChinese who cramp their toes, we have only to look at the deformities\nof fashion amongst ourselves, to see that the reign of \"Mrs. Grundy\" is\nuniversal.\n\nBut moral cowardice is exhibited quite as much in public as in private\nlife. Snobbism is not confined to the toadying of the rich, but is quite\nas often displayed in the toadying of the poor. Formerly, sycophancy\nshowed itself in not daring to speak the truth to those in high places;\nbut in these days it rather shows itself in not daring to speak the\ntruth to those in low places. Now that \"the masses\" [146] exercise\npolitical power, there is a growing tendency to fawn upon them, to\nflatter them, and to speak nothing but smooth words to them. They are\ncredited with virtues which they themselves know they do not possess.\nThe public enunciation of wholesome because disagreeable truths is\navoided; and, to win their favour, sympathy is often pretended for\nviews, the carrying out of which in practice is known to be hopeless.\n\nIt is not the man of the noblest character--the highest-cultured and\nbest-conditioned man--whose favour is now sought, so much as that of the\nlowest man, the least-cultured and worst-conditioned man, because his\nvote is usually that of the majority. Even men of rank, wealth, and\neducation, are seen prostrating themselves before the ignorant, whose\nvotes are thus to be got. They are ready to be unprincipled and unjust\nrather than unpopular. It is so much easier for some men to stoop, to\nbow, and to flatter, than to be manly, resolute, and magnanimous; and to\nyield to prejudices than run counter to them. It requires strength and\ncourage to swim against the stream, while any dead fish can float with\nit.\n\nThis servile pandering to popularity has been rapidly on the increase of\nlate years, and its tendency has been to lower and degrade the character\nof public men. Consciences have become more elastic. There is now one\nopinion for the chamber, and another for the platform. Prejudices\nare pandered to in public, which in private are despised. Pretended\nconversions--which invariably jump with party interests are more sudden;\nand even hypocrisy now appears to be scarcely thought discreditable.\n\nThe same moral cowardice extends downwards as well as upwards. The\naction and reaction are equal. Hypocrisy and timeserving above are\naccompanied by hypocrisy and timeserving below. Where men of high\nstanding have not the courage of their opinions, what is to be expected\nfrom men of low standing? They will only follow such examples as are set\nbefore them. They too will skulk, and dodge, and prevaricate--be ready\nto speak one way and act another--just like their betters. Give them\nbut a sealed box, or some hole-and-corner to hide their act in, and they\nwill then enjoy their \"liberty!\"\n\nPopularity, as won in these days, is by no means a presumption in a\nman's favour, but is quite as often a presumption against him. \"No man,\"\nsays the Russian proverb, \"can rise to honour who is cursed with a stiff\nbackbone.\" But the backbone of the popularity-hunter is of gristle; and\nhe has no difficulty in stooping and bending himself in any direction to\ncatch the breath of popular applause.\n\nWhere popularity is won by fawning upon the people, by withholding the\ntruth from them, by writing and speaking down to the lowest tastes, and\nstill worse by appeals to class-hatred, [147] such a popularity must be\nsimply contemptible in the sight of all honest men. Jeremy Bentham,\nspeaking of a well-known public character, said: \"His creed of politics\nresults less from love of the many than from hatred of the few; it is\ntoo much under the influence of selfish and dissocial affection.\" To how\nmany men in our own day might not the same description apply?\n\nMen of sterling character have the courage to speak the truth, even when\nit is unpopular. It was said of Colonel Hutchinson by his wife, that he\nnever sought after popular applause, or prided himself on it: \"He\nmore delighted to do well than to be praised, and never set vulgar\ncommendations at such a rate as to act contrary to his own conscience or\nreason for the obtaining them; nor would he forbear a good action which\nhe was bound to, though all the world disliked it; for he ever looked\non things as they were in themselves, not through the dim spectacles of\nvulgar estimation.\" [148]\n\n\"Popularity, in the lowest and most common sense,\" said Sir John\nPakington, on a recent occasion, [149] \"is not worth the having. Do\nyour duty to the best of your power, win the approbation of your own\nconscience, and popularity, in its best and highest sense, is sure to\nfollow.\"\n\nWhen Richard Lovell Edgeworth, towards the close of his life, became\nvery popular in his neighbourhood, he said one day to his daughter:\n\"Maria, I am growing dreadfully popular; I shall be good for nothing\nsoon; a man cannot be good for anything who is very popular.\" Probably\nhe had in his mind at the time the Gospel curse of the popular man, \"Woe\nunto you, when all men shall speak well of you! for so did their fathers\nto the false prophets.\"\n\nIntellectual intrepidity is one of the vital conditions of independence\nand self-reliance of character. A man must have the courage to be\nhimself, and not the shadow or the echo of another. He must exercise\nhis own powers, think his own thoughts, and speak his own sentiments.\nHe must elaborate his own opinions, and form his own convictions. It has\nbeen said that he who dare not form an opinion, must be a coward; he who\nwill not, must be an idler; he who cannot, must be a fool.\n\nBut it is precisely in this element of intrepidity that so many persons\nof promise fall short, and disappoint the expectations of their friends.\nThey march up to the scene of action, but at every step their courage\noozes out. They want the requisite decision, courage, and perseverance.\nThey calculate the risks, and weigh the chances, until the opportunity\nfor effective effort has passed, it may be never to return.\n\nMen are bound to speak the truth in the love of it. \"I had rather\nsuffer,\" said John Pym, the Commonwealth man, \"for speaking the truth,\nthan that the truth should suffer for want of my speaking.\" When a man's\nconvictions are honestly formed, after fair and full consideration, he\nis justified in striving by all fair means to bring them into action.\nThere are certain states of society and conditions of affairs in which\na man is bound to speak out, and be antagonistic--when conformity is not\nonly a weakness, but a sin. Great evils are in some cases only to be met\nby resistance; they cannot be wept down, but must be battled down.\n\nThe honest man is naturally antagonistic to fraud, the truthful man to\nlying, the justice-loving man to oppression, the pureminded man to\nvice and iniquity. They have to do battle with these conditions, and if\npossible overcome them. Such men have in all ages represented the moral\nforce of the world. Inspired by benevolence and sustained by courage,\nthey have been the mainstays of all social renovation and progress. But\nfor their continuous antagonism to evil conditions, the world were for\nthe most part given over to the dominion of selfishness and vice.\nAll the great reformers and martyrs were antagonistic men--enemies to\nfalsehood and evildoing. The Apostles themselves were an organised\nband of social antagonists, who contended with pride, selfishness,\nsuperstition, and irreligion. And in our own time the lives of such\nmen as Clarkson and Granville Sharpe, Father Mathew and Richard Cobden,\ninspired by singleness of purpose, have shown what highminded social\nantagonism can effect.\n\nIt is the strong and courageous men who lead and guide and rule the\nworld. The weak and timid leave no trace behind them; whilst the life of\na single upright and energetic man is like a track of light. His example\nis remembered and appealed to; and his thoughts, his spirit, and his\ncourage continue to be the inspiration of succeeding generations.\n\nIt is energy--the central element of which is will--that produces the\nmiracles of enthusiasm in all ages. Everywhere it is the mainspring of\nwhat is called force of character, and the sustaining power of all great\naction. In a righteous cause the determined man stands upon his courage\nas upon a granite block; and, like David, he will go forth to meet\nGoliath, strong in heart though an host be encamped against him.\n\nMen often conquer difficulties because they feel they can. Their\nconfidence in themselves inspires the confidence of others. When Caesar\nwas at sea, and a storm began to rage, the captain of the ship which\ncarried him became unmanned by fear. \"What art thou afraid of?\" cried\nthe great captain; \"thy vessel carries Caesar!\" The courage of the brave\nman is contagious, and carries others along with it. His stronger nature\nawes weaker natures into silence, or inspires them with his own will and\npurpose.\n\nThe persistent man will not be baffled or repulsed by opposition.\nDiogenes, desirous of becoming the disciple of Antisthenes, went and\noffered himself to the cynic. He was refused. Diogenes still persisting,\nthe cynic raised his knotty staff, and threatened to strike him if he\ndid not depart. \"Strike!\" said Diogenes; \"you will not find a stick\nhard enough to conquer my perseverance.\" Antisthenes, overcome, had not\nanother word to say, but forthwith accepted him as his pupil.\n\nEnergy of temperament, with a moderate degree of wisdom, will carry a\nman further than any amount of intellect without it. Energy makes the\nman of practical ability. It gives him VIS, force, MOMENTUM. It is the\nactive motive power of character; and if combined with sagacity and\nself-possession, will enable a man to employ his powers to the best\nadvantage in all the affairs of life.\n\nHence it is that, inspired by energy of purpose, men of comparatively\nmediocre powers have often been enabled to accomplish such extraordinary\nresults. For the men who have most powerfully influenced the world have\nnot been so much men of genius as men of strong convictions and enduring\ncapacity for work, impelled by irresistible energy and invincible\ndetermination: such men, for example, as were Mahomet, Luther, Knox,\nCalvin, Loyola, and Wesley.\n\nCourage, combined with energy and perseverance, will overcome\ndifficulties apparently insurmountable. It gives force and impulse to\neffort, and does not permit it to retreat. Tyndall said of Faraday, that\n\"in his warm moments he formed a resolution, and in his cool ones\nhe made that resolution good.\" Perseverance, working in the right\ndirection, grows with time, and when steadily practised, even by the\nmost humble, will rarely fail of its reward. Trusting in the help of\nothers is of comparatively little use. When one of Michael Angelo's\nprincipal patrons died, he said: \"I begin to understand that the\npromises of the world are for the most part vain phantoms, and that to\nconfide in one's self, and become something of worth and value, is the\nbest and safest course.\"\n\nCourage is by no means incompatible with tenderness. On the contrary,\ngentleness and tenderness have been found to characterise the men,\nnot less than the women, who have done the most courageous deeds. Sir\nCharles Napier gave up sporting, because he could not bear to hurt dumb\ncreatures. The same gentleness and tenderness characterised his brother,\nSir William, the historian of the Peninsular War. [1410] Such also was the\ncharacter of Sir James Outram, pronounced by Sir Charles Napier to be\n\"the Bayard of India, SANS PEUR ET SANS REPROCHE\"--one of the bravest\nand yet gentlest of men; respectful and reverent to women, tender to\nchildren, helpful of the weak, stern to the corrupt, but kindly as\nsummer to the honest and deserving. Moreover, he was himself as honest\nas day, and as pure as virtue. Of him it might be said with truth, what\nFulke Greville said of Sidney: \"He was a true model of worth--a man\nfit for conquest, reformation, plantation, or what action soever is the\ngreatest and hardest among men; his chief ends withal being above all\nthings the good of his fellows, and the service of his sovereign and\ncountry.\"\n\nWhen Edward the Black Prince won the Battle of Poictiers, in which he\ntook prisoner the French king and his son, he entertained them in the\nevening at a banquet, when he insisted on waiting upon and serving them\nat table. The gallant prince's knightly courtesy and demeanour won\nthe hearts of his captives as completely as his valour had won their\npersons; for, notwithstanding his youth, Edward was a true knight, the\nfirst and bravest of his time--a noble pattern and example of chivalry;\nhis two mottoes, 'Hochmuth' and 'Ich dien' [14high spirit and reverent\nservice] not inaptly expressing his prominent and pervading qualities.\n\nIt is the courageous man who can best afford to be generous; or rather,\nit is his nature to be so. When Fairfax, at the Battle of Naseby, seized\nthe colours from an ensign whom he had struck down in the fight, he\nhanded them to a common soldier to take care of. The soldier, unable\nto resist the temptation, boasted to his comrades that he had himself\nseized the colours, and the boast was repeated to Fairfax. \"Let him\nretain the honour,\" said the commander; \"I have enough beside.\"\n\nSo when Douglas, at the Battle of Bannockburn, saw Randolph, his rival,\noutnumbered and apparently overpowered by the enemy, he prepared to\nhasten to his assistance; but, seeing that Randolph was already driving\nthem back, he cried out, \"Hold and halt! We are come too late to aid\nthem; let us not lessen the victory they have won by affecting to claim\na share in it.\"\n\nQuite as chivalrous, though in a very different field of action, was the\nconduct of Laplace to the young philosopher Biot, when the latter had\nread to the French Academy his paper, \"SUR LES EQUATIONS AUX DIFFERENCE\nMELEES.\" The assembled SAVANS, at its close, felicitated the reader\nof the paper on his originality. Monge was delighted at his success.\nLaplace also praised him for the clearness of his demonstrations, and\ninvited Biot to accompany him home. Arrived there, Laplace took from a\ncloset in his study a paper, yellow with age, and handed it to the\nyoung philosopher. To Biot's surprise, he found that it contained\nthe solutions, all worked out, for which he had just gained so much\napplause. With rare magnanimity, Laplace withheld all knowledge of the\ncircumstance from Biot until the latter had initiated his reputation\nbefore the Academy; moreover, he enjoined him to silence; and the\nincident would have remained a secret had not Biot himself published it,\nsome fifty years afterwards.\n\nAn incident is related of a French artisan, exhibiting the same\ncharacteristic of self-sacrifice in another form. In front of a lofty\nhouse in course of erection at Paris was the usual scaffold, loaded with\nmen and materials. The scaffold, being too weak, suddenly broke down,\nand the men upon it were precipitated to the ground--all except two, a\nyoung man and a middle-aged one, who hung on to a narrow ledge, which\ntrembled under their weight, and was evidently on the point of giving\nway. \"Pierre,\" cried the elder of the two, \"let go; I am the father of a\nfamily.\" \"C'EST JUSTE!\" said Pierre; and, instantly letting go his hold,\nhe fell and was killed on the spot. The father of the family was saved.\n\nThe brave man is magnanimous as well as gentle. He does not take even an\nenemy at a disadvantage, nor strike a man when he is down and unable\nto defend himself. Even in the midst of deadly strife such instances\nof generosity have not been uncommon. Thus, at the Battle of Dettingen,\nduring the heat of the action, a squadron of French cavalry charged an\nEnglish regiment; but when the young French officer who led them, and\nwas about to attack the English leader, observed that he had only\none arm, with which he held his bridle, the Frenchman saluted him\ncourteously with his sword, and passed on. [1411]\n\nIt is related of Charles V., that after the siege and capture of\nWittenburg by the Imperialist army, the monarch went to see the tomb\nof Luther. While reading the inscription on it, one of the servile\ncourtiers who accompanied him proposed to open the grave, and give the\nashes of the \"heretic\" to the winds. The monarch's cheek flushed with\nhonest indignation: \"I war not with the dead,\" said he; \"let this place\nbe respected.\"\n\nThe portrait which the great heathen, Aristotle, drew of the Magnanimous\nMan, in other words the True Gentleman, more than two thousand years\nago, is as faithful now as it was then. \"The magnanimous man,\" he said,\n\"will behave with moderation under both good fortune and bad. He\nwill know how to be exalted and how to be abased. He will neither be\ndelighted with success nor grieved by failure. He will neither shun\ndanger nor seek it, for there are few things which he cares for. He is\nreticent, and somewhat slow of speech, but speaks his mind openly and\nboldly when occasion calls for it. He is apt to admire, for nothing\nis great to him. He overlooks injuries. He is not given to talk about\nhimself or about others; for he does not care that he himself should\nbe praised, or that other people should be blamed. He does not cry out\nabout trifles, and craves help from none.\"\n\nOn the other hand, mean men admire meanly. They have neither modesty,\ngenerosity, nor magnanimity. They are ready to take advantage of the\nweakness or defencelessness of others, especially where they have\nthemselves succeeded, by unscrupulous methods, in climbing to positions\nof authority. Snobs in high places are always much less tolerable than\nsnobs of low degree, because they have more frequent opportunities of\nmaking their want of manliness felt. They assume greater airs, and are\npretentious in all that they do; and the higher their elevation, the\nmore conspicuous is the incongruity of their position. \"The higher the\nmonkey climbs,\" says the proverb, \"the more he shows his tail.\"\n\nMuch depends on the way in which a thing is done. An act which might\nbe taken as a kindness if done in a generous spirit, when done in a\ngrudging spirit, may be felt as stingy, if not harsh and even cruel.\nWhen Ben Jonson lay sick and in poverty, the king sent him a paltry\nmessage, accompanied by a gratuity. The sturdy plainspoken poet's reply\nwas: \"I suppose he sends me this because I live in an alley; tell him\nhis soul lives in an alley.\"\n\nFrom what we have said, it will be obvious that to be of an enduring and\ncourageous spirit, is of great importance in the formation of character.\nIt is a source not only of usefulness in life, but of happiness. On the\nother hand, to be of a timid and, still more, of a cowardly nature is\none of the greatest misfortunes. A. wise man was accustomed to say that\none of the principal objects he aimed at in the education of his sons\nand daughters was to train them in the habit of fearing nothing so much\nas fear. And the habit of avoiding fear is, doubtless, capable of\nbeing trained like any other habit, such as the habit of attention, of\ndiligence, of study, or of cheerfulness.\n\nMuch of the fear that exists is the offspring of imagination, which\ncreates the images of evils which MAY happen, but perhaps rarely do;\nand thus many persons who are capable of summoning up courage to\ngrapple with and overcome real dangers, are paralysed or thrown\ninto consternation by those which are imaginary. Hence, unless the\nimagination be held under strict discipline, we are prone to meet evils\nmore than halfway--to suffer them by forestalment, and to assume the\nburdens which we ourselves create.\n\nEducation in courage is not usually included amongst the branches of\nfemale training, and yet it is really of greater importance than either\nmusic, French, or the use of the globes. Contrary to the view of Sir\nRichard Steele, that women should be characterised by a \"tender fear,\"\nand \"an inferiority which makes her lovely,\" we would have women\neducated in resolution and courage, as a means of rendering them more\nhelpful, more self-reliant, and vastly more useful and happy.\n\nThere is, indeed, nothing attractive in timidity, nothing loveable in\nfear. All weakness, whether of mind or body, is equivalent to deformity,\nand the reverse of interesting. Courage is graceful and dignified,\nwhilst fear, in any form, is mean and repulsive. Yet the utmost\ntenderness and gentleness are consistent with courage. Ary Scheffer, the\nartist, once wrote to his daughter:-\"Dear daughter, strive to be of good\ncourage, to be gentle-hearted; these are the true qualities for woman.\n'Troubles' everybody must expect. There is but one way of looking at\nfate--whatever that be, whether blessings or afflictions--to behave with\ndignity under both. We must not lose heart, or it will be the worse both\nfor ourselves and for those whom we love. To struggle, and again and\nagain to renew the conflict--THIS is life's inheritance.\" [1412]\n\nIn sickness and sorrow, none are braver and less complaining sufferers\nthan women. Their courage, where their hearts are concerned, is indeed\nproverbial:\n\n      \"Oh! femmes c'est a tort qu'on vous nommes timides,\n      A la voix de vos coeurs vous etes intrepides.\"\n\nExperience has proved that women can be as enduring as men, under the\nheaviest trials and calamities; but too little pains are taken to teach\nthem to endure petty terrors and frivolous vexations with fortitude.\nSuch little miseries, if petted and indulged, quickly run into sickly\nsensibility, and become the bane of their life, keeping themselves and\nthose about them in a state of chronic discomfort.\n\nThe best corrective of this condition of mind is wholesome moral and\nmental discipline. Mental strength is as necessary for the development\nof woman's character as of man's. It gives her capacity to deal with\nthe affairs of life, and presence of mind, which enable her to act with\nvigour and effect in moments of emergency. Character, in a woman, as in\na man, will always be found the best safeguard of virtue, the best nurse\nof religion, the best corrective of Time. Personal beauty soon passes;\nbut beauty of mind and character increases in attractiveness the older\nit grows.\n\nBen Jonson gives a striking portraiture of a noble woman in these\nlines:--\n\n   \"I meant she should be courteous, facile, sweet,\n      Free from that solemn vice of greatness, pride;\n    I meant each softed virtue there should meet,\n      Fit in that softer bosom to abide.\n    Only a learned and a manly soul,\n      I purposed her, that should with even powers,\n    The rock, the spindle, and the shears control\n      Of destiny, and spin her own free hours.\"\n\nThe courage of woman is not the less true because it is for the most\npart passive. It is not encouraged by the cheers of the world, for it is\nmostly exhibited in the recesses of private life. Yet there are cases\nof heroic patience and endurance on the part of women which occasionally\ncome to the light of day. One of the most celebrated instances in\nhistory is that of Gertrude Von der Wart. Her husband, falsely accused\nof being an accomplice in the murder of the Emperor Albert, was\ncondemned to the most frightful of all punishments--to be broken alive\non the wheel. With most profound conviction of her husband's innocence\nthe faithful woman stood by his side to the last, watching over\nhim during two days and nights, braving the empress's anger and the\ninclemency of the weather, in the hope of contributing to soothe his\ndying agonies. [1413]\n\nBut women have not only distinguished themselves for their passive\ncourage: impelled by affection, or the sense of duty, they have\noccasionally become heroic. When the band of conspirators, who sought\nthe life of James II. of Scotland, burst into his lodgings at Perth, the\nking called to the ladies, who were in the chamber outside his room, to\nkeep the door as well as they could, and give him time to escape. The\nconspirators had previously destroyed the locks of the doors, so\nthat the keys could not be turned; and when they reached the ladies'\napartment, it was found that the bar also had been removed. But, on\nhearing them approach, the brave Catherine Douglas, with the hereditary\ncourage of her family, boldly thrust her arm across the door instead of\nthe bar; and held it there until, her arm being broken, the conspirators\nburst into the room with drawn swords and daggers, overthrowing the\nladies, who, though unarmed, still endeavoured to resist them.\n\nThe defence of Lathom House by Charlotte de la Tremouille, the worthy\ndescendant of William of Nassau and Admiral Coligny, was another\nstriking instance of heroic bravery on the part of a noble woman. When\nsummoned by the Parliamentary forces to surrender, she declared that\nshe had been entrusted by her husband with the defence of the house,\nand that she could not give it up without her dear lord's orders, but\ntrusted in God for protection and deliverance. In her arrangements for\nthe defence, she is described as having \"left nothing with her eye to\nbe excused afterwards by fortune or negligence, and added to her former\npatience a most resolved fortitude.\" The brave lady held her house and\nhome good against the enemy for a whole year--during three months of\nwhich the place was strictly besieged and bombarded--until at length the\nsiege was raised, after a most gallant defence, by the advance of the\nRoyalist army.\n\nNor can we forget the courage of Lady Franklin, who persevered to the\nlast, when the hopes of all others had died out, in prosecuting the\nsearch after the Franklin Expedition. On the occasion of the Royal\nGeographical Society determining to award the Founder's Medal to Lady\nFranklin, Sir Roderick Murchison observed, that in the course of a long\nfriendship with her, he had abundant opportunities of observing and\ntesting the sterling qualities of a woman who had proved herself worthy\nof the admiration of mankind. \"Nothing daunted by failure after failure,\nthrough twelve long years of hope deferred, she had persevered, with\na singleness of purpose and a sincere devotion which were truly\nunparalleled. And now that her one last expedition of the FOX, under the\ngallant M'Clintock, had realised the two great facts--that her husband\nhad traversed wide seas unknown to former navigators, and died in\ndiscovering a north-west passage--then, surely, the adjudication of the\nmedal would be hailed by the nation as one of the many recompences to\nwhich the widow of the illustrious Franklin was so eminently entitled.\"\n\nBut that devotion to duty which marks the heroic character has more\noften been exhibited by women in deeds of charity and mercy. The greater\npart of these are never known, for they are done in private, out of the\npublic sight, and for the mere love of doing good. Where fame has come\nto them, because of the success which has attended their labours in a\nmore general sphere, it has come unsought and unexpected, and is often\nfelt as a burden. Who has not heard of Mrs. Fry and Miss Carpenter\nas prison visitors and reformers; of Mrs. Chisholm and Miss Rye as\npromoters of emigration; and of Miss Nightingale and Miss Garrett as\napostles of hospital nursing?\n\nThat these women should have emerged from the sphere of private and\ndomestic life to become leaders in philanthropy, indicates no small,\ndegree of moral courage on their part; for to women, above all others,\nquiet and ease and retirement are most natural and welcome. Very few\nwomen step beyond the boundaries of home in search of a larger field of\nusefulness. But when they have desired one, they have had no difficulty\nin finding it. The ways in which men and women can help their neighbours\nare innumerable. It needs but the willing heart and ready hand. Most\nof the philanthropic workers we have named, however, have scarcely been\ninfluenced by choice. The duty lay in their way--it seemed to be the\nnearest to them--and they set about doing it without desire for fame, or\nany other reward but the approval of their own conscience.\n\nAmong prison-visitors, the name of Sarah Martin is much less known than\nthat of Mrs. Fry, although she preceded her in the work. How she was led\nto undertake it, furnishes at the same time an illustration of womanly\ntrueheartedness and earnest womanly courage.\n\nSarah Martin was the daughter of poor parents, and was left an orphan\nat an early age. She was brought up by her grandmother, at Caistor,\nnear Yarmouth, and earned her living by going out to families as\nassistant-dressmaker, at a shilling a day. In 1819, a woman was tried\nand sentenced to imprisonment in Yarmouth Gaol, for cruelly beating and\nillusing her child, and her crime became the talk of the town. The young\ndressmaker was much impressed by the report of the trial, and the desire\nentered her mind of visiting the woman in gaol, and trying to reclaim\nher. She had often before, on passing the walls of the borough gaol,\nfelt impelled to seek admission, with the object of visiting the\ninmates, reading the Scriptures to them, and endeavouring to lead them\nback to the society whose laws they had violated.\n\nAt length she could not resist her impulse to visit the mother. She\nentered the gaol-porch, lifted the knocker, and asked the gaoler for\nadmission. For some reason or other she was refused; but she returned,\nrepeated her request, and this time she was admitted. The culprit mother\nshortly stood before her. When Sarah Martin told the motive of her\nvisit, the criminal burst into tears, and thanked her. Those tears and\nthanks shaped the whole course of Sarah Martin's after-life; and the\npoor seamstress, while maintaining herself by her needle, continued to\nspend her leisure hours in visiting the prisoners, and endeavouring to\nalleviate their condition. She constituted herself their chaplain and\nschoolmistress, for at that time they had neither; she read to them from\nthe Scriptures, and taught them to read and write. She gave up an entire\nday in the week for this purpose, besides Sundays, as well as other\nintervals of spare time, \"feeling,\" she says, \"that the blessing of God\nwas upon her.\" She taught the women to knit, to sew, and to cut out;\nthe sale of the articles enabling her to buy other materials, and to\ncontinue the industrial education thus begun. She also taught the men\nto make straw hats, men's and boys' caps, gray cotton shirts, and even\npatchwork--anything to keep them out of idleness, and from preying on\ntheir own thoughts. Out of the earnings of the prisoners in this way,\nshe formed a fund, which she applied to furnishing them with work on\ntheir discharge; thus enabling them again to begin the world honestly,\nand at the same time affording her, as she herself says, \"the advantage\nof observing their conduct.\"\n\nBy attending too exclusively to this prison-work, however, Sarah\nMartin's dressmaking business fell off; and the question arose with\nher, whether in order to recover her business she was to suspend her\nprison-work. But her decision had already been made. \"I had counted the\ncost,\" she said, \"and my mind, was made up. If, whilst imparting\ntruth to others, I became exposed to temporal want, the privations so\nmomentary to an individual would not admit of comparison with following\nthe Lord, in thus administering to others.\" She now devoted six or seven\nhours every day to the prisoners, converting what would otherwise have\nbeen a scene of dissolute idleness into a hive of orderly industry.\nNewly-admitted prisoners were sometimes refractory, but her persistent\ngentleness eventually won their respect and co-operation. Men old in\nyears and crime, pert London pickpockets, depraved boys and dissolute\nsailors, profligate women, smugglers, poachers, and the promiscuous\nhorde of criminals which usually fill the gaol of a seaport and county\ntown, all submitted to the benign influence of this good woman; and\nunder her eyes they might be seen, for the first time in their lives,\nstriving to hold a pen, or to master the characters in a penny primer.\nShe entered into their confidences--watched, wept, prayed, and felt\nfor all by turns. She strengthened their good resolutions, cheered the\nhopeless and despairing, and endeavoured to put all, and hold all, in\nthe right road of amendment.\n\nFor more than twenty years this good and truehearted woman pursued her\nnoble course, with little encouragement, and not much help; almost\nher only means of subsistence consisting in an annual income of ten or\ntwelve pounds left by her grandmother, eked out by her little earnings\nat dressmaking. During the last two years of her ministrations, the\nborough magistrates of Yarmouth, knowing that her self-imposed labours\nsaved them the expense of a schoolmaster and chaplain [14which they had\nbecome bound by law to appoint], made a proposal to her of an annual\nsalary of 12L. a year; but they did it in so indelicate a manner as\ngreatly to wound her sensitive feelings. She shrank from becoming the\nsalaried official of the corporation, and bartering for money those\nserviced which had throughout been labours of love. But the Gaol\nCommittee coarsely informed her, \"that if they permitted her to visit\nthe prison she must submit to their terms, or be excluded.\" For\ntwo years, therefore, she received the salary of 12L. a year--the\nacknowledgment of the Yarmouth corporation for her services as gaol\nchaplain and schoolmistress! She was now, however, becoming old and\ninfirm, and the unhealthy atmosphere of the gaol did much towards\nfinally disabling her. While she lay on her deathbed, she resumed\nthe exercise of a talent she had occasionally practised before in her\nmoments of leisure--the composition of sacred poetry. As works of art,\nthey may not excite admiration; yet never were verses written truer in\nspirit, or fuller of Christian love. But her own life was a nobler poem\nthan any she ever wrote--full of true courage, perseverance, charity,\nand wisdom. It was indeed a commentary upon her own words:\n\n      \"The high desire that others may be blest\n       Savours of heaven.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI.--SELF-CONTROL.\n\n\n     \"Honour and profit do not always lie in the same sack.\"--\n     GEORGE HERBERT.\n\n     \"The government of one's self is the only true freedom for\n     the Individual.\"--FREDERICK PERTHES.\n\n     \"It is in length of patience, and endurance, and\n     forbearance, that so much of what is good in mankind and\n     womankind is shown.\"--ARTHUR HELPS.\n\n                      \"Temperance, proof\n      Against all trials; industry severe\n      And constant as the motion of the day;\n      Stern self-denial round him spread, with shade\n      That might be deemed forbidding, did not there\n      All generous feelings flourish and rejoice;\n      Forbearance, charity indeed and thought,\n      And resolution competent to take\n      Out of the bosom of simplicity\n      All that her holy customs recommend.\"--WORDSWORTH.\n\n\nSelf-control is only courage under another form. It may almost be\nregarded as the primary essence of character. It is in virtue of this\nquality that Shakspeare defines man as a being \"looking before and\nafter.\" It forms the chief distinction between man and the mere animal;\nand, indeed, there can be no true manhood without it.\n\nSelf-control is at the root of all the virtues. Let a man give the reins\nto his impulses and passions, and from that moment he yields up his\nmoral freedom. He is carried along the current of life, and becomes the\nslave of his strongest desire for the time being.\n\nTo be morally free--to be more than an animal--man must be able to\nresist instinctive impulse, and this can only be done by the exercise\nof self-control. Thus it is this power which constitutes the real\ndistinction between a physical and a moral life, and that forms the\nprimary basis of individual character.\n\nIn the Bible praise is given, not to the strong man who \"taketh a city,\"\nbut to the stronger man who \"ruleth his own spirit.\" This stronger\nman is he who, by discipline, exercises a constant control over his\nthoughts, his speech, and his acts. Nine-tenths of the vicious desires\nthat degrade society, and which, when indulged, swell into the crimes\nthat disgrace it, would shrink into insignificance before the advance of\nvaliant self-discipline, self-respect, and self-control. By the watchful\nexercise of these virtues, purity of heart and mind become habitual, and\nthe character is built up in chastity, virtue, and temperance.\n\nThe best support of character will always be found in habit, which,\naccording as the will is directed rightly or wrongly, as the case may\nbe, will prove either a benignant ruler or a cruel despot. We may be its\nwilling subject on the one hand, or its servile slave on the other. It\nmay help us on the road to good, or it may hurry us on the road to ruin.\n\nHabit is formed by careful training. And it is astonishing how much\ncan be accomplished by systematic discipline and drill. See how, for\ninstance, out of the most unpromising materials--such as roughs\npicked up in the streets, or raw unkempt country lads taken from the\nplough--steady discipline and drill will bring out the unsuspected\nqualities of courage, endurance, and self-sacrifice; and how, in the\nfield of battle, or even on the more trying occasions of perils\nby sea--such as the burning of the SARAH SANDS or the wreck of\nthe BIRKENHEAD--such men, carefully disciplined, will exhibit the\nunmistakable characteristics of true bravery and heroism!\n\nNor is moral discipline and drill less influential in the formation of\ncharacter. Without it, there will be no proper system and order in the\nregulation of the life. Upon it depends the cultivation of the sense of\nself-respect, the education of the habit of obedience, the development\nof the idea of duty. The most self-reliant, self-governing man is always\nunder discipline: and the more perfect the discipline, the higher will\nbe his moral condition. He has to drill his desires, and keep them in\nsubjection to the higher powers of his nature. They must obey the word\nof command of the internal monitor, the conscience--otherwise they will\nbe but the mere slaves of their inclinations, the sport of feeling and\nimpulse.\n\n\"In the supremacy of self-control,\" says Herbert Spencer, \"consists\none of the perfections of the ideal man. Not to be impulsive--not to\nbe spurred hither and thither by each desire that in turn comes\nuppermost--but to be self-restrained, self-balanced, governed by the\njoint decision of the feelings in council assembled, before whom every\naction shall have been fully debated and calmly determined--that it is\nwhich education, moral education at least, strives to produce.\" [151]\n\nThe first seminary of moral discipline, and the best, as we have already\nshown, is the home; next comes the school, and after that the world, the\ngreat school of practical life. Each is preparatory to the other, and\nwhat the man or woman becomes, depends for the most part upon what has\ngone before. If they have enjoyed the advantage of neither the home nor\nthe school, but have been allowed to grow up untrained, untaught, and\nundisciplined, then woe to themselves--woe to the society of which they\nform part!\n\nThe best-regulated home is always that in which the discipline is the\nmost perfect, and yet where it is the least felt. Moral discipline acts\nwith the force of a law of nature. Those subject to it yield themselves\nto it unconsciously; and though it shapes and forms the whole character,\nuntil the life becomes crystallized in habit, the influence thus\nexercised is for the most part unseen and almost unfelt.\n\nThe importance of strict domestic discipline is curiously illustrated\nby a fact mentioned in Mrs. Schimmelpenninck's Memoirs, to the following\neffect: that a lady who, with her husband, had inspected most of the\nlunatic asylums of England and the Continent, found the most numerous\nclass of patients was almost always composed of those who had been\nonly children, and whose wills had therefore rarely been thwarted\nor disciplined in early life; whilst those who were members of large\nfamilies, and who had been trained in self-discipline, were far less\nfrequent victims to the malady.\n\nAlthough the moral character depends in a great degree on temperament\nand on physical health, as well as on domestic and early training and\nthe example of companions, it is also in the power of each individual to\nregulate, to restrain, and to discipline it by watchful and persevering\nself-control. A competent teacher has said of the propensities and\nhabits, that they are as teachable as Latin and Greek, while they are\nmuch more essential to happiness.\n\nDr. Johnson, though himself constitutionally prone to melancholy, and\nafflicted by it as few have been from his earliest years, said that \"a\nman's being in a good or bad humour very much depends upon his will.\"\nWe may train ourselves in a habit of patience and contentment on the\none hand, or of grumbling and discontent on the other. We may accustom\nourselves to exaggerate small evils, and to underestimate great\nblessings. We may even become the victim of petty miseries by giving way\nto them. Thus, we may educate ourselves in a happy disposition, as well\nas in a morbid one. Indeed, the habit of viewing things cheerfully, and\nof thinking about life hopefully, may be made to grow up in us like any\nother habit. [152] It was not an exaggerated estimate of Dr. Johnson to\nsay, that the habit of looking at the best side of any event is worth\nfar more than a thousand pounds a year.\n\nThe religious man's life is pervaded by rigid self-discipline and\nself-restraint. He is to be sober and vigilant, to eschew evil and do\ngood, to walk in the spirit, to be obedient unto death, to withstand\nin the evil day, and having done all, to stand; to wrestle against\nspiritual wickedness, and against the rulers of the darkness of this\nworld; to be rooted and built up in faith, and not to be weary of\nwell-doing; for in due season he shall reap, if he faint not.\n\nThe man of business also must needs be subject to strict rule and\nsystem. Business, like life, is managed by moral leverage; success in\nboth depending in no small degree upon that regulation of temper and\ncareful self-discipline, which give a wise man not only a command over\nhimself, but over others. Forbearance and self-control smooth the road\nof life, and open many ways which would otherwise remain closed. And so\ndoes self-respect: for as men respect themselves, so will they usually\nrespect the personality of others.\n\nIt is the same in politics as in business. Success in that sphere of\nlife is achieved less by talent than by temper, less by genius than by\ncharacter. If a man have not self-control, he will lack patience, be\nwanting in tact, and have neither the power of governing himself nor of\nmanaging others. When the quality most needed in a Prime Minister was\nthe subject of conversation in the presence of Mr. Pitt, one of the\nspeakers said it was \"Eloquence;\" another said it was \"Knowledge;\" and\na third said it was \"Toil,\" \"No,\" said Pitt, \"it is Patience!\" And\npatience means self-control, a quality in which he himself was superb.\nHis friend George Rose has said of him that he never once saw Pitt out\nof temper. [153] Yet, although patience is usually regarded as a \"slow\"\nvirtue, Pitt combined with it the most extraordinary readiness, vigour,\nand rapidity of thought as well as action.\n\nIt is by patience and self-control that the truly heroic character is\nperfected. These were among the most prominent characteristics of the\ngreat Hampden, whose noble qualities were generously acknowledged even\nby his political enemies. Thus Clarendon described him as a man of rare\ntemper and modesty, naturally cheerful and vivacious, and above all, of\na flowing courtesy. He was kind and intrepid, yet gentle, of unblameable\nconversation, and his heart glowed with love to all men. He was not a\nman of many words, but, being of unimpeachable character, every word\nhe uttered carried weight. \"No man had ever a greater power over\nhimself.... He was very temperate in diet, and a supreme governor over\nall his passions and affections; and he had thereby great power over\nother men's.\" Sir Philip Warwick, another of his political opponents,\nincidentally describes his great influence in a certain debate: \"We had\ncatched at each other's locks, and sheathed our swords in each other's\nbowels, had not the sagacity and great calmness of Mr. Hampden, by a\nshort speech, prevented it, and led us to defer our angry debate until\nthe next morning.\"\n\nA strong temper is not necessarily a bad temper. But the stronger the\ntemper, the greater is the need of self-discipline and self-control.\nDr. Johnson says men grow better as they grow older, and improve with\nexperience; but this depends upon the width, and depth, and generousness\nof their nature. It is not men's faults that ruin them so much as the\nmanner in which they conduct themselves after the faults have been\ncommitted. The wise will profit by the suffering they cause, and eschew\nthem for the future; but there are those on whom experience exerts no\nripening influence, and who only grow narrower and bitterer and more\nvicious with time.\n\nWhat is called strong temper in a young man, often indicates a large\namount of unripe energy, which will expend itself in useful work if the\nroad be fairly opened to it. It is said of Stephen Gerard, a Frenchman,\nwho pursued a remarkably successful career in the United States, that\nwhen he heard of a clerk with a strong temper, he would readily take him\ninto his employment, and set him to work in a room by himself; Gerard\nbeing of opinion that such persons were the best workers, and that their\nenergy would expend itself in work if removed from the temptation to\nquarrel.\n\nStrong temper may only mean a strong and excitable will. Uncontrolled,\nit displays itself in fitful outbreaks of passion; but controlled and\nheld in subjection--like steam pent-up within the organised mechanism\nof a steam-engine, the use of which is regulated and controlled by\nslide-valves and governors and levers--it may become a source of\nenergetic power and usefulness. Hence, some of the greatest characters\nin history have been men of strong temper, but of equally strong\ndetermination to hold their motive power under strict regulation and\ncontrol.\n\nThe famous Earl of Strafford was of an extremely choleric and passionate\nnature, and had great struggles with himself in his endeavours to\ncontrol his temper. Referring to the advice of one of his friends, old\nSecretary Cooke, who was honest enough to tell him of his weakness,\nand to caution him against indulging it, he wrote: \"You gave me a good\nlesson to be patient; and, indeed, my years and natural inclinations\ngive me heat more than enough, which, however, I trust more experience\nshall cool, and a watch over myself in time altogether overcome; in the\nmeantime, in this at least it will set forth itself more pardonable,\nbecause my earnestness shall ever be for the honour, justice, and profit\nof my master; and it is not always anger, but the misapplying of it,\nthat is the vice so blameable, and of disadvantage to those that let\nthemselves loose there-unto.\" [154]\n\nCromwell, also, is described as having been of a wayward and violent\ntemper in his youth--cross, untractable, and masterless--with a vast\nquantity of youthful energy, which exploded in a variety of youthful\nmischiefs. He even obtained the reputation of a roysterer in his native\ntown, and seemed to be rapidly going to the bad, when religion, in one\nof its most rigid forms, laid hold upon his strong nature, and subjected\nit to the iron discipline of Calvinism. An entirely new direction was\nthus given to his energy of temperament, which forced an outlet for\nitself into public life, and eventually became the dominating influence\nin England for a period of nearly twenty years.\n\nThe heroic princes of the House of Nassau were all distinguished for\nthe same qualities of self-control, self-denial, and determination of\npurpose. William the Silent was so called, not because he was a taciturn\nman--for he was an eloquent and powerful speaker where eloquence was\nnecessary--but because he was a man who could hold his tongue when it\nwas wisdom not to speak, and because he carefully kept his own counsel\nwhen to have revealed it might have been dangerous to the liberties of\nhis country. He was so gentle and conciliatory in his manner that his\nenemies even described him as timid and pusillanimous. Yet, when\nthe time for action came, his courage was heroic, his determination\nunconquerable. \"The rock in the ocean,\" says Mr. Motley, the historian\nof the Netherlands, \"tranquil amid raging billows, was the favourite\nemblem by which his friends expressed their sense of his firmness.\"\n\nMr. Motley compares William the Silent to Washington, whom he in many\nrespects resembled. The American, like the Dutch patriot, stands out\nin history as the very impersonation of dignity, bravery, purity, and\npersonal excellence. His command over his feelings, even in moments of\ngreat difficulty and danger, was such as to convey the impression,\nto those who did not know him intimately, that he was a man of inborn\ncalmness and almost impassiveness of disposition. Yet Washington was by\nnature ardent and impetuous; his mildness, gentleness, politeness, and\nconsideration for others, were the result of rigid self-control and\nunwearied self-discipline, which he diligently practised even from his\nboyhood. His biographer says of him, that \"his temperament was ardent,\nhis passions strong, and amidst the multiplied scenes of temptation\nand excitement through which he passed, it was his constant effort, and\nultimate triumph, to check the one and subdue the other.\" And again:\n\"His passions were strong, and sometimes they broke out with\nvehemence, but he had the power of checking them in an instant. Perhaps\nself-control was the most remarkable trait of his character. It was in\npart the effect of discipline; yet he seems by nature to have possessed\nthis power in a degree which has been denied to other men.\" [15*5]\n\nThe Duke of Wellington's natural temper, like that of Napoleon, was\nirritable in the extreme; and it was only by watchful self-control that\nhe was enabled to restrain it. He studied calmness and coolness in the\nmidst of danger, like any Indian chief. At Waterloo, and elsewhere,\nhe gave his orders in the most critical moments, without the slightest\nexcitement, and in a tone of voice almost more than usually subdued. [156]\n\nWordsworth the poet was, in his childhood, \"of a stiff, moody, and\nviolent temper,\" and \"perverse and obstinate in defying chastisement.\"\nWhen experience of life had disciplined his temper, he learnt to\nexercise greater self-control; but, at the same time, the qualities\nwhich distinguished him as a child were afterwards useful in enabling\nhim to defy the criticism of his enemies. Nothing was more marked\nthan Wordsworth's self-respect and self-determination, as well as his\nself-consciousness of power, at all periods of his history.\n\nHenry Martyn, the missionary, was another instance of a man in whom\nstrength of temper was only so much pent-up, unripe energy. As a boy he\nwas impatient, petulant, and perverse; but by constant wrestling against\nhis tendency to wrongheadedness, he gradually gained the requisite\nstrength, so as to entirely overcome it, and to acquire what he so\ngreatly coveted--the gift of patience.\n\nA man may be feeble in organization, but, blessed with a happy\ntemperament, his soul may be great, active, noble, and sovereign.\nProfessor Tyndall has given us a fine picture of the character\nof Faraday, and of his self-denying labours in the cause of\nscience--exhibiting him as a man of strong, original, and even fiery\nnature, and yet of extreme tenderness and sensibility. \"Underneath his\nsweetness and gentleness,\" he says, \"was the heat of a volcano. He was a\nman of excitable and fiery nature; but, through high self-discipline,\nhe had converted the fire into a central glow and motive power of life,\ninstead of permitting it to waste itself in useless passion.\"\n\nThere was one fine feature in Faraday's character which is worthy of\nnotice--one closely akin to self-control: it was his self-denial.\nBy devoting himself to analytical chemistry, he might have speedily\nrealised a large fortune; but he nobly resisted the temptation, and\npreferred to follow the path of pure science. \"Taking the duration of\nhis life into account,\" says Mr. Tyndall, \"this son of a blacksmith and\napprentice to a bookbinder had to decide between a fortune of L.150,000\non the one side, and his undowered science on the other. He chose the\nlatter, and died a poor man. But his was the glory of holding aloft\namong the nations the scientific name of England for a period of forty\nyears.\" [157]\n\nTake a like instance of the self-denial of a Frenchman. The historian\nAnquetil was one of the small number of literary men in France who\nrefused to bow to the Napoleonic yoke. He sank into great poverty,\nliving on bread-and-milk, and limiting his expenditure to only three\nsous a day. \"I have still two sous a day left,\" said he, \"for the\nconqueror of Marengo and Austerlitz.\" \"But if you fall sick,\" said\na friend to him, \"you will need the help of a pension. Why not do as\nothers do? Pay court to the Emperor--you have need of him to live.\" \"I\ndo not need him to die,\" was the historian's reply. But Anquetil did not\ndie of poverty; he lived to the age of ninety-four, saying to a friend,\non the eve of his death, \"Come, see a man who dies still full of life!\"\n\nSir James Outram exhibited the same characteristic of noble self-denial,\nthough in an altogether different sphere of life. Like the great King\nArthur, he was emphatically a man who \"forbore his own advantage.\"\nHe was characterised throughout his whole career by his noble\nunselfishness. Though he might personally disapprove of the policy he\nwas occasionally ordered to carry out, he never once faltered in the\npath of duty. Thus he did not approve of the policy of invading Scinde;\nyet his services throughout the campaign were acknowledged by General\nSir C. Napier to have been of the most brilliant character. But when the\nwar was over, and the rich spoils of Scinde lay at the conqueror's feet,\nOutram said: \"I disapprove of the policy of this war--I will accept no\nshare of the prize-money!\"\n\nNot less marked was his generous self-denial when despatched with a\nstrong force to aid Havelock in fighting his way to Lucknow. As superior\nofficer, he was entitled to take upon himself the chief command; but,\nrecognising what Havelock had already done, with rare disinterestedness,\nhe left to his junior officer the glory of completing the campaign,\noffering to serve under him as a volunteer. \"With such reputation,\" said\nLord Clyde, \"as Major-General Outram has won for himself, he can afford\nto share glory and honour with others. But that does not lessen the\nvalue of the sacrifice he has made with such disinterested generosity.\"\n\nIf a man would get through life honourably and peaceably, he must\nnecessarily learn to practise self-denial in small things as well as\ngreat. Men have to bear as well as forbear. The temper has to be held\nin subjection to the judgment; and the little demons of ill-humour,\npetulance, and sarcasm, kept resolutely at a distance. If once they find\nan entrance to the mind, they are very apt to return, and to establish\nfor themselves a permanent occupation there.\n\nIt is necessary to one's personal happiness, to exercise control over\none's words as well as acts: for there are words that strike even harder\nthan blows; and men may \"speak daggers,\" though they use none. \"UN COUP\nDE LANGUE,\" says the French proverb, \"EST PIRE QU'UN COUP DE LANCE.\" The\nstinging repartee that rises to the lips, and which, if uttered, might\ncover an adversary with confusion, how difficult it sometimes is to\nresist saying it! \"Heaven keep us,\" says Miss Bremer in her 'Home,'\n\"from the destroying power of words! There are words which sever hearts\nmore than sharp swords do; there are words the point of which sting the\nheart through the course of a whole life.\"\n\nThus character exhibits itself in self-control of speech as much as in\nanything else. The wise and forbearant man will restrain his desire to\nsay a smart or severe thing at the expense of another's feelings; while\nthe fool blurts out what he thinks, and will sacrifice his friend rather\nthan his joke. \"The mouth of a wise man,\" said Solomon, \"is in his\nheart; the heart of a fool is in his mouth.\"\n\nThere are, however, men who are no fools, that are headlong in their\nlanguage as in their acts, because of their want of forbearance and\nself-restraining patience. The impulsive genius, gifted with quick\nthought and incisive speech--perhaps carried away by the cheers of the\nmoment--lets fly a sarcastic sentence which may return upon him to his\nown infinite damage. Even statesmen might be named, who have failed\nthrough their inability to resist the temptation of saying clever and\nspiteful things at their adversary's expense. \"The turn of a sentence,\"\nsays Bentham, \"has decided the fate of many a friendship, and, for aught\nthat we know, the fate of many a kingdom.\" So, when one is tempted to\nwrite a clever but harsh thing, though it may be difficult to restrain\nit, it is always better to leave it in the inkstand. \"A goose's quill,\"\nsays the Spanish proverb, \"often hurts more than a lion's claw.\"\n\nCarlyle says, when speaking of Oliver Cromwell, \"He that cannot withal\nkeep his mind to himself, cannot practise any considerable thing\nwhatsoever.\" It was said of William the Silent, by one of his greatest\nenemies, that an arrogant or indiscreet word was never known to fall\nfrom his lips. Like him, Washington was discretion itself in the use of\nspeech, never taking advantage of an opponent, or seeking a shortlived\ntriumph in a debate. And it is said that in the long run, the world\ncomes round to and supports the wise man who knows when and how to be\nsilent.\n\nWe have heard men of great experience say that they have often regretted\nhaving spoken, but never once regretted holding their tongue. \"Be\nsilent,\" says Pythagoras, \"or say something better than silence.\" \"Speak\nfitly,\" says George Herbert, \"or be silent wisely.\" St. Francis de\nSales, whom Leigh Hunt styled \"the Gentleman Saint,\" has said: \"It is\nbetter to remain silent than to speak the truth ill-humouredly, and\nso spoil an excellent dish by covering it with bad sauce.\" Another\nFrenchman, Lacordaire, characteristically puts speech first, and silence\nnext. \"After speech,\" he says, \"silence is the greatest power in the\nworld.\" Yet a word spoken in season, how powerful it may be! As the old\nWelsh proverb has it, \"A golden tongue is in the mouth of the blessed.\"\n\nIt is related, as a remarkable instance of self-control on the part of\nDe Leon, a distinguished Spanish poet of the sixteenth century, who lay\nfor years in the dungeons of the Inquisition without light or society,\nbecause of his having translated a part of the Scriptures into\nhis native tongue, that on being liberated and restored to his\nprofessorship, an immense crowd attended his first lecture, expecting\nsome account of his long imprisonment; but Do Leon was too wise and too\ngentle to indulge in recrimination. He merely resumed the lecture which,\nfive years before, had been so sadly interrupted, with the accustomed\nformula \"HERI DICEBAMUS,\" and went directly into his subject.\n\nThere are, of course, times and occasions when the expression of\nindignation is not only justifiable but necessary. We are bound to be\nindignant at falsehood, selfishness, and cruelty. A man of true feeling\nfires up naturally at baseness or meanness of any sort, even in cases\nwhere he may be under no obligation to speak out. \"I would have nothing\nto do,\" said Perthes, \"with the man who cannot be moved to indignation.\nThere are more good people than bad in the world, and the bad get the\nupper hand merely because they are bolder. We cannot help being pleased\nwith a man who uses his powers with decision; and we often take his side\nfor no other reason than because he does so use them. No doubt, I have\noften repented speaking; but not less often have I repented keeping\nsilence.\" [158]\n\nOne who loves right cannot be indifferent to wrong, or wrongdoing. If he\nfeels warmly, he will speak warmly, out of the fulness of his heart. As\na noble lady [159] has written:\n\n      \"A noble heart doth teach a virtuous scorn--\n      To scorn to owe a duty overlong,\n      To scorn to be for benefits forborne,\n      To scorn to lie, to scorn to do a wrong,\n      To scorn to bear an injury in mind,\n      To scorn a freeborn heart slave-like to bind.\"\n\nWe have, however, to be on our guard against impatient scorn. The best\npeople are apt to have their impatient side; and often, the very temper\nwhich makes men earnest, makes them also intolerant. [1510] \"Of all mental\ngifts,\" says Miss Julia Wedgwood, \"the rarest is intellectual patience;\nand the last lesson of culture is to believe in difficulties which are\ninvisible to ourselves.\"\n\nThe best corrective of intolerance in disposition, is increase of wisdom\nand enlarged experience of life. Cultivated good sense will usually save\nmen from the entanglements in which moral impatience is apt to involve\nthem; good sense consisting chiefly in that temper of mind which enables\nits possessor to deal with the practical affairs of life with justice,\njudgment, discretion, and charity. Hence men of culture and experience\nare invariably, found the most forbearant and tolerant, as ignorant and\nnarrowminded persons are found the most unforgiving and intolerant. Men\nof large and generous natures, in proportion to their practical wisdom,\nare disposed to make allowance for the defects and disadvantages of\nothers--allowance for the controlling power of circumstances in the\nformation of character, and the limited power of resistance of weak and\nfallible natures to temptation and error. \"I see no fault committed,\"\nsaid Goethe, \"which I also might not have committed.\" So a wise and good\nman exclaimed, when he saw a criminal drawn on his hurdle to Tyburn:\n\"There goes Jonathan Bradford--but for the grace of God!\"\n\nLife will always be, to a great extent, what we ourselves make it. The\ncheerful man makes a cheerful world, the gloomy man a gloomy one. We\nusually find but our own temperament reflected in the dispositions of\nthose about us. If we are ourselves querulous, we will find them so; if\nwe are unforgiving and uncharitable to them, they will be the same to\nus. A person returning from an evening party not long ago, complained to\na policeman on his beat that an ill-looking fellow was following him: it\nturned out to be only his own shadow! And such usually is human life to\neach of us; it is, for the most part, but the reflection of ourselves.\n\nIf we would be at peace with others, and ensure their respect, we must\nhave regard for their personality. Every man has his peculiarities of\nmanner and character, as he has peculiarities of form and feature; and\nwe must have forbearance in dealing with them, as we expect them to\nhave forbearance in dealing with us. We may not be conscious of our own\npeculiarities, yet they exist nevertheless. There is a village in South\nAmerica where gotos or goitres are so common that to be without one is\nregarded as a deformity. One day a party of Englishmen passed through\nthe place, when quite a crowd collected to jeer them, shouting: \"See,\nsee these people--they have got NO GOTOS!\"\n\nMany persons give themselves a great deal of fidget concerning what\nother people think of them and their peculiarities. Some are too much\ndisposed to take the illnatured side, and, judging by themselves, infer\nthe worst. But it is very often the case that the uncharitableness of\nothers, where it really exists, is but the reflection of our own want of\ncharity and want of temper. It still oftener happens, that the worry we\nsubject ourselves to, has its source in our own imagination. And even\nthough those about us may think of us uncharitably, we shall not mend\nmatters by exasperating ourselves against them. We may thereby only\nexpose ourselves unnecessarily to their illnature or caprice. \"The ill\nthat comes out of our mouth,\" says Herbert, \"ofttimes falls into our\nbosom.\"\n\nThe great and good philosopher Faraday communicated the following piece\nof admirable advice, full of practical wisdom, the result of a rich\nexperience of life, in a letter to his friend Professor Tyndall:-\n\"Let me, as an old man, who ought by this time to have profited by\nexperience, say that when I was younger I found I often misrepresented\nthe intentions of people, and that they did not mean what at the time I\nsupposed they meant; and further, that, as a general rule, it was better\nto be a little dull of apprehension where phrases seemed to imply pique,\nand quick in perception when, on the contrary, they seemed to imply\nkindly feeling. The real truth never fails ultimately to appear;\nand opposing parties, if wrong, are sooner convinced when replied to\nforbearingly, than when overwhelmed. All I mean to say is, that it is\nbetter to be blind to the results of partisanship, and quick to see\ngoodwill. One has more happiness in one's self in endeavouring to follow\nthe things that make for peace. You can hardly imagine how often I have\nbeen heated in private when opposed, as I have thought unjustly and\nsuperciliously, and yet I have striven, and succeeded, I hope, in\nkeeping down replies of the like kind. And I know I have never lost by\nit.\" [1511]\n\nWhile the painter Barry was at Rome, he involved himself, as was\nhis wont, in furious quarrels with the artists and dilettanti, about\npicture-painting and picture-dealing, upon which his friend and\ncountryman, Edmund Burke--always the generous friend of struggling\nmerit--wrote to him kindly and sensibly: \"Believe me, dear Barry,\nthat the arms with which the ill-dispositions of the world are to be\ncombated, and the qualities by which it is to be reconciled to us, and\nwe reconciled to it, are moderation, gentleness, a little indulgence\nto others, and a great deal of distrust of ourselves; which are not\nqualities of a mean spirit, as some may possibly think them, but virtues\nof a great and noble kind, and such as dignify our nature as much\nas they contribute to our repose and fortune; for nothing can be so\nunworthy of a well-composed soul as to pass away life in bickerings and\nlitigations--in snarling and scuffling with every one about us. We must\nbe at peace with our species, if not for their sakes, at least very much\nfor our own.\" [1512]\n\nNo one knew the value of self-control better than the poet Burns, and\nno one could teach it more eloquently to others; but when it came to\npractice, Burns was as weak as the weakest. He could not deny himself\nthe pleasure of uttering a harsh and clever sarcasm at another's\nexpense. One of his biographers observes of him, that it was no\nextravagant arithmetic to say that for every ten jokes he made himself\na hundred enemies. But this was not all. Poor Burns exercised no control\nover his appetites, but freely gave them rein:\n\n      \"Thus thoughtless follies laid him low\n             And stained his name.\"\n\nNor had he the self-denial to resist giving publicity to compositions\noriginally intended for the delight of the tap-room, but which continue\nsecretly to sow pollution broadcast in the minds of youth. Indeed,\nnotwithstanding the many exquisite poems of this writer, it is not\nsaying too much to aver that his immoral writings have done far more\nharm than his purer writings have done good; and that it would be better\nthat all his writings should be destroyed and forgotten provided his\nindecent songs could be destroyed with them.\n\nThe remark applies alike to Beranger, who has been styled \"The Burns\nof France.\" Beranger was of the same bright incisive genius; he had\nthe same love of pleasure, the same love of popularity; and while he\nflattered French vanity to the top of its bent, he also painted the\nvices most loved by his countrymen with the pen of a master. Beranger's\nsongs and Thiers' History probably did more than anything else to\nreestablish the Napoleonic dynasty in France. But that was a small evil\ncompared with the moral mischief which many of Beranger's songs are\ncalculated to produce; for, circulating freely as they do in French\nhouseholds, they exhibit pictures of nastiness and vice, which are\nenough to pollute and destroy a nation.\n\nOne of Burns's finest poems, written, in his twenty-eighth year, is\nentitled 'A Bard's Epitaph.' It is a description, by anticipation, of\nhis own life. Wordsworth has said of it: \"Here is a sincere and solemn\navowal; a public declaration from his own will; a confession at once\ndevout, poetical and human; a history in the shape of a prophecy.\" It\nconcludes with these lines:--\n\n      \"Reader, attend--whether thy soul\n       Soars fancy's flights beyond the pole,\n       Or darkling grubs this earthly hole\n                           In low pursuit;\n       Know--prudent, cautious self-control,\n                           Is Wisdom's root.\"\n\nOne of the vices before which Burns fell--and it may be said to be\na master-vice, because it is productive of so many other vices--was\ndrinking. Not that he was a drunkard, but because he yielded to the\ntemptations of drink, with its degrading associations, and thereby\nlowered and depraved his whole nature. [1513] But poor Burns did not stand\nalone; for, alas! of all vices, the unrestrained appetite for drink was\nin his time, as it continues to be now, the most prevalent, popular,\ndegrading, and destructive.\n\nWere it possible to conceive the existence of a tyrant who should compel\nhis people to give up to him one-third or more of their earnings,\nand require them at the same time to consume a commodity that should\nbrutalise and degrade them, destroy the peace and comfort of their\nfamilies, and sow in themselves the seeds of disease and premature\ndeath--what indignation meetings, what monster processions there\nwould be! 'What eloquent speeches and apostrophes to the spirit\nof liberty!--what appeals against a despotism so monstrous and so\nunnatural! And yet such a tyrant really exists amongst us--the tyrant\nof unrestrained appetite, whom no force of arms, or voices, or votes can\nresist, while men are willing to be his slaves.\n\nThe power of this tyrant can only be overcome by moral means--by\nself-discipline, self-respect, and self-control. There is no other way\nof withstanding the despotism of appetite in any of its forms. No\nreform of institutions, no extended power of voting, no improved form\nof government, no amount of scholastic instruction, can possibly elevate\nthe character of a people who voluntarily abandon themselves to sensual\nindulgence. The pursuit of ignoble pleasure is the degradation of true\nhappiness; it saps the morals, destroys the energies, and degrades the\nmanliness and robustness of individuals as of nations.\n\nThe courage of self-control exhibits itself in many ways, but in\nnone more clearly than in honest living. Men without the virtue of\nself-denial are not only subject to their own selfish desires, but they\nare usually in bondage to others who are likeminded with themselves.\nWhat others do, they do. They must live according to the artificial\nstandard of their class, spending like their neighbours, regardless of\nthe consequences, at the same time that all are, perhaps, aspiring after\na style of living higher than their means. Each carries the others\nalong with him, and they have not the moral courage to stop. They cannot\nresist the temptation of living high, though it may be at the expense\nof others; and they gradually become reckless of debt, until it enthrals\nthem. In all this there is great moral cowardice, pusillanimity, and\nwant of manly independence of character.\n\nA rightminded man will shrink from seeming to be what he is not, or\npretending to be richer than he really is, or assuming a style of living\nthat his circumstances will not justify. He will have the courage to\nlive honestly within his own means, rather than dishonestly upon the\nmeans of other people; for he who incurs debts in striving to maintain a\nstyle of living beyond his income, is in spirit as dishonest as the man\nwho openly picks your pocket.\n\nTo many, this may seem an extreme view, but it will bear the strictest\ntest. Living at the cost of others is not only dishonesty, but it is\nuntruthfulness in deed, as lying is in word. The proverb of George\nHerbert, that \"debtors are liars,\" is justified by experience.\nShaftesbury somewhere says that a restlessness to have something which\nwe have not, and to be something which we are not, is the root of all\nimmorality. [1514] No reliance is to be placed on the saying--a very\ndangerous one--of Mirabeau, that \"LA PETITE MORALE ETAIT L'ENNEMIE DE LA\nGRANDE.\" On the contrary, strict adherence to even the smallest details\nof morality is the foundation of all manly and noble character.\n\nThe honourable man is frugal of his means, and pays his way honestly. He\ndoes not seek to pass himself off as richer than he is, or, by running\ninto debt, open an account with ruin. As that man is not poor whose\nmeans are small, but whose desires are uncontrolled, so that man is rich\nwhose means are more than sufficient for his wants. When Socrates saw a\ngreat quantity of riches, jewels, and furniture of great value, carried\nin pomp through Athens, he said, \"Now do I see how many things I do NOT\ndesire.\" \"I can forgive everything but selfishness,\" said Perthes. \"Even\nthe narrowest circumstances admit of greatness with reference to 'mine\nand thine'; and none but the very poorest need fill their daily life\nwith thoughts of money, if they have but prudence to arrange their\nhousekeeping within the limits of their income.\"\n\nA man may be indifferent to money because of higher considerations, as\nFaraday was, who sacrificed wealth to pursue science; but if he would\nhave the enjoyments that money can purchase, he must honestly earn it,\nand not live upon the earnings of others, as those do who habitually\nincur debts which they have no means of paying. When Maginn, always\ndrowned in debt, was asked what he paid for his wine, he replied that he\ndid not know, but he believed they \"put something down in a book.\" [1515]\n\nThis \"putting-down in a book\" has proved the ruin of a great many\nweakminded people, who cannot resist the temptation of taking things\nupon credit which they have not the present means of paying for; and it\nwould probably prove of great social benefit if the law which enables\ncreditors to recover debts contracted under certain circumstances\nwere altogether abolished. But, in the competition for trade, every\nencouragement is given to the incurring of debt, the creditor relying\nupon the law to aid him in the last extremity. When Sydney Smith once\nwent into a new neighbourhood, it was given out in the local papers that\nhe was a man of high connections, and he was besought on all sides for\nhis \"custom.\" But he speedily undeceived his new neighbours. \"We are not\ngreat people at all,\" he said: \"we are only common honest people--people\nthat pay our debts.\"\n\nHazlitt, who was a thoroughly honest though rather thriftless man,\nspeaks of two classes of persons, not unlike each other--those who\ncannot keep their own money in their hands, and those who cannot keep\ntheir hands from other people's. The former are always in want of money,\nfor they throw it away on any object that first presents itself, as if\nto get rid of it; the latter make away with what they have of their own,\nand are perpetual borrowers from all who will lend to them; and their\ngenius for borrowing, in the long run, usually proves their ruin.\n\nSheridan was one of such eminent unfortunates. He was impulsive and\ncareless in his expenditure, borrowing money, and running into debt\nwith everybody who would trust him. When he stood for Westminster, his\nunpopularity arose chiefly from his general indebtedness. \"Numbers of\npoor people,\" says Lord Palmerston in one of his letters, \"crowded round\nthe hustings, demanding payment for the bills he owed them.\" In the\nmidst of all his difficulties, Sheridan was as lighthearted as ever, and\ncracked many a good joke at his creditors' expense. Lord Palmerston was\nactually present at the dinner given by him, at which the sheriff's in\npossession were dressed up and officiated as waiters\n\nYet however loose Sheridan's morality may have been as regarded\nhis private creditors, he was honest so far as the public money was\nconcerned. Once, at dinner, at which Lord Byron happened to be present,\nan observation happened to be made as to the sturdiness of the Whigs\nin resisting office, and keeping to their principles--on which Sheridan\nturned sharply and said: \"Sir, it is easy for my Lord this, or Earl\nthat, or the Marquis of t'other, with thousands upon thousands a\nyear, some of it either presently derived or inherited in sinecure or\nacquisitions from the public money, to boast of their patriotism, and\nkeep aloof from temptation; but they do not know from what temptation\nthose have kept aloof who had equal pride, at least equal talents, and\nnot unequal passions, and nevertheless knew not, in the course of their\nlives, what it was to have a shilling of their own.\" And Lord Byron\nadds, that, in saying this, Sheridan wept. [1516]\n\nThe tone of public morality in money-matters was very low in those days.\nPolitical peculation was not thought discreditable; and heads of parties\ndid not hesitate to secure the adhesion of their followers by a free\nuse of the public money. They were generous, but at the expense of\nothers--like that great local magnate, who,\n\n         \"Out of his great bounty,\n      Built a bridge at the expense of the county.\"\n\nWhen Lord Cornwallis was appointed Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland,\nhe pressed upon Colonel Napier, the father of THE Napiers, the\ncomptrollership of army accounts. \"I want,\" said his Lordship, \"AN\nHONEST MAN, and this is the only thing I have been able to wrest from\nthe harpies around me.\"\n\nIt is said that Lord Chatham was the first to set the example of\ndisdaining to govern by petty larceny; and his great son was alike\nhonest in his administration. While millions of money were passing\nthrough Pitt's hands, he himself was never otherwise than poor; and he\ndied poor. Of all his rancorous libellers, not one ever ventured to call\nin question his honesty.\n\nIn former times, the profits of office were sometimes enormous. When\nAudley, the famous annuity-monger of the sixteenth century, was asked\nthe value of an office which he had purchased in the Court of Wards,\nhe replied:--\"Some thousands to any one who wishes to get to heaven\nimmediately; twice as much to him who does not mind being in purgatory;\nand nobody knows what to him who is not afraid of the devil.\"\n\nSir Walter Scott was a man who was honest to the core of his nature and\nhis strenuous and determined efforts to pay his debts, or rather the\ndebts of the firm with which he had become involved, has always appeared\nto us one of the grandest things in biography. When his publisher and\nprinter broke down, ruin seemed to stare him in the face. There was\nno want of sympathy for him in his great misfortune, and friends came\nforward who offered to raise money enough to enable him to arrange with\nhis creditors. \"No! \"said he, proudly; \"this right hand shall work it\nall off!\" \"If we lose everything else,\" he wrote to a friend, \"we will\nat least keep our honour unblemished.\" [1517] While his health was already\nbecoming undermined by overwork, he went on \"writing like a tiger,\" as\nhe himself expressed it, until no longer able to wield a pen; and\nthough he paid the penalty of his supreme efforts with his life, he\nnevertheless saved his honour and his self-respect.\n\nEverybody knows bow Scott threw off 'Woodstock,' the 'Life of\nNapoleon' [15which he thought would be his death [1518]], articles for the\n'Quarterly,' 'Chronicles of the Canongate,' 'Prose Miscellanies,' and\n'Tales of a Grandfather'--all written in the midst of pain, sorrow,\nand ruin. The proceeds of those various works went to his creditors.\n\"I could not have slept sound,\" he wrote, \"as I now can, under the\ncomfortable impression of receiving the thanks of my creditors, and the\nconscious feeling of discharging my duty as a man of honour and\nhonesty. I see before me a long, tedious, and dark path, but it leads\nto stainless reputation. If I die in the harrows, as is very likely, I\nshall die with honour. If I achieve my task, I shall have the thanks of\nall concerned, and the approbation of my own conscience.\" [1519]\n\nAnd then followed more articles, memoirs, and even sermons--'The Fair\nMaid of Perth,' a completely revised edition of his novels, 'Anne of\nGeierstein,' and more 'Tales of a Grandfather'--until he was suddenly\nstruck down by paralysis. But he had no sooner recovered sufficient\nstrength to be able to hold a pen, than we find him again at his desk\nwriting the 'Letters on Demonology and Witchcraft,' a volume of Scottish\nHistory for 'Lardner's Cyclopaedia,' and a fourth series of 'Tales of a\nGrandfather' in his French History. In vain his doctors told him to give\nup work; he would not be dissuaded. \"As for bidding me not work,\" he\nsaid to Dr. Abercrombie, \"Molly might just as well put the kettle on the\nfire and say, 'Now, kettle, don't boil;'\" to which he added, \"If I were\nto be idle I should go mad!\"\n\nBy means of the profits realised by these tremendous efforts, Scott saw\nhis debts in course of rapid diminution, and he trusted that, after a\nfew more years' work, he would again be a free man. But it was not to\nbe. He went on turning out such works as his 'Count Robert of Paris'\nwith greatly impaired skill, until he was prostrated by another and\nseverer attack of palsy. He now felt that the plough was nearing the end\nof the furrow; his physical strength was gone; he was \"not quite himself\nin all things,\" and yet his courage and perseverance never failed. \"I\nhave suffered terribly,\" he wrote in his Diary, \"though rather in\nbody than in mind, and I often wish I could lie down and sleep\nwithout waking. But I WILL FIGHT IT OUT IF I CAN.\" He again recovered\nsufficiently to be able to write 'Castle Dangerous,' though the cunning\nof the workman's hand had departed. And then there was his last tour to\nItaly in search of rest and health, during which, while at Naples, in\nspite of all remonstrances, he gave several hours every morning to the\ncomposition of a new novel, which, however, has not seen the light.\n\nScott returned to Abbotsford to die. \"I have seen much,\" he said on his\nreturn, \"but nothing like my own house--give me one turn more.\" One of\nthe last things he uttered, in one of his lucid intervals, was worthy of\nhim. \"I have been,\" he said, \"perhaps the most voluminous author of my\nday, and it IS a comfort to me to think that I have tried to unsettle\nno man's faith, to corrupt no man's principles, and that I have written\nnothing which on my deathbed I should wish blotted out.\" His last\ninjunction to his son-in-law was: \"Lockhart, I may have but a minute to\nspeak to you. My dear, be virtuous--be religious--be a good man. Nothing\nelse will give you any comfort when you come to lie here.\"\n\nThe devoted conduct of Lockhart himself was worthy of his great\nrelative. The 'Life of Scott,' which he afterwards wrote, occupied him\nseveral years, and was a remarkably successful work. Yet he himself\nderived no pecuniary advantage from it; handing over the profits of the\nwhole undertaking to Sir Walter's creditors in payment of debts which\nhe was in no way responsible, but influenced entirely by a spirit of\nhonour, of regard for the memory of the illustrious dead.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII.--DUTY--TRUTHFULNESS.\n\n\n\n     \"I slept, and dreamt that life was Beauty; I woke, and found\n     that life was Duty.\"\n\n     \"Duty! wondrous thought, that workest neither by fond\n     insinuation, flattery, nor by any threat, but merely by\n     holding up thy naked law in the soul, and so extorting for\n     thyself always reverence, if not always obedience; before\n     whom all appetites are dumb, however secretly they rebel\"--\n     KANT.\n\n            \"How happy is he born and taught,\n              That serveth not another's will!\n            Whose armour is his honest thought,\n              And simple truth his utmost skill!\n\n            \"Whose passions not his masters are,\n              Whose soul is still prepared for death;\n            Unti'd unto the world by care\n              Of public fame, or private breath.\n\n          \"This man is freed from servile bands,\n            Of hope to rise, or fear to fall:\n          Lord of himself, though not of land;\n            And having nothing, yet hath all.\"--WOTTON.\n\n          \"His nay was nay without recall;\n             His yea was yea, and powerful all;\n          He gave his yea with careful heed,\n            His thoughts and words were well agreed;\n          His word, his bond and seal.\"\n                     INSCRIPTION ON BARON STEIN'S TOMB.\n\n\nDUTY is a thing that is due, and must be paid by every man who would\navoid present discredit and eventual moral insolvency. It is an\nobligation--a debt--which can only be discharged by voluntary effort and\nresolute action in the affairs of life.\n\nDuty embraces man's whole existence. It begins in the home, where there\nis the duty which children owe to their parents on the one hand, and\nthe duty which parents owe to their children on the other. There are, in\nlike manner, the respective duties of husbands and wives, of masters\nand servants; while outside the home there are the duties which men\nand women owe to each other as friends and neighbours, as employers and\nemployed, as governors and governed.\n\n\"Render, therefore,\" says St. Paul, \"to all their dues: tribute to whom\ntribute is due; custom to whom custom; fear to whom fear; honour to whom\nhonour. Owe no man anything, but to love one another; for he that loveth\nanother hath fulfilled the law,\"\n\nThus duty rounds the whole of life, from our entrance into it until\nour exit from it--duty to superiors, duty to inferiors, and duty to\nequals--duty to man, and duty to God. Wherever there is power to use\nor to direct, there is duty. For we are but as stewards, appointed to\nemploy the means entrusted to us for our own and for others' good.\n\nThe abiding sense of duty is the very crown of character. It is\nthe upholding law of man in his highest attitudes. Without it, the\nindividual totters and falls before the first puff of adversity or\ntemptation; whereas, inspired by it, the weakest becomes strong and full\nof courage. \"Duty,\" says Mrs. Jameson, \"is the cement which binds\nthe whole moral edifice together; without which, all power, goodness,\nintellect, truth, happiness, love itself, can have no permanence; but\nall the fabric of existence crumbles away from under us, and leaves\nus at last sitting in the midst of a ruin, astonished at our own\ndesolation.\"\n\nDuty is based upon a sense of justice--justice inspired by love, which\nis the most perfect form of goodness. Duty is not a sentiment, but a\nprinciple pervading the life: and it exhibits itself in conduct and in\nacts, which are mainly determined by man's conscience and freewill.\n\nThe voice of conscience speaks in duty done; and without its regulating\nand controlling influence, the brightest and greatest intellect may\nbe merely as a light that leads astray. Conscience sets a man upon his\nfeet, while his will holds him upright. Conscience is the moral governor\nof the heart--the governor of right action, of right thought, of right\nfaith, of right life--and only through its dominating influence can the\nnoble and upright character be fully developed.\n\nThe conscience, however, may speak never so loudly, but without\nenergetic will it may speak in vain. The will is free to choose between\nthe right course and the wrong one, but the choice is nothing unless\nfollowed by immediate and decisive action. If the sense of duty be\nstrong, and the course of action clear, the courageous will, upheld by\nthe conscience, enables a man to proceed on his course bravely, and to\naccomplish his purposes in the face of all opposition and difficulty.\nAnd should failure be the issue, there will remain at least this\nsatisfaction, that it has been in the cause of duty.\n\n\"Be and continue poor, young man,\" said Heinzelmann, \"while others\naround you grow rich by fraud and disloyalty; be without place or power\nwhile others beg their way upwards; bear the pain of disappointed hopes,\nwhile others gain the accomplishment of theirs by flattery; forego the\ngracious pressure of the hand, for which others cringe and crawl. Wrap\nyourself in your own virtue, and seek a friend and your daily bread. If\nyou have in your own cause grown gray with unbleached honour, bless God\nand die!\"\n\nMen inspired by high principles are often required to sacrifice all that\nthey esteem and love rather than fail in their duty. The old English\nidea of this sublime devotion to duty was expressed by the loyalist poet\nto his sweetheart, on taking up arms for his sovereign:--\n\n          \"I could love thee, dear, so much,\n          Loved I not honour more.\" [161]\n\nAnd Sertorius has said: \"The man who has any dignity of character,\nshould conquer with honour, and not use any base means even to save his\nlife.\" So St. Paul, inspired by duty and faith, declared himself as not\nonly \"ready to be bound, but to die at Jerusalem.\"\n\nWhen the Marquis of Pescara was entreated by the princes of Italy to\ndesert the Spanish cause, to which he was in honour bound, his noble\nwife, Vittoria Colonna, reminded him of his duty. She wrote to him:\n\"Remember your honour, which raises you above fortune and above\nkings; by that alone, and not by the splendour of titles, is glory\nacquired--that glory which it will be your happiness and pride to\ntransmit unspotted to your posterity.\" Such was the dignified view which\nshe took of her husband's honour; and when he fell at Pavia, though\nyoung and beautiful, and besought by many admirers, she betook herself\nto solitude, that she might lament over her husband's loss and celebrate\nhis exploits. [162]\n\nTo live really, is to act energetically. Life is a battle to be fought\nvaliantly. Inspired by high and honourable resolve, a man must stand\nto his post, and die there, if need be. Like the old Danish hero, his\ndetermination should be, \"to dare nobly, to will strongly, and never to\nfalter in the path of duty.\" The power of will, be it great or small,\nwhich God has given us, is a Divine gift; and we ought neither to let it\nperish for want of using on the one hand, nor profane it by employing\nit for ignoble purposes on the other. Robertson, of Brighton, has\ntruly said, that man's real greatness consists not in seeking his own\npleasure, or fame, or advancement--\"not that every one shall save his\nown life, not that every man shall seek his own glory--but that every\nman shall do his own duty.\"\n\nWhat most stands in the way of the performance of duty, is irresolution,\nweakness of purpose, and indecision. On the one side are conscience and\nthe knowledge of good and evil; on the other are indolence, selfishness,\nlove of pleasure, or passion. The weak and ill-disciplined will may\nremain suspended for a time between these influences; but at length the\nbalance inclines one way or the other, according as the will is called\ninto action or otherwise. If it be allowed to remain passive, the lower\ninfluence of selfishness or passion will prevail; and thus manhood\nsuffers abdication, individuality is renounced, character is degraded,\nand the man permits himself to become the mere passive slave of his\nsenses.\n\nThus, the power of exercising the will promptly, in obedience to the\ndictates of conscience, and thereby resisting the impulses of the lower\nnature, is of essential importance in moral discipline, and absolutely\nnecessary for the development of character in its best forms. To acquire\nthe habit of well-doing, to resist evil propensities, to fight against\nsensual desires, to overcome inborn selfishness, may require a long and\npersevering discipline; but when once the practice of duty is learnt, it\nbecomes consolidated in habit, and thence-forward is comparatively easy.\n\nThe valiant good man is he who, by the resolute exercise of his\nfreewill, has so disciplined himself as to have acquired the habit of\nvirtue; as the bad man is he who, by allowing his freewill to remain\ninactive, and giving the bridle to his desires and passions, has\nacquired the habit of vice, by which he becomes, at last, bound as by\nchains of iron.\n\nA man can only achieve strength of purpose by the action of his own\nfreewill. If he is to stand erect, it must be by his own efforts; for he\ncannot be kept propped up by the help of others. He is master of himself\nand of his actions. He can avoid falsehood, and be truthful; he can\nshun sensualism, and be continent; he can turn aside from doing a cruel\nthing, and be benevolent and forgiving. All these lie within the sphere\nof individual efforts, and come within the range of self-discipline. And\nit depends upon men themselves whether in these respects they will be\nfree, pure, and good on the one hand; or enslaved, impure, and miserable\non the other.\n\nAmong the wise sayings of Epictetus we find the following: \"We do not\nchoose our own parts in life, and have nothing to do with those parts:\nour simple duty is confined to playing them well. The slave may be as\nfree as the consul; and freedom is the chief of blessings; it dwarfs all\nothers; beside it all others are insignificant; with it all others are\nneedless; without it no others are possible.... You must teach men that\nhappiness is not where, in their blindness and misery, they seek it. It\nis not in strength, for Myro and Ofellius were not happy; not in wealth,\nfor Croesus was not happy; not in power, for the Consuls were not happy;\nnot in all these together, for Nero and Sardanapulus and Agamemnon\nsighed and wept and tore their hair, and were the slaves of\ncircumstances and the dupes of semblances. It lies in yourselves; in\ntrue freedom, in the absence or conquest of every ignoble fear; in\nperfect self-government; and in a power of contentment and peace, and\nthe even flow of life amid poverty, exile, disease, and the very valley\nof the shadow of death.\" [163]\n\nThe sense of duty is a sustaining power even to a courageous man.\nIt holds him upright, and makes him strong. It was a noble saying of\nPompey, when his friends tried to dissuade him from embarking for Rome\nin a storm, telling him that he did so at the great peril of his life:\n\"It is necessary for me to go,\" he said; \"it is not necessary for me to\nlive.\" What it was right that he should do, he would do, in the face of\ndanger and in defiance of storms.\n\nAs might be expected of the great Washington, the chief motive power in\nhis life was the spirit of duty. It was the regal and commanding element\nin his character which gave it unity, compactness, and vigour. When\nhe clearly saw his duty before him, he did it at all hazards, and with\ninflexible integrity. He did not do it for effect; nor did he think of\nglory, or of fame and its rewards; but of the right thing to be done,\nand the best way of doing it.\n\nYet Washington had a most modest opinion of himself; and when offered\nthe chief command of the American patriot army, he hesitated to accept\nit until it was pressed upon him. When acknowledging in Congress the\nhonour which had been done him in selecting him to so important a trust,\non the execution of which the future of his country in a great measure\ndepended, Washington said: \"I beg it may be remembered, lest some\nunlucky event should happen unfavourable to my reputation, that I this\nday declare, with the utmost sincerity, I do not think myself equal to\nthe command I am honoured with.\"\n\nAnd in his letter to his wife, communicating to her his appointment as\nCommander-in-Chief, he said: \"I have used every endeavour in my power\nto avoid it, not only from my unwillingness to part with you and the\nfamily, but from a consciousness of its being a trust too great for my\ncapacity; and that I should enjoy more real happiness in one month with\nyou at home, than I have the most distant prospect of finding abroad, if\nmy stay were to be seven times seven years. But, as it has been a kind\nof destiny that has thrown me upon this service, I shall hope that my\nundertaking it is designed for some good purpose. It was utterly out\nof my power to refuse the appointment, without exposing my character to\nsuch censures as would have reflected dishonour upon myself, and given\npain to my friends. This, I am sure, could not, and ought not, to\nbe pleasing to you, and must have lessened me considerably in my own\nesteem.\" [164]\n\nWashington pursued his upright course through life, first as\nCommander-in-Chief, and afterwards as President, never faltering in the\npath of duty. He had no regard for popularity, but held to his purpose,\nthrough good and through evil report, often at the risk of his power\nand influence. Thus, on one occasion, when the ratification of a treaty,\narranged by Mr. Jay with Great Britain, was in question, Washington was\nurged to reject it. But his honour, and the honour of his country, was\ncommitted, and he refused to do so. A great outcry was raised against\nthe treaty, and for a time Washington was so unpopular that he is said\nto have been actually stoned by the mob. But he, nevertheless, held it\nto be his duty to ratify the treaty; and it was carried out, in despite\nof petitions and remonstrances from all quarters. \"While I feel,\" he\nsaid, in answer to the remonstrants, \"the most lively gratitude for\nthe many instances of approbation from my country, I can no otherwise\ndeserve it than by obeying the dictates of my conscience.\" Wellington's\nwatchword, like Washington's, was duty; and no man could be more loyal\nto it than he was. [165] \"There is little or nothing,\" he once said, \"in\nthis life worth living for; but we can all of us go straight forward and\ndo our duty.\" None recognised more cheerfully than he did the duty of\nobedience and willing service; for unless men can serve faithfully, they\nwill not rule others wisely. There is no motto that becomes the wise man\nbetter than ICH DIEN, \"I serve;\" and \"They also serve who only stand and\nwait.\"\n\nWhen the mortification of an officer, because of his being appointed\nto a command inferior to what he considered to be his merits, was\ncommunicated to the Duke, he said: \"In the course of my military career,\nI have gone from the command of a brigade to that of my regiment, and\nfrom the command of an army to that of a brigade or a division, as I was\nordered, and without any feeling of mortification.\"\n\nWhilst commanding the allied army in Portugal, the conduct of the native\npopulation did not seem to Wellington to be either becoming or dutiful.\n\"We have enthusiasm in plenty,\" he said, \"and plenty of cries of 'VIVA!'\nWe have illuminations, patriotic songs, and FETES everywhere. But what\nwe want is, that each in his own station should do his duty faithfully,\nand pay implicit obedience to legal authority.\"\n\nThis abiding ideal of duty seemed to be the governing principle of\nWellington's character. It was always uppermost in his mind, and\ndirected all the public actions of his life. Nor did it fail to\ncommunicate itself to those under him, who served him in the like\nspirit. When he rode into one of his infantry squares at Waterloo, as\nits diminished numbers closed up to receive a charge of French cavalry,\nhe said to the men, \"Stand steady, lads; think of what they will say of\nus in England;\" to which the men replied, \"Never fear, sir--we know our\nduty.\"\n\nDuty was also the dominant idea in Nelson's mind. The spirit in which\nhe served his country was expressed in the famous watchword, \"England\nexpects every man to do his duty,\" signalled by him to the fleet before\ngoing into action at Trafalgar, as well as in the last words that passed\nhis lips,--\"I have done my duty; I praise God for it!\"\n\nAnd Nelson's companion and friend--the brave, sensible, homely-minded\nCollingwood--he who, as his ship bore down into the great sea-fight,\nsaid to his flag-captain, \"Just about this time our wives are going to\nchurch in England,\"--Collingwood too was, like his commander, an ardent\ndevotee of duty. \"Do your duty to the best of your ability,\" was the\nmaxim which he urged upon many young men starting on the voyage of life.\nTo a midshipman he once gave the following manly and sensible advice:-\n\"You may depend upon it, that it is more in your own power than in\nanybody else's to promote both your comfort and advancement. A strict\nand unwearied attention to your duty, and a complacent and respectful\nbehaviour, not only to your superiors but to everybody, will ensure you\ntheir regard, and the reward will surely come; but if it should not,\nI am convinced you have too much good sense to let disappointment sour\nyou. Guard carefully against letting discontent appear in you. It will\nbe sorrow to your friends, a triumph to your competitors, and cannot be\nproductive of any good. Conduct yourself so as to deserve the best that\ncan come to you, and the consciousness of your own proper behaviour will\nkeep you in spirits if it should not come. Let it be your ambition to\nbe foremost in all duty. Do not be a nice observer of turns, but ever\npresent yourself ready for everything, and, unless your officers are\nvery inattentive men, they will not allow others to impose more duty on\nyou than they should.\"\n\nThis devotion to duty is said to be peculiar to the English nation; and\nit has certainly more or less characterised our greatest public men.\nProbably no commander of any other nation ever went into action with\nsuch a signal flying as Nelson at Trafalgar--not \"Glory,\" or \"Victory,\"\nor \"Honour,\" or \"Country\"--but simply \"Duty!\" How few are the nations\nwilling to rally to such a battle-cry!\n\nShortly after the wreck of the BIRKENHEAD off the coast of Africa, in\nwhich the officers and men went down firing a FEU-DE-JOIE after seeing\nthe women and children safely embarked in the boats,--Robertson of\nBrighton, referring to the circumstance in one of his letters, said:\n\"Yes! Goodness, Duty, Sacrifice,--these are the qualities that England\nhonours. She gapes and wonders every now and then, like an awkward\npeasant, at some other things--railway kings, electro-biology, and other\ntrumperies; but nothing stirs her grand old heart down to its central\ndeeps universally and long, except the Right. She puts on her shawl very\nbadly, and she is awkward enough in a concert-room, scarce knowing a\nSwedish nightingale from a jackdaw; but--blessings large and long upon\nher!--she knows how to teach her sons to sink like men amidst sharks\nand billows, without parade, without display, as if Duty were the most\nnatural thing in the world; and she never mistakes long an actor for a\nhero, or a hero for an actor.\" [166]\n\nIt is a grand thing, after all, this pervading spirit of Duty in a\nnation; and so long as it survives, no one need despair of its future.\nBut when it has departed, or become deadened, and been supplanted by\nthirst for pleasure, or selfish aggrandisement, or \"glory\"--then woe to\nthat nation, for its dissolution is near at hand!\n\nIf there be one point on which intelligent observers are agreed more\nthan another as to the cause of the late deplorable collapse of France\nas a nation, it was the utter absence of this feeling of duty, as well\nas of truthfulness, from the mind, not only of the men, but of the\nleaders of the French people. The unprejudiced testimony of Baron\nStoffel, French military attache at Berlin, before the war, is\nconclusive on this point. In his private report to the Emperor, found\nat the Tuileries, which was written in August, 1869, about a year\nbefore the outbreak of the war, Baron Stoffel pointed out that the\nhighly-educated and disciplined German people were pervaded by an ardent\nsense of duty, and did not think it beneath them to reverence sincerely\nwhat was noble and lofty; whereas, in all respects, France presented a\nmelancholy contrast. There the people, having sneered at everything,\nhad lost the faculty of respecting anything, and virtue, family life,\npatriotism, honour, and religion, were represented to a frivolous\ngeneration as only fitting subjects for ridicule. [167] Alas! how terribly\nhas France been punished for her sins against truth and duty!\n\nYet the time was, when France possessed many great men inspired by\nduty; but they were all men of a comparatively remote past. The race\nof Bayard, Duguesclin, Coligny, Duquesne, Turenne, Colbert, and Sully,\nseems to have died out and left no lineage. There has been an occasional\ngreat Frenchman of modern times who has raised the cry of Duty; but his\nvoice has been as that of one crying in the wilderness. De Tocqueville\nwas one of such; but, like all men of his stamp, he was proscribed,\nimprisoned, and driven from public life. Writing on one occasion to his\nfriend Kergorlay, he said: \"Like you, I become more and more alive to\nthe happiness which consists in the fulfilment of Duty. I believe there\nis no other so deep and so real. There is only one great object in the\nworld which deserves our efforts, and that is the good of mankind.\" [168]\n\nAlthough France has been the unquiet spirit among the nations of Europe\nsince the reign of Louis XIV., there have from time to time been honest\nand faithful men who have lifted up their voices against the turbulent\nwarlike tendencies of the people, and not only preached, but endeavoured\nto carry into practice, a gospel of peace. Of these, the Abbe de\nSt.-Pierre was one of the most courageous. He had even the boldness to\ndenounce the wars of Louis XIV., and to deny that monarch's right to\nthe epithet of 'Great,' for which he was punished by expulsion from\nthe Academy. The Abbe was as enthusiastic an agitator for a system of\ninternational peace as any member of the modern Society of Friends. As\nJoseph Sturge went to St. Petersburg to convert the Emperor of Russia to\nhis views, so the Abbe went to Utrecht to convert the Conference sitting\nthere, to his project for a Diet; to secure perpetual peace. Of course\nhe was regarded as an enthusiast, Cardinal Dubois characterising his\nscheme as \"the dream of an honest man.\" Yet the Abbe had found his dream\nin the Gospel; and in what better way could he exemplify the spirit\nof the Master he served than by endeavouring to abate the horrors\nand abominations of war? The Conference was an assemblage of men\nrepresenting Christian States: and the Abbe merely called upon them to\nput in practice the doctrines they professed to believe. It was of no\nuse: the potentates and their representatives turned to him a deaf ear.\n\nThe Abbe de St.-Pierre lived several hundred years too soon. But he\ndetermined that his idea should not be lost, and in 1713 he published\nhis 'Project of Perpetual Peace.' He there proposed the formation of\na European Diet, or Senate, to be composed of representatives of all\nnations, before which princes should be bound, before resorting to arms,\nto state their grievances and require redress. Writing about eighty\nyears after the publication of this project, Volney asked: \"What is\na people?--an individual of the society at large. What a war?--a duel\nbetween two individual people. In what manner ought a society to act\nwhen two of its members fight?--Interfere, and reconcile or repress\nthem. In the days of the Abbe de St.-Pierre, this was treated as a\ndream; but, happily for the human race, it begins to be realised.\" Alas\nfor the prediction of Volney! The twenty-five years that followed the\ndate at which this passage was written, were distinguished by more\ndevastating and furious wars on the part of France than had ever been\nknown in the world before.\n\nThe Abbe was not, however, a mere dreamer. He was an active practical\nphilanthropist and anticipated many social improvements which have since\nbecome generally adopted. He was the original founder of industrial\nschools for poor children, where they not only received a good\neducation, but learned some useful trade, by which they might earn an\nhonest living when they grew up to manhood. He advocated the revision\nand simplification of the whole code of laws--an idea afterwards carried\nout by the First Napoleon. He wrote against duelling, against luxury,\nagainst gambling, against monasticism, quoting the remark of Segrais,\nthat \"the mania for a monastic life is the smallpox of the mind.\" He\nspent his whole income in acts of charity--not in almsgiving, but in\nhelping poor children, and poor men and women, to help themselves. His\nobject always was to benefit permanently those whom he assisted. He\ncontinued his love of truth and his freedom of speech to the last. At\nthe age of eighty he said: \"If life is a lottery for happiness, my lot\nhas been one of the best.\" When on his deathbed, Voltaire asked him\nhow he felt, to which he answered, \"As about to make a journey into the\ncountry.\" And in this peaceful frame of mind he died. But so outspoken\nhad St.-Pierre been against corruption in high places, that Maupertius,\nhis Successor at the Academy, was not permitted to pronounce his ELOGE;\nnor was it until thirty-two years after his death that this honour was\ndone to his memory by D'Alembert. The true and emphatic epitaph of the\ngood, truth-loving, truth-speaking Abbe was this--\"HE LOVED MUCH!\"\n\nDuty is closely allied to truthfulness of character; and the dutiful man\nis, above all things, truthful in his words as in his actions. He says\nand he does the right thing, in the right way, and at the right time.\n\nThere is probably no saying of Lord Chesterfield that commends itself\nmore strongly to the approval of manly-minded men, than that it is truth\nthat makes the success of the gentleman. Clarendon, speaking of one of\nthe noblest and purest gentlemen of his age, says of Falkland, that he\n\"was so severe an adorer of truth that he could as easily have given\nhimself leave to steal as to dissemble.\"\n\nIt was one of the finest things that Mrs. Hutchinson could say of her\nhusband, that he was a thoroughly truthful and reliable man: \"He never\nprofessed the thing he intended not, nor promised what he believed out\nof his power, nor failed in the performance of anything that was in his\npower to fulfil.\"\n\nWellington was a severe admirer of truth. An illustration may be given.\nWhen afflicted by deafness he consulted a celebrated aurist, who, after\ntrying all remedies in vain, determined, as a last resource, to inject\ninto the ear a strong solution of caustic. It caused the most intense\npain, but the patient bore it with his usual equanimity. The family\nphysician accidentally calling one day, found the Duke with flushed\ncheeks and bloodshot eyes, and when he rose he staggered about like a\ndrunken man. The doctor asked to be permitted to look at his ear, and\nthen he found that a furious inflammation was going on, which, if not\nimmediately checked, must shortly reach the brain and kill him. Vigorous\nremedies were at once applied, and the inflammation was checked. But the\nhearing of that ear was completely destroyed. When the aurist heard of\nthe danger his patient had run, through the violence of the remedy\nhe had employed, he hastened to Apsley House to express his grief and\nmortification; but the Duke merely said: \"Do not say a word more about\nit--you did all for the best.\" The aurist said it would be his ruin\nwhen it became known that he had been the cause of so much suffering and\ndanger to his Grace. \"But nobody need know anything about it: keep your\nown counsel, and, depend upon it, I won't say a word to any one.\" \"Then\nyour Grace will allow me to attend you as usual, which will show the\npublic that you have not withdrawn your confidence from me?\" \"No,\"\nreplied the Duke, kindly but firmly; \"I can't do that, for that would be\na lie.\" He would not act a falsehood any more than he would speak one.\n[169]\n\nAnother illustration of duty and truthfulness, as exhibited in the\nfulfilment of a promise, may be added from the life of Blucher. When he\nwas hastening with his army over bad roads to the help of Wellington, on\nthe 18th of June, 1815, he encouraged his troops by words and gestures.\n\"Forwards, children--forwards!\" \"It is impossible; it can't be done,\"\nwas the answer. Again and again he urged them. \"Children, we must get\non; you may say it can't be done, but it MUST be done! I have promised\nmy brother Wellington--PROMISED, do you hear? You wouldn't have me BREAK\nMY WORD!\" And it was done.\n\nTruth is the very bond of society, without which it must cease to exist,\nand dissolve into anarchy and chaos. A household cannot be governed by\nlying; nor can a nation. Sir Thomas Browne once asked, \"Do the devils\nlie?\" \"No,\" was his answer; \"for then even hell could not subsist.\" No\nconsiderations can justify the sacrifice of truth, which ought to be\nsovereign in all the relations of life.\n\nOf all mean vices, perhaps lying is the meanest. It is in some cases\nthe offspring of perversity and vice, and in many others of sheer moral\ncowardice. Yet many persons think so lightly of it that they will order\ntheir servants to lie for them; nor can they feel surprised if, after\nsuch ignoble instruction, they find their servants lying for themselves.\n\nSir Harry Wotton's description of an ambassador as \"an honest man sent\nto lie abroad for the benefit of his country,\" though meant as a satire,\nbrought him into disfavour with James I. when it became published; for\nan adversary quoted it as a principle of the king's religion. That it\nwas not Wotton's real view of the duty of an honest man, is obvious from\nthe lines quoted at the head of this chapter, on 'The Character of a\nHappy Life,' in which he eulogises the man\n\n          \"Whose armour is his honest thought,\n           And simple truth his utmost skill.\"\n\nBut lying assumes many forms--such as diplomacy, expediency, and moral\nreservation; and, under one guise or another, it is found more or less\npervading all classes of society. Sometimes it assumes the form of\nequivocation or moral dodging--twisting and so stating the things said\nas to convey a false impression--a kind of lying which a Frenchman once\ndescribed as \"walking round about the truth.\"\n\nThere are even men of narrow minds and dishonest natures, who pride\nthemselves upon their jesuitical cleverness in equivocation, in their\nserpent-wise shirking of the truth and getting out of moral back-doors,\nin order to hide their real opinions and evade the consequences of\nholding and openly professing them. Institutions or systems based upon\nany such expedients must necessarily prove false and hollow. \"Though\na lie be ever so well dressed,\" says George Herbert, \"it is ever\novercome.\" Downright lying, though bolder and more vicious, is even less\ncontemptible than such kind of shuffling and equivocation.\n\nUntruthfulness exhibits itself in many other forms: in reticency on the\none hand, or exaggeration on the other; in disguise or concealment; in\npretended concurrence in others opinions; in assuming an attitude of\nconformity which is deceptive; in making promises, or allowing them\nto be implied, which are never intended to be performed; or even in\nrefraining from speaking the truth when to do so is a duty. There are\nalso those who are all things to all men, who say one thing and do\nanother, like Bunyan's Mr. Facing-both-ways; only deceiving themselves\nwhen they think they are deceiving others--and who, being essentially\ninsincere, fail to evoke confidence, and invariably in the end turn out\nfailures, if not impostors.\n\nOthers are untruthful in their pretentiousness, and in assuming merits\nwhich they do not really possess. The truthful man is, on the contrary,\nmodest, and makes no parade of himself and his deeds. When Pitt was\nin his last illness, the news reached England of the great deeds of\nWellington in India. \"The more I hear of his exploits,\" said Pitt, \"the\nmore I admire the modesty with which he receives the praises he merits\nfor them. He is the only man I ever knew that was not vain of what he\nhad done, and yet had so much reason to be so.\"\n\nSo it is said of Faraday by Professor Tyndall, that \"pretence of all\nkinds, whether in life or in philosophy, was hateful to him.\" Dr.\nMarshall Hall was a man of like spirit--courageously truthful, dutiful,\nand manly. One of his most intimate friends has said of him that,\nwherever he met with untruthfulness or sinister motive, he would expose\nit, saying--\"I neither will, nor can, give my consent to a lie.\" The\nquestion, \"right or wrong,\" once decided in his own mind, the right\nwas followed, no matter what the sacrifice or the difficulty--neither\nexpediency nor inclination weighing one jot in the balance.\n\nThere was no virtue that Dr. Arnold laboured more sedulously to instil\ninto young men than the virtue of truthfulness, as being the manliest of\nvirtues, as indeed the very basis of all true manliness. He designated\ntruthfulness as \"moral transparency,\" and he valued it more highly than\nany other quality. When lying was detected, he treated it as a great\nmoral offence; but when a pupil made an assertion, he accepted it with\nconfidence. \"If you say so, that is quite enough; OF COURSE I believe\nyour word.\" By thus trusting and believing them, he educated the young\nin truthfulness; the boys at length coming to say to one another: \"It's\na shame to tell Arnold a lie--he always believes one.\" [1610]\n\nOne of the most striking instances that could be given of the character\nof the dutiful, truthful, laborious man, is presented in the life of\nthe late George Wilson, Professor of Technology in the University of\nEdinburgh. [1611] Though we bring this illustration under the head of\nDuty, it might equally have stood under that of Courage, Cheerfulness,\nor Industry, for it is alike illustrative of these several qualities.\n\nWilson's life was, indeed, a marvel of cheerful laboriousness;\nexhibiting the power of the soul to triumph over the body, and almost to\nset it at defiance. It might be taken as an illustration of the saying\nof the whaling-captain to Dr. Kane, as to the power of moral force over\nphysical: \"Bless you, sir, the soul will any day lift the body out of\nits boots!\"\n\nA fragile but bright and lively boy, he had scarcely entered manhood ere\nhis constitution began to exhibit signs of disease. As early, indeed,\nas his seventeenth year, he began to complain of melancholy and\nsleeplessness, supposed to be the effects of bile. \"I don't think I\nshall live long,\" he then said to a friend; \"my mind will--must work\nitself out, and the body will soon follow it.\" A strange confession for\na boy to make! But he gave his physical health no fair chance. His life\nwas all brain-work, study, and competition. When he took exercise it was\nin sudden bursts, which did him more harm than good. Long walks in the\nHighlands jaded and exhausted him; and he returned to his brain-work\nunrested and unrefreshed.\n\nIt was during one of his forced walks of some twenty-four miles in\nthe neighbourhood of Stirling, that he injured one of his feet, and he\nreturned home seriously ill. The result was an abscess, disease of the\nankle-joint, and long agony, which ended in the amputation of the\nright foot. But he never relaxed in his labours. He was now writing,\nlecturing, and teaching chemistry. Rheumatism and acute inflammation of\nthe eye next attacked him; and were treated by cupping, blisetring, and\ncolchicum. Unable himself to write, he went on preparing his lectures,\nwhich he dictated to his sister. Pain haunted him day and night,\nand sleep was only forced by morphia. While in this state of general\nprostration, symptoms of pulmonary disease began to show themselves. Yet\nhe continued to give the weekly lectures to which he stood committed\nto the Edinburgh School of Arts. Not one was shirked, though their\ndelivery, before a large audience, was a most exhausting duty. \"Well,\nthere's another nail put into my coffin,\" was the remark made on\nthrowing off his top-coat on returning home; and a sleepless night\nalmost invariably followed.\n\nAt twenty-seven, Wilson was lecturing ten, eleven, or more hours\nweekly, usually with setons or open blister-wounds upon him--his \"bosom\nfriends,\" he used to call them. He felt the shadow of death upon him;\nand he worked as if his days were numbered. \"Don't be surprised,\" he\nwrote to a friend, \"if any morning at breakfast you hear that I am\ngone.\" But while he said so, he did not in the least degree indulge in\nthe feeling of sickly sentimentality. He worked on as cheerfully and\nhopefully as if in the very fulness of his strength. \"To none,\" said he,\n\"is life so sweet as to those who have lost all fear to die.\"\n\nSometimes he was compelled to desist from his labours by sheer debility,\noccasioned by loss of blood from the lungs; but after a few weeks' rest\nand change of air, he would return to his work, saying, \"The water is\nrising in the well again!\" Though disease had fastened on his lungs, and\nwas spreading there, and though suffering from a distressing cough,\nhe went on lecturing as usual. To add to his troubles, when one day\nendeavouring to recover himself from a stumble occasioned by his\nlameness, he overstrained his arm, and broke the bone near the shoulder.\nBut he recovered from his successive accidents and illnesses in the most\nextraordinary way. The reed bent, but did not break: the storm passed,\nand it stood erect as before.\n\nThere was no worry, nor fever, nor fret about him; but instead,\ncheerfulness, patience, and unfailing perseverance. His mind, amidst all\nhis sufferings, remained perfectly calm and serene. He went about his\ndaily work with an apparently charmed life, as if he had the strength\nof many men in him. Yet all the while he knew he was dying, his chief\nanxiety being to conceal his state from those about him at home, to\nwhom the knowledge of his actual condition would have been inexpressibly\ndistressing. \"I am cheerful among strangers,\" he said, \"and try to live\nday by day as a dying man.\" [1612]\n\nHe went on teaching as before--lecturing to the Architectural Institute\nand to the School of Arts. One day, after a lecture before the latter\ninstitute, he lay down to rest, and was shortly awakened by the rupture\nof a bloodvessel, which occasioned him the loss of a considerable\nquantity of blood. He did not experience the despair and agony that\nKeats did on a like occasion; [1613] though he equally knew that the\nmessenger of death had come, and was waiting for him. He appeared at\nthe family meals as usual, and next day he lectured twice, punctually\nfulfilling his engagements; but the exertion of speaking was followed by\na second attack of haemorrhage. He now became seriously ill, and it\nwas doubted whether he would survive the night. But he did survive;\nand during his convalescence he was appointed to an important public\noffice--that of Director of the Scottish Industrial Museum, which\ninvolved a great amount of labour, as well as lecturing, in his capacity\nof Professor of Technology, which he held in connection with the office.\n\nFrom this time forward, his \"dear museum,\" as he called it, absorbed\nall his surplus energies. While busily occupied in collecting models\nand specimens for the museum, he filled up his odds-and-ends of time\nin lecturing to Ragged Schools, Ragged Kirks, and Medical Missionary\nSocieties. He gave himself no rest, either of mind or body; and \"to die\nworking\" was the fate he envied. His mind would not give in, but\nhis poor body was forced to yield, and a severe attack of\nhaemorrhage--bleeding from both lungs and stomach [1614]--compelled him\nto relax in his labours. \"For a month, or some forty days,\" he wrote--\"a\ndreadful Lent--the mind has blown geographically from 'Araby the blest,'\nbut thermometrically from Iceland the accursed. I have been made a\nprisoner of war, hit by an icicle in the lungs, and have shivered and\nburned alternately for a large portion of the last month, and spat blood\ntill I grew pale with coughing. Now I am better, and to-morrow I give\nmy concluding lecture [16on Technology], thankful that I have contrived,\nnotwithstanding all my troubles, to carry on without missing a lecture\nto the last day of the Faculty of Arts, to which I belong.\" [1615]\n\nHow long was it to last? He himself began to wonder, for he had long\nfelt his life as if ebbing away. At length he became languid, weary, and\nunfit for work; even the writing of a letter cost him a painful effort,\nand. he felt \"as if to lie down and sleep were the only things worth\ndoing.\" Yet shortly after, to help a Sunday-school, he wrote his 'Five\nGateways of Knowledge,' as a lecture, and afterwards expanded it into\na book. He also recovered strength sufficient to enable him to proceed\nwith his lectures to the institutions to which he belonged, besides on\nvarious occasions undertaking to do other people's work. \"I am looked\nupon as good as mad,\" he wrote to his brother, \"because, on a hasty\nnotice, I took a defaulting lecturer's place at the Philosophical\nInstitution, and discoursed on the Polarization of Light.... But I like\nwork: it is a family weakness.\"\n\nThen followed chronic malaise--sleepless nights, days of pain, and\nmore spitting of blood. \"My only painless moments,\" he says, \"were when\nlecturing.\" In this state of prostration and disease, the indefatigable\nman undertook to write the 'Life of Edward Forbes'; and he did it, like\neverything he undertook, with admirable ability. He proceeded with\nhis lectures as usual. To an association of teachers he delivered a\ndiscourse on the educational value of industrial science. After he\nhad spoken to his audience for an hour, he left them to say whether\nhe should go on or not, and they cheered him on to another half-hour's\naddress. \"It is curious,\" he wrote, \"the feeling of having an audience,\nlike clay in your hands, to mould for a season as you please. It is a\nterribly responsible power.... I do not mean for a moment to imply that\nI am indifferent to the good opinion of others--far otherwise; but to\ngain this is much less a concern with me than to deserve it. It was\nnot so once. I had no wish for unmerited praise, but I was too ready to\nsettle that I did merit it. Now, the word DUTY seems to me the biggest\nword in the world, and is uppermost in all my serious doings.\"\n\nThis was written only about four months before his death. A little later\nhe wrote, \"I spin my thread of life from week to week, rather than from\nyear to year.\" Constant attacks of bleeding from the lungs sapped his\nlittle remaining strength, but did not altogether disable him from\nlecturing. He was amused by one of his friends proposing to put him\nunder trustees for the purpose of looking after his health. But he\nwould not be restrained from working, so long as a vestige of strength\nremained.\n\nOne day, in the autumn of 1859, he returned from his customary lecture\nin the University of Edinburgh with a severe pain in his side. He was\nscarcely able to crawl upstairs. Medical aid was sent for, and he was\npronounced to be suffering from pleurisy and inflammation of the lungs.\nHis enfeebled frame was ill able to resist so severe a disease, and he\nsank peacefully to the rest he so longed for, after a few days' illness:\n\n          \"Wrong not the dead with tears!\n          A glorious bright to-morrow\n      Endeth a weary life of pain and sorrow.\"\n\nThe life of George Wilson--so admirably and affectionately related by\nhis sister--is probably one of the most marvellous records of pain and\nlongsuffering, and yet of persistent, noble, and useful work, that is\nto be found in the whole history of literature. His entire career\nwas indeed but a prolonged illustration of the lines which he himself\naddressed to his deceased friend, Dr. John Reid, a likeminded man, whose\nmemoir he wrote:--\n\n         \"Thou wert a daily lesson\n            Of courage, hope, and faith;\n          We wondered at thee living,\n            We envy thee thy death.\n\n          Thou wert so meek and reverent,\n            So resolute of will,\n          So bold to bear the uttermost,\n            And yet so calm and still.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII.--TEMPER.\n\n\n      \"Temper is nine-tenths of Christianity.\"--BISHOP WILSON.\n\n        \"Heaven is a temper, not a place.\"--DR. CHALMERS.\n\n        \"And should my youth, as youth is apt I know,\n                   Some harshness show;\n        All vain asperities I day by day\n                   Would wear away,\n        Till the smooth temper of my age should be\n        Like the high leaves upon the Holly Tree\"--SOUTHEY.\n\n    \"Even Power itself hath not one-half the might of Gentleness\"\n                                                  --LEIGH HUNT.\n\n\nIt has been said that men succeed in life quite as much by their temper\nas by their talents. However this may be, it is certain that their\nhappiness in life depends mainly upon their equanimity of disposition,\ntheir patience and forbearance, and their kindness and thoughtfulness\nfor those about them. It is really true what Plato says, that in seeking\nthe good of others we find our own.\n\nThere are some natures so happily constituted that they can find good in\neverything. There is no calamity so great but they can educe comfort or\nconsolation from it--no sky so black but they can discover a gleam of\nsunshine issuing through it from some quarter or another; and if the sun\nbe not visible to their eyes, they at least comfort themselves with the\nthought that it IS there, though veiled from them for some good and wise\npurpose.\n\nSuch happy natures are to be envied. They have a beam in the eye--a beam\nof pleasure, gladness, religious cheerfulness, philosophy, call it what\nyou will. Sunshine is about their hearts, and their mind gilds with its\nown hues all that it looks upon. When they have burdens to bear, they\nbear them cheerfully--not repining, nor fretting, nor wasting their\nenergies in useless lamentation, but struggling onward manfully,\ngathering up such flowers as lie along their path.\n\nLet it not for a moment be supposed that men such as those we speak of\nare weak and unreflective. The largest and most comprehensive natures\nare generally also the most cheerful, the most loving, the most hopeful,\nthe most trustful. It is the wise man, of large vision, who is the\nquickest to discern the moral sunshine gleaming through the darkest\ncloud. In present evil he sees prospective good; in pain, he recognises\nthe effort of nature to restore health; in trials, he finds correction\nand discipline; and in sorrow and suffering, he gathers courage,\nknowledge, and the best practical wisdom.\n\nWhen Jeremy Taylor had lost all--when his house had been plundered,\nand his family driven out-of-doors, and all his worldly estate had been\nsequestrated--he could still write thus: \"I am fallen into the hands of\npublicans and sequestrators, and they have taken all from me; what now?\nLet me look about me. They have left me the sun and moon, a loving wife,\nand many friends to pity me, and some to relieve me; and I can still\ndiscourse, and, unless I list, they have not taken away my merry\ncountenance and my cheerful spirit, and a good conscience; they have\nstill left me the providence of God, and all the promises of the Gospel,\nand my religion, and my hopes of heaven, and my charity to them, too;\nand still I sleep and digest, I eat and drink, I read and meditate....\nAnd he that hath so many causes of joy, and so great, is very much in\nlove with sorrow and peevishness, who loves all these pleasures, and\nchooses to sit down upon his little handful of thorns.\" [171]\n\nAlthough cheerfulness of disposition is very much a matter of inborn\ntemperament, it is also capable of being trained and cultivated like any\nother habit. We may make the best of life, or we may make the worst of\nit; and it depends very much upon ourselves whether we extract joy or\nmisery from it. There are always two sides of life on which we can look,\naccording as we choose--the bright side or the gloomy. We can bring the\npower of the will to bear in making the choice, and thus cultivate the\nhabit of being happy or the reverse. We can encourage the disposition\nof looking at the brightest side of things, instead of the darkest. And\nwhile we see the cloud, let us not shut our eyes to the silver lining.\n\nThe beam in the eye sheds brightness, beauty, and joy upon life in all\nits phases. It shines upon coldness, and warms it; upon suffering, and\ncomforts it; upon ignorance, and enlightens it; upon sorrow, and cheers\nit. The beam in the eye gives lustre to intellect, and brightens beauty\nitself. Without it the sunshine of life is not felt, flowers bloom in\nvain, the marvels of heaven and earth are not seen or acknowledged, and\ncreation is but a dreary, lifeless, soulless blank.\n\nWhile cheerfulness of disposition is a great source of enjoyment in\nlife, it is also a great safeguard of character. A devotional writer\nof the present day, in answer to the question, How are we to overcome\ntemptations? says: \"Cheerfulness is the first thing, cheerfulness is the\nsecond, and cheerfulness is the third.\" It furnishes the best soil for\nthe growth of goodness and virtue. It gives brightness of heart and\nelasticity of spirit. It is the companion of charity, the nurse of\npatience the mother of wisdom. It is also the best of moral and mental\ntonics. \"The best cordial of all,\" said Dr. Marshall Hall to one of his\npatients, \"is cheerfulness.\" And Solomon has said that \"a merry heart\ndoeth good like a medicine.\" When Luther was once applied to for a\nremedy against melancholy, his advice was: \"Gaiety and courage--innocent\ngaiety, and rational honourable courage--are the best medicine for young\nmen, and for old men, too; for all men against sad thoughts.\" [172] Next\nto music, if not before it, Luther loved children and flowers. The great\ngnarled man had a heart as tender as a woman's.\n\nCheerfulness is also an excellent wearing quality. It has been called\nthe bright weather of the heart. It gives harmony of soul, and is a\nperpetual song without words. It is tantamount to repose. It enables\nnature to recruit its strength; whereas worry and discontent debilitate\nit, involving constant wear-and-tear. How is it that we see such men\nas Lord Palmerston growing old in harness, working on vigorously to the\nend? Mainly through equanimity of temper and habitual cheerfulness. They\nhave educated themselves in the habit of endurance, of not being easily\nprovoked, of bearing and forbearing, of hearing harsh and even unjust\nthings said of them without indulging in undue resentment, and avoiding\nworreting, petty, and self-tormenting cares. An intimate friend of Lord\nPalmerston, who observed him closely for twenty years, has said that he\nnever saw him angry, with perhaps one exception; and that was when the\nministry responsible for the calamity in Affghanistan, of which he was\none, were unjustly accused by their opponents of falsehood, perjury, and\nwilful mutilation of public documents.\n\nSo far as can be learnt from biography, men of the greatest genius\nhave been for the most part cheerful, contented men--not eager for\nreputation, money, or power--but relishing life, and keenly susceptible\nof enjoyment, as we find reflected in their works. Such seem to have\nbeen Homer, Horace, Virgil, Montaigne, Shakspeare, Cervantes. Healthy\nserene cheerfulness is apparent in their great creations. Among the same\nclass of cheerful-minded men may also be mentioned Luther, More, Bacon,\nLeonardo da Vinci, Raphael, and Michael Angelo. Perhaps they were happy\nbecause constantly occupied, and in the pleasantest of all work--that of\ncreating out of the fulness and richness of their great minds.\n\nMilton, too, though a man of many trials and sufferings, must have been\na man of great cheerfulness and elasticity of nature. Though overtaken\nby blindness, deserted by friends, and fallen upon evil days--\"darkness\nbefore and danger's voice behind\"--yet did he not bate heart or hope,\nbut \"still bore up and steered right onward.\"\n\nHenry Fielding was a man borne down through life by debt, and\ndifficulty, and bodily suffering; and yet Lady Mary Wortley Montague\nhas said of him that, by virtue of his cheerful disposition, she was\npersuaded he \"had known more happy moments than any person on earth.\"\n\nDr. Johnson, through all his trials and sufferings and hard fights with\nfortune, was a courageous and cheerful-natured man. He manfully made\nthe best of life, and tried to be glad in it. Once, when a clergyman was\ncomplaining of the dulness of society in the country, saying \"they only\ntalk of runts\" [17young cows], Johnson felt flattered by the observation\nof Mrs. Thrale's mother, who said, \"Sir, Dr. Johnson would learn to\ntalk of runts\"--meaning that he was a man who would make the most of his\nsituation, whatever it was.\n\nJohnson was of opinion that a man grew better as he grew older, and that\nhis nature mellowed with age. This is certainly a much more cheerful\nview of human nature than that of Lord Chesterfield, who saw life\nthrough the eyes of a cynic, and held that \"the heart never grows better\nby age: it only grows harder.\" But both sayings may be true according\nto the point from which life is viewed, and the temper by which a man is\ngoverned; for while the good, profiting by experience, and disciplining\nthemselves by self-control, will grow better, the ill-conditioned,\nuninfluenced by experience, will only grow worse.\n\nSir Walter Scott was a man full of the milk of human kindness. Everybody\nloved him. He was never five minutes in a room ere the little pets of\nthe family, whether dumb or lisping, had found out his kindness for all\ntheir generation. Scott related to Captain Basil Hall an incident of his\nboyhood which showed the tenderness of his nature. One day, a dog coming\ntowards him, he took up a big stone, threw it, and hit the dog. The poor\ncreature had strength enough left to crawl up to him and lick his feet,\nalthough he saw its leg was broken. The incident, he said, had given\nhim the bitterest remorse in his after-life; but he added, \"An early\ncircumstance of that kind, properly reflected on, is calculated to have\nthe best effect on one's character throughout life.\"\n\n\"Give me an honest laugher,\" Scott would say; and he himself laughed the\nheart's laugh. He had a kind word for everybody, and his kindness acted\nall round him like a contagion, dispelling the reserve and awe which his\ngreat name was calculated to inspire. \"He'll come here,\" said the keeper\nof the ruins of Melrose Abbey to Washington Irving--\"he'll come here\nsome-times, wi' great folks in his company, and the first I'll know of\nit is hearing his voice calling out, 'Johnny! Johnny Bower!' And when I\ngo out I'm sure to be greeted wi' a joke or a pleasant word. He'll stand\nand crack and laugh wi' me, just like an auld wife; and to think that of\na man that has SUCH AN AWFU' KNOWLEDGE O' HISTORY!\"\n\nDr. Arnold was a man of the same hearty cordiality of manner--full of\nhuman sympathy. There was not a particle of affectation or pretence of\ncondescension about him. \"I never knew such a humble man as the doctor,\"\nsaid the parish clerk at Laleham; \"he comes and shakes us by the hand as\nif he was one of us.\" \"He used to come into my house,\" said an old woman\nnear Fox How, \"and talk to me as if I were a lady.\"\n\nSydney Smith was another illustration of the power of cheerfulness. He\nwas ever ready to look on the bright side of things; the darkest cloud\nhad to him its silver lining. Whether working as country curate, or as\nparish rector, he was always kind, laborious, patient, and exemplary;\nexhibiting in every sphere of life the spirit of a Christian, the\nkindness of a pastor, and the honour of a gentleman. In his leisure he\nemployed his pen on the side of justice, freedom, education, toleration,\nemancipation; and his writings, though full of common-sense and bright\nhumour, are never vulgar; nor did he ever pander to popularity or\nprejudice. His good spirits, thanks to his natural vivacity and stamina\nof constitution, never forsook him; and in his old age, when borne down\nby disease, he wrote to a friend: \"I have gout, asthma, and seven other\nmaladies, but am otherwise very well.\" In one of the last letters he\nwrote to Lady Carlisle, he said: \"If you hear of sixteen or eighteen\npounds of flesh wanting an owner, they belong to me. I look as if a\ncurate had been taken out of me.\"\n\nGreat men of science have for the most part been patient, laborious,\ncheerful-minded men. Such were Galileo, Descartes, Newton, and Laplace.\nEuler the mathematician, one of the greatest of natural philosophers,\nwas a distinguished instance. Towards the close of his life he became\ncompletely blind; but he went on writing as cheerfully as before,\nsupplying the want of sight by various ingenious mechanical devices,\nand by the increased cultivation of his memory, which became exceedingly\ntenacious. His chief pleasure was in the society of his grandchildren,\nto whom he taught their little lessons in the intervals of his severer\nstudies.\n\nIn like manner, Professor Robison of Edinburgh, the first editor of the\n'Encyclopaedia Britannica,' when disabled from work by a lingering\nand painful disorder, found his chief pleasure in the society of his\ngrandchild. \"I am infinitely delighted,\" he wrote to James Watt, \"with\nobserving the growth of its little soul, and particularly with its\nnumberless instincts, which formerly passed unheeded. I thank the French\ntheorists for more forcibly directing my attention to the finger of God,\nwhich I discern in every awkward movement and every wayward whim. They\nare all guardians of his life and growth and power. I regret indeed that\nI have not time to make infancy and the development of its powers my\nsole study.\"\n\nOne of the sorest trials of a man's temper and patience was that which\nbefell Abauzit, the natural philosopher, while residing at Geneva;\nresembling in many respects a similar calamity which occurred to Newton,\nand which he bore with equal resignation. Amongst other things, Abauzit\ndevoted much study to the barometer and its variations, with the object\nof deducing the general laws which regulated atmospheric pressure.\nDuring twenty-seven years he made numerous observations daily, recording\nthem on sheets prepared for the purpose. One day, when a new servant was\ninstalled in the house, she immediately proceeded to display her zeal\nby \"putting things to-rights.\" Abauzit's study, amongst other rooms, was\nmade tidy and set in order. When he entered it, he asked of the servant,\n\"What have you done with the paper that was round the barometer?\" \"Oh,\nsir,\" was the reply, \"it was so dirty that I burnt it, and put in its\nplace this paper, which you will see is quite new.\" Abauzit crossed his\narms, and after some moments of internal struggle, he said, in a tone\nof calmness and resignation: \"You have destroyed the results of\ntwenty-seven years labour; in future touch nothing whatever in this\nroom.\"\n\nThe study of natural history more than that of any other branch of\nscience, seems to be accompanied by unusual cheerfulness and equanimity\nof temper on the part of its votaries; the result of which is, that\nthe life of naturalists is on the whole more prolonged than that of\nany other class of men of science. A member of the Linnaean Society has\ninformed us that of fourteen members who died in 1870, two were over\nninety, five were over eighty, and two were over seventy. The average\nage of all the members who died in that year was seventy-five.\n\nAdanson, the French botanist, was about seventy years old when the\nRevolution broke out, and amidst the shock he lost everything--his\nfortune, his places, and his gardens. But his patience, courage,\nand resignation never forsook him. He became reduced to the greatest\nstraits, and even wanted food and clothing; yet his ardour of\ninvestigation remained the same. Once, when the Institute invited him,\nas being one of its oldest members, to assist at a SEANCE, his answer\nwas that he regretted he could not attend for want of shoes. \"It was a\ntouching sight,\" says Cuvier, \"to see the poor old man, bent over the\nembers of a decaying fire, trying to trace characters with a feeble hand\non the little bit of paper which he held, forgetting all the pains of\nlife in some new idea in natural history, which came to him like\nsome beneficent fairy to cheer him in his loneliness.\" The Directory\neventually gave him a small pension, which Napoleon doubled; and at\nlength, easeful death came to his relief in his seventy-ninth year. A\nclause in his will, as to the manner of his funeral, illustrates the\ncharacter of the man. He directed that a garland of flowers, provided by\nfifty-eight families whom he had established in life, should be the\nonly decoration of his coffin--a slight but touching image of the more\ndurable monument which he had erected for himself in his works.\n\nSuch are only a few instances, of the cheerful-working-ness of great\nmen, which might, indeed, be multiplied to any extent. All large\nhealthy natures are cheerful as well as hopeful. Their example is also\ncontagious and diffusive, brightening and cheering all who come within\nreach of their influence. It was said of Sir John Malcolm, when he\nappeared in a saddened camp in India, that \"it was like a gleam of\nsunlight,.... no man left him without a smile on his face. He was 'boy\nMalcolm' still. It was impossible to resist the fascination of his\ngenial presence.\" [173]\n\nThere was the same joyousness of nature about Edmund Burke. Once at a\ndinner at Sir Joshua Reynolds's, when the conversation turned upon\nthe suitability of liquors for particular temperaments, Johnson said,\n\"Claret is for boys, port for men, and brandy for heroes.\" \"Then,\" said\nBurke, \"let me have claret: I love to be a boy, and to have the careless\ngaiety of boyish days.\" And so it is, that there are old young men, and\nyoung old men--some who are as joyous and cheerful as boys in their\nold age, and others who are as morose and cheerless as saddened old men\nwhile still in their boyhood.\n\nIn the presence of some priggish youths, we have heard a cheerful old\nman declare that, apparently, there would soon be nothing but \"old boys\"\nleft. Cheerfulness, being generous and genial, joyous and hearty, is\nnever the characteristic of prigs. Goethe used to exclaim of goody-goody\npersons, \"Oh! if they had but the heart to commit an absurdity!\" This\nwas when he thought they wanted heartiness and nature. \"Pretty dolls!\"\nwas his expression when speaking of them, and turning away.\n\nThe true basis of cheerfulness is love, hope, and patience. Love evokes\nlove, and begets loving kindness. Love cherishes hopeful and generous\nthoughts of others. It is charitable, gentle, and truthful. It is a\ndiscerner of good. It turns to the brightest side of things, and its\nface is ever directed towards happiness. It sees \"the glory in the\ngrass, the sunshine on the flower.\" It encourages happy thoughts, and\nlives in an atmosphere of cheerfulness. It costs nothing, and yet is\ninvaluable; for it blesses its possessor, and grows up in abundant\nhappiness in the bosoms of others. Even its sorrows are linked with\npleasures, and its very tears are sweet.\n\nBentham lays it down as a principle, that a man becomes rich in his own\nstock of pleasures in proportion to the amount he distributes to others.\nHis kindness will evoke kindness, and his happiness be increased by his\nown benevolence. \"Kind words,\" he says, \"cost no more than unkind ones.\nKind words produce kind actions, not only on the part of him to whom\nthey are addressed, but on the part of him by whom they are employed;\nand this not incidentally only, but habitually, in virtue of the\nprinciple of association.\".... \"It may indeed happen, that the effort\nof beneficence may not benefit those for whom it was intended; but when\nwisely directed, it MUST benefit the person from whom it emanates. Good\nand friendly conduct may meet with an unworthy and ungrateful return;\nbut the absence of gratitude on the part of the receiver cannot destroy\nthe self-approbation which recompenses the giver, and we may scatter the\nseeds of courtesy and kindliness around us at so little expense. Some of\nthem will inevitably fall on good ground, and grow up into benevolence\nin the minds of others; and all of them will bear fruit of happiness\nin the bosom whence they spring. Once blest are all the virtues always;\ntwice blest sometimes.\" [174]\n\nThe poet Rogers used to tell a story of a little girl, a great favourite\nwith every one who knew her. Some one said to her, \"Why does everybody\nlove you so much?\" She answered, \"I think it is because I love everybody\nso much.\" This little story is capable of a very wide application; for\nour happiness as human beings, generally speaking, will be found to be\nvery much in proportion to the number of things we love, and the number\nof things that love us. And the greatest worldly success, however\nhonestly achieved, will contribute comparatively little to happiness,\nunless it be accompanied by a lively benevolence towards every human\nbeing.\n\nKindness is indeed a great power in the world. Leigh Hunt has truly said\nthat \"Power itself hath not one half the might of gentleness.\" Men are\nalways best governed through their affections. There is a French proverb\nwhich says that, \"LES HOMMES SE PRENNENT PAR LA DOUCEUR,\" and a coarser\nEnglish one, to the effect that \"More wasps are caught by honey than by\nvinegar.\" \"Every act of kindness,\" says Bentham, \"is in fact an exercise\nof power, and a stock of friendship laid up; and why should not power\nexercise itself in the production of pleasure as of pain?\"\n\nKindness does not consist in gifts, but in gentleness and generosity\nof spirit. Men may give their money which comes from the purse, and\nwithhold their kindness which comes from the heart. The kindness that\ndisplays itself in giving money, does not amount to much, and often\ndoes quite as much harm as good; but the kindness of true sympathy, of\nthoughtful help, is never without beneficent results.\n\nThe good temper that displays itself in kindness must not be confounded\nwith softness or silliness. In its best form, it is not a merely passive\nbut an active condition of being. It is not by any means indifferent,\nbut largely sympathetic. It does not characterise the lowest and most\ngelatinous forms of human life, but those that are the most highly\norganized. True kindness cherishes and actively promotes all reasonable\ninstrumentalities for doing practical good in its own time; and,\nlooking into futurity, sees the same spirit working on for the eventual\nelevation and happiness of the race.\n\nIt is the kindly-dispositioned men who are the active men of the\nworld, while the selfish and the sceptical, who have no love but for\nthemselves, are its idlers. Buffon used to say, that he would give\nnothing for a young man who did not begin life with an enthusiasm of\nsome sort. It showed that at least he had faith in something good,\nlofty, and generous, even if unattainable.\n\nEgotism, scepticism, and selfishness are always miserable companions\nin life, and they are especially unnatural in youth. The egotist is\nnext-door to a fanatic. Constantly occupied with self, he has no thought\nto spare for others. He refers to himself in all things, thinks of\nhimself, and studies himself, until his own little self becomes his own\nlittle god.\n\nWorst of all are the grumblers and growlers at fortune--who find that\n\"whatever is is wrong,\" and will do nothing to set matters right--who\ndeclare all to be barren \"from Dan even to Beersheba.\" These grumblers\nare invariably found the least efficient helpers in the school of life.\nAs the worst workmen are usually the readiest to \"strike,\" so the least\nindustrious members of society are the readiest to complain. The worst\nwheel of all is the one that creaks.\n\nThere is such a thing as the cherishing of discontent until the feeling\nbecomes morbid. The jaundiced see everything about them yellow. The\nill-conditioned think all things awry, and the whole world out-of-joint.\nAll is vanity and vexation of spirit. The little girl in PUNCH, who\nfound her doll stuffed with bran, and forthwith declared everything to\nbe hollow and wanted to \"go into a nunnery,\" had her counterpart in real\nlife. Many full-grown people are quite as morbidly unreasonable. There\nare those who may be said to \"enjoy bad health;\" they regard it as a\nsort of property. They can speak of \"MY headache\"--\"MY backache,\" and\nso forth, until in course of time it becomes their most cherished\npossession. But perhaps it is the source to them of much coveted\nsympathy, without which they might find themselves of comparatively\nlittle importance in the world.\n\nWe have to be on our guard against small troubles, which, by\nencouraging, we are apt to magnify into great ones. Indeed, the chief\nsource of worry in the world is not real but imaginary evil--small\nvexations and trivial afflictions. In the presence of a great sorrow,\nall petty troubles disappear; but we are too ready to take some\ncherished misery to our bosom, and to pet it there. Very often it is the\nchild of our fancy; and, forgetful of the many means of happiness which\nlie within our reach, we indulge this spoilt child of ours until\nit masters us. We shut the door against cheerfulness, and surround\nourselves with gloom. The habit gives a colouring to our life. We grow\nquerulous, moody, and unsympathetic. Our conversation becomes full of\nregrets. We are harsh in our judgment of others. We are unsociable, and\nthink everybody else is so. We make our breast a storehouse of pain,\nwhich we inflict upon ourselves as well as upon others.\n\nThis disposition is encouraged by selfishness: indeed, it is for the\nmost part selfishness unmingled, without any admixture of sympathy\nor consideration for the feelings of those about us. It is simply\nwilfulness in the wrong direction. It is wilful, because it might be\navoided. Let the necessitarians argue as they may, freedom of will and\naction is the possession of every man and woman. It is sometimes our\nglory, and very often it is our shame: all depends upon the manner in\nwhich it is used. We can choose to look at the bright side of things,\nor at the dark. We can follow good and eschew evil thoughts. We can be\nwrongheaded and wronghearted, or the reverse, as we ourselves determine.\nThe world will be to each one of us very much what we make it. The\ncheerful are its real possessors, for the world belongs to those who\nenjoy it.\n\nIt must, however, be admitted that there are cases beyond the reach of\nthe moralist. Once, when a miserable-looking dyspeptic called upon a\nleading physician and laid his case before him, \"Oh!\" said the doctor,\n\"you only want a good hearty laugh: go and see Grimaldi.\" \"Alas!\" said\nthe miserable patient, \"I am Grimaldi!\" So, when Smollett, oppressed\nby disease, travelled over Europe in the hope of finding health, he\nsaw everything through his own jaundiced eyes. \"I'll tell it,\" said\nSmellfungus, \"to the world.\" \"You had better tell it,\" said Sterne, \"to\nyour physician.\" The restless, anxious, dissatisfied temper, that is\never ready to run and meet care half-way, is fatal to all happiness and\npeace of mind. How often do we see men and women set themselves about as\nif with stiff bristles, so that one dare scarcely approach them without\nfear of being pricked! For want of a little occasional command over\none's temper, an amount of misery is occasioned in society which is\npositively frightful. Thus enjoyment is turned into bitterness, and\nlife becomes like a journey barefooted amongst thorns and briers and\nprickles. \"Though sometimes small evils,\" says Richard Sharp, \"like\ninvisible insects, inflict great pain, and a single hair may stop a vast\nmachine, yet the chief secret of comfort lies in not suffering trifles\nto vex us; and in prudently cultivating an undergrowth of small\npleasures, since very few great ones, alas! are let on long leases.\" [175]\n\nSt. Francis de Sales treats the same topic from the Christian's point\nof view. \"How carefully,\" he says, \"we should cherish the little virtues\nwhich spring up at the foot of the Cross!\" When the saint was asked,\n\"What virtues do you mean?\" he replied: \"Humility, patience, meekness,\nbenignity, bearing one another's burden, condescension, softness\nof heart, cheerfulness, cordiality, compassion, forgiving injuries,\nsimplicity, candour--all, in short of that sort of little virtues. They,\nlike unobtrusive violets, love the shade; like them are sustained by\ndew; and though, like them, they make little show, they shed a sweet\nodour on all around.\" [176]\n\nAnd again he said: \"If you would fall into any extreme, let it be on\nthe side of gentleness. The human mind is so constructed that it resists\nrigour, and yields to softness. A mild word quenches anger, as water\nquenches the rage of fire; and by benignity any soil may be rendered\nfruitful. Truth, uttered with courtesy, is heaping coals of fire on the\nhead--or rather, throwing roses in the face. How can we resist a foe\nwhose weapons are pearls and diamonds?\" [177]\n\nMeeting evils by anticipation is not the way to overcome them. If we\nperpetually carry our burdens about with us, they will soon bear us\ndown under their load. When evil comes, we must deal with it bravely and\nhopefully. What Perthes wrote to a young man, who seemed to him inclined\nto take trifles as well as sorrows too much to heart, was doubtless good\nadvice: \"Go forward with hope and confidence. This is the advice given\nthee by an old man, who has had a full share of the burden and heat of\nlife's day. We must ever stand upright, happen what may, and for this\nend we must cheerfully resign ourselves to the varied influences of this\nmany-coloured life. You may call this levity, and you are partly right;\nfor flowers and colours are but trifles light as air, but such levity is\na constituent portion of our human nature, without which it would sink\nunder the weight of time. While on earth we must still play with earth,\nand with that which blooms and fades upon its breast. The consciousness\nof this mortal life being but the way to a higher goal, by no means\nprecludes our playing with it cheerfully; and, indeed, we must do so,\notherwise our energy in action will entirely fail.\" [178]\n\nCheerfulness also accompanies patience, which is one of the main\nconditions of happiness and success in life. \"He that will be served,\"\nsays George Herbert, \"must be patient.\" It was said of the cheerful and\npatient King Alfred, that \"good fortune accompanied him like a gift of\nGod.\" Marlborough's expectant calmness was great, and a principal secret\nof his success as a general. \"Patience will overcome all things,\" he\nwrote to Godolphin, in 1702. In the midst of a great emergency, while\nbaffled and opposed by his allies, he said, \"Having done all that is\npossible, we should submit with patience.\"\n\nLast and chiefest of blessings is Hope, the most common of possessions;\nfor, as Thales the philosopher said, \"Even those who have nothing else\nhave hope.\" Hope is the great helper of the poor. It has even been\nstyled \"the poor man's bread.\" It is also the sustainer and inspirer\nof great deeds. It is recorded of Alexander the Great, that when he\nsucceeded to the throne of Macedon, he gave away amongst his friends\nthe greater part of the estates which his father had left him; and when\nPerdiccas asked him what he reserved for himself, Alexander answered,\n\"The greatest possession of all,--Hope!\"\n\nThe pleasures of memory, however great, are stale compared with those\nof hope; for hope is the parent of all effort and endeavour; and \"every\ngift of noble origin is breathed upon by Hope's perpetual breath.\" It\nmay be said to be the moral engine that moves the world, and keeps it in\naction; and at the end of all there stands before us what Robertson of\nEllon styled \"The Great Hope.\" \"If it were not for Hope,\" said Byron,\n\"where would the Future be?--in hell! It is useless to say where the\nPresent is, for most of us know; and as for the Past, WHAT predominates\nin memory?--Hope baffled. ERGO, in all human affairs it is Hope, Hope,\nHope!\" [179]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX.--MANNER--ART.\n\n\n\n     \"We must be gentle, now we are gentlemen.\"--SHAKSPEARE.\n\n          \"Manners are not idle, but the fruit\n           Of noble nature and of loyal mind.\"--TENNYSON.\n\n     \"A beautiful behaviour is better than a beautiful form; it\n     gives a higher pleasure than statues and pictures; it is the\n     finest of the fine arts.\"--EMERSON.\n\n     \"Manners are often too much neglected; they are most\n     important to men, no less than to women.... Life is too\n     short to get over a bad manner; besides, manners are the\n     shadows of virtues.\"--THE REV. SIDNEY SMITH.\n\n\nManner is one of the principal external graces of character. It is the\nornament of action, and often makes the commonest offices beautiful by\nthe way in which it performs them. It is a happy way of doing things,\nadorning even the smallest details of life, and contributing to render\nit, as a whole, agreeable and pleasant.\n\nManner is not so frivolous or unimportant as some may think it to be;\nfor it tends greatly to facilitate the business of life, as well as\nto sweeten and soften social intercourse. \"Virtue itself,\" says Bishop\nMiddleton, \"offends, when coupled with a forbidding manner.\"\n\nManner has a good deal to do with the estimation in which men are held\nby the world; and it has often more influence in the government of\nothers than qualities of much greater depth and substance. A manner at\nonce gracious and cordial is among the greatest aids to success, and\nmany there are who fail for want of it. [181] For a great deal depends\nupon first impressions; and these are usually favourable or otherwise\naccording to a man's courteousness and civility.\n\nWhile rudeness and gruffness bar doors and shut hearts, kindness and\npropriety of behaviour, in which good manners consist, act as an \"open\nsesame\" everywhere. Doors unbar before them, and they are a passport to\nthe hearts of everybody, young and old.\n\nThere is a common saying that \"Manners make the man;\" but this is not so\ntrue as that \"Man makes the manners.\" A man may be gruff, and even\nrude, and yet be good at heart and of sterling character; yet he would\ndoubtless be a much more agreeable, and probably a much more useful man,\nwere he to exhibit that suavity of disposition and courtesy of manner\nwhich always gives a finish to the true gentleman.\n\nMrs. Hutchinson, in the noble portraiture of her husband, to which\nwe have already had occasion to refer, thus describes his manly\ncourteousness and affability of disposition:--\"I cannot say whether\nhe were more truly magnanimous or less proud; he never disdained the\nmeanest person, nor flattered the greatest; he had a loving and sweet\ncourtesy to the poorest, and would often employ many spare hours with\nthe commonest soldiers and poorest labourers; but still so ordering his\nfamiliarity, that it never raised them to a contempt, but entertained\nstill at the same time a reverence and love of him.\" [182]\n\nA man's manner, to a certain extent, indicates his character. It is\nthe external exponent of his inner nature. It indicates his taste, his\nfeelings, and his temper, as well as the society to which he has been\naccustomed. There is a conventional manner, which is of comparatively\nlittle importance; but the natural manner, the outcome of natural gifts,\nimproved by careful self-culture, signifies a great deal.\n\nGrace of manner is inspired by sentiment, which is a source of no slight\nenjoyment to a cultivated mind. Viewed in this light, sentiment is of\nalmost as much importance as talents and acquirements, while it is\neven more influential in giving the direction to a man s tastes and\ncharacter. Sympathy is the golden key that unlocks the hearts of others.\nIt not only teaches politeness and courtesy, but gives insight and\nunfolds wisdom, and may almost be regarded as the crowning grace of\nhumanity.\n\nArtificial rules of politeness are of very little use. What passes by\nthe name of \"Etiquette\" is often of the essence of unpoliteness and\nuntruthfulness. It consists in a great measure of posture-making, and\nis easily seen through. Even at best, etiquette is but a substitute for\ngood manners, though it is often but their mere counterfeit.\n\nGood manners consist, for the most part, in courteousness and kindness.\nPoliteness has been described as the art of showing, by external signs,\nthe internal regard we have for others. But one may be perfectly polite\nto another without necessarily having a special regard for him. Good\nmanners are neither more nor less than beautiful behaviour. It has been\nwell said, that \"a beautiful form is better than a beautiful face, and\na beautiful behaviour is better than a beautiful form; it gives a higher\npleasure than statues or pictures--it is the finest of the fine arts.\"\n\nThe truest politeness comes of sincerity. It must be the outcome of the\nheart, or it will make no lasting impression; for no amount of polish\ncan dispense with truthfulness. The natural character must be allowed to\nappear, freed of its angularities and asperities. Though politeness,\nin its best form, should [18as St. Francis de Sales says] resemble\nwater--\"best when clearest, most simple, and without taste,\"--yet genius\nin a man will always cover many defects of manner, and much will\nbe excused to the strong and the original. Without genuineness and\nindividuality, human life would lose much of its interest and variety,\nas well as its manliness and robustness of character.\n\nTrue courtesy is kind. It exhibits itself in the disposition to\ncontribute to the happiness of others, and in refraining from all that\nmay annoy them. It is grateful as well as kind, and readily acknowledges\nkind actions. Curiously enough, Captain Speke found this quality of\ncharacter recognised even by the natives of Uganda on the shores of\nLake Nyanza, in the heart of Africa, where, he says. \"Ingratitude, or\nneglecting to thank a person for a benefit conferred, is punishable.\"\n\nTrue politeness especially exhibits itself in regard for the personality\nof others. A man will respect the individuality of another if he wishes\nto be respected himself. He will have due regard for his views and\nopinions, even though they differ from his own. The well-mannered man\npays a compliment to another, and sometimes even secures his respect,\nby patiently listening to him. He is simply tolerant and forbearant, and\nrefrains from judging harshly; and harsh judgments of others will almost\ninvariably provoke harsh judgments of ourselves.\n\nThe unpolite impulsive man will, however, sometimes rather lose his\nfriend than his joke. He may surely be pronounced a very foolish person\nwho secures another's hatred at the price of a moment's gratification.\nIt was a saying of Brunel the engineer--himself one of the\nkindest-natured of men--that \"spite and ill-nature are among the most\nexpensive luxuries in life.\" Dr. Johnson once said: \"Sir, a man has no\nmore right to SAY an uncivil thing than to ACT one--no more right to say\na rude thing to another than to knock him down.\"\n\nA sensible polite person does not assume to be better or wiser or richer\nthan his neighbour. He does not boast of his rank, or his birth, or his\ncountry; or look down upon others because they have not been born to\nlike privileges with himself. He does not brag of his achievements or\nof his calling, or \"talk shop\" whenever he opens his mouth. On the\ncontrary, in all that he says or does, he will be modest, unpretentious,\nunassuming; exhibiting his true character in performing rather than in\nboasting, in doing rather than in talking.\n\nWant of respect for the feelings of others usually originates in\nselfishness, and issues in hardness and repulsiveness of manner. It may\nnot proceed from malignity so much as from want of sympathy and want of\ndelicacy--a want of that perception of, and attention to, those little\nand apparently trifling things by which pleasure is given or\npain occasioned to others. Indeed, it may be said that in\nself-sacrificingness, so to speak, in the ordinary intercourse of life,\nmainly consists the difference between being well and ill bred.\n\nWithout some degree of self-restraint in society, a man may be found\nalmost insufferable. No one has pleasure in holding intercourse with\nsuch a person, and he is a constant source of annoyance to those about\nhim. For want of self-restraint, many men are engaged all their lives\nin fighting with difficulties of their own making, and rendering success\nimpossible by their own crossgrained ungentleness; whilst others, it\nmay be much less gifted, make their way and achieve success by simple\npatience, equanimity, and self-control.\n\nIt has been said that men succeed in life quite as much by their temper\nas by their talents. However this may be, it is certain that their\nhappiness depends mainly on their temperament, especially upon their\ndisposition to be cheerful; upon their complaisance, kindliness of\nmanner, and willingness to oblige others--details of conduct which are\nlike the small-change in the intercourse of life, and are always in\nrequest.\n\nMen may show their disregard of others in various unpolite ways--as,\nfor instance, by neglect of propriety in dress, by the absence of\ncleanliness, or by indulging in repulsive habits. The slovenly dirty\nperson, by rendering himself physically disagreeable, sets the tastes\nand feelings of others at defiance, and is rude and uncivil only under\nanother form.\n\nDavid Ancillon, a Huguenot preacher of singular attractiveness, who\nstudied and composed his sermons with the greatest care, was accustomed\nto say \"that it was showing too little esteem for the public to take\nno pains in preparation, and that a man who should appear on a\nceremonial-day in his nightcap and dressing-gown, could not commit a\ngreater breach of civility.\"\n\nThe perfection of manner is ease--that it attracts no man's notice\nas such, but is natural and unaffected. Artifice is incompatible with\ncourteous frankness of manner. Rochefoucauld has said that \"nothing so\nmuch prevents our being natural as the desire of appearing so.\" Thus we\ncome round again to sincerity and truthfulness, which find their outward\nexpression in graciousness, urbanity, kindliness, and consideration for\nthe feelings of others. The frank and cordial man sets those about him\nat their ease. He warms and elevates them by his presence, and wins\nall hearts. Thus manner, in its highest form, like character, becomes a\ngenuine motive power.\n\n\"The love and admiration,\" says Canon Kingsley, \"which that truly brave\nand loving man, Sir Sydney Smith, won from every one, rich and poor,\nwith whom he came in contact seems to have arisen from the one fact,\nthat without, perhaps, having any such conscious intention, he treated\nrich and poor, his own servants and the noblemen his guests, alike, and\nalike courteously, considerately, cheerfully, affectionately--so leaving\na blessing, and reaping a blessing, wherever he went.\"\n\nGood manners are usually supposed to be the peculiar characteristic of\npersons gently born and bred, and of persons moving in the higher rather\nthan in the lower spheres of society. And this is no doubt to a great\nextent true, because of the more favourable surroundings of the former\nin early life. But there is no reason why the poorest classes should not\npractise good manners towards each other as well as the richest.\n\nMen who toil with their hands, equally with those who do not, may\nrespect themselves and respect one another; and it is by their demeanour\nto each other--in other words, by their manners--that self-respect as\nwell as mutual respect are indicated. There is scarcely a moment in\ntheir lives, the enjoyment of which might not be enhanced by kindliness\nof this sort--in the workshop, in the street, or at home. The civil\nworkman will exercise increased power amongst his class, and gradually\ninduce them to imitate him by his persistent steadiness, civility, and\nkindness. Thus Benjamin Franklin, when a working-man, is said to have\nreformed the habits of an entire workshop.\n\nOne may be polite and gentle with very little money in his purse.\nPoliteness goes far, yet costs nothing. It is the cheapest of all\ncommodities. It is the humblest of the fine arts, yet it is so useful\nand so pleasure-giving, that it might almost be ranked amongst the\nhumanities.\n\nEvery nation may learn something of others; and if there be one thing\nmore than another that the English working-class might afford to\ncopy with advantage from their Continental neighbours, it is their\npoliteness. The French and Germans, of even the humblest classes, are\ngracious in manner, complaisant, cordial, and well-bred. The foreign\nworkman lifts his cap and respectfully salutes his fellow-workman in\npassing. There is no sacrifice of manliness in this, but grace and\ndignity. Even the lowest poverty of the foreign workpeople is not\nmisery, simply because it is cheerful. Though not receiving one-half the\nincome which our working-classes do, they do not sink into wretchedness\nand drown their troubles in drink; but contrive to make the best of\nlife, and to enjoy it even amidst poverty.\n\nGood taste is a true economist. It may be practised on small means,\nand sweeten the lot of labour as well as of ease. It is all the more\nenjoyed, indeed, when associated with industry and the performance of\nduty. Even the lot of poverty is elevated by taste. It exhibits itself\nin the economies of the household. It gives brightness and grace to the\nhumblest dwelling. It produces refinement, it engenders goodwill, and\ncreates an atmosphere of cheerfulness. Thus good taste, associated with\nkindliness, sympathy, and intelligence, may elevate and adorn even the\nlowliest lot.\n\nThe first and best school of manners, as of character, is always the\nHome, where woman is the teacher. The manners of society at large are\nbut the reflex of the manners of our collective homes, neither better\nnor worse. Yet, with all the disadvantages of ungenial homes, men may\npractise self-culture of manner as of intellect, and learn by good\nexamples to cultivate a graceful and agreeable behaviour towards others.\nMost men are like so many gems in the rough, which need polishing by\ncontact with other and better natures, to bring out their full beauty\nand lustre. Some have but one side polished, sufficient only to show the\ndelicate graining of the interior; but to bring out the full qualities\nof the gem needs the discipline of experience, and contact with the best\nexamples of character in the intercourse of daily life.\n\nA good deal of the success of manner consists in tact, and it is because\nwomen, on the whole, have greater tact than men, that they prove its\nmost influential teachers. They have more self-restraint than men,\nand are naturally more gracious and polite. They possess an intuitive\nquickness and readiness of action, have a keener insight into character,\nand exhibit greater discrimination and address. In matters of social\ndetail, aptness and dexterity come to them like nature; and hence\nwell-mannered men usually receive their best culture by mixing in the\nsociety of gentle and adroit women.\n\nTact is an intuitive art of manner, which carries one through a\ndifficulty better than either talent or knowledge. \"Talent,\" says a\npublic writer, \"is power: tact is skill. Talent is weight: tact is\nmomentum. Talent knows what to do: tact knows how to do it. Talent makes\na man respectable: tact makes him respected. Talent is wealth: tact is\nready-money.\"\n\nThe difference between a man of quick tact and of no tact whatever\nwas exemplified in an interview which once took place between Lord\nPalmerston and Mr. Behnes, the sculptor. At the last sitting which Lord\nPalmerston gave him, Behnes opened the conversation with--\"Any news,\nmy Lord, from France? How do we stand with Louis Napoleon?\" The Foreign\nSecretary raised his eyebrows for an instant, and quietly replied,\n\"Really, Mr. Behnes, I don't know: I have not seen the newspapers!\" Poor\nBehnes, with many excellent qualities and much real talent, was one of\nthe many men who entirely missed their way in life through want of tact.\n\nSuch is the power of manner, combined with tact, that Wilkes, one of the\nugliest of men, used to say, that in winning the graces of a lady, there\nwas not more than three days' difference between him and the handsomest\nman in England.\n\nBut this reference to Wilkes reminds us that too much importance must\nnot be attached to manner, for it does not afford any genuine test of\ncharacter. The well-mannered man may, like Wilkes, be merely acting a\npart, and that for an immoral purpose. Manner, like other fine arts,\ngives pleasure, and is exceedingly agreeable to look upon; but it may be\nassumed as a disguise, as men \"assume a virtue though they have it not.\"\nIt is but the exterior sign of good conduct, but may be no more than\nskin-deep. The most highly-polished person may be thoroughly depraved\nin heart; and his superfine manners may, after all, only consist in\npleasing gestures and in fine phrases.\n\nOn the other hand, it must be acknowledged that some of the richest and\nmost generous natures have been wanting in the graces of courtesy and\npoliteness. As a rough rind sometimes covers the sweetest fruit, so a\nrough exterior often conceals a kindly and hearty nature. The blunt man\nmay seem even rude in manner, and yet, at heart, be honest, kind, and\ngentle.\n\nJohn Knox and Martin Luther were by no means distinguished for their\nurbanity. They had work to do which needed strong and determined\nrather than well-mannered men. Indeed, they were both thought to be\nunnecessarily harsh and violent in their manner. \"And who art thou,\"\nsaid Mary Queen of Scots to Knox, \"that presumest to school the nobles\nand sovereign of this realm?\"--\"Madam,\" replied Knox, \"a subject born\nwithin the same.\" It is said that his boldness, or roughness, more than\nonce made Queen Mary weep. When Regent Morton heard of this, he said,\n\"Well, 'tis better that women should weep than bearded men.\"\n\nAs Knox was retiring from the Queen's presence on one occasion, he\noverheard one of the royal attendants say to another, \"He is not\nafraid!\" Turning round upon them, he said: \"And why should the pleasing\nface of a gentleman frighten me? I have looked on the faces of angry\nmen, and yet have not been afraid beyond measure.\" When the Reformer,\nworn-out by excess of labour and anxiety, was at length laid to his\nrest, the Regent, looking down into the open grave, exclaimed, in words\nwhich made a strong impression from their aptness and truth--\"There lies\nhe who never feared the face of man!\"\n\nLuther also was thought by some to be a mere compound of violence and\nruggedness. But, as in the case of Knox, the times in which he lived\nwere rude and violent; and the work he had to do could scarcely have\nbeen accomplished with gentleness and suavity. To rouse Europe from its\nlethargy, he had to speak and to write with force, and even vehemence.\nYet Luther's vehemence was only in words. His apparently rude exterior\ncovered a warm heart. In private life he was gentle, loving, and\naffectionate. He was simple and homely, even to commonness. Fond of all\ncommon pleasures and enjoyments, he was anything but an austere man,\nor a bigot; for he was hearty, genial, and even \"jolly.\" Luther was the\ncommon people's hero in his lifetime, and he remains so in Germany to\nthis day.\n\nSamuel Johnson was rude and often gruff in manner. But he had been\nbrought up in a rough school. Poverty in early life had made him\nacquainted with strange companions. He had wandered in the streets with\nSavage for nights together, unable between them to raise money enough\nto pay for a bed. When his indomitable courage and industry at length\nsecured for him a footing in society, he still bore upon him the scars\nof his early sorrows and struggles. He was by nature strong and robust,\nand his experience made him unaccommodating and self-asserting. When\nhe was once asked why he was not invited to dine out as Garrick was,\nhe answered, \"Because great lords and ladies did not like to have their\nmouths stopped;\" and Johnson was a notorious mouth-stopper, though what\nhe said was always worth listening to.\n\nJohnson's companions spoke of him as \"Ursa Major;\" but, as Goldsmith\ngenerously said of him, \"No man alive has a more tender heart; he has\nnothing of the bear about him but his skin.\" The kindliness of Johnson's\nnature was shown on one occasion by the manner in which he assisted a\nsupposed lady in crossing Fleet Street. He gave her his arm, and led her\nacross, not observing that she was in liquor at the time. But the spirit\nof the act was not the less kind on that account. On the other hand,\nthe conduct of the bookseller on whom Johnson once called to solicit\nemployment, and who, regarding his athletic but uncouth person, told him\nhe had better \"go buy a porter's knot and carry trunks,\" in howsoever\nbland tones the advice might have been communicated, was simply brutal.\n\nWhile captiousness of manner, and the habit of disputing and\ncontradicting everything said, is chilling and repulsive, the opposite\nhabit of assenting to, and sympathising with, every statement made, or\nemotion expressed, is almost equally disagreeable. It is unmanly, and is\nfelt to be dishonest. \"It may seem difficult,\" says Richard Sharp, \"to\nsteer always between bluntness and plain-dealing, between giving\nmerited praise and lavishing indiscriminate flattery; but it is very\neasy--good-humour, kindheartedness, and perfect simplicity, being all\nthat are requisite to do what is right in the right way.\" [183]\n\nAt the same time, many are unpolite--not because they mean to be so, but\nbecause they are awkward, and perhaps know no better. Thus, when Gibbon\nhad published the second and third volumes of his 'Decline and Fall,'\nthe Duke of Cumberland met him one day, and accosted him with, \"How do\nyou do, Mr. Gibbon? I see you are always AT IT in the old way--SCRIBBLE,\nSCRIBBLE, SCRIBBLE!\" The Duke probably intended to pay the author a\ncompliment, but did not know how better to do it, than in this blunt and\napparently rude way.\n\nAgain, many persons are thought to be stiff, reserved, and proud, when\nthey are only shy. Shyness is characteristic of most people of Teutonic\nrace. It has been styled \"the English mania,\" but it pervades, to\na greater or less degree, all the Northern nations. The ordinary\nEnglishman, when he travels abroad, carries his shyness with him. He\nis stiff, awkward, ungraceful, undemonstrative, and apparently\nunsympathetic; and though he may assume a brusqueness of manner, the\nshyness is there, and cannot be wholly concealed. The naturally graceful\nand intensely social French cannot understand such a character; and the\nEnglishman is their standing joke--the subject of their most ludicrous\ncaricatures. George Sand attributes the rigidity of the natives of\nAlbion to a stock of FLUIDE BRITANNIQUE which they carry about with\nthem, that renders them impassive under all circumstances, and \"as\nimpervious to the atmosphere of the regions they traverse as a mouse in\nthe centre of an exhausted receiver.\" [184]\n\nThe average Frenchman or Irishman excels the average Englishman, German,\nor American in courtesy and ease of manner, simply because it is\nhis nature. They are more social and less self-dependent than men of\nTeutonic origin, more demonstrative and less reticent; they are more\ncommunicative, conversational, and freer in their intercourse with\neach other in all respects; whilst men of German race are comparatively\nstiff, reserved, shy, and awkward. At the same time, a people may\nexhibit ease, gaiety, and sprightliness of character, and yet possess\nno deeper qualities calculated to inspire respect. They may have every\ngrace of manner, and yet be heartless, frivolous, selfish. The character\nmay be on the surface only, and without any solid qualities for a\nfoundation.\n\nThere can be no doubt as to which of the two sorts of people--the easy\nand graceful, or the stiff and awkward--it is most agreeable to meet,\neither in business, in society, or in the casual intercourse of life.\nWhich make the fastest friends, the truest men of their word, the most\nconscientious performers of their duty, is an entirely different matter.\n\nThe dry GAUCHE Englishman--to use the French phrase, L'ANGLAIS\nEMPETRE--is certainly a somewhat disagreeable person to meet at first.\nHe looks as if he had swallowed a poker. He is shy himself, and the\ncause of shyness in others. He is stiff, not because he is proud, but\nbecause he is shy; and he cannot shake it off, even if he would. Indeed,\nwe should not be surprised to find that even the clever writer who\ndescribes the English Philistine in all his enormity of awkward manner\nand absence of grace, were himself as shy as a bat.\n\nWhen two shy men meet, they seem like a couple of icicles. They sidle\naway and turn their backs on each other in a room, or when travelling\ncreep into the opposite corners of a railway-carriage. When shy\nEnglishmen are about to start on a journey by railway, they walk\nalong the train, to discover an empty compartment in which to bestow\nthemselves; and when once ensconced, they inwardly hate the next man who\ncomes in. So; on entering the dining-room of their club, each shy man\nlooks out for an unoccupied table, until sometimes--all the tables in\nthe room are occupied by single diners. All this apparent unsociableness\nis merely shyness--the national characteristic of the Englishman.\n\n\"The disciples of Confucius,\" observes Mr. Arthur Helps, \"say that\nwhen in the presence of the prince, his manner displayed RESPECTFUL\nUNEASINESS. There could hardly be given any two words which more fitly\ndescribe the manner of most Englishmen when in society.\" Perhaps it\nis due to this feeling that Sir Henry Taylor, in his 'Statesman,'\nrecommends that, in the management of interviews, the minister should\nbe as \"near to the door\" as possible; and, instead of bowing his visitor\nout, that he should take refuge, at the end of an interview, in the\nadjoining room. \"Timid and embarrassed men,\" he says, \"will sit as if\nthey were rooted to the spot, when they are conscious that they have\nto traverse the length of a room in their retreat. In every case, an\ninterview will find a more easy and pleasing termination WHEN THE DOOR\nIS AT HAND as the last words are spoken.\" [185]\n\nThe late Prince Albert, one of the gentlest and most amiable, was also\none of the most retiring of men. He struggled much against his sense\nof shyness, but was never able either to conquer or conceal it. His\nbiographer, in explaining its causes, says: \"It was the shyness of a\nvery delicate nature, that is not sure it will please, and is without\nthe confidence and the vanity which often go to form characters that are\noutwardly more genial.\" [186]\n\nBut the Prince shared this defect with some of the greatest of\nEnglishmen. Sir Isaac Newton was probably the shyest man of his age. He\nkept secret for a time some of his greatest discoveries, for fear of the\nnotoriety they might bring him. His discovery of the Binomial Theorem\nand its most important applications, as well as his still greater\ndiscovery of the Law of Gravitation, were not published for years after\nthey were made; and when he communicated to Collins his solution of the\ntheory of the moon's rotation round the earth, he forbade him to insert\nhis name in connection with it in the 'Philosophical Transactions,'\nsaying: \"It would, perhaps, increase my acquaintance--the thing which I\nchiefly study to decline.\"\n\nFrom all that can be learnt of Shakspeare, it is to be inferred that he\nwas an exceedingly shy man. The manner in which his plays were sent\ninto the world--for it is not known that he edited or authorized\nthe publication of a single one of them--and the dates at which they\nrespectively appeared, are mere matters of conjecture. His appearance in\nhis own plays in second and even third-rate parts--his indifference to\nreputation, and even his apparent aversion to be held in repute by his\ncontemporaries--his disappearance from London [18the seat and centre\nof English histrionic art] so soon as he had realised a moderate\ncompetency--and his retirement about the age of forty, for the remainder\nof his days, to a life of obscurity in a small town in the midland\ncounties--all seem to unite in proving the shrinking nature of the man,\nand his unconquerable shyness.\n\nIt is also probable that, besides being shy--and his shyness may, like\nthat of Byron, have been increased by his limp--Shakspeare did not\npossess in any high degree the gift of hope. It is a remarkable\ncircumstance, that whilst the great dramatist has, in the course of\nhis writings, copiously illustrated all other gifts, affections, and\nvirtues, the passages are very rare in which Hope is mentioned, and then\nit is usually in a desponding and despairing tone, as when he says:\n\n      \"The miserable hath no other medicine, But only Hope.\"\n\nMany of his sonnets breathe the spirit of despair and hopelessness. [187]\nHe laments his lameness; [188] apologizes for his profession as an actor;\n[189] expresses his \"fear of trust\" in himself, and his hopeless, perhaps\nmisplaced, affection; [1810] anticipates a \"coffin'd doom;\" and utters his\nprofoundly pathetic cry \"for restful death.\"\n\nIt might naturally be supposed that Shakspeare's profession of an actor,\nand his repeated appearances in public, would speedily overcome his\nshyness, did such exist. But inborn shyness, when strong, is not so\neasily conquered. [1811] Who could have believed that the late Charles\nMathews, who entertained crowded houses night after night, was naturally\none of the shyest of men? He would even make long circuits [18lame though\nhe was] along the byelanes of London to avoid recognition. His wife says\nof him, that he looked \"sheepish\" and confused if recognised; and that\nhis eyes would fall, and his colour would mount, if he heard his name\neven whispered in passing along the streets. [1812]\n\nNor would it at first sight have been supposed that Lord Byron was\naffected with shyness, and yet he was a victim to it; his biographer\nrelating that, while on a visit to Mrs. Pigot, at Southwell, when he saw\nstrangers approaching, he would instantly jump out of the window, and\nescape on to the lawn to avoid them.\n\nBut a still more recent and striking instance is that of the late\nArchbishop Whately, who, in the early part of his life, was painfully\noppressed by the sense of shyness. When at Oxford, his white rough coat\nand white hat obtained for him the soubriquet of \"The White Bear;\" and\nhis manners, according to his own account of himself, corresponded with\nthe appellation. He was directed, by way of remedy, to copy the example\nof the best-mannered men he met in society; but the attempt to do this\nonly increased his shyness, and he failed. He found that he was all the\nwhile thinking of himself, rather than of others; whereas thinking of\nothers, rather than of one's self, is of the true essence of politeness.\n\nFinding that he was making no progress, Whately was driven to utter\ndespair; and then he said to himself: \"Why should I endure this torture\nall my life to no purpose? I would bear it still if there was any\nsuccess to be hoped for; but since there is not, I will die quietly,\nwithout taking any more doses. I have tried my very utmost, and find\nthat I must be as awkward as a bear all my life, in spite of it. I will\nendeavour to think as little about it as a bear, and make up my mind to\nendure what can't be cured.\" From this time forth he struggled to shake\noff all consciousness as to manner, and to disregard censure as much\nas possible. In adopting this course, he says: \"I succeeded beyond\nmy expectations; for I not only got rid of the personal suffering of\nshyness, but also of most of those faults of manner which consciousness\nproduces; and acquired at once an easy and natural manner--careless,\nindeed, in the extreme, from its originating in a stern defiance of\nopinion, which I had convinced myself must be ever against me; rough\nand awkward, for smoothness and grace are quite out of my way, and,\nof course, tutorially pedantic; but unconscious, and therefore giving\nexpression to that goodwill towards men which I really feel; and these,\nI believe, are the main points.\" [1813]\n\nWashington, who was an Englishman in his lineage, was also one in his\nshyness. He is described incidentally by Mr. Josiah Quincy, as \"a\nlittle stiff in his person, not a little formal in his manner, and not\nparticularly at ease in the presence of strangers. He had the air of\na country gentleman not accustomed to mix much in society, perfectly\npolite, but not easy in his address and conversation, and not graceful\nin his movements.\"\n\nAlthough we are not accustomed to think of modern Americans as shy, the\nmost distinguished American author of our time was probably the shyest\nof men. Nathaniel Hawthorne was shy to the extent of morbidity. We have\nobserved him, when a stranger entered the room where he was, turn his\nback for the purpose of avoiding recognition. And yet, when the crust\nof his shyness was broken, no man could be more cordial and genial than\nHawthorne.\n\nWe observe a remark in one of Hawthorne's lately-published 'Notebooks,'\n[1814] that on one occasion he met Mr. Helps in society, and found him\n\"cold.\" And doubtless Mr. Helps thought the same of him. It was only the\ncase of two shy men meeting, each thinking the other stiff and reserved,\nand parting before their mutual film of shyness had been removed by a\nlittle friendly intercourse. Before pronouncing a hasty judgment in such\ncases, it would be well to bear in mind the motto of Helvetius, which\nBentham says proved such a real treasure to him: \"POUR AIMER LES HOMMES,\nIL FAUT ATTENDRE PEU.\"\n\nWe have thus far spoken of shyness as a defect. But there is another way\nof looking at it; for even shyness has its bright side, and contains\nan element of good. Shy men and shy races are ungraceful and\nundemonstrative, because, as regards society at large, they are\ncomparatively unsociable. They do not possess those elegances of manner,\nacquired by free intercourse, which distinguish the social races,\nbecause their tendency is to shun society rather than to seek it.\nThey are shy in the presence of strangers, and shy even in their own\nfamilies. They hide their affections under a robe of reserve, and when\nthey do give way to their feelings, it is only in some very hidden\ninner-chamber. And yet the feelings ARE there, and not the less healthy\nand genuine that they are not made the subject of exhibition to others.\n\nIt was not a little characteristic of the ancient Germans, that the more\nsocial and demonstrative peoples by whom they were surrounded should\nhave characterised them as the NIEMEC, or Dumb men. And the same\ndesignation might equally apply to the modern English, as compared, for\nexample, with their nimbler, more communicative and vocal, and in all\nrespects more social neighbours, the modern French and Irish.\n\nBut there is one characteristic which marks the English people, as it\ndid the races from which they have mainly sprung, and that is\ntheir intense love of Home. Give the Englishman a home, and he is\ncomparatively indifferent to society. For the sake of a holding which he\ncan call his own, he will cross the seas, plant himself on the prairie\nor amidst the primeval forest, and make for himself a home. The solitude\nof the wilderness has no fears for him; the society of his wife and\nfamily is sufficient, and he cares for no other. Hence it is that the\npeople of Germanic origin, from whom the English and Americans have\nalike sprung, make the best of colonizers, and are now rapidly extending\nthemselves as emigrants and settlers in all parts of the habitable\nglobe.\n\nThe French have never made any progress as colonizers, mainly because\nof their intense social instincts--the secret of their graces of\nmanner,--and because they can never forget that they are Frenchmen. [1815]\nIt seemed at one time within the limits of probability that the French\nwould occupy the greater part of the North American continent. From\nLower Canada their line of forts extended up the St. Lawrence, and from\nFond du Lac on Lake Superior, along the River St. Croix, all down the\nMississippi, to its mouth at New Orleans. But the great, self-reliant,\nindustrious \"Niemec,\" from a fringe of settlements along the seacoast,\nsilently extended westward, settling and planting themselves everywhere\nsolidly upon the soil; and nearly all that now remains of the original\nFrench occupation of America, is the French colony of Acadia, in Lower\nCanada.\n\nAnd even there we find one of the most striking illustrations of\nthat intense sociability of the French which keeps them together, and\nprevents their spreading over and planting themselves firmly in a new\ncountry, as it is the instinct of the men of Teutonic race to do. While,\nin Upper Canada, the colonists of English and Scotch descent penetrate\nthe forest and the wilderness, each settler living, it may be, miles\napart from his nearest neighbour, the Lower Canadians of French descent\ncontinue clustered together in villages, usually consisting of a line of\nhouses on either side of the road, behind which extend their long\nstrips of farm-land, divided and subdivided to an extreme tenuity. They\nwillingly submit to all the inconveniences of this method of farming for\nthe sake of each other's society, rather than betake themselves to the\nsolitary backwoods, as English, Germans, and Americans so readily do.\nIndeed, not only does the American backwoodsman become accustomed to\nsolitude, but he prefers it. And in the Western States, when settlers\ncome too near him, and the country seems to become \"overcrowded,\" he\nretreats before the advance of society, and, packing up his \"things\" in\na waggon, he sets out cheerfully, with his wife and family, to found for\nhimself a new home in the Far West.\n\nThus the Teuton, because of his very shyness, is the true colonizer.\nEnglish, Scotch, Germans, and Americans are alike ready to accept\nsolitude, provided they can but establish a home and maintain a family.\nThus their comparative indifference to society has tended to spread this\nrace over the earth, to till and to subdue it; while the intense social\ninstincts of the French, though issuing in much greater gracefulness of\nmanner, has stood in their way as colonizers; so that, in the countries\nin which they have planted themselves--as in Algiers and elsewhere--they\nhave remained little more than garrisons. [1816]\n\nThere are other qualities besides these, which grow out of the\ncomparative unsociableness of the Englishman. His shyness throws him\nback upon himself, and renders him self-reliant and self-dependent.\nSociety not being essential to his happiness, he takes refuge in\nreading, in study, in invention; or he finds pleasure in industrial\nwork, and becomes the best of mechanics. He does not fear to entrust\nhimself to the solitude of the ocean, and he becomes a fisherman, a\nsailor, a discoverer. Since the early Northmen scoured the northern\nseas, discovered America, and sent their fleets along the shores of\nEurope and up the Mediterranean, the seamanship of the men of Teutonic\nrace has always been in the ascendant.\n\nThe English are inartistic for the same reason that they are unsociable.\nThey may make good colonists, sailors, and mechanics; but they do not\nmake good singers, dancers, actors, artistes, or modistes. They neither\ndress well, act well, speak well, nor write well. They want style--they\nwant elegance. What they have to do they do in a straightforward manner,\nbut without grace. This was strikingly exhibited at an International\nCattle Exhibition held at Paris a few years ago. At the close of the\nExhibition, the competitors came up with the prize animals to receive\nthe prizes. First came a gay and gallant Spaniard, a magnificent man,\nbeautifully dressed, who received a prize of the lowest class with an\nair and attitude that would have become a grandee of the highest\norder. Then came Frenchmen and Italians, full of grace, politeness, and\nCHIC--themselves elegantly dressed, and their animals decorated to the\nhorns with flowers and coloured ribbons harmoniously blended. And\nlast of all came the exhibitor who was to receive the first prize--a\nslouching man, plainly dressed, with a pair of farmer's gaiters on,\nand without even a flower in his buttonhole. \"Who is he?\" asked\nthe spectators. \"Why, he is the Englishman,\" was the reply. \"The\nEnglishman!--that the representative of a great country!\" was the\ngeneral exclamation. But it was the Englishman all over. He was sent\nthere, not to exhibit himself, but to show \"the best beast,\" and he did\nit, carrying away the first prize. Yet he would have been nothing the\nworse for the flower in his buttonhole.\n\nTo remedy this admitted defect of grace and want of artistic taste\nin the English people, a school has sprung up amongst us for the more\ngeneral diffusion of fine art. The Beautiful has now its teachers and\npreachers, and by some it is almost regarded in the light of a religion.\n\"The Beautiful is the Good\"--\"The Beautiful is the True\"--\"The Beautiful\nis the priest of the Benevolent,\" are among their texts. It is believed\nthat by the study of art the tastes of the people may be improved; that\nby contemplating objects of beauty their nature will become purified;\nand that by being thereby withdrawn from sensual enjoyments, their\ncharacter will be refined and elevated.\n\nBut though such culture is calculated to be elevating and purifying in\na certain degree, we must not expect too much from it. Grace is a\nsweetener and embellisher of life, and as such is worthy of cultivation.\nMusic, painting, dancing, and the fine arts, are all sources of\npleasure; and though they may not be sensual, yet they are sensuous,\nand often nothing more. The cultivation of a taste for beauty of form\nor colour, of sound or attitude, has no necessary effect upon the\ncultivation of the mind or the development of the character. The\ncontemplation of fine works of art will doubtless improve the taste, and\nexcite admiration; but a single noble action done in the sight of men\nwill more influence the mind, and stimulate the character to imitation,\nthan the sight of miles of statuary or acres of pictures. For it is\nmind, soul, and heart--not taste or art--that make men great.\n\nIt is indeed doubtful whether the cultivation of art--which usually\nministers to luxury--has done so much for human progress as is generally\nsupposed. It is even possible that its too exclusive culture may\neffeminate rather than strengthen the character, by laying it more open\nto the temptations of the senses. \"It is the nature of the imaginative\ntemperament cultivated by the arts,\" says Sir Henry Taylor, \"to\nundermine the courage, and, by abating strength of character, to render\nmen more easily subservient--SEQUACES, CEREOS, ET AD MANDATA DUCTILES.\"\n[1817] The gift of the artist greatly differs from that of the thinker;\nhis highest idea is to mould his subject--whether it be of painting, or\nmusic, or literature--into that perfect grace of form in which thought\n[18it may not be of the deepest] finds its apotheosis and immortality.\n\nArt has usually flourished most during the decadence of nations, when\nit has been hired by wealth as the minister of luxury. Exquisite art\nand degrading corruption were contemporary in Greece as well as in Rome.\nPhidias and Iktinos had scarcely completed the Parthenon, when the glory\nof Athens had departed; Phidias died in prison; and the Spartans set up\nin the city the memorials of their own triumph and of Athenian defeat.\nIt was the same in ancient Rome, where art was at its greatest height\nwhen the people were in their most degraded condition. Nero was an\nartist, as well as Domitian, two of the greatest monsters of the Empire.\nIf the \"Beautiful\" had been the \"Good,\" Commodus must have been one of\nthe best of men. But according to history he was one of the worst.\n\nAgain, the greatest period of modern Roman art was that in which Pope\nLeo X. flourished, of whose reign it has been said, that \"profligacy and\nlicentiousness prevailed amongst the people and clergy, as they had done\nalmost uncontrolled ever since the pontificate of Alexander VI.\" In like\nmanner, the period at which art reached its highest point in the Low\nCountries was that which immediately succeeded the destruction of civil\nand religious liberty, and the prostration of the national life\nunder the despotism of Spain. If art could elevate a nation, and\nthe contemplation of The Beautiful were calculated to make men The\nGood--then Paris ought to contain a population of the wisest and best\nof human beings. Rome also is a great city of art; and yet there,\nthe VIRTUS or valour of the ancient Romans has characteristically\ndegenerated into VERTU, or a taste for knicknacks; whilst, according to\nrecent accounts, the city itself is inexpressibly foul. [1818]\n\nArt would sometimes even appear to have a close connection with dirt;\nand it is said of Mr. Ruskin, that when searching for works of art in\nVenice, his attendant in his explorations would sniff an ill-odour, and\nwhen it was strong would say, \"Now we are coming to something very\nold and fine!\"--meaning in art. [1819] A little common education in\ncleanliness, where it is wanting, would probably be much more improving,\nas well as wholesome, than any amount of education in fine art. Ruffles\nare all very well, but it is folly to cultivate them to the neglect of\nthe shirt.\n\nWhilst, therefore, grace of manner, politeness of behaviour, elegance\nof demeanour, and all the arts that contribute to make life pleasant and\nbeautiful, are worthy of cultivation, it must not be at the expense\nof the more solid and enduring qualities of honesty, sincerity, and\ntruthfulness. The fountain of beauty must be in the heart; more than\nin the eye, and if art do not tend to produce beautiful life and noble\npractice, it will be of comparatively little avail. Politeness of manner\nis not worth much, unless accompanied by polite action. Grace may be but\nskin-deep--very pleasant and attractive, and yet very heartless. Art is\na source of innocent enjoyment, and an important aid to higher culture;\nbut unless it leads to higher culture, it will probably be merely\nsensuous. And when art is merely sensuous, it is enfeebling and\ndemoralizing rather than strengthening or elevating. Honest courage\nis of greater worth than any amount of grace; purity is better than\nelegance; and cleanliness of body, mind, and heart, than any amount of\nfine art.\n\nIn fine, while the cultivation of the graces is not to be neglected,\nit should ever be held in mind that there is something far higher and\nnobler to be aimed at--greater than pleasure, greater than art, greater\nthan wealth, greater than power, greater than intellect, greater than\ngenius--and that is, purity and excellence of character. Without a solid\nsterling basis of individual goodness, all the grace, elegance, and art\nin the world would fail to save or to elevate a people.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X--COMPANIONSHIP OF BOOKS.\n\n\n\n                         \"Books, we know,\n      Are a substantial world, both pure and good,\n      Round which, with tendrils strong as flesh and blood,\n      Our pastime and our happiness can grow.\"--WORDSWORTH.\n\n     \"Not only in the common speech of men, but in all art too--\n     which is or should be the concentrated and conserved essence\n     of what men can speak and show--Biography is almost the one\n     thing needful\" --CARLYLE.\n\n\n     \"I read all biographies with intense interest. Even a man\n     without a heart, like Cavendish, I think about, and read\n     about, and dream about, and picture to myself in all\n     possible ways, till he grows into a living being beside me,\n     and I put my feet into his shoes, and become for the time\n     Cavendish, and think as he thought, and do as he did.\"\n     --GEORGE WILSON.\n\n          \"My thoughts are with the dead; with them\n            I live in long-past years;\n          Their virtues love, their faults condemn;\n            Partake their hopes and fears;\n          And from their lessons seek and find\n            Instruction with a humble mind.\"--SOUTHEY.\n\nA man may usually be known by the books he reads, as well as by the\ncompany he keeps; for there is a companionship of books as well as of\nmen; and one should always live in the best company, whether it be of\nbooks or of men.\n\nA good book may be among the best of friends. It is the same to-day\nthat it always was, and it will never change. It is the most patient and\ncheerful of companions. It does not turn its back upon us in times of\nadversity or distress. It always receives us with the same kindness;\namusing and instructing us in youth, and comforting and consoling us in\nage.\n\nMen often discover their affinity to each other by the mutual love they\nhave for a book--just as two persons sometimes discover a friend by the\nadmiration which both entertain for a third. There is an old proverb,\n\"Love me, love my dog.\" But there is more wisdom in this: \"Love me, love\nmy book.\" The book is a truer and higher bond of union. Men can think,\nfeel, and sympathise with each other through their favourite author.\nThey live in him together, and he in them.\n\n\"Books,\" said Hazlitt, \"wind into the heart; the poet's verse slides\ninto the current of our blood. We read them when young, we remember them\nwhen old. We read there of what has happened to others; we feel that it\nhas happened to ourselves. They are to be had everywhere cheap and good.\nWe breathe but the air of books. We owe everything to their authors, on\nthis side barbarism.\"\n\nA good book is often the best urn of a life, enshrining the best\nthoughts of which that life was capable; for the world of a man's life\nis, for the most part, but the world of his thoughts. Thus the\nbest books are treasuries of good words and golden thoughts, which,\nremembered and cherished, become our abiding companions and comforters.\n\"They are never alone,\" said Sir Philip Sidney, \"that are accompanied by\nnoble thoughts.\" The good and true thought may in time of temptation be\nas an angel of mercy purifying and guarding the soul. It also enshrines\nthe germs of action, for good words almost invariably inspire to good\nworks.\n\nThus Sir Henry Lawrence prized above all other compositions Wordsworth's\n'Character of the Happy Warrior,' which he endeavoured to embody in\nhis own life. It was ever before him as an exemplar. He thought of it\ncontinually, and often quoted it to others. His biographer says: \"He\ntried to conform his own life and to assimilate his own character to it;\nand he succeeded, as all men succeed who are truly in earnest.\" [191]\n\nBooks possess an essence of immortality. They are by far the most\nlasting products of human effort. Temples crumble into ruin; pictures\nand statues decay; but books survive. Time is of no account with great\nthoughts, which are as fresh to-day as when they first passed through\ntheir authors' minds ages ago. What was then said and thought still\nspeaks to us as vividly as ever from the printed page. The only effect\nof time has been to sift and winnow out the bad products; for nothing in\nliterature can long survive but what is really good. [192]\n\nBooks introduce us into the best society; they bring us into the\npresence of the greatest minds that have ever lived. We hear what\nthey said and did; we see them as if they were really alive; we are\nparticipators in their thoughts; we sympathise with them, enjoy with\nthem, grieve with them; their experience becomes ours, and we feel as if\nwe were in a measure actors with them in the scenes which they describe.\n\nThe great and good do not die, even in this world. Embalmed in books\ntheir spirits walk abroad. The book is a living voice. It is an\nintellect to which one still listens. Hence we ever remain under the\ninfluence of the great men of old:\n\n         \"The dead but sceptred sovrans, who still rule\n          Our spirits from their urns.\"\n\nThe imperial intellects of the world are as much alive now as they were\nages ago. Homer still lives; and though his personal history is hidden\nin the mists of antiquity, his poems are as fresh to-day as if they had\nbeen newly written. Plato still teaches his transcendent philosophy;\nHorace, Virgil, and Dante still sing as when they lived; Shakspeare is\nnot dead: his body was buried in 1616, but his mind is as much alive\nin England now, and his thought as far-reaching, as in the time of the\nTudors.\n\nThe humblest and poorest may enter the society of these great spirits\nwithout being thought intrusive. All who can read have got the ENTREE.\nWould you laugh?--Cervantes or Rabelais will laugh with you. Do you\ngrieve?--there is Thomas a Kempis or Jeremy Taylor to grieve with\nand console you. Always it is to books, and the spirits of great men\nembalmed in them, that we turn, for entertainment, for instruction and\nsolace--in joy and in sorrow, as in prosperity and in adversity.\n\nMan himself is, of all things in the world, the most interesting to\nman. Whatever relates to human life--its experiences, its joys, its\nsufferings, and its achievements--has usually attractions for him beyond\nall else. Each man is more or less interested in all other men as his\nfellow-creatures--as members of the great family of humankind; and the\nlarger a man's culture, the wider is the range of his sympathies in all\nthat affects the welfare of his race.\n\nMen's interest in each other as individuals manifests itself in a\nthousand ways--in the portraits which they paint, in the busts which\nthey carve, in the narratives which they relate of each other. \"Man,\"\nsays Emerson, \"can paint, or make, or think, nothing but Man.\" Most of\nall is this interest shown in the fascination which personal history\npossesses for him. \"Man s sociality of nature,\" says Carlyle, \"evinces\nitself, in spite of all that can be said, with abundance of evidence, by\nthis one fact, were there no other: the unspeakable delight he takes in\nBiography.\"\n\nGreat, indeed, is the human interest felt in biography! What are all\nthe novels that find such multitudes of readers, but so many fictitious\nbiographies? What are the dramas that people crowd to see, but so much\nacted biography? Strange that the highest genius should be employed on\nthe fictitious biography, and so much commonplace ability on the real!\n\nYet the authentic picture of any human being's life and experience ought\nto possess an interest greatly beyond that which is fictitious, inasmuch\nas it has the charm of reality. Every person may learn something from\nthe recorded life of another; and even comparatively trivial deeds and\nsayings may be invested with interest, as being the outcome of the lives\nof such beings as we ourselves are.\n\nThe records of the lives of good men are especially useful. They\ninfluence our hearts, inspire us with hope, and set before us great\nexamples. And when men have done their duty through life in a great\nspirit, their influence will never wholly pass away. \"The good life,\"\nsays George Herbert, \"is never out of season.\"\n\nGoethe has said that there is no man so commonplace that a wise man may\nnot learn something from him. Sir Walter Scott could not travel in a\ncoach without gleaning some information or discovering some new trait\nof character in his companions. [193] Dr. Johnson once observed that\nthere was not a person in the streets but he should like to know his\nbiography--his experiences of life, his trials, his difficulties, his\nsuccesses, and his failures. How much more truly might this be said\nof the men who have made their mark in the world's history, and have\ncreated for us that great inheritance of civilization of which we are\nthe possessors! Whatever relates to such men--to their habits,\ntheir manners, their modes of living, their personal history, their\nconversation, their maxims, their virtues, or their greatness--is always\nfull of interest, of instruction, of encouragement, and of example.\n\nThe great lesson of Biography is to show what man can be and do at his\nbest. A noble life put fairly on record acts like an inspiration to\nothers. It exhibits what life is capable of being made. It refreshes\nour spirit, encourages our hopes, gives us new strength and courage\nand faith--faith in others as well as in ourselves. It stimulates our\naspirations, rouses us to action, and incites us to become co-partners\nwith them in their work. To live with such men in their biographies, and\nto be inspired by their example, is to live with the best of men, and to\nmix in the best of company.\n\nAt the head of all biographies stands the Great Biography, the Book\nof Books. And what is the Bible, the most sacred and impressive of all\nbooks--the educator of youth, the guide of manhood, and the consoler\nof age--but a series of biographies of great heroes and patriarchs,\nprophets, kings, and judges, culminating in the greatest biography of\nall, the Life embodied in the New Testament? How much have the great\nexamples there set forth done for mankind! How many have drawn from\nthem their truest strength, their highest wisdom, their best nurture and\nadmonition! Truly does a great Roman Catholic writer describe the Bible\nas a book whose words \"live in the ear like a music that can never be\nforgotten--like the sound of church bells which the convert hardly knows\nhow he can forego. Its felicities often seem to be almost things rather\nthan mere words. It is part of the national mind, and the anchor of\nnational seriousness. The memory of the dead passes into it, The potent\ntraditions of childhood are stereotyped in its verses. The power of\nall the griefs and trials of man is hidden beneath its words. It is the\nrepresentative of his best moments, and all that has been about him of\nsoft, and gentle, and pure, and penitent, and good, speaks to him for\never out of his English Bible. It is his sacred thing, which doubt has\nnever dimmed and controversy never soiled. In the length and breadth of\nthe land there is not a Protestant with one spark of religiousness about\nhim whose spiritual biography is not in his Saxon Bible.\" [194]\n\nIt would, indeed, be difficult to overestimate the influence which the\nlives of the great and good have exercised upon the elevation of human\ncharacter. \"The best biography,\" says Isaac Disraeli, \"is a reunion with\nhuman existence in its most excellent state.\" Indeed, it is impossible\nfor one to read the lives of good men, much less inspired men,\nwithout being unconsciously lighted and lifted up in them, and growing\ninsensibly nearer to what they thought and did. And even the lives of\nhumbler persons, of men of faithful and honest spirit, who have done\ntheir duty in life well, are not without an elevating influence upon the\ncharacter of those who come after them.\n\nHistory itself is best studied in biography. Indeed, history is\nbiography--collective humanity as influenced and governed by individual\nmen. \"What is all history,\" says Emerson, \"but the work of ideas, a\nrecord of the incomparable energy which his infinite aspirations\ninfuse into man?\" In its pages it is always persons we see more than\nprinciples. Historical events are interesting to us mainly in connection\nwith the feelings, the sufferings, and interests of those by whom they\nare accomplished. In history we are surrounded by men long dead, but\nwhose speech and whose deeds survive. We almost catch the sound of their\nvoices; and what they did constitutes the interest of history. We never\nfeel personally interested in masses of men; but we feel and sympathise\nwith the individual actors, whose biographies afford the finest and most\nreal touches in all great historical dramas.\n\nAmong the great writers of the past, probably the two that have been\nmost influential in forming the characters of great men of action and\ngreat men of thought, have been Plutarch and Montaigne--the one by\npresenting heroic models for imitation, the other by probing questions\nof constant recurrence in which the human mind in all ages has taken the\ndeepest interest. And the works of both are for the most part cast in\na biographic form, their most striking illustrations consisting in the\nexhibitions of character and experience which they contain.\n\nPlutarch's 'Lives,' though written nearly eighteen hundred years ago,\nlike Homer's 'Iliad,' still holds its ground as the greatest work of\nits kind. It was the favourite book of Montaigne; and to Englishmen it\npossesses the special interest of having been Shakspeare's principal\nauthority in his great classical dramas. Montaigne pronounced Plutarch\nto be \"the greatest master in that kind of writing\"--the biographic;\nand he declared that he \"could no sooner cast an eye upon him but he\npurloined either a leg or a wing.\"\n\nAlfieri was first drawn with passion to literature by reading Plutarch.\n\"I read,\" said he, \"the lives of Timoleon, Caesar, Brutus, Pelopidas,\nmore than six times, with cries, with tears, and with such transports,\nthat I was almost furious.... Every time that I met with one of the\ngrand traits of these great men, I was seized with such vehement\nagitation as to be unable to sit still.\" Plutarch was also a favourite\nwith persons of such various minds as Schiller and Benjamin Franklin,\nNapoleon and Madame Roland. The latter was so fascinated by the book\nthat she carried it to church with her in the guise of a missal, and\nread it surreptitiously during the service.\n\nIt has also been the nurture of heroic souls such as Henry IV. of\nFrance, Turenne, and the Napiers. It was one of Sir William Napier's\nfavourite books when a boy. His mind was early imbued by it with\na passionate admiration for the great heroes of antiquity; and\nits influence had, doubtless, much to do with the formation of his\ncharacter, as well as the direction of his career in life. It is related\nof him, that in his last illness, when feeble and exhausted, his mind\nwandered back to Plutarch's heroes; and he descanted for hours to his\nson-in-law on the mighty deeds of Alexander, Hannibal, and Caesar.\nIndeed, if it were possible to poll the great body of readers in all\nages whose minds have been influenced and directed by books, it is\nprobable that--excepting always the Bible--the immense majority of votes\nwould be cast in favour of Plutarch.\n\nAnd how is it that Plutarch has succeeded in exciting an interest which\ncontinues to attract and rivet the attention of readers of all ages and\nclasses to this day? In the first place, because the subject of his work\nis great men, who occupied a prominent place in the world's history, and\nbecause he had an eye to see and a pen to describe the more prominent\nevents and circumstances in their lives. And not only so, but he\npossessed the power of portraying the individual character of his\nheroes; for it is the principle of individuality which gives the charm\nand interest to all biography. The most engaging side of great men is\nnot so much what they do as what they are, and does not depend upon\ntheir power of intellect but on their personal attractiveness. Thus,\nthere are men whose lives are far more eloquent than their speeches, and\nwhose personal character is far greater than their deeds.\n\nIt is also to be observed, that while the best and most carefully-drawn\nof Plutarch's portraits are of life-size, many of them are little more\nthan busts. They are well-proportioned but compact, and within such\nreasonable compass that the best of them--such as the lives of Caesar\nand Alexander--may be read in half an hour. Reduced to this measure,\nthey are, however, greatly more imposing than a lifeless Colossus, or\nan exaggerated giant. They are not overlaid by disquisition and\ndescription, but the characters naturally unfold themselves. Montaigne,\nindeed, complained of Plutarch's brevity. \"No doubt,\" he added, \"but\nhis reputation is the better for it, though in the meantime we are the\nworse. Plutarch would rather we should applaud his judgment than commend\nhis knowledge, and had rather leave us with an appetite to read more\nthan glutted with what we have already read. He knew very well that a\nman may say too much even on the best subjects.... Such as have lean\nand spare bodies stuff themselves out with clothes; so they who are\ndefective in matter, endeavour to make amends with words.\" [195]\n\nPlutarch possessed the art of delineating the more delicate features\nof mind and minute peculiarities of conduct, as well as the foibles\nand defects of his heroes, all of which is necessary to faithful and\naccurate portraiture. \"To see him,\" says Montaigne, \"pick out a light\naction in a man's life, or a word, that does not seem to be of any\nimportance, is itself a whole discourse.\" He even condescends to\ninform us of such homely particulars as that Alexander carried his head\naffectedly on one side; that Alcibiades was a dandy, and had a lisp,\nwhich became him, giving a grace and persuasive turn to his discourse;\nthat Cato had red hair and gray eyes, and was a usurer and a screw,\nselling off his old slaves when they became unfit for hard work; that\nCaesar was bald and fond of gay dress; and that Cicero [19like Lord\nBrougham] had involuntary twitchings of his nose.\n\nSuch minute particulars may by some be thought beneath the dignity of\nbiography, but Plutarch thought them requisite for the due finish of\nthe complete portrait which he set himself to draw; and it is by\nsmall details of character--personal traits, features, habits, and\ncharacteristics--that we are enabled to see before us the men as they\nreally lived. Plutarch's great merit consists in his attention to these\nlittle things, without giving them undue preponderance, or neglecting\nthose which are of greater moment. Sometimes he hits off an individual\ntrait by an anecdote, which throws more light upon the character\ndescribed than pages of rhetorical description would do. In some cases,\nhe gives us the favourite maxim of his hero; and the maxims of men often\nreveal their hearts.\n\nThen, as to foibles, the greatest of men are not visually symmetrical.\nEach has his defect, his twist, his craze; and it is by his faults that\nthe great man reveals his common humanity. We may, at a distance, admire\nhim as a demigod; but as we come nearer to him, we find that he is but a\nfallible man, and our brother. [196]\n\nNor are the illustrations of the defects of great men without their\nuses; for, as Dr. Johnson observed, \"If nothing but the bright side of\ncharacters were shown, we should sit down in despondency, and think it\nutterly impossible to imitate them in anything.\"\n\nPlutarch, himself justifies his method of portraiture by averring that\nhis design was not to write histories, but lives. \"The most glorious\nexploits,\" he says, \"do not always furnish us with the clearest\ndiscoveries of virtue or of vice in men. Sometimes a matter of much less\nmoment, an expression or a jest, better informs us of their characters\nand inclinations than battles with the slaughter of tens of thousands,\nand the greatest arrays of armies or sieges of cities. Therefore, as\nportrait-painters are more exact in their lines and features of the face\nand the expression of the eyes, in which the character is seen, without\ntroubling themselves about the other parts of the body, so I must\nbe allowed to give my more particular attention to the signs and\nindications of the souls of men; and while I endeavour by these means\nto portray their lives, I leave important events and great battles to be\ndescribed by others.\"\n\nThings apparently trifling may stand for much in biography as well as\nhistory, and slight circumstances may influence great results. Pascal\nhas remarked, that if Cleopatra's nose had been shorter, the whole face\nof the world would probably have been changed. But for the amours of\nPepin the Fat, the Saracens might have overrun Europe; as it was his\nillegitimate son, Charles Martel, who overthrew them at Tours, and\neventually drove them out of France.\n\nThat Sir Walter Scott should have sprained his foot in running round\nthe room when a child, may seem unworthy of notice in his biography; yet\n'Ivanhoe,' 'Old Mortality,' and all the Waverley novels depended upon\nit. When his son intimated a desire to enter the army, Scott wrote to\nSouthey, \"I have no title to combat a choice which would have been my\nown, had not my lameness prevented.\" So that, had not Scott been lame,\nhe might have fought all through the Peninsular War, and had his breast\ncovered with medals; but we should probably have had none of those works\nof his which have made his name immortal, and shed so much glory upon\nhis country. Talleyrand also was kept out of the army, for which he had\nbeen destined, by his lameness; but directing his attention to the study\nof books, and eventually of men, he at length took rank amongst the\ngreatest diplomatists of his time.\n\nByron's clubfoot had probably not a little to do with determining his\ndestiny as a poet. Had not his mind been embittered and made morbid by\nhis deformity, he might never have written a line--he might have been\nthe noblest fop of his day. But his misshapen foot stimulated his mind,\nroused his ardour, threw him upon his own resources--and we know with\nwhat result.\n\nSo, too, of Scarron, to whose hunchback we probably owe his cynical\nverse; and of Pope, whose satire was in a measure the outcome of his\ndeformity--for he was, as Johnson described him, \"protuberant behind\nand before.\" What Lord Bacon said of deformity is doubtless, to a great\nextent, true. \"Whoever,\" said he, \"hath anything fixed in his person\nthat doth induce contempt, hath also a perpetual spur in himself to\nrescue and deliver himself from scorn; therefore, all deformed persons\nare extremely bold.\"\n\nAs in portraiture, so in biography, there must be light and shade.\nThe portrait-painter does not pose his sitter so as to bring out his\ndeformities; nor does the biographer give undue prominence to the\ndefects of the character he portrays. Not many men are so outspoken as\nCromwell was when he sat to Cooper for his miniature: \"Paint me as I\nam,\" said he, \"warts and all.\" Yet, if we would have a faithful likeness\nof faces and characters, they must be painted as they are. \"Biography,\"\nsaid Sir Walter Scott, \"the most interesting of every species of\ncomposition, loses all its interest with me when the shades and lights\nof the principal characters are not accurately and faithfully detailed.\nI can no more sympathise with a mere eulogist, than I can with a ranting\nhero on the stage.\" [197]\n\nAddison liked to know as much as possible about the person and character\nof his authors, inasmuch as it increased the pleasure and satisfaction\nwhich he derived from the perusal of their books. What was their\nhistory, their experience, their temper and disposition? Did their lives\nresemble their books? They thought nobly--did they act nobly? \"Should we\nnot delight,\" says Sir Egerton Brydges, \"to have the frank story of the\nlives and feelings of Wordsworth, Southey, Coleridge, Campbell, Rogers,\nMoore, and Wilson, related by themselves?--with whom they lived early;\nhow their bent took a decided course; their likes and dislikes; their\ndifficulties and obstacles; their tastes, their passions; the rocks they\nwere conscious of having split upon; their regrets, their complacencies,\nand their self-justifications?\" [198]\n\nWhen Mason was reproached for publishing the private letters of Gray,\nhe answered, \"Would you always have my friends appear in full-dress?\"\nJohnson was of opinion that to write a man's life truly, it is necessary\nthat the biographer should have personally known him. But this condition\nhas been wanting in some of the best writers of biographies extant. [199]\nIn the case of Lord Campbell, his personal intimacy with Lords Lyndhurst\nand Brougham seems to have been a positive disadvantage, leading him\nto dwarf the excellences and to magnify the blots in their characters.\nAgain, Johnson says: \"If a man profess to write a life, he must write it\nreally as it was. A man's peculiarities, and even his vices, should be\nmentioned, because they mark his character.\" But there is always\nthis difficulty,--that while minute details of conduct, favourable or\notherwise, can best be given from personal knowledge, they cannot always\nbe published, out of regard for the living; and when the time arrives\nwhen they may at length be told, they are then no longer remembered.\nJohnson himself expressed this reluctance to tell all he knew of\nthose poets who had been his contemporaries, saying that he felt as if\n\"walking upon ashes under which the fire was not extinguished.\"\n\nFor this reason, amongst others, we rarely obtain an unvarnished\npicture of character from the near relatives of distinguished men; and,\ninteresting though all autobiography is, still less can we expect it\nfrom the men themselves. In writing his own memoirs, a man will not tell\nall that he knows about himself. Augustine was a rare exception, but\nfew there are who will, as he did in his 'Confessions,' lay bare their\ninnate viciousness, deceitfulness, and selfishness. There is a Highland\nproverb which says, that if the best man's faults were written on his\nforehead he would pull his bonnet over his brow. \"There is no man,\" said\nVoltaire, \"who has not something hateful in him--no man who has not some\nof the wild beast in him. But there are few who will honestly tell us\nhow they manage their wild beast.\" Rousseau pretended to unbosom himself\nin his 'Confessions;' but it is manifest that he held back far more\nthan he revealed. Even Chamfort, one of the last men to fear what his\ncontemporaries might think or say of him, once observed:--\"It seems to\nme impossible, in the actual state of society, for any man to exhibit\nhis secret heart, the details of his character as known to himself, and,\nabove all, his weaknesses and his vices, to even his best friend.\"\n\nAn autobiography may be true so far as it goes; but in communicating\nonly part of the truth, it may convey an impression that is really\nfalse. It may be a disguise--sometimes it is an apology--exhibiting\nnot so much what a man really was, as what he would have liked to be. A\nportrait in profile may be correct, but who knows whether some scar on\nthe off-cheek, or some squint in the eye that is not seen, might not\nhave entirely altered the expression of the face if brought into sight?\nScott, Moore, Southey, all began autobiographies, but the task of\ncontinuing them was doubtless felt to be too difficult as well as\ndelicate, and they were abandoned.\n\nFrench literature is especially rich in a class of biographic memoirs,\nof which we have few counterparts in English. We refer to their MEMOIRES\nPOUR SERVIR, such as those of Sully, De Comines, Lauzun, De Retz, De\nThou, Rochefoucalt, &c., in which we have recorded an immense mass of\nminute and circumstantial information relative to many great personages\nof history. They are full of anecdotes illustrative of life and\ncharacter, and of details which might be called frivolous, but that they\nthrow a flood of light on the social habits and general civilisation\nof the periods to which they relate. The MEMOIRES of Saint-Simon are\nsomething more: they are marvellous dissections of character, and\nconstitute the most extraordinary collection of anatomical biography\nthat has ever been brought together.\n\nSaint-Simon might almost be regarded in the light of a posthumous\ncourt-spy of Louis the Fourteenth. He was possessed by a passion for\nreading character, and endeavouring to decipher motives and intentions\nin the faces, expressions, conversation, and byplay of those about him.\n\"I examine all my personages closely,\" said he--\"watch their mouth,\neyes, and ears constantly.\" And what he heard and saw he noted down with\nextraordinary vividness and dash. Acute, keen, and observant, he pierced\nthe masks of the courtiers, and detected their secrets. The ardour with\nwhich he prosecuted his favourite study of character seemed insatiable,\nand even cruel. \"The eager anatomist,\" says Sainte-Beuve, \"was not more\nready to plunge the scalpel into the still-palpitating bosom in search\nof the disease that had baffled him.\"\n\nLa Bruyere possessed the same gift of accurate and penetrating\nobservation of character. He watched and studied everybody about him.\nHe sought to read their secrets; and, retiring to his chamber, he\ndeliberately painted their portraits, returning to them from time to\ntime to correct some prominent feature--hanging over them as fondly as\nan artist over some favourite study--adding trait to trait, and touch\nto touch, until at length the picture was complete and the likeness\nperfect.\n\nIt may be said that much of the interest of biography, especially of the\nmore familiar sort, is of the nature of gossip; as that of the MEMOIRES\nPOUR SERVIR is of the nature of scandal, which is no doubt true. But\nboth gossip and scandal illustrate the strength of the interest which\nmen and women take in each other's personality; and which, exhibited in\nthe form of biography, is capable of communicating the highest pleasure,\nand yielding the best instruction. Indeed biography, because it is\ninstinct of humanity, is the branch of literature which--whether in the\nform of fiction, of anecdotal recollection, or of personal narrative--is\nthe one that invariably commends itself to by far the largest class of\nreaders.\n\nThere is no room for doubt that the surpassing interest which fiction,\nwhether in poetry or prose, possesses for most minds, arises mainly\nfrom the biographic element which it contains. Homer's 'Iliad' owes its\nmarvellous popularity to the genius which its author displayed in the\nportrayal of heroic character. Yet he does not so much describe his\npersonages in detail as make them develope themselves by their actions.\n\"There are in Homer,\" said Dr. Johnson, \"such characters of heroes and\ncombination of qualities of heroes, that the united powers of mankind\never since have not produced any but what are to be found there.\"\n\nThe genius of Shakspeare also was displayed in the powerful delineation\nof character, and the dramatic evolution of human passions. His\npersonages seem to be real--living and breathing before us. So too with\nCervantes, whose Sancho Panza, though homely and vulgar, is intensely\nhuman. The characters in Le Sage's 'Gil Blas,' in Goldsmith's 'Vicar of\nWakefield,' and in Scott's marvellous muster-roll, seem to us almost as\nreal as persons whom we have actually known; and De Foe's greatest works\nare but so many biographies, painted in minute detail, with reality so\napparently stamped upon every page, that it is difficult to believe his\nRobinson Crusoe and Colonel Jack to have been fictitious instead of real\npersons.\n\nThough the richest romance lies enclosed in actual human life, and\nthough biography, because it describes beings who have actually felt the\njoys and sorrows, and experienced the difficulties and triumphs, of real\nlife, is capable of being made more attractive, than the most perfect\nfictions ever woven, it is remarkable that so few men of genius have\nbeen attracted to the composition of works of this kind. Great works of\nfiction abound, but great biographies may be counted on the fingers. It\nmay be for the same reason that a great painter of portraits, the\nlate John Philip, R.A., explained his preference for subject-painting,\nbecause, said he, \"Portrait-painting does not pay.\" Biographic\nportraiture involves laborious investigation and careful collection of\nfacts, judicious rejection and skilful condensation, as well as the\nart of presenting the character portrayed in the most attractive and\nlifelike form; whereas, in the work of fiction, the writer's imagination\nis free to create and to portray character, without being trammelled by\nreferences, or held down by the actual details of real life.\n\nThere is, indeed, no want among us of ponderous but lifeless memoirs,\nmany of them little better than inventories, put together with the\nhelp of the scissors as much as of the pen. What Constable said of the\nportraits of an inferior artist--\"He takes all the bones and brains out\nof his heads\"--applies to a large class of portraiture, written as well\nas painted. They have no more life in them than a piece of waxwork, or a\nclothes-dummy at a tailor's door. What we want is a picture of a man as\nhe lived, and lo! we have an exhibition of the biographer himself. We\nexpect an embalmed heart, and we find only clothes.\n\nThere is doubtless as high art displayed in painting a portrait in\nwords, as there is in painting one in colours. To do either well\nrequires the seeing eye and the skilful pen or brush. A common artist\nsees only the features of a face, and copies them; but the great artist\nsees the living soul shining through the features, and places it on\nthe canvas. Johnson was once asked to assist the chaplain of a deceased\nbishop in writing a memoir of his lordship; but when he proceeded to\ninquire for information, the chaplain could scarcely tell him anything.\nHence Johnson was led to observe that \"few people who have lived with a\nman know what to remark about him.\"\n\nIn the case of Johnson's own life, it was the seeing eye of Boswell that\nenabled him to note and treasure up those minute details of habit and\nconversation in which so much of the interest of biography consists.\nBoswell, because of his simple love and admiration of his hero,\nsucceeded where probably greater men would have failed. He descended to\napparently insignificant, but yet most characteristic, particulars. Thus\nhe apologizes for informing the reader that Johnson, when journeying,\n\"carried in his hand a large English oak-stick:\" adding, \"I remember Dr.\nAdam Smith, in his rhetorical lectures at Glasgow, told us he was glad\nto know that Milton wore latchets in his shoes instead of buckles.\"\nBoswell lets us know how Johnson looked, what dress he wore, what was\nhis talk, what were his prejudices. He painted him with all his scars,\nand a wonderful portrait it is--perhaps the most complete picture of a\ngreat man ever limned in words.\n\nBut for the accident of the Scotch advocate's intimacy with Johnson, and\nhis devoted admiration of him, the latter would not probably have stood\nnearly so high in literature as he now does. It is in the pages of\nBoswell that Johnson really lives; and but for Boswell, he might have\nremained little more than a name. Others there are who have bequeathed\ngreat works to posterity, but of whose lives next to nothing is known.\nWhat would we not give to have a Boswell's account of Shakspeare? We\npositively know more of the personal history of Socrates, of Horace, of\nCicero, of Augustine, than we do of that of Shakspeare. We do not\nknow what was his religion, what were his politics, what were his\nexperiences, what were his relations to his contemporaries. The men\nof his own time do not seem to have recognised his greatness; and Ben\nJonson, the court poet, whose blank-verse Shakspeare was content\nto commit to memory and recite as an actor, stood higher in popular\nestimation. We only know that he was a successful theatrical manager,\nand that in the prime of life he retired to his native place, where he\ndied, and had the honours of a village funeral. The greater part of the\nbiography which has been constructed respecting him has been the result,\nnot of contemporary observation or of record, but of inference. The best\ninner biography of the man is to be found in his sonnets.\n\nMen do not always take an accurate measure of their contemporaries. The\nstatesman, the general, the monarch of to-day fills all eyes and ears,\nthough to the next generation he may be as if he had never been. \"And\nwho is king to-day?\" the painter Greuze would ask of his daughter,\nduring the throes of the first French Revolution, when men, great for\nthe time, were suddenly thrown to the surface, and as suddenly dropt out\nof sight again, never to reappear. \"And who is king to-day? After all,\"\nGreuze would add, \"Citizen Homer and Citizen Raphael will outlive those\ngreat citizens of ours, whose names I have never before heard of.\"\nYet of the personal history of Homer nothing is known, and of Raphael\ncomparatively little. Even Plutarch, who wrote the lives of others: so\nwell, has no biography, none of the eminent Roman writers who were\nhis contemporaries having so much as mentioned his name. And so of\nCorreggio, who delineated the features of others so well, there is not\nknown to exist an authentic portrait.\n\nThere have been men who greatly influenced the life of their time, whose\nreputation has been much greater with posterity than it was with their\ncontemporaries. Of Wickliffe, the patriarch of the Reformation, our\nknowledge is extremely small. He was but as a voice crying in the\nwilderness. We do not really know who was the author of 'The Imitation\nof Christ'--a book that has had an immense circulation, and exercised\na vast religious influence in all Christian countries. It is usually\nattributed to Thomas a Kempis but there is reason to believe that he was\nmerely its translator, and the book that is really known to be his, [1910]\nis in all respects so inferior, that it is difficult to believe that\n'The Imitation' proceeded from the same pen. It is considered more\nprobable that the real author was John Gerson, Chancellor of the\nUniversity of Paris, a most learned and devout man, who died in 1429.\n\nSome of the greatest men of genius have had the shortest biographies. Of\nPlato, one of the great fathers of moral philosophy, we have no personal\naccount. If he had wife and children, we hear nothing of them. About the\nlife of Aristotle there is the greatest diversity of opinion. One says\nhe was a Jew; another, that he only got his information from a Jew: one\nsays he kept an apothecary's shop; another, that he was only the son of\na physician: one alleges that he was an atheist; another, that he was a\nTrinitarian, and so forth. But we know almost as little with respect to\nmany men of comparatively modern times. Thus, how little do we know of\nthe lives of Spenser, author of 'The Faerie Queen,' and of Butler, the\nauthor of 'Hudibras,' beyond the fact that they lived in comparative\nobscurity, and died in extreme poverty! How little, comparatively, do\nwe know of the life of Jeremy Taylor, the golden preacher, of whom we\nshould like to have known so much!\n\nThe author of 'Philip Van Artevelde' has said that \"the world knows\nnothing of its greatest men.\" And doubtless oblivion has enwrapt in\nits folds many great men who have done great deeds, and been forgotten.\nAugustine speaks of Romanianus as the greatest genius that ever lived,\nand yet we know nothing of him but his name; he is as much forgotten\nas the builders of the Pyramids. Gordiani's epitaph was written in five\nlanguages, yet it sufficed not to rescue him from oblivion.\n\nMany, indeed, are the lives worthy of record that have remained\nunwritten. Men who have written books have been the most fortunate in\nthis respect, because they possess an attraction for literary men which\nthose whose lives have been embodied in deeds do not possess. Thus there\nhave been lives written of Poets Laureate who were mere men of their\ntime, and of their time only. Dr. Johnson includes some of them in his\n'Lives of the Poets,' such as Edmund Smith and others, whose poems\nare now no longer known. The lives of some men of letters--such as\nGoldsmith, Swift, Sterne, and Steele--have been written again and again,\nwhilst great men of action, men of science, and men of industry, are\nleft without a record. [1911]\n\nWe have said that a man may be known by the company he keeps in his\nbooks. Let us mention a few of the favourites of the best-known men.\nPlutarch's admirers have already been referred to. Montaigne also has\nbeen the companion of most meditative men. Although Shakspeare must have\nstudied Plutarch carefully, inasmuch as he copied from him freely, even\nto his very words, it is remarkable that Montaigne is the only book\nwhich we certainly know to have been in the poet's library; one of\nShakspeare's existing autographs having been found in a copy of Florio's\ntranslation of 'The Essays,' which also contains, on the flyleaf, the\nautograph of Ben Jonson.\n\nMilton's favourite books were Homer, Ovid, and Euripides. The latter\nbook was also the favourite of Charles James Fox, who regarded the study\nof it as especially useful to a public speaker. On the other hand, Pitt\ntook especial delight in Milton--whom Fox did not appreciate--taking\npleasure in reciting, from 'Paradise Lost,' the grand speech of Belial\nbefore the assembled powers of Pandemonium. Another of Pitt's favourite\nbooks was Newton's 'Principia.' Again, the Earl of Chatham's favourite\nbook was 'Barrow's Sermons,' which he read so often as to be able to\nrepeat them from memory; while Burke's companions were Demosthenes,\nMilton, Bolingbroke, and Young's 'Night Thoughts.'\n\nCurran's favourite was Homer, which he read through once a year. Virgil\nwas another of his favourites; his biographer, Phillips, saying that\nhe once saw him reading the 'Aeneid' in the cabin of a Holyhead packet,\nwhile every one about him was prostrate by seasickness.\n\nOf the poets, Dante's favourite was Virgil; Corneille's was Lucan;\nSchiller's was Shakspeare; Gray's was Spenser; whilst Coleridge admired\nCollins and Bowles. Dante himself was a favourite with most great poets,\nfrom Chaucer to Byron and Tennyson. Lord Brougham, Macaulay, and Carlyle\nhave alike admired and eulogized the great Italian. The former advised\nthe students at Glasgow that, next to Demosthenes, the study of Dante\nwas the best preparative for the eloquence of the pulpit or the bar.\nRobert Hall sought relief in Dante from the racking pains of spinal\ndisease; and Sydney Smith took to the same poet for comfort and solace\nin his old age. It was characteristic of Goethe that his favourite book\nshould have been Spinoza's 'Ethics,' in which he said he had found a\npeace and consolation such as he had been able to find in no other work.\n[1912]\n\nBarrow's favourite was St. Chrysostom; Bossuet's was Homer. Bunyan's\nwas the old legend of Sir Bevis of Southampton, which in all probability\ngave him the first idea of his 'Pilgrim's Progress.' One of the\nbest prelates that ever sat on the English bench, Dr. John Sharp,\nsaid--\"Shakspeare and the Bible have made me Archbishop of York.\" The\ntwo books which most impressed John Wesley when a young man, were 'The\nImitation of Christ' and Jeremy Taylor's 'Holy Living and Dying.' Yet\nWesley was accustomed to caution his young friends against overmuch\nreading. \"Beware you be not swallowed up in books,\" he would say to\nthem; \"an ounce of love is worth a pound of knowledge.\"\n\nWesley's own Life has been a great favourite with many thoughtful\nreaders. Coleridge says, in his preface to Southey's 'Life of Wesley,'\nthat it was more often in his hands than any other in his ragged\nbook-regiment. \"To this work, and to the Life of Richard Baxter,\" he\nsays, \"I was used to resort whenever sickness and languor made me feel\nthe want of an old friend of whose company I could never be tired. How\nmany and many an hour of self-oblivion do I owe to this Life of Wesley;\nand how often have I argued with it, questioned, remonstrated, been\npeevish, and asked pardon; then again listened, and cried, 'Right!\nExcellent!' and in yet heavier hours entreated it, as it were, to\ncontinue talking to me; for that I heard and listened, and was soothed,\nthough I could make no reply!\" [1913]\n\nSoumet had only a very few hooks in his library, but they were of the\nbest--Homer, Virgil, Dante, Camoens, Tasso, and Milton. De Quincey's\nfavourite few were Donne, Chillingworth, Jeremy Taylor, Milton, South,\nBarrow, and Sir Thomas Browne. He described these writers as \"a pleiad\nor constellation of seven golden stars, such as in their class no\nliterature can match,\" and from whose works he would undertake \"to build\nup an entire body of philosophy.\"\n\nFrederick the Great of Prussia manifested his strong French leanings\nin his choice of books; his principal favourites being Bayle, Rousseau,\nVoltaire, Rollin, Fleury, Malebranche, and one English author--Locke.\nHis especial favourite was Bayle's Dictionary, which was the first book\nthat laid hold of his mind; and he thought so highly of it, that he\nhimself made an abridgment and translation of it into German, which was\npublished. It was a saying of Frederick's, that \"books make up no small\npart of true happiness.\" In his old age he said, \"My latest passion will\nbe for literature.\"\n\nIt seems odd that Marshal Blucher's favourite book should have been\nKlopstock's 'Messiah,' and Napoleon Buonaparte's favourites, Ossian's\n'Poems' and the 'Sorrows of Werther.' But Napoleon's range of reading\nwas very extensive. It included Homer, Virgil, Tasso; novels of all\ncountries; histories of all times; mathematics, legislation, and\ntheology. He detested what he called \"the bombast and tinsel\" of\nVoltaire. The praises of Homer and Ossian he was never wearied\nof sounding. \"Read again,\" he said to an officer on board the\nBELLEROPHO--\"read again the poet of Achilles; devour Ossian. Those are\nthe poets who lift up the soul, and give to man a colossal greatness.\"\n[1914]\n\nThe Duke of Wellington was an extensive reader; his principal favourites\nwere Clarendon, Bishop Butler, Smith's 'Wealth of Nations,' Hume,\nthe Archduke Charles, Leslie, and the Bible. He was also particularly\ninterested by French and English memoirs--more especially the French\nMEMOIRES POUR SERVIR of all kinds. When at Walmer, Mr. Gleig says, the\nBible, the Prayer Book, Taylor's 'Holy Living and Dying,' and Caesar's\n'Commentaries,' lay within the Duke's reach; and, judging by the marks\nof use on them, they must have been much read and often consulted.\n\nWhile books are among the best companions of old age, they are often the\nbest inspirers of youth. The first book that makes a deep impression on\na young man's mind, often constitutes an epoch in his life. It may fire\nthe heart, stimulate the enthusiasm, and by directing his efforts into\nunexpected channels, permanently influence his character. The new book,\nin which we form an intimacy with a new friend, whose mind is wiser and\nriper than our own, may thus form an important starting-point in the\nhistory of a life. It may sometimes almost be regarded in the light of a\nnew birth.\n\nFrom the day when James Edward Smith was presented with his first\nbotanical lesson-book, and Sir Joseph Banks fell in with Gerard's\n'Herbal'--from the time when Alfieri first read Plutarch, and Schiller\nmade his first acquaintance with Shakspeare, and Gibbon devoured the\nfirst volume of 'The Universal History'--each dated an inspiration so\nexalted, that they felt as if their real lives had only then begun.\n\nIn the earlier part of his youth, La Fontaine was distinguished for\nhis idleness, but hearing an ode by Malherbe read, he is said to have\nexclaimed, \"I too am a poet,\" and his genius was awakened. Charles\nBossuet's mind was first fired to study by reading, at an early\nage, Fontenelle's 'Eloges' of men of science. Another work of\nFontenelle's--'On the Plurality of Worlds'--influenced the mind of\nLalande in making choice of a profession. \"It is with pleasure,\" says\nLalande himself in a preface to the book, which he afterwards edited,\n\"that I acknowledge my obligation to it for that devouring activity\nwhich its perusal first excited in me at the age of sixteen, and which I\nhave since retained.\"\n\nIn like manner, Lacepede was directed to the study of natural history\nby the perusal of Buffon's 'Histoire Naturelle,' which he found in his\nfather's library, and read over and over again until he almost knew it\nby heart. Goethe was greatly influenced by the reading of Goldsmith's\n'Vicar of Wakefield,' just at the critical moment of his mental\ndevelopment; and he attributed to it much of his best education. The\nreading of a prose 'Life of Gotz vou Berlichingen' afterwards stimulated\nhim to delineate his character in a poetic form. \"The figure of a rude,\nwell-meaning self-helper,\" he said, \"in a wild anarchic time, excited my\ndeepest sympathy.\"\n\nKeats was an insatiable reader when a boy; but it was the perusal of the\n'Faerie Queen,' at the age of seventeen, that first lit the fire of his\ngenius. The same poem is also said to have been the inspirer of Cowley,\nwho found a copy of it accidentally lying on the window of his mother's\napartment; and reading and admiring it, he became, as he relates,\nirrecoverably a poet.\n\nColeridge speaks of the great influence which the poems of Bowles had in\nforming his own mind. The works of a past age, says he, seem to a young\nman to be things of another race; but the writings of a contemporary\n\"possess a reality for him, and inspire an actual friendship as of a\nman for a man. His very admiration is the wind which fans and feeds his\nhope. The poems themselves assume the properties of flesh and blood.\"\n[1915]\n\nBut men have not merely been stimulated to undertake special literary\npursuits by the perusal of particular books; they have been also\nstimulated by them to enter upon particular lines of action in the\nserious business of life. Thus Henry Martyn was powerfully influenced\nto enter upon his heroic career as a missionary by perusing the Lives of\nHenry Brainerd and Dr. Carey, who had opened up the furrows in which he\nwent forth to sow the seed.\n\nBentham has described the extraordinary influence which the perusal of\n'Telemachus' exercised upon his mind in boyhood. \"Another book,\" said\nhe, \"and of far higher character [19than a collection of Fairy Tales, to\nwhich he refers], was placed in my hands. It was 'Telemachus.' In my\nown imagination, and at the age of six or seven, I identified my own\npersonality with that of the hero, who seemed to me a model of perfect\nvirtue; and in my walk of life, whatever it may come to be, why [19said\nI to myself every now and then]--why should not I be a Telemachus?....\nThat romance may be regarded as THE FOUNDATION-STONE OF MY WHOLE\nCHARACTER--the starting-post from whence my career of life commenced.\nThe first dawning in my mind of the 'Principles of Utility' may, I\nthink, be traced to it.\" [1916]\n\nCobbett's first favourite, because his only book, which he bought for\nthreepence, was Swift's 'Tale of a Tub,' the repeated perusal of\nwhich had, doubtless, much to do with the formation of his pithy,\nstraightforward, and hard-hitting style of writing. The delight with\nwhich Pope, when a schoolboy, read Ogilvy's 'Homer' was, most probably,\nthe origin of the English 'Iliad;' as the 'Percy Reliques' fired the\njuvenile mind of Scott, and stimulated him to enter upon the collection\nand composition of his 'Border Ballads.' Keightley's first reading of\n'Paradise Lost,' when a boy, led to his afterwards undertaking his Life\nof the poet. \"The reading,\" he says, \"of 'Paradise Lost' for the first\ntime forms, or should form, an era in the life of every one possessed of\ntaste and poetic feeling. To my mind, that time is ever present.... Ever\nsince, the poetry of Milton has formed my constant study--a source of\ndelight in prosperity, of strength and consolation in adversity.\"\n\nGood books are thus among the best of companions; and, by elevating\nthe thoughts and aspirations, they act as preservatives against low\nassociations. \"A natural turn for reading and intellectual pursuits,\"\nsays Thomas Hood, \"probably preserved me from the moral shipwreck so\napt to befal those who are deprived in early life of their parental\npilotage. My books kept me from the ring, the dogpit, the tavern, the\nsaloon. The closet associate of Pope and Addison, the mind accustomed to\nthe noble though silent discourse of Shakspeare and Milton, will hardly\nseek or put up with low company and slaves.\"\n\nIt has been truly said, that the best books are those which most\nresemble good actions. They are purifying, elevating, and sustaining;\nthey enlarge and liberalize the mind; they preserve it against vulgar\nworldliness; they tend to produce highminded cheerfulness and equanimity\nof character; they fashion, and shape, and humanize the mind. In the\nNorthern universities, the schools in which the ancient classics are\nstudied, are appropriately styled \"The Humanity Classes.\" [1917]\n\nErasmus, the great scholar, was even of opinion that books were the\nnecessaries of life, and clothes the luxuries; and he frequently\npostponed buying the latter until he had supplied himself with the\nformer. His greatest favourites were the works of Cicero, which he says\nhe always felt himself the better for reading. \"I can never,\" he\nsays, \"read the works of Cicero on 'Old Age,' or 'Friendship,' or his\n'Tusculan Disputations,' without fervently pressing them to my lips,\nwithout being penetrated with veneration for a mind little short of\ninspired by God himself.\" It was the accidental perusal of Cicero's\n'Hortensius' which first detached St. Augustine--until then a profligate\nand abandoned sensualist--from his immoral life, and started him upon\nthe course of inquiry and study which led to his becoming the greatest\namong the Fathers of the Early Church. Sir William Jones made it a\npractice to read through, once a year, the writings of Cicero, \"whose\nlife indeed,\" says his biographer, \"was the great exemplar of his own.\"\n\nWhen the good old Puritan Baxter came to enumerate the valuable and\ndelightful things of which death would deprive him, his mind reverted\nto the pleasures he had derived from books and study. \"When I die,\" he\nsaid, \"I must depart, not only from sensual delights, but from the more\nmanly pleasures of my studies, knowledge, and converse with many wise\nand godly men, and from all my pleasure in reading, hearing, public and\nprivate exercises of religion, and such like. I must leave my library,\nand turn over those pleasant books no more. I must no more come among\nthe living, nor see the faces of my faithful friends, nor be seen of\nman; houses, and cities, and fields, and countries, gardens, and walks,\nwill be as nothing to me. I shall no more hear of the affairs of the\nworld, of man, or wars, or other news; nor see what becomes of that\nbeloved interest of wisdom, piety, and peace, which I desire may\nprosper.\"\n\nIt is unnecessary to speak of the enormous moral influence which books\nhave exercised upon the general civilization of mankind, from the Bible\ndownwards. They contain the treasured knowledge of the human race. They\nare the record of all labours, achievements, speculations, successes,\nand failures, in science, philosophy, religion, and morals. They have\nbeen the greatest motive powers in all times. \"From the Gospel to\nthe Contrat Social,\" says De Bonald, \"it is books that have made\nrevolutions.\" Indeed, a great book is often a greater thing than a great\nbattle. Even works of fiction have occasionally exercised immense power\non society. Thus Rabelais in France, and Cervantes in Spain, overturned\nat the same time the dominion of monkery and chivalry, employing no\nother weapons but ridicule, the natural contrast of human terror.\nThe people laughed, and felt reassured. So 'Telemachus' appeared, and\nrecalled men back to the harmonies of nature.\n\n\"Poets,\" says Hazlitt, \"are a longer-lived race than heroes: they\nbreathe more of the air of immortality. They survive more entire in\ntheir thoughts and acts. We have all that Virgil or Homer did, as much\nas if we had lived at the same time with them. We can hold their works\nin our hands, or lay them on our pillows, or put them to our lips.\nScarcely a trace of what the others did is left upon the earth, so as\nto be visible to common eyes. The one, the dead authors, are living men,\nstill breathing and moving in their writings; the others, the conquerors\nof the world, are but the ashes in an urn. The sympathy [19so to speak]\nbetween thought and thought is more intimate and vital than that between\nthought and action. Thought is linked to thought as flame kindles into\nflame; the tribute of admiration to the MANES of departed heroism is\nlike burning incense in a marble monument. Words, ideas, feelings, with\nthe progress of time harden into substances: things, bodies, actions,\nmoulder away, or melt into a sound--into thin air.... Not only a man's\nactions are effaced and vanish with him; his virtues and generous\nqualities die with him also. His intellect only is immortal, and\nbequeathed unimpaired to posterity. Words are the only things that last\nfor ever.\" [1918]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI.--COMPANIONSHIP IN MARRIAGE.\n\n\n\n          \"Kindness in women, not their beauteous looks,\n          Shall win my love.\"--SHAKSPEARE.\n\n     \"In the husband Wisdom, In the wife Gentleness.\"--GEORGE\n     HERBERT.\n\n     \"If God had designed woman as man's master, He would have\n     taken her from his head; If as his slave, He would have\n     taken her from his feet; but as He designed her for his\n     companion and equal, He took her from his side.\"--SAINT\n     AUGUSTINE.--'DE CIVITATE DEI.'\n\n     \"Who can find a virtuous woman? for her price is far above\n     rubies.... Her husband is known in the gates, and he sitteth\n     among the elders of the land.... Strength and honour are her\n     clothing, and she shall rejoice in time to come. She openeth\n     her mouth with wisdom, and in her tongue is the law of\n     kindness. She looketh well to the ways of her husband, and\n     eateth not the bread of idleness. Her children arise up and\n     call her blessed; her husband also, and he praiseth her.\"--\n     PROVERBS OF SOLOMON.\n\n\nTHE character of men, as of women, is powerfully influenced by their\ncompanionship in all the stages of life. We have already spoken of the\ninfluence of the mother in forming the character of her children. She\nmakes the moral atmosphere in which they live, and by which their minds\nand souls are nourished, as their bodies are by the physical atmosphere\nthey breathe. And while woman is the natural cherisher of infancy and\nthe instructor of childhood, she is also the guide and counsellor\nof youth, and the confidant and companion of manhood, in her various\nrelations of mother, sister, lover, and wife. In short, the influence of\nwoman more or less affects, for good or for evil, the entire destinies\nof man.\n\nThe respective social functions and duties of men and women are clearly\ndefined by nature. God created man AND woman, each to do their proper\nwork, each to fill their proper sphere. Neither can occupy the position,\nnor perform the functions, of the other. Their several vocations are\nperfectly distinct. Woman exists on her own account, as man does on\nhis, at the same time that each has intimate relations with the\nother. Humanity needs both for the purposes of the race, and in every\nconsideration of social progress both must necessarily be included.\n\nThough companions and equals, yet, as regards the measure of their\npowers, they are unequal. Man is stronger, more muscular, and of rougher\nfibre; woman is more delicate, sensitive, and nervous. The one excels in\npower of brain, the other in qualities of heart; and though the head may\nrule, it is the heart that influences. Both are alike adapted for the\nrespective functions they have to perform in life; and to attempt to\nimpose woman's work upon man would be quite as absurd as to attempt to\nimpose man's work upon woman. Men are sometimes womanlike, and women are\nsometimes manlike; but these are only exceptions which prove the rule.\n\nAlthough man's qualities belong more to the head, and woman's more\nto the heart--yet it is not less necessary that man's heart should be\ncultivated as well as his head, and woman's head cultivated as well\nas her heart. A heartless man is as much out-of-keeping in civilized\nsociety as a stupid and unintelligent woman. The cultivation of all\nparts of the moral and intellectual nature is requisite to form the man\nor woman of healthy and well-balanced character. Without sympathy or\nconsideration for others, man were a poor, stunted, sordid, selfish\nbeing; and without cultivated intelligence, the most beautiful woman\nwere little better than a well-dressed doll.\n\nIt used to be a favourite notion about woman, that her weakness and\ndependency upon others constituted her principal claim to admiration.\n\"If we were to form an image of dignity in a man,\" said Sir Richard\nSteele, \"we should give him wisdom and valour, as being essential to the\ncharacter of manhood. In like manner, if you describe a right woman in\na laudable sense, she should have gentle softness, tender fear, and all\nthose parts of life which distinguish her from the other sex, with some\nsubordination to it, but an inferiority which makes her lovely.\" Thus,\nher weakness was to be cultivated, rather than her strength; her\nfolly, rather than her wisdom. She was to be a weak, fearful, tearful,\ncharacterless, inferior creature, with just sense enough to understand\nthe soft nothings addressed to her by the \"superior\" sex. She was to\nbe educated as an ornamental appanage of man, rather as an independent\nintelligence--or as a wife, mother, companion, or friend.\n\nPope, in one of his 'Moral Essays,' asserts that \"most women have no\ncharacters at all;\" and again he says:--\n\n          \"Ladies, like variegated tulips, show:\n          'Tis to their changes half their charms we owe,\n          Fine by defect and delicately weak.\"\n\nThis satire characteristically occurs in the poet's 'Epistle to Martha\nBlount,' the housekeeper who so tyrannically ruled him; and in the same\nverses he spitefully girds at Lady Mary Wortley Montague, at whose feet\nhe had thrown himself as a lover, and been contemptuously rejected.\nBut Pope was no judge of women, nor was he even a very wise or tolerant\njudge of men.\n\nIt is still too much the practice to cultivate the weakness of woman\nrather than her strength, and to render her attractive rather than\nself-reliant. Her sensibilities are developed at the expense of her\nhealth of body as well as of mind. She lives, moves, and has her being\nin the sympathy of others. She dresses that she may attract, and is\nburdened with accomplishments that she may be chosen. Weak, trembling,\nand dependent, she incurs the risk of becoming a living embodiment of\nthe Italian proverb--\"so good that she is good for nothing.\"\n\nOn the other hand, the education of young men too often errs on the\nside of selfishness. While the boy is incited to trust mainly to his own\nefforts in pushing his way in the world, the girl is encouraged to rely\nalmost entirely upon others. He is educated with too exclusive reference\nto himself and she is educated with too exclusive reference to him. He\nis taught to be self-reliant and self-dependent, while she is taught\nto be distrustful of herself, dependent, and self-sacrificing in all\nthings. Thus, the intellect of the one is cultivated at the expense of\nthe affections, and the affections of the other at the expense of the\nintellect.\n\nIt is unquestionable that the highest qualities of woman are displayed\nin her relationship to others, through the medium of her affections. She\nis the nurse whom nature has given to all humankind. She takes charge\nof the helpless, and nourishes and cherishes those we love. She is the\npresiding genius of the fireside, where she creates an atmosphere\nof serenity and contentment suitable for the nurture and growth\nof character in its best forms. She is by her very constitution\ncompassionate, gentle, patient, and self-denying. Loving, hopeful,\ntrustful, her eye sheds brightness everywhere. It shines upon coldness\nand warms it, upon suffering and relieves it, upon sorrow and cheers\nit:--\n\n                          \"Her silver flow\n          Of subtle-paced counsel in distress,\n        Right to the heart and brain, though undescried,\n          Winning its way with extreme gentleness\n        Through all the outworks of suspicion's pride.\"\n\nWoman has been styled \"the angel of the unfortunate.\" She is ready to\nhelp the weak, to raise the fallen, to comfort the suffering. It was\ncharacteristic of woman, that she should have been the first to build\nand endow an hospital. It has been said that wherever a human being\nis in suffering, his sighs call a woman to his side. When Mungo Park,\nlonely, friendless, and famished, after being driven forth from an\nAfrican village by the men, was preparing to spend the night under a\ntree, exposed to the rain and the wild beasts which there abounded,\na poor negro woman, returning from the labours of the field, took\ncompassion upon him, conducted him into her hut, and there gave him\nfood, succour, and shelter. [201]\n\nBut while the most characteristic qualities of woman are displayed\nthrough her sympathies and affections, it is also necessary for her own\nhappiness, as a self-dependent being, to develope and strengthen her\ncharacter, by due self-culture, self-reliance, and self-control. It is\nnot desirable, even were it possible, to close the beautiful avenues\nof the heart. Self-reliance of the best kind does not involve any\nlimitation in the range of human sympathy. But the happiness of woman,\nas of man, depends in a great measure upon her individual completeness\nof character. And that self-dependence which springs from the due\ncultivation of the intellectual powers, conjoined with a proper\ndiscipline of the heart and conscience, will enable her to be more\nuseful in life as well as happy; to dispense blessings intelligently as\nwell as to enjoy them; and most of all those which spring from mutual\ndependence and social sympathy.\n\nTo maintain a high standard of purity in society, the culture of both\nsexes must be in harmony, and keep equal pace. A pure womanhood must be\naccompanied by a pure manhood. The same moral law applies alike to both.\nIt would be loosening the foundations of virtue, to countenance the\nnotion that because of a difference in sex, man were at liberty to set\nmorality at defiance, and to do that with impunity, which, if done by\na woman, would stain her character for life. To maintain a pure and\nvirtuous condition of society, therefore, man as well as woman must be\npure and virtuous; both alike shunning all acts impinging on the heart,\ncharacter, and conscience--shunning them as poison, which, once imbibed,\ncan never be entirely thrown out again, but mentally embitters, to a\ngreater or less extent, the happiness of after-life.\n\nAnd here we would venture to touch upon a delicate topic. Though it is\none of universal and engrossing human interest, the moralist avoids it,\nthe educator shuns it, and parents taboo it. It is almost considered\nindelicate to refer to Love as between the sexes; and young persons are\nleft to gather their only notions of it from the impossible love-stories\nthat fill the shelves of circulating libraries. This strong and\nabsorbing feeling, this BESOIN D'AIMER--which nature has for wise\npurposes made so strong in woman that it colours her whole life and\nhistory, though it may form but an episode in the life of man--is\nusually left to follow its own inclinations, and to grow up for the most\npart unchecked, without any guidance or direction whatever.\n\nAlthough nature spurns all formal rules and directions in affairs of\nlove, it might at all events be possible to implant in young minds such\nviews of Character as should enable them to discriminate between\nthe true and the false, and to accustom them to hold in esteem those\nqualities of moral purity and integrity, without which life is but a\nscene of folly and misery. It may not be possible to teach young people\nto love wisely, but they may at least be guarded by parental advice\nagainst the frivolous and despicable passions which so often usurp its\nname. \"Love,\" it has been said, \"in the common acceptation of the term,\nis folly; but love, in its purity, its loftiness, its unselfishness,\nis not only a consequence, but a proof, of our moral excellence. The\nsensibility to moral beauty, the forgetfulness of self in the admiration\nengendered by it, all prove its claim to a high moral influence. It is\nthe triumph of the unselfish over the selfish part of our nature.\"\n\nIt is by means of this divine passion that the world is kept ever\nfresh and young. It is the perpetual melody of humanity. It sheds an\neffulgence upon youth, and throws a halo round age. It glorifies the\npresent by the light it casts backward, and it lightens the future by\nthe beams it casts forward. The love which is the outcome of esteem and\nadmiration, has an elevating and purifying effect on the character.\nIt tends to emancipate one from the slavery of self. It is altogether\nunsordid; itself is its only price. It inspires gentleness, sympathy,\nmutual faith, and confidence. True love also in a measure elevates the\nintellect. \"All love renders wise in a degree,\" says the poet Browning,\nand the most gifted minds have been the sincerest lovers. Great\nsouls make all affections great; they elevate and consecrate all true\ndelights. The sentiment even brings to light qualities before lying\ndormant and unsuspected. It elevates the aspirations, expands the soul,\nand stimulates the mental powers. One of the finest compliments ever\npaid to a woman was that of Steele, when he said of Lady Elizabeth\nHastings, \"that to have loved her was a liberal education.\" Viewed in\nthis light, woman is an educator in the highest sense, because, above\nall other educators, she educates humanly and lovingly.\n\nIt has been said that no man and no woman can be regarded as complete in\ntheir experience of life, until they have been subdued into union with\nthe world through their affections. As woman is not woman until she\nhas known love, neither is man man. Both are requisite to each other's\ncompleteness. Plato entertained the idea that lovers each sought a\nlikeness in the other, and that love was only the divorced half of\nthe original human being entering into union with its counterpart. But\nphilosophy would here seem to be at fault, for affection quite as often\nsprings from unlikeness as from likeness in its object.\n\nThe true union must needs be one of mind as well as of heart, and based\non mutual esteem as well as mutual affection. \"No true and enduring\nlove,\" says Fichte, \"can exist without esteem; every other draws regret\nafter it, and is unworthy of any noble human soul.\" One cannot really\nlove the bad, but always something that we esteem and respect as well as\nadmire. In short, true union must rest on qualities of character, which\nrule in domestic as in public life.\n\nBut there is something far more than mere respect and esteem in the\nunion between man and wife. The feeling on which it rests is far deeper\nand tenderer--such, indeed, as never exists between men or between\nwomen. \"In matters of affection,\" says Nathaniel Hawthorne, \"there is\nalways an impassable gulf between man and man. They can never quite\ngrasp each other's hands, and therefore man never derives any intimate\nhelp, any heart-sustenance, from his brother man, but from woman--his\nmother, his sister, or his wife.\" [202]\n\nMan enters a new world of joy, and sympathy, and human interest, through\nthe porch of love. He enters a new world in his home--the home of his\nown making--altogether different from the home of his boyhood, where\neach day brings with it a succession of new joys and experiences. He\nenters also, it may be, a new world of trials and sorrows, in which\nhe often gathers his best culture and discipline. \"Family life,\" says\nSainte-Beuve, \"may be full of thorns and cares; but they are fruitful:\nall others are dry thorns.\" And again: \"If a man's home, at a certain\nperiod of life, does not contain children, it will probably be found\nfilled with follies or with vices.\" [203]\n\nA life exclusively occupied in affairs of business insensibly tends\nto narrow and harden the character. It is mainly occupied with\nself-watching for advantages, and guarding against sharp practice on\nthe part of others. Thus the character unconsciously tends to grow\nsuspicious and ungenerous. The best corrective of such influences is\nalways the domestic; by withdrawing the mind from thoughts that are\nwholly gainful, by taking it out of its daily rut, and bringing it back\nto the sanctuary of home for refreshment and rest:\n\n          \"That truest, rarest light of social joy,\n          Which gleams upon the man of many cares.\"\n\n\"Business,\" says Sir Henry Taylor, \"does but lay waste the approaches to\nthe heart, whilst marriage garrisons the fortress.\" And however the head\nmay be occupied, by labours of ambition or of business--if the heart\nbe not occupied by affection for others and sympathy with them--life,\nthough it may appear to the outer world to be a success, will probably\nbe no success at all, but a failure. [204]\n\nA man's real character will always be more visible in his household than\nanywhere else; and his practical wisdom will be better exhibited by the\nmanner in which he bears rule there, than even in the larger affairs of\nbusiness or public life. His whole mind may be in his business; but, if\nhe would be happy, his whole heart must be in his home. It is there\nthat his genuine qualities most surely display themselves--there that\nhe shows his truthfulness, his love, his sympathy, his consideration\nfor others, his uprightness, his manliness--in a word, his character. If\naffection be not the governing principle in a household, domestic life\nmay be the most intolerable of despotisms. Without justice, also, there\ncan be neither love, confidence, nor respect, on which all true domestic\nrule is founded.\n\nErasmus speaks of Sir Thomas More's home as \"a school and exercise of\nthe Christian religion.\" \"No wrangling, no angry word was heard in it;\nno one was idle; every one did his duty with alacrity, and not without\na temperate cheerfulness.\" Sir Thomas won all hearts to obedience by his\ngentleness. He was a man clothed in household goodness; and he ruled so\ngently and wisely, that his home was pervaded by an atmosphere of love\nand duty. He himself spoke of the hourly interchange of the smaller acts\nof kindness with the several members of his family, as having a claim\nupon his time as strong as those other public occupations of his life\nwhich seemed to others so much more serious and important.\n\nBut the man whose affections are quickened by home-life, does not\nconfine his sympathies within that comparatively narrow sphere. His\nlove enlarges in the family, and through the family it expands into the\nworld. \"Love,\" says Emerson, \"is a fire that, kindling its first embers\nin the narrow nook of a private bosom, caught from a wandering spark out\nof another private heart, glows and enlarges until it warms and beams\nupon multitudes of men and women, upon the universal heart of all, and\nso lights up the whole world and nature with its generous flames.\"\n\nIt is by the regimen of domestic affection that the heart of man is best\ncomposed and regulated. The home is the woman's kingdom, her state,\nher world--where she governs by affection, by kindness, by the power of\ngentleness. There is nothing which so settles the turbulence of a man's\nnature as his union in life with a highminded woman. There he finds\nrest, contentment, and happiness--rest of brain and peace of spirit.\nHe will also often find in her his best counsellor, for her instinctive\ntact will usually lead him right when his own unaided reason might be\napt to go wrong. The true wife is a staff to lean upon in times of trial\nand difficulty; and she is never wanting in sympathy and solace when\ndistress occurs or fortune frowns. In the time of youth, she is a\ncomfort and an ornament of man's life; and she remains a faithful\nhelpmate in maturer years, when life has ceased to be an anticipation,\nand we live in its realities.\n\nWhat a happy man must Edmund Burke have been, when he could say of his\nhome, \"Every care vanishes the moment I enter under my own roof!\" And\nLuther, a man full of human affection, speaking of his wife, said, \"I\nwould not exchange my poverty with her for all the riches of Croesus\nwithout her.\" Of marriage he observed: \"The utmost blessing that God can\nconfer on a man is the possession of a good and pious wife, with whom\nhe may live in peace and tranquillity--to whom he may confide his whole\npossessions, even his life and welfare.\" And again he said, \"To rise\nbetimes, and to marry young, are what no man ever repents of doing.\"\n\nFor a man to enjoy true repose and happiness in marriage, he must have\nin his wife a soul-mate as well as a helpmate. But it is not requisite\nthat she should be merely a pale copy of himself. A man no more desires\nin his wife a manly woman, than the woman desires in her husband a\nfeminine man. A woman's best qualities do not reside in her intellect,\nbut in her affections. She gives refreshment by her sympathies, rather\nthan by her knowledge. \"The brain-women,\" says Oliver Wendell Holmes,\n\"never interest us like the heart-women.\" [205] Men are often so wearied\nwith themselves, that they are rather predisposed to admire qualities\nand tastes in others different from their own. \"If I were suddenly\nasked,\" says Mr. Helps, \"to give a proof of the goodness of God to us, I\nthink I should say that it is most manifest in the exquisite difference\nHe has made between the souls of men and women, so as to create the\npossibility of the most comforting and charming companionship that the\nmind of man can imagine.\" [206] But though no man may love a woman for her\nunderstanding, it is not the less necessary for her to cultivate it on\nthat account. [207] There may be difference in character, but there must\nbe harmony of mind and sentiment--two intelligent souls as well as two\nloving hearts:\n\n          \"Two heads in council, two beside the hearth,\n          Two in the tangled business of the world,\n          Two in the liberal offices of life.\"\n\nThere are few men who have written so wisely on the subject of marriage\nas Sir Henry Taylor. What he says about the influence of a happy union\nin its relation to successful statesmanship, applies to all conditions\nof life. The true wife, he says, should possess such qualities as will\ntend to make home as much as may be a place of repose. To this end, she\nshould have sense enough or worth enough to exempt her husband as much\nas possible from the troubles of family management, and more especially\nfrom all possibility of debt. \"She should be pleasing to his eyes and\nto his taste: the taste goes deep into the nature of all men--love is\nhardly apart from it; and in a life of care and excitement, that home\nwhich is not the seat of love cannot be a place of repose; rest for\nthe brain, and peace for the spirit, being only to be had through the\nsoftening of the affections. He should look for a clear understanding,\ncheerfulness, and alacrity of mind, rather than gaiety and brilliancy,\nand for a gentle tenderness of disposition in preference to an\nimpassioned nature. Lively talents are too stimulating in a tired man's\nhouse--passion is too disturbing....\n\n                         \"Her love should be\n      A love that clings not, nor is exigent,\n      Encumbers not the active purposes,\n      Nor drains their source; but profers with free grace\n      Pleasure at pleasure touched, at pleasure waived,\n      A washing of the weary traveller's feet,\n      A quenching of his thirst, a sweet repose,\n      Alternate and preparative; in groves\n      Where, loving much the flower that loves the shade,\n      And loving much the shade that that flower loves,\n      He yet is unbewildered, unenslaved,\n      Thence starting light, and pleasantly let go\n      When serious service calls.\" [208]\n\nSome persons are disappointed in marriage, because they expect too\nmuch from it; but many more, because they do not bring into the\nco-partnership their fair share of cheerfulness, kindliness,\nforbearance, and common sense. Their imagination has perhaps pictured\na condition never experienced on this side Heaven; and when real life\ncomes, with its troubles and cares, there is a sudden waking-up as from\na dream. Or they look for something approaching perfection in their\nchosen companion, and discover by experience that the fairest of\ncharacters have their weaknesses. Yet it is often the very imperfection\nof human nature, rather than its perfection, that makes the strongest\nclaims on the forbearance and sympathy of others, and, in affectionate\nand sensible natures, tends to produce the closest unions.\n\nThe golden rule of married life is, \"Bear and forbear.\" Marriage, like\ngovernment, is a series of compromises. One must give and take, refrain\nand restrain, endure and be patient. One may not be blind to another's\nfailings, but they may be borne with good-natured forbearance. Of all\nqualities, good temper is the one that wears and works the best in\nmarried life. Conjoined with self-control, it gives patience--the\npatience to bear and forbear, to listen without retort, to refrain until\nthe angry flash has passed. How true it is in marriage, that \"the soft\nanswer turneth away wrath!\"\n\nBurns the poet, in speaking of the qualities of a good wife, divided\nthem into ten parts. Four of these he gave to good temper, two to good\nsense, one to wit, one to beauty--such as a sweet face, eloquent eyes,\na fine person, a graceful carriage; and the other two parts he divided\namongst the other qualities belonging to or attending on a wife--such\nas fortune, connections, education [20that is, of a higher standard than\nordinary], family blood, &c.; but he said: \"Divide those two degrees\nas you please, only remember that all these minor proportions must\nbe expressed by fractions, for there is not any one of them that is\nentitled to the dignity of an integer.\"\n\nIt has been said that girls are very good at making nets, but that it\nwould be better still if they would learn to make cages. Men are often\nas easily caught as birds, but as difficult to keep. If the wife cannot\nmake her home bright and happy, so that it shall be the cleanest,\nsweetest, cheerfulest place that her husband can find refuge in--a\nretreat from the toils and troubles of the outer world--then God help\nthe poor man, for he is virtually homeless!\n\nNo wise person will marry for beauty mainly. It may exercise a powerful\nattraction in the first place, but it is found to be of comparatively\nlittle consequence afterwards. Not that beauty of person is to be\nunderestimated, for, other things being equal, handsomeness of form\nand beauty of features are the outward manifestations of health. But to\nmarry a handsome figure without character, fine features unbeautified\nby sentiment or good-nature, is the most deplorable of mistakes. As even\nthe finest landscape, seen daily, becomes monotonous, so does the most\nbeautiful face, unless a beautiful nature shines through it. The beauty\nof to-day becomes commonplace to-morrow; whereas goodness, displayed\nthrough the most ordinary features, is perennially lovely. Moreover,\nthis kind of beauty improves with age, and time ripens rather than\ndestroys it. After the first year, married people rarely think of\neach other's features, and whether they be classically beautiful or\notherwise. But they never fail to be cognisant of each other's temper.\n\"When I see a man,\" says Addison, \"with a sour rivelled face, I cannot\nforbear pitying his wife; and when I meet with an open ingenuous\ncountenance, I think of the happiness of his friends, his family, and\nhis relations.\"\n\nWe have given the views of the poet Burns as to the qualities necessary\nin a good wife. Let us add the advice given by Lord Burleigh to his son,\nembodying the experience of a wise statesman and practised man of the\nworld. \"When it shall please God,\" said he, \"to bring thee to man's\nestate, use great providence and circumspection in choosing thy wife;\nfor from thence will spring all thy future good or evil. And it is an\naction of thy life, like unto a stratagem of war, wherein a man can err\nbut once.... Enquire diligently of her disposition, and how her parents\nhave been inclined in their youth. [209] Let her not be poor, how generous\n[20well-born] soever; for a man can buy nothing in the market with\ngentility. Nor choose a base and uncomely creature altogether for\nwealth; for it will cause contempt in others, and loathing in thee.\nNeither make choice of a dwarf, or a fool; for by the one thou shalt\nbeget a race of pigmies, while the other will be thy continual disgrace,\nand it will yirke [20irk] thee to hear her talk. For thou shalt find it to\nthy great grief, that there is nothing more fulsome [20disgusting] than a\nshe-fool.\"\n\nA man's moral character is, necessarily, powerfully influenced by his\nwife. A lower nature will drag him down, as a higher will lift him\nup. The former will deaden his sympathies, dissipate his energies, and\ndistort his life; while the latter, by satisfying his affections, will\nstrengthen his moral nature, and by giving him repose, tend to energise\nhis intellect. Not only so, but a woman of high principles will\ninsensibly elevate the aims and purposes of her husband, as one of\nlow principles will unconsciously degrade them. De Tocqueville was\nprofoundly impressed by this truth. He entertained the opinion that man\ncould have no such mainstay in life as the companionship of a wife of\ngood temper and high principle. He says that in the course of his life,\nhe had seen even weak men display real public virtue, because they had\nby their side a woman of noble character, who sustained them in their\ncareer, and exercised a fortifying influence on their views of public\nduty; whilst, on the contrary, he had still oftener seen men of great\nand generous instincts transformed into vulgar self-seekers, by contact\nwith women of narrow natures, devoted to an imbecile love of pleasure,\nand from whose minds the grand motive of Duty was altogether absent.\n\nDe Tocqueville himself had the good fortune to be blessed with an\nadmirable wife: [2010] and in his letters to his intimate friends, he\nspoke most gratefully of the comfort and support he derived from her\nsustaining courage, her equanimity of temper, and her nobility of\ncharacter. The more, indeed, that De Tocqueville saw of the world and of\npractical life, the more convinced he became of the necessity of healthy\ndomestic conditions for a man's growth in virtue and goodness. [2011]\nEspecially did he regard marriage as of inestimable importance in regard\nto a man's true happiness; and he was accustomed to speak of his own\nas the wisest action of his life. \"Many external circumstances of\nhappiness,\" he said, \"have been granted to me. But more than all, I have\nto thank Heaven for having bestowed on me true domestic happiness, the\nfirst of human blessings. As I grow older, the portion of my life which\nin my youth I used to look down upon, every day becomes more important\nin my eyes, and would now easily console me for the loss of all the\nrest.\" And again, writing to his bosom-friend, De Kergorlay, he said:\n\"Of all the blessings which God has given to me, the greatest of all in\nmy eyes is to have lighted on Marie. You cannot imagine what she is in\ngreat trials. Usually so gentle, she then becomes strong and energetic.\nShe watches me without my knowing it; she softens, calms, and\nstrengthens me in difficulties which disturb ME, but leave her serene.\"\n[2012] In another letter he says: \"I cannot describe to you the happiness\nyielded in the long run by the habitual society of a woman in whose soul\nall that is good in your own is reflected naturally, and even improved.\nWhen I say or do a thing which seems to me to be perfectly right, I read\nimmediately in Marie's countenance an expression of proud satisfaction\nwhich elevates me. And so, when my conscience reproaches me, her face\ninstantly clouds over. Although I have great power over her mind, I see\nwith pleasure that she awes me; and so long as I love her as I do now,\nI am sure that I shall never allow myself to be drawn into anything that\nis wrong.\"\n\nIn the retired life which De Tocqueville led as a literary\nman--political life being closed against him by the inflexible\nindependence of his character--his health failed, and he became ill,\nirritable, and querulous. While proceeding with his last work, 'L'Ancien\nRegime et la Revolution,' he wrote: \"After sitting at my desk for five\nor six hours, I can write no longer; the machine refuses to act. I am in\ngreat want of rest, and of a long rest. If you add all the perplexities\nthat besiege an author towards the end of his work, you will be able to\nimagine a very wretched life. I could not go on with my task if it\nwere not for the refreshing calm of Marie's companionship. It would be\nimpossible to find a disposition forming a happier contrast to my own.\nIn my perpetual irritability of body and mind, she is a providential\nresource that never fails me.\" [2013]\n\nM. Guizot was, in like manner, sustained and encouraged, amidst his many\nvicissitudes and disappointments, by his noble wife. If he was treated\nwith harshness by his political enemies, his consolation was in the\ntender affection which filled his home with sunshine. Though his public\nlife was bracing and stimulating, he felt, nevertheless, that it was\ncold and calculating, and neither filled the soul nor elevated the\ncharacter. \"Man longs for a happiness,\" he says in his 'Memoires,' \"more\ncomplete and more tender than that which all the labours and triumphs of\nactive exertion and public importance can bestow. What I know to-day,\nat the end of my race, I have felt when it began, and during its\ncontinuance. Even in the midst of great undertakings, domestic\naffections form the basis of life; and the most brilliant career has\nonly superficial and incomplete enjoyments, if a stranger to the happy\nties of family and friendship.\"\n\nThe circumstances connected with M. Guizot's courtship and marriage are\ncurious and interesting. While a young man living by his pen in\nParis, writing books, reviews, and translations, he formed a casual\nacquaintance with Mademoiselle Pauline de Meulan, a lady of great\nability, then editor of the PUBLICISTE. A severe domestic calamity\nhaving befallen her, she fell ill, and was unable for a time to carry on\nthe heavy literary work connected with her journal. At this juncture a\nletter without any signature reached her one day, offering a supply of\narticles, which the writer hoped would be worthy of the reputation of\nthe PUBLICISTE. The articles duly arrived, were accepted, and\npublished. They dealt with a great variety of subjects--art, literature,\ntheatricals, and general criticism. When the editor at length recovered\nfrom her illness, the writer of the articles disclosed himself: it was\nM. Guizot. An intimacy sprang up between them, which ripened into mutual\naffection, and before long Mademoiselle de Meulan became his wife.\n\nFrom that time forward, she shared in all her husband's joys and\nsorrows, as well as in many of his labours. Before they became united,\nhe asked her if she thought she should ever become dismayed at the\nvicissitudes of his destiny, which he then saw looming before him. She\nreplied that he might assure himself that she would always passionately\nenjoy his triumphs, but never heave a sigh over his defeats. When M.\nGuizot became first minister of Louis Philippe, she wrote to a friend:\n\"I now see my husband much less than I desire, but still I see him....\nIf God spares us to each other, I shall always be, in the midst of every\ntrial and apprehension, the happiest of beings.\" Little more than six\nmonths after these words were written, the devoted wife was laid in\nher grave; and her sorrowing husband was left thenceforth to tread the\njourney of life alone.\n\nBurke was especially happy in his union with Miss Nugent, a beautiful,\naffectionate, and highminded woman. The agitation and anxiety of his\npublic life was more than compensated by his domestic happiness, which\nseems to have been complete. It was a saying of Burke, thoroughly\nillustrative of his character, that \"to love the little platoon\nwe belong to in society is the germ of all public affections.\" His\ndescription of his wife, in her youth, is probably one of the finest\nword-portraits in the language:--\n\n\"She is handsome; but it is a beauty not arising from features, from\ncomplexion, or from shape. She has all three in a high degree, but it is\nnot by these she touches the heart; it is all that sweetness of temper,\nbenevolence, innocence, and sensibility, which a face can express, that\nforms her beauty. She has a face that just raises your attention at\nfirst sight; it grows on you every moment, and you wonder it did no more\nthan raise your attention at first.\n\n\"Her eyes have a mild light, but they awe when she pleases; they\ncommand, like a good man out of office, not by authority, but by virtue.\n\n\"Her stature is not tall; she is not made to be the admiration of\neverybody, but the happiness of one.\n\n\"She has all the firmness that does not exclude delicacy; she has all\nthe softness that does not imply weakness.\n\n\"Her voice is a soft low music--not formed to rule in public assemblies,\nbut to charm those who can distinguish a company from a crowd; it has\nthis advantage--YOU MUST COME CLOSE TO HER TO HEAR IT.\n\n\"To describe her body describes her mind--one is the transcript of\nthe other; her understanding is not shown in the variety of matters it\nexerts itself on, but in the goodness of the choice she makes.\n\n\"She does not display it so much in saying or doing striking things, as\nin avoiding such as she ought not to say or do.\n\n\"No person of so few years can know the world better; no person was ever\nless corrupted by the knowledge of it.\n\n\"Her politeness flows rather from a natural disposition to oblige, than\nfrom any rules on that subject, and therefore never fails to strike\nthose who understand good breeding and those who do not.\n\n\"She has a steady and firm mind, which takes no more from the solidity\nof the female character than the solidity of marble does from its polish\nand lustre. She has such virtues as make us value the truly great of\nour own sex. She has all the winning graces that make us love even the\nfaults we see in the weak and beautiful, in hers.\"\n\nLet us give, as a companion picture, the not less beautiful delineation\nof a husband, that of Colonel Hutchinson, the Commonwealth man, by his\nwidow. Shortly before his death, he enjoined her \"not to grieve at the\ncommon rate of desolate women.\" And, faithful to his injunction, instead\nof lamenting his loss, she indulged her noble sorrow in depicting her\nhusband as he had lived.\n\n\"They who dote on mortal excellences,\" she says, in her Introduction\nto the 'Life,' \"when, by the inevitable fate of all things frail, their\nadored idols are taken from them, may let loose the winds of passion\nto bring in a flood of sorrow, whose ebbing tides carry away the dear\nmemory of what they have lost; and when comfort is essayed to such\nmourners, commonly all objects are removed out of their view which\nmay with their remembrance renew the grief; and in time these remedies\nsucceed, and oblivion's curtain is by degrees drawn over the dead face;\nand things less lovely are liked, while they are not viewed together\nwith that which was most excellent. But I, that am under a command not\nto grieve at the common rate of desolate women, [2014] while I am studying\nwhich way to moderate my woe, and if it were possible to augment my\nlove, I can for the present find out none more just to your dear father,\nnor consolatory to myself, than the preservation of his memory, which I\nneed not gild with such flattering commendations as hired preachers do\nequally give to the truly and titularly honourable. A naked undressed\nnarrative, speaking the simple truth of him, will deck him with more\nsubstantial glory, than all the panegyrics the best pens could ever\nconsecrate to the virtues of the best men.\"\n\nThe following is the wife's portrait of Colonel Hutchinson as a\nhusband:--\n\n\"For conjugal affection to his wife, it was such in him as whosoever\nwould draw out a rule of honour, kindness, and religion, to be practised\nin that estate, need no more but exactly draw out his example. Never\nman had a greater passion for a woman, nor a more honourable esteem of\na wife: yet he was not uxorious, nor remitted he that just rule which\nit was her honour to obey, but managed the reins of government with\nsuch prudence and affection, that she who could not delight in such an\nhonourable and advantageable subjection, must have wanted a reasonable\nsoul.\n\n\"He governed by persuasion, which he never employed but to things\nhonourable and profitable to herself; he loved her soul and her honour\nmore than her outside, and yet he had ever for her person a constant\nindulgence, exceeding the common temporary passion of the most uxorious\nfools. If he esteemed her at a higher rate than she in herself could\nhave deserved, he was the author of that virtue he doated on, while\nshe only reflected his own glories upon him. All that she was, was HIM,\nwhile he was here, and all that she is now, at best, is but his pale\nshade.\n\n\"So liberal was he to her, and of so generous a temper, that he hated\nthe mention of severed purses, his estate being so much at her disposal\nthat he never would receive an account of anything she expended. So\nconstant was he in his love, that when she ceased to be young and lovely\nhe began to show most fondness. He loved her at such a kind and generous\nrate as words cannot express. Yet even this, which was the highest love\nhe or any man could have, was bounded by a superior: he loved her in\nthe Lord as his fellow-creature, not his idol; but in such a manner as\nshowed that an affection, founded on the just rules of duty, far exceeds\nevery way all the irregular passions in the world. He loved God above\nher, and all the other dear pledges of his heart, and for his glory\ncheerfully resigned them.\" [2015]\n\nLady Rachel Russell is another of the women of history celebrated for\nher devotion and faithfulness as a wife. She laboured and pleaded for\nher husband's release so long as she could do so with honour; but when\nshe saw that all was in vain, she collected her courage, and strove by\nher example to strengthen the resolution of her dear lord. And when his\nlast hour had nearly come, and his wife and children waited to receive\nhis parting embrace, she, brave to the end, that she might not add\nto his distress, concealed the agony of her grief under a seeming\ncomposure; and they parted, after a tender adieu, in silence. After she\nhad gone, Lord William said, \"Now the bitterness of death is passed!\"\n[2016]\n\nWe have spoken of the influence of a wife upon a man's character. There\nare few men strong enough to resist the influence of a lower character\nin a wife. If she do not sustain and elevate what is highest in his\nnature, she will speedily reduce him to her own level. Thus a wife may\nbe the making or the unmaking of the best of men. An illustration of\nthis power is furnished in the life of Bunyan. The profligate tinker had\nthe good fortune to marry, in early life, a worthy young woman of good\nparentage. \"My mercy,\" he himself says, \"was to light upon a wife whose\nfather and mother were accounted godly. This woman and I, though we came\ntogether as poor as poor might be [20not having so much household stuff as\na dish or a spoon betwixt us both], yet she had for her part, 'The Plain\nMan's Pathway to Heaven,' and 'The Practice of Piety,' which her father\nhad left her when he died.\" And by reading these and other good books;\nhelped by the kindly influence of his wife, Bunyan was gradually\nreclaimed from his evil ways, and led gently into the paths of peace.\n\nRichard Baxter, the Nonconformist divine, was far advanced in life\nbefore he met the excellent woman who eventually became his wife. He was\ntoo laboriously occupied in his vocation of minister to have any time to\nspare for courtship; and his marriage was, as in the case of Calvin, as\nmuch a matter of convenience as of love. Miss Charlton, the lady of his\nchoice, was the owner of property in her own right; but lest it should\nbe thought that Baxter married her for \"covetousness,\" he requested,\nfirst, that she should give over to her relatives the principal part of\nher fortune, and that \"he should have nothing that before her marriage\nwas hers;\" secondly, that she should so arrange her affairs \"as that\nhe might be entangled in no lawsuits;\" and, thirdly, \"that she should\nexpect none of the time that his ministerial work might require.\" These\nseveral conditions the bride having complied with, the marriage took\nplace, and proved a happy one. \"We lived,\" said Baxter, \"in inviolated\nlove and mutual complacency, sensible of the benefit of mutual help,\nnearly nineteen years.\" Yet the life of Baxter was one of great trials\nand troubles, arising from the unsettled state of the times in which he\nlived. He was hunted about from one part of the country to another,\nand for several years he had no settled dwelling-place. \"The women,\" he\ngently remarks in his 'Life,' \"have most of that sort of trouble, but my\nwife easily bore it all.\" In the sixth year of his marriage Baxter was\nbrought before the magistrates at Brentford, for holding a conventicle\nat Acton, and was sentenced by them to be imprisoned in Clerkenwell\nGaol. There he was joined by his wife, who affectionately nursed him\nduring his confinement. \"She was never so cheerful a companion to me,\"\nhe says, \"as in prison, and was very much against me seeking to be\nreleased.\" At length he was set at liberty by the judges of the Court\nof Common Pleas, to whom he had appealed against the sentence of the\nmagistrates. At the death of Mrs. Baxter, after a very troubled yet\nhappy and cheerful life, her husband left a touching portrait of the\ngraces, virtues, and Christian character of this excellent woman--one of\nthe most charming things to be found in his works.\n\nThe noble Count Zinzendorf was united to an equally noble woman, who\nbore him up through life by her great spirit, and sustained him in all\nhis labours by her unfailing courage. \"Twenty-four years' experience has\nshown me,\" he said, \"that just the helpmate whom I have is the only one\nthat could suit my vocation. Who else could have so carried through my\nfamily affairs?--who lived so spotlessly before the world? Who so wisely\naided me in my rejection of a dry morality?.... Who would, like she,\nwithout a murmur, have seen her husband encounter such dangers by land\nand sea?--who undertaken with him, and sustained, such astonishing\npilgrimages? Who, amid such difficulties, could have held up her head\nand supported me?.... And finally, who, of all human beings, could so\nwell understand and interpret to others my inner and outer being as this\none, of such nobleness in her way of thinking, such great intellectual\ncapacity, and free from the theological perplexities that so often\nenveloped me?\"\n\nOne of the brave Dr. Livingstone's greatest trials during his travels in\nSouth Africa was the death of his affectionate wife, who had shared\nhis dangers, and accompanied him in so many of his wanderings. In\ncommunicating the intelligence of her decease at Shupanga, on the River\nZambesi, to his friend Sir Roderick Murchison, Dr. Livingstone said:\n\"I must confess that this heavy stroke quite takes the heart out of\nme. Everything else that has happened only made me more determined to\novercome all difficulties; but after this sad stroke I feel crushed and\nvoid of strength. Only three short months of her society, after four\nyears separation! I married her for love, and the longer I lived with\nher I loved her the more. A good wife, and a good, brave, kindhearted\nmother was she, deserving all the praises you bestowed upon her at our\nparting dinner, for teaching her own and the native children, too, at\nKolobeng. I try to bow to the blow as from our Heavenly Father, who\norders all things for us.... I shall do my duty still, but it is with a\ndarkened horizon that I again set about it.\"\n\nSir Samuel Romilly left behind him, in his Autobiography, a touching\npicture of his wife, to whom he attributed no small measure of the\nsuccess and happiness that accompanied him through life. \"For the last\nfifteen years,\" he said, \"my happiness has been the constant study of\nthe most excellent of wives: a woman in whom a strong understanding, the\nnoblest and most elevated sentiments, and the most courageous virtue,\nare united to the warmest affection, and to the utmost delicacy of mind\nand heart; and all these intellectual perfections are graced by the most\nsplendid beauty that human eyes ever beheld.\" [2017] Romilly's affection\nand admiration for this noble woman endured to the end; and when she\ndied, the shock proved greater than his sensitive nature could bear.\nSleep left his eyelids, his mind became unhinged, and three days after\nher death the sad event occurred which brought his own valued life to a\nclose. [2018]\n\nSir Francis Burdett, to whom Romilly had been often politically opposed,\nfell into such a state of profound melancholy on the death of his wife,\nthat he persistently refused nourishment of any kind, and died before\nthe removal of her remains from the house; and husband and wife were\nlaid side by side in the same grave.\n\nIt was grief for the loss of his wife that sent Sir Thomas Graham into\nthe army at the age of forty-three. Every one knows the picture of the\nnewly-wedded pair by Gainsborough--one of the most exquisite of that\npainter's works. They lived happily together for eighteen years, and\nthen she died, leaving him inconsolable. To forget his sorrow--and,\nas some thought, to get rid of the weariness of his life without\nher--Graham joined Lord Hood as a volunteer, and distinguished himself\nby the recklessness of his bravery at the siege of Toulon. He served all\nthrough the Peninsular War, first under Sir John Moore, and afterwards\nunder Wellington; rising through the various grades of the service,\nuntil he rose to be second in command. He was commonly known as the\n\"hero of Barossa,\" because of his famous victory at that place; and he\nwas eventually raised to the peerage as Lord Lynedoch, ending his days\npeacefully at a very advanced age. But to the last he tenderly cherished\nthe memory of his dead wife, to the love of whom he may be said to have\nowed all his glory. \"Never,\" said Sheridan of him, when pronouncing his\neulogy in the House of Commons--\"never was there seated a loftier spirit\nin a braver heart.\"\n\nAnd so have noble wives cherished the memory of their husbands. There\nis a celebrated monument in Vienna, erected to the memory of one of the\nbest generals of the Austrian army, on which there is an inscription,\nsetting forth his great services during the Seven Years' War, concluding\nwith the words, \"NON PATRIA, NEC IMPERATOR, SED CONJUX POSUIT.\" When Sir\nAlbert Morton died, his wife's grief was such that she shortly followed\nhim, and was laid by his side. Wotton's two lines on the event have been\ncelebrated as containing a volume in seventeen words:\n\n          \"He first deceased; she for a little tried\n          To live without him, liked it not, and died.\"\n\nSo, when Washington's wife was informed that her dear lord had suffered\nhis last agony--had drawn his last breath, and departed--she said: \"'Tis\nwell; all is now over. I shall soon follow him; I have no more trials to\npass through.\"\n\nNot only have women been the best companions, friends, and consolers,\nbut they have in many cases been the most effective helpers of their\nhusbands in their special lines of work. Galvani was especially happy in\nhis wife. She was the daughter of Professor Galeazzi; and it is said to\nhave been through her quick observation of the circumstance of the leg\nof a frog, placed near an electrical machine, becoming convulsed when\ntouched by a knife, that her husband was first led to investigate the\nscience which has since become identified with his name. Lavoisier's\nwife also was a woman of real scientific ability, who not only shared\nin her husband's pursuits, but even undertook the task of engraving the\nplates that accompanied his 'Elements.'\n\nThe late Dr. Buckland had another true helper in his wife, who assisted\nhim with her pen, prepared and mended his fossils, and furnished many of\nthe drawings and illustrations of his published works. \"Notwithstanding\nher devotion to her husband's pursuits,\" says her son, Frank Buckland,\nin the preface to one of his father's works, \"she did not neglect the\neducation of her children, but occupied her mornings in superintending\ntheir instruction in sound and useful knowledge. The sterling value of\nher labours they now, in after-life, fully appreciate, and feel most\nthankful that they were blessed with so good a mother.\" [2019]\n\nA still more remarkable instance of helpfulness in a wife is presented\nin the case of Huber, the Geneva naturalist. Huber was blind from his\nseventeenth year, and yet he found means to study and master a branch\nof natural history demanding the closest observation and the keenest\neyesight. It was through the eyes of his wife that his mind worked as if\nthey had been his own. She encouraged her husband's studies as a means\nof alleviating his privation, which at length he came to forget; and his\nlife was as prolonged and happy as is usual with most naturalists. He\neven went so far as to declare that he should be miserable were he to\nregain his eyesight. \"I should not know,\" he said, \"to what extent\na person in my situation could be beloved; besides, to me my wife is\nalways young, fresh, and pretty, which is no light matter.\" Huber's\ngreat work on 'Bees' is still regarded as a masterpiece, embodying a\nvast amount of original observation on their habits and natural history.\nIndeed, while reading his descriptions, one would suppose that they were\nthe work of a singularly keensighted man, rather than of one who had\nbeen entirely blind for twenty-five years at the time at which he wrote\nthem.\n\nNot less touching was the devotion of Lady Hamilton to the service\nof her husband, the late Sir William Hamilton, Professor of Logic and\nMetaphysics in the University of Edinburgh. After he had been stricken\nby paralysis through overwork at the age of fifty-six, she became hands,\neyes, mind, and everything to him. She identified herself with his work,\nread and consulted books for him, copied out and corrected his lectures,\nand relieved him of all business which she felt herself competent to\nundertake. Indeed, her conduct as a wife was nothing short of heroic;\nand it is probable that but for her devoted and more than wifely help,\nand her rare practical ability, the greatest of her husband's works\nwould never have seen the light. He was by nature unmethodical and\ndisorderly, and she supplied him with method and orderliness. His\ntemperament was studious but indolent, while she was active and\nenergetic. She abounded in the qualities which he most lacked. He had\nthe genius, to which her vigorous nature gave the force and impulse.\n\nWhen Sir William Hamilton was elected to his Professorship, after a\nsevere and even bitter contest, his opponents, professing to regard him\nas a visionary, predicted that he could never teach a class of students,\nand that his appointment would prove a total failure. He determined,\nwith the help of his wife, to justify the choice of his supporters,\nand to prove that his enemies were false prophets. Having no stock of\nlectures on hand, each lecture of the first course was written out day\nby day, as it was to be delivered on the following morning. His wife sat\nup with him night after night, to write out a fair copy of the lectures\nfrom the rough sheets, which he drafted in the adjoining room. \"On some\noccasions,\" says his biographer, \"the subject of the lectures would\nprove less easily managed than on others; and then Sir William would be\nfound writing as late as nine o'clock in the morning, while his faithful\nbut wearied amanuensis had fallen asleep on a sofa.\" [2020]\n\nSometimes the finishing touches to the lecture were left to be given\njust before the class-hour. Thus helped, Sir William completed his\ncourse; his reputation as a lecturer was established; and he eventually\nbecame recognised throughout Europe as one of the leading intellects of\nhis time. [2021]\n\nThe woman who soothes anxiety by her presence, who charms and allays\nirritability by her sweetness of temper, is a consoler as well as a true\nhelper. Niebuhr always spoke of his wife as a fellow-worker with him\nin this sense. Without the peace and consolation which be found in her\nsociety, his nature would have fretted in comparative uselessness. \"Her\nsweetness of temper and her love,\" said he, \"raise me above the earth,\nand in a manner separate me from this life.\" But she was a helper in\nanother and more direct way. Niebuhr was accustomed to discuss with his\nwife every historical discovery, every political event, every novelty in\nliterature; and it was mainly for her pleasure and approbation, in\nthe first instance, that he laboured while preparing himself for the\ninstruction of the world at large.\n\nThe wife of John Stuart Mill was another worthy helper of her husband,\nthough in a more abstruse department of study, as we learn from his\ntouching dedication of the treatise 'On Liberty':--\"To the beloved and\ndeplored memory of her who was the inspirer, and in part the author,\nof all that is best in my writings--the friend and wife, whose exalted\nsense of truth and right was my strongest incitement, and whose\napprobation was my chief reward, I dedicate this volume.\" Not less\ntouching is the testimony borne by another great living writer to the\ncharacter of his wife, in the inscription upon the tombstone of Mrs.\nCarlyle in Haddington Churchyard, where are inscribed these words:--\"In\nher bright existence, she had more sorrows than are common, but also\na soft amiability, a capacity of discernment, and a noble loyalty of\nheart, which are rare. For forty years she was the true and loving\nhelpmate of her husband, and by act and word unweariedly forwarded him\nas none else could, in all of worthy that he did or attempted.\"\n\nThe married life of Faraday was eminently happy. In his wife he found,\nat the same time, a true helpmate and soul-mate. She supported, cheered,\nand strengthened him on his way through life, giving him \"the clear\ncontentment of a heart at ease.\" In his diary he speaks of his marriage\nas \"a source of honour and happiness far exceeding all the rest.\" After\ntwentyeight years' experience, he spoke of it as \"an event which, more\nthan any other, had contributed to his earthly happiness and healthy\nstate of mind.... The union [20said he] has in nowise changed, except only\nin the depth and strength of its character.\" And for six-and-forty years\ndid the union continue unbroken; the love of the old man remaining\nas fresh, as earnest, as heart-whole, as in the days of his impetuous\nyouth. In this case, marriage was as--\n\n\"A golden chain let down from heaven, Whose links are bright and even;\nThat falls like sleep on lovers, and combines The soft and sweetest\nminds In equal knots.\"\n\nBesides being a helper, woman is emphatically a consoler. Her sympathy\nis unfailing. She soothes, cheers, and comforts. Never was this more\ntrue than in the case of the wife of Tom Hood, whose tender devotion\nto him, during a life that was a prolonged illness, is one of the most\naffecting things in biography. A woman of excellent good sense, she\nappreciated her husband's genius, and, by encouragement and sympathy,\ncheered and heartened him to renewed effort in many a weary struggle for\nlife. She created about him an atmosphere of hope and cheerfulness, and\nnowhere did the sunshine of her love seem so bright as when lighting up\nthe couch of her invalid husband.\n\nNor was he unconscious of her worth. In one of his letters to her, when\nabsent from his side, Hood said: \"I never was anything, Dearest, till\nI knew you; and I have been a better, happier, and more prosperous man\never since. Lay by that truth in lavender, Sweetest, and remind me of it\nwhen I fail. I am writing warmly and fondly, but not without good\ncause. First, your own affectionate letter, lately received; next, the\nremembrance of our dear children, pledges--what darling ones!--of\nour old familiar love; then, a delicious impulse to pour out the\noverflowings of my heart into yours; and last, not least, the knowledge\nthat your dear eyes will read what my hand is now writing. Perhaps there\nis an afterthought that, whatever may befall me, the wife of my bosom\nwill have the acknowledgment of her tenderness, worth, excellence--all\nthat is wifely or womanly, from my pen.\" In another letter, also written\nto his wife during a brief absence, there is a natural touch, showing\nhis deep affection for her: \"I went and retraced our walk in the park,\nand sat down on the same seat, and felt happier and better.\"\n\nBut not only was Mrs. Hood a consoler, she was also a helper of her\nhusband in his special work. He had such confidence in her judgment,\nthat he read, and re-read, and corrected with her assistance all that\nhe wrote. Many of his pieces were first dedicated to her; and her ready\nmemory often supplied him with the necessary references and quotations.\nThus, in the roll of noble wives of men of genius, Mrs. Hood will always\nbe entitled to take a foremost place.\n\nNot less effective as a literary helper was Lady Napier, the wife of Sir\nWilliam Napier, historian of the Peninsular War. She encouraged him to\nundertake the work, and without her help he would have experienced great\ndifficulty in completing it. She translated and epitomized the immense\nmass of original documents, many of them in cipher, on which it was in\na great measure founded. When the Duke of Wellington was told of the art\nand industry she had displayed in deciphering King Joseph's portfolio,\nand the immense mass of correspondence taken at Vittoria, he at first\nwould hardly believe it, adding--\"I would have given 20,000L. to any\nperson who could have done this for me in the Peninsula.\" Sir William\nNapier's handwriting being almost illegible, Lady Napier made out his\nrough interlined manuscript, which he himself could scarcely read, and\nwrote out a full fair copy for the printer; and all this vast labour she\nundertook and accomplished, according to the testimony of her husband,\nwithout having for a moment neglected the care and education of a large\nfamily. When Sir William lay on his deathbed, Lady Napier was at the\nsame time dangerously ill; but she was wheeled into his room on a sofa,\nand the two took their silent farewell of each other. The husband died\nfirst; in a few weeks the wife followed him, and they sleep side by side\nin the same grave.\n\nMany other similar truehearted wives rise up in the memory, to recite\nwhose praises would more than fill up our remaining space--such as\nFlaxman's wife, Ann Denham, who cheered and encouraged her husband\nthrough life in the prosecution of his art, accompanying him to Rome,\nsharing in his labours and anxieties, and finally in his triumphs, and\nto whom Flaxman, in the fortieth year of their married life, dedicated\nhis beautiful designs illustrative of Faith, Hope, and Charity, in\ntoken of his deep and undimmed affection;--such as Katherine Boutcher,\n\"dark-eyed Kate,\" the wife of William Blake, who believed her husband to\nbe the first genius on earth, worked off the impressions of his plates\nand coloured them beautifully with her own hand, bore with him in all\nhis erratic ways, sympathised with him in his sorrows and joys for\nforty-five years, and comforted him until his dying hour--his last\nsketch, made in his seventy-first year, being a likeness of himself,\nbefore making which, seeing his wife crying by his side, he said, \"Stay,\nKate! just keep as you are; I will draw your portrait, for you have ever\nbeen an angel to me;\"--such again as Lady Franklin, the true and noble\nwoman, who never rested in her endeavours to penetrate the secret of the\nPolar Sea and prosecute the search for her long-lost husband--undaunted\nby failure, and persevering in her determination with a devotion and\nsingleness of purpose altogether unparalleled;--or such again as the\nwife of Zimmermann, whose intense melancholy she strove in vain to\nassuage, sympathizing with him, listening to him, and endeavouring to\nunderstand him--and to whom, when on her deathbed, about to leave him\nfor ever, she addressed the touching words, \"My poor Zimmermann! who\nwill now understand thee?\"\n\nWives have actively helped their husbands in other ways. Before\nWeinsberg surrendered to its besiegers, the women of the place asked\npermission of the captors to remove their valuables. The permission was\ngranted, and shortly after, the women were seen issuing from the gates\ncarrying their husbands on their shoulders. Lord Nithsdale owed his\nescape from prison to the address of his wife, who changed garments with\nhim, sending him forth in her stead, and herself remaining prisoner,--an\nexample which was successfully repeated by Madame de Lavalette.\n\nBut the most remarkable instance of the release of a husband through the\ndevotion of a wife, was that of the celebrated Grotius. He had lain for\nnearly twenty months in the strong fortress of Loevestein, near Gorcum,\nhaving been condemned by the government of the United Provinces to\nperpetual imprisonment. His wife, having been allowed to share his cell,\ngreatly relieved his solitude. She was permitted to go into the town\ntwice a week, and bring her husband books, of which he required a large\nnumber to enable him to prosecute his studies. At length a large chest\nwas required to hold them. This the sentries at first examined with\ngreat strictness, but, finding that it only contained books [20amongst\nothers Arminian books] and linen, they at length gave up the search,\nand it was allowed to pass out and in as a matter of course. This led\nGrotius' wife to conceive the idea of releasing him; and she persuaded\nhim one day to deposit himself in the chest instead of the outgoing\nbooks. When the two soldiers appointed to remove it took it up, they\nfelt it to be considerably heavier than usual, and one of them asked,\njestingly, \"Have we got the Arminian himself here?\" to which the\nready-witted wife replied, \"Yes, perhaps some Arminian books.\" The chest\nreached Gorcum in safety; the captive was released; and Grotius escaped\nacross the frontier into Brabant, and afterwards into France, where he\nwas rejoined by his wife.\n\nTrial and suffering are the tests of married life. They bring out the\nreal character, and often tend to produce the closest union. They may\neven be the spring of the purest happiness. Uninterrupted joy, like\nuninterrupted success, is not good for either man or woman. When Heine's\nwife died, he began to reflect upon the loss he had sustained. They had\nboth known poverty, and struggled through it hand-in-hand; and it was\nhis greatest sorrow that she was taken from him at the moment when\nfortune was beginning to smile upon him, but too late for her to share\nin his prosperity. \"Alas I\" said he, \"amongst my griefs must I reckon\neven her love--the strongest, truest, that ever inspired the heart\nof woman--which made me the happiest of mortals, and yet was to me a\nfountain of a thousand distresses, inquietudes, and cares? To entire\ncheerfulness, perhaps, she never attained; but for what unspeakable\nsweetness, what exalted, enrapturing joys, is not love indebted to\nsorrow! Amidst growing anxieties, with the torture of anguish in my\nheart, I have been made, even by the loss which caused me this anguish\nand these anxieties, inexpressibly happy! When tears flowed over our\ncheeks, did not a nameless, seldom-felt delight stream through my\nbreast, oppressed equally by joy and sorrow!\"\n\nThere is a degree of sentiment in German love which seems strange to\nEnglish readers,--such as we find depicted in the lives of Novalis, Jung\nStilling, Fichte, Jean Paul, and others that might be named. The German\nbetrothal is a ceremony of almost equal importance to the marriage\nitself; and in that state the sentiments are allowed free play, whilst\nEnglish lovers are restrained, shy, and as if ashamed of their feelings.\nTake, for instance, the case of Herder, whom his future wife first saw\nin the pulpit. \"I heard,\" she says, \"the voice of an angel, and soul's\nwords such as I had never heard before. In the afternoon I saw him,\nand stammered out my thanks to him; from this time forth our souls were\none.\" They were betrothed long before their means would permit them to\nmarry; but at length they were united. \"We were married,\" says Caroline,\nthe wife, \"by the rose-light of a beautiful evening. We were one heart,\none soul.\" Herder was equally ecstatic in his language. \"I have a\nwife,\" he wrote to Jacobi, \"that is the tree, the consolation, and the\nhappiness of my life. Even in flying transient thoughts [20which often\nsurprise us], we are one!\"\n\nTake, again, the case of Fichte, in whose history his courtship and\nmarriage form a beautiful episode. He was a poor German student, living\nwith a family at Zurich in the capacity of tutor, when he first made the\nacquaintance of Johanna Maria Hahn, a niece of Klopstock. Her position\nin life was higher than that of Fichte; nevertheless, she regarded him\nwith sincere admiration. When Fichte was about to leave Zurich, his\ntroth plighted to her, she, knowing him to be very poor, offered him\na gift of money before setting out. He was inexpressibly hurt by the\noffer, and, at first, even doubted whether she could really love him;\nbut, on second thoughts, he wrote to her, expressing his deep thanks,\nbut, at the same time, the impossibility of his accepting such a gift\nfrom her. He succeeded in reaching his destination, though entirely\ndestitute of means. After a long and hard struggle with the world,\nextending over many years, Fichte was at length earning money enough to\nenable him to marry. In one of his charming letters to his betrothed\nhe said:--\"And so, dearest, I solemnly devote myself to thee, and thank\nthee that thou hast thought me not unworthy to be thy companion on the\njourney of life.... There is no land of happiness here below--I know it\nnow--but a land of toil, where every joy but strengthens us for greater\nlabour. Hand-in-hand we shall traverse it, and encourage and strengthen\neach other, until our spirits--oh, may it be together!--shall rise to\nthe eternal fountain of all peace.\"\n\nThe married life of Fichte was very happy. His wife proved a true and\nhighminded helpmate. During the War of Liberation she was assiduous\nin her attention to the wounded in the hospitals, where she caught a\nmalignant fever, which nearly carried her off. Fichte himself caught the\nsame disease, and was for a time completely prostrated; but he lived for\na few more years and died at the early age of fifty-two, consumed by his\nown fire.\n\nWhat a contrast does the courtship and married life of the blunt and\npractical William Cobbett present to the aesthetical and sentimental\nlove of these highly refined Germans! Not less honest, not less true,\nbut, as some would think, comparatively coarse and vulgar. When he first\nset eyes upon the girl that was afterwards to become his wife, she was\nonly thirteen years old, and he was twenty-one--a sergeant-major in a\nfoot regiment stationed at St. John's in New Brunswick. He was passing\nthe door of her father's house one day in winter, and saw the girl\nout in the snow, scrubbing a washing-tub. He said at once to himself,\n\"That's the girl for me.\" He made her acquaintance, and resolved that\nshe should be his wife so soon as he could get discharged from the army.\n\nOn the eve of the girl's return to Woolwich with her father, who was a\nsergeant-major in the artillery, Cobbett sent her a hundred and fifty\nguineas which he had saved, in order that she might be able to live\nwithout hard work until his return to England. The girl departed, taking\nwith her the money; and five years later Cobbett obtained his discharge.\nOn reaching London, he made haste to call upon the sergeant-major's\ndaughter. \"I found,\" he says, \"my little girl a servant-of-all-work\n[20and hard work it was], at five pounds a year, in the house of a Captain\nBrisac; and, without hardly saying a word about the matter, she put\ninto my hands the whole of my hundred and fifty guineas, unbroken.\"\nAdmiration of her conduct was now added to love of her person, and\nCobbett shortly after married the girl, who proved an excellent wife. He\nwas, indeed, never tired of speaking her praises, and it was his pride\nto attribute to her all the comfort and much of the success of his\nafter-life.\n\nThough Cobbett was regarded by many in his lifetime as a coarse, hard,\npractical man, full of prejudices, there was yet a strong undercurrent\nof poetry in his nature; and, while he declaimed against sentiment,\nthere were few men more thoroughly imbued with sentiment of the best\nkind. He had the tenderest regard for the character of woman. He\nrespected her purity and her virtue, and in his 'Advice to Young\nMen,' he has painted the true womanly woman--the helpful, cheerful,\naffectionate wife--with a vividness and brightness, and, at the same\ntime, a force of good sense, that has never been surpassed by any\nEnglish writer. Cobbett was anything but refined, in the conventional\nsense of the word; but he was pure, temperate, self-denying,\nindustrious, vigorous, and energetic, in an eminent degree. Many of his\nviews were, no doubt, wrong, but they were his own, for he insisted on\nthinking for himself in everything. Though few men took a firmer grasp\nof the real than he did, perhaps still fewer were more swayed by the\nideal. In word-pictures of his own emotions, he is unsurpassed. Indeed,\nCobbett might almost be regarded as one of the greatest prose poets of\nEnglish real life.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII--THE DISCIPLINE OF EXPERIENCE.\n\n\n\n      \"I would the great would grow like thee.\n        Who grewest not alone in power\n        And knowledge, but by year and hour\n      In reverence and in charity.\"--TENNYSON.\n\n      \"Not to be unhappy is unhappynesse,\n      And misery not t'have known miserie;\n      For the best way unto discretion is\n      The way that leades us by adversitie;\n      And men are better shew'd what is amisse,\n      By th'expert finger of calamitie,\n      Than they can be with all that fortune brings,\n      Who never shewes them the true face of things.\"--DANIEL.\n\n      \"A lump of wo affliction is,\n      Yet thence I borrow lumps of bliss;\n      Though few can see a blessing in't,\n      It is my furnace and my mint.\"\n             --ERSKINE'S GOSPEL SONNETS.\n\n    \"Crosses grow anchors, bear as thou shouldst so\n    Thy cross, and that cross grows an anchor too.\"--DONNE.\n\n        \"Be the day weary, or be the day long,\n        At length it ringeth to Evensong.\"--ANCIENT COUPLET.\n\n\nPractical wisdom is only to be learnt in the school of experience.\nPrecepts and instructions are useful so far as they go, but, without the\ndiscipline of real life, they remain of the nature of theory only. The\nhard facts of existence have to be faced, to give that touch of truth to\ncharacter which can never be imparted by reading or tuition, but only by\ncontact with the broad instincts of common men and women.\n\nTo be worth anything, character must be capable of standing firm upon\nits feet in the world of daily work, temptation, and trial; and able to\nbear the wear-and-tear of actual life. Cloistered virtues do not count\nfor much. The life that rejoices in solitude may be only rejoicing in\nselfishness. Seclusion may indicate contempt for others; though more\nusually it means indolence, cowardice, or self-indulgence. To every\nhuman being belongs his fair share of manful toil and human duty; and it\ncannot be shirked without loss to the individual himself, as well as\nto the community to which he belongs. It is only by mixing in the\ndaily life of the world, and taking part in its affairs, that practical\nknowledge can be acquired, and wisdom learnt. It is there that we find\nour chief sphere of duty, that we learn the discipline of work, and that\nwe educate ourselves in that patience, diligence, and endurance\nwhich shape and consolidate the character. There we encounter the\ndifficulties, trials, and temptations which, according as we deal with\nthem, give a colour to our entire after-life; and there, too, we become\nsubject to the great discipline of suffering, from which we learn far\nmore than from the safe seclusion of the study or the cloister.\n\nContact with others is also requisite to enable a man to know himself.\nIt is only by mixing freely in the world that one can form a proper\nestimate of his own capacity. Without such experience, one is apt to\nbecome conceited, puffed-up, and arrogant; at all events, he will remain\nignorant of himself, though he may heretofore have enjoyed no other\ncompany.\n\nSwift once said: \"It is an uncontroverted truth, that no man ever made\nan ill-figure who understood his own talents, nor a good one who\nmistook them.\" Many persons, however, are readier to take measure of the\ncapacity of others than of themselves. \"Bring him to me,\" said a certain\nDr. Tronchin, of Geneva, speaking of Rousseau--\"Bring him to me, that I\nmay see whether he has got anything in him!\"--the probability being that\nRousseau, who knew himself better, was much more likely to take measure\nof Tronchin than Tronchin was to take measure of him.\n\nA due amount of self-knowledge is, therefore, necessary for those who\nwould BE anything or DO anything in the world. It is also one of the\nfirst essentials to the formation of distinct personal convictions.\nFrederic Perthes once said to a young friend: \"You know only too well\nwhat you CAN do; but till you have learned what you CANNOT do, you will\nneither accomplish anything of moment, nor know inward peace.\"\n\nAny one who would profit by experience will never be above asking for\nhelp. He who thinks himself already too wise to learn of others, will\nnever succeed in doing anything either good or great. We have to keep\nour minds and hearts open, and never be ashamed to learn, with the\nassistance of those who are wiser and more experienced than ourselves.\n\nThe man made wise by experience endeavours to judge correctly of the\nthugs which come under his observation, and form the subject of his\ndaily life. What we call common sense is, for the most part, but the\nresult of common experience wisely improved. Nor is great ability\nnecessary to acquire it, so much as patience, accuracy, and\nwatchfulness. Hazlitt thought the most sensible people to be met with\nare intelligent men of business and of the world, who argue from what\nthey see and know, instead of spinning cobweb distinctions of what\nthings ought to be.\n\nFor the same reason, women often display more good sense than men,\nhaving fewer pretensions, and judging of things naturally, by the\ninvoluntary impression they make on the mind. Their intuitive powers are\nquicker, their perceptions more acute, their sympathies more lively, and\ntheir manners more adaptive to particular ends. Hence their greater tact\nas displayed in the management of others, women of apparently slender\nintellectual powers often contriving to control and regulate the\nconduct of men of even the most impracticable nature. Pope paid a high\ncompliment to the tact and good sense of Mary, Queen of William III.,\nwhen he described her as possessing, not a science, but [21what was worth\nall else] prudence.\n\nThe whole of life may be regarded as a great school of experience, in\nwhich men and women are the pupils. As in a school, many of the lessons\nlearnt there must needs be taken on trust. We may not understand them,\nand may possibly think it hard that we have to learn them, especially\nwhere the teachers are trials, sorrows, temptations, and difficulties;\nand yet we must not only accept their lessons, but recognise them as\nbeing divinely appointed.\n\nTo what extent have the pupils profited by their experience in the\nschool of life? What advantage have they taken of their opportunities\nfor learning? What have they gained in discipline of heart and\nmind?--how much in growth of wisdom, courage, self-control? Have\nthey preserved their integrity amidst prosperity, and enjoyed life in\ntemperance and moderation? Or, has life been with them a mere feast of\nselfishness, without care or thought for others? What have they learnt\nfrom trial and adversity? Have they learnt patience, submission,\nand trust in God?--or have they learnt nothing but impatience,\nquerulousness, and discontent?\n\nThe results of experience are, of course, only to be achieved by living;\nand living is a question of time. The man of experience learns to rely\nupon Time as his helper. \"Time and I against any two,\" was a maxim\nof Cardinal Mazarin. Time has been described as a beautifier and as a\nconsoler; but it is also a teacher. It is the food of experience, the\nsoil of wisdom. It may be the friend or the enemy of youth; and Time\nwill sit beside the old as a consoler or as a tormentor, according as it\nhas been used or misused, and the past life has been well or ill spent.\n\n\"Time,\" says George Herbert, \"is the rider that breaks youth.\" To\nthe young, how bright the new world looks!--how full of novelty, of\nenjoyment, of pleasure! But as years pass, we find the world to be a\nplace of sorrow as well as of joy. As we proceed through life, many dark\nvistas open upon us--of toil, suffering, difficulty, perhaps misfortune\nand failure. Happy they who can pass through and amidst such trials with\na firm mind and pure heart, encountering trials with cheerfulness, and\nstanding erect beneath even the heaviest burden!\n\nA little youthful ardour is a great help in life, and is useful as an\nenergetic motive power. It is gradually cooled down by Time, no matter\nhow glowing it has been, while it is trained and subdued by experience.\nBut it is a healthy and hopeful indication of character,--to be\nencouraged in a right direction, and not to be sneered down and\nrepressed. It is a sign of a vigorous unselfish nature, as egotism is\nof a narrow and selfish one; and to begin life with egotism and\nself-sufficiency is fatal to all breadth and vigour of character. Life,\nin such a case, would be like a year in which there was no spring.\nWithout a generous seedtime, there will be an unflowering summer and an\nunproductive harvest. And youth is the springtime of life, in which, if\nthere be not a fair share of enthusiasm, little will be attempted,\nand still less done. It also considerably helps the working quality,\ninspiring confidence and hope, and carrying one through the dry details\nof business and duty with cheerfulness and joy.\n\n\"It is the due admixture of romance and reality,\" said Sir Henry\nLawrence, \"that best carries a man through life... The quality of\nromance or enthusiasm is to be valued as an energy imparted to the human\nmind to prompt and sustain its noblest efforts.\" Sir Henry always urged\nupon young men, not that they should repress enthusiasm, but sedulously\ncultivate and direct the feeling, as one implanted for wise and noble\npurposes. \"When the two faculties of romance and reality,\" he said, \"are\nduly blended, reality pursues a straight rough path to a desirable and\npracticable result; while romance beguiles the road by pointing out its\nbeauties--by bestowing a deep and practical conviction that, even in\nthis dark and material existence, there may be found a joy with which a\nstranger intermeddleth not--a light that shineth more and more unto the\nperfect day.\" [211]\n\nIt was characteristic of Joseph Lancaster, when a boy of only fourteen\nyears of age, after reading 'Clarkson on the Slave Trade,' to form the\nresolution of leaving his home and going out to the West Indies to teach\nthe poor blacks to read the Bible. And he actually set out with a Bible\nand 'Pilgrim's Progress' in his bundle, and only a few shillings in his\npurse. He even succeeded in reaching the West Indies, doubtless very\nmuch at a loss how to set about his proposed work; but in the meantime\nhis distressed parents, having discovered whither he had gone, had him\nspeedily brought back, yet with his enthusiasm unabated; and from that\ntime forward he unceasingly devoted himself to the truly philanthropic\nwork of educating the destitute poor. [212]\n\nThere needs all the force that enthusiasm can give to enable a man to\nsucceed in any great enterprise of life. Without it, the obstruction\nand difficulty he has to encounter on every side might compel him to\nsuccumb; but with courage and perseverance, inspired by enthusiasm,\na man feels strong enough to face any danger, to grapple with any\ndifficulty. What an enthusiasm was that of Columbus, who, believing in\nthe existence of a new world, braved the dangers of unknown seas; and\nwhen those about him despaired and rose up against him, threatening to\ncast him into the sea, still stood firm upon his hope and courage until\nthe great new world at length rose upon the horizon!\n\nThe brave man will not be baffled, but tries and tries again until\nhe succeeds. The tree does not fall at the first stroke, but only by\nrepeated strokes and after great labour. We may see the visible success\nat which a man has arrived, but forget the toil and suffering and peril\nthrough which it has been achieved. When a friend of Marshal Lefevre was\ncomplimenting him on his possessions and good fortune, the Marshal said:\n\"You envy me, do you? Well, you shall have these things at a better\nbargain than I had. Come into the court: I'll fire at you with a gun\ntwenty times at thirty paces, and if I don't kill you, all shall be your\nown. What! you won't! Very well; recollect, then, that I have been shot\nat more than a thousand times, and much nearer, before I arrived at the\nstate in which you now find me!\"\n\nThe apprenticeship of difficulty is one which the greatest of men\nhave had to serve. It is usually the best stimulus and discipline of\ncharacter. It often evokes powers of action that, but for it, would\nhave remained dormant. As comets are sometimes revealed by eclipses,\nso heroes are brought to light by sudden calamity. It seems as if, in\ncertain cases, genius, like iron struck by the flint, needed the sharp\nand sudden blow of adversity to bring out the divine spark. There are\nnatures which blossom and ripen amidst trials, which would only wither\nand decay in an atmosphere of ease and comfort.\n\nThus it is good for men to be roused into action and stiffened into\nself-reliance by difficulty, rather than to slumber away their lives\nin useless apathy and indolence. [213] It is the struggle that is the\ncondition of victory. If there were no difficulties, there would be\nno need of efforts; if there were no temptations, there would be no\ntraining in self-control, and but little merit in virtue; if there were\nno trial and suffering, there would be no education in patience and\nresignation. Thus difficulty, adversity, and suffering are not all evil,\nbut often the best source of strength, discipline, and virtue.\n\nFor the same reason, it is often of advantage for a man to be under the\nnecessity of having to struggle with poverty and conquer it. \"He who has\nbattled,\" says Carlyle, \"were it only with poverty and hard toil, will\nbe found stronger and more expert than he who could stay at home\nfrom the battle, concealed among the provision waggons, or even rest\nunwatchfully 'abiding by the stuff.'\"\n\nScholars have found poverty tolerable compared with the privation of\nintellectual food. Riches weigh much more heavily upon the mind. \"I\ncannot but choose say to Poverty,\" said Richter, \"Be welcome! so that\nthou come not too late in life.\" Poverty, Horace tells us, drove him\nto poetry, and poetry introduced him to Varus and Virgil and Maecenas.\n\"Obstacles,\" says Michelet, \"are great incentives. I lived for whole\nyears upon a Virgil, and found myself well off. An odd volume of Racine,\npurchased by chance at a stall on the quay, created the poet of Toulon.\"\n\nThe Spaniards are even said to have meanly rejoiced the poverty of\nCervantes, but for which they supposed the production of his great works\nmight have been prevented. When the Archbishop of Toledo visited the\nFrench ambassador at Madrid, the gentlemen in the suite of the latter\nexpressed their high admiration of the writings of the author of 'Don\nQuixote,' and intimated their desire of becoming acquainted with one\nwho had given them so much pleasure. The answer they received was, that\nCervantes had borne arms in the service of his country, and was now\nold and poor. \"What!\" exclaimed one of the Frenchmen, \"is not Senor\nCervantes in good circumstances? Why is he not maintained, then, out\nof the public treasury?\" \"Heaven forbid!\" was the reply, \"that his\nnecessities should be ever relieved, if it is those which make him\nwrite; since it is his poverty that makes the world rich!\" [214]\n\nIt is not prosperity so much as adversity, not wealth so much as\npoverty, that stimulates the perseverance of strong and healthy natures,\nrouses their energy and developes their character. Burke said of\nhimself: \"I was not rocked, and swaddled, and dandled into a legislator.\n'NITOR IN ADVERSUM' is the motto for a man like you.\" Some men only\nrequire a great difficulty set in their way to exhibit the force of\ntheir character and genius; and that difficulty once conquered becomes\none of the greatest incentives to their further progress.\n\nIt is a mistake to suppose that men succeed through success; they much\noftener succeed through failure. By far the best experience of men\nis made up of their remembered failures in dealing with others in\nthe affairs of life. Such failures, in sensible men, incite to better\nself-management, and greater tact and self-control, as a means of\navoiding them in the future. Ask the diplomatist, and he will tell you\nthat he has learned his art through being baffled, defeated, thwarted,\nand circumvented, far more than from having succeeded. Precept, study,\nadvice, and example could never have taught them so well as failure has\ndone. It has disciplined them experimentally, and taught them what to\ndo as well as what NOT to do--which is often still more important in\ndiplomacy.\n\nMany have to make up their minds to encounter failure again and again\nbefore they succeed; but if they have pluck, the failure will only serve\nto rouse their courage, and stimulate them to renewed efforts. Talma,\nthe greatest of actors, was hissed off the stage when he first appeared\non it. Lacordaire, one of the greatest preachers of modern times, only\nacquired celebrity after repeated failures. Montalembert said of\nhis first public appearance in the Church of St. Roch: \"He failed\ncompletely, and on coming out every one said, 'Though he may be a man of\ntalent, he will never be a preacher.'\" Again and again he tried until he\nsucceeded; and only two years after his DEBUT, Lacordaire was preaching\nin Notre Dame to audiences such as few French orators have addressed\nsince the time of Bossuet and Massillon.\n\nWhen Mr. Cobden first appeared as a speaker, at a public meeting in\nManchester, he completely broke down, and the chairman apologized for\nhis failure. Sir James Graham and Mr. Disraeli failed and were derided\nat first, and only succeeded by dint of great labour and application.\nAt one time Sir James Graham had almost given up public speaking in\ndespair. He said to his friend Sir Francis Baring: \"I have tried it\nevery way--extempore, from notes, and committing all to memory--and\nI can't do it. I don't know why it is, but I am afraid I shall never\nsucceed.\" Yet, by dint of perseverance, Graham, like Disraeli, lived\nto become one of the most effective and impressive of parliamentary\nspeakers.\n\nFailures in one direction have sometimes had the effect of forcing the\nfarseeing student to apply himself in another. Thus Prideaux's failure\nas a candidate for the post of parish-clerk of Ugboro, in Devon, led to\nhis applying himself to learning, and to his eventual elevation to the\nbishopric of Worcester. When Boileau, educated for the bar, pleaded his\nfirst cause, he broke down amidst shouts of laughter. He next tried the\npulpit, and failed there too. And then he tried poetry, and succeeded.\nFontenelle and Voltaire both failed at the bar. So Cowper, through his\ndiffidence and shyness, broke down when pleading his first cause, though\nhe lived to revive the poetic art in England. Montesquieu and Bentham\nboth failed as lawyers, and forsook the bar for more congenial\npursuits--the latter leaving behind him a treasury of legislative\nprocedure for all time. Goldsmith failed in passing as a surgeon; but\nhe wrote the 'Deserted Village' and the 'Vicar of Wakefield;' whilst\nAddison failed as a speaker, but succeeded in writing 'Sir Roger de\nCoverley,' and his many famous papers in the 'Spectator.'\n\nEven the privation of some important bodily sense, such as sight or\nhearing, has not been sufficient to deter courageous men from zealously\npursuing the struggle of life. Milton, when struck by blindness, \"still\nbore up and steered right onward.\" His greatest works were produced\nduring that period of his life in which he suffered most--when he was\npoor, sick, old, blind, slandered, and persecuted.\n\nThe lives of some of the greatest men have been a continuous struggle\nwith difficulty and apparent defeat. Dante produced his greatest work in\npenury and exile. Banished from his native city by the local faction\nto which he was opposed, his house was given up to plunder, and he was\nsentenced in his absence to be burnt alive. When informed by a friend\nthat he might return to Florence, if he would consent to ask for pardon\nand absolution, he replied: \"No! This is not the way that shall lead me\nback to my country. I will return with hasty steps if you, or any other,\ncan open to me a way that shall not derogate from the fame or the\nhonour of Dante; but if by no such way Florence can be entered, then to\nFlorence I shall never return.\" His enemies remaining implacable, Dante,\nafter a banishment of twenty years, died in exile. They even pursued\nhim after death, when his book, 'De Monarchia,' was publicly burnt at\nBologna by order of the Papal Legate.\n\nCamoens also wrote his great poems mostly in banishment. Tired of\nsolitude at Santarem, he joined an expedition against the Moors, in\nwhich he distinguished himself by his bravery. He lost an eye when\nboarding an enemy's ship in a sea-fight. At Goa, in the East Indies, he\nwitnessed with indignation the cruelty practised by the Portuguese on\nthe natives, and expostulated with the governor against it. He was in\nconsequence banished from the settlement, and sent to China. In the\ncourse of his subsequent adventures and misfortunes, Camoens suffered\nshipwreck, escaping only with his life and the manuscript of his\n'Lusiad.' Persecution and hardship seemed everywhere to pursue him.\nAt Macao he was thrown into prison. Escaping from it, he set sail\nfor Lisbon, where he arrived, after sixteen years' absence, poor and\nfriendless. His 'Lusiad,' which was shortly after published, brought\nhim much fame, but no money. But for his old Indian slave Antonio, who\nbegged for his master in the streets, Camoens must have perished. [215] As\nit was, he died in a public almshouse, worn out by disease and hardship.\nAn inscription was placed over his grave:--\"Here lies Luis de Camoens:\nhe excelled all the poets of his time: he lived poor and miserable; and\nhe died so, MDLXXIX.\" This record, disgraceful but truthful, has since\nbeen removed; and a lying and pompous epitaph, in honour of the great\nnational poet of Portugal, has been substituted in its stead.\n\nEven Michael Angelo was exposed, during the greater part of his life,\nto the persecutions of the envious--vulgar nobles, vulgar priests, and\nsordid men of every degree, who could neither sympathise with him, nor\ncomprehend his genius. When Paul IV. condemned some of his work in 'The\nLast Judgment,' the artist observed that \"The Pope would do better\nto occupy himself with correcting the disorders and indecencies which\ndisgrace the world, than with any such hypercriticisms upon his art.\"\n\nTasso also was the victim of almost continual persecution and calumny.\nAfter lying in a madhouse for seven years, he became a wanderer over\nItaly; and when on his deathbed, he wrote: \"I will not complain of\nthe malignity of fortune, because I do not choose to speak of the\ningratitude of men who have succeeded in dragging me to the tomb of a\nmendicant.\"\n\nBut Time brings about strange revenges. The persecutors and the\npersecuted often change places; it is the latter who are great--the\nformer who are infamous. Even the names of the persecutors would\nprobably long ago have been forgotten, but for their connection with the\nhistory of the men whom they have persecuted. Thus, who would now have\nknown of Duke Alfonso of Ferrara, but for his imprisonment of Tasso? Or,\nwho would have heard of the existence of the Grand Duke of Wurtemburg of\nsome ninety years back, but for his petty persecution of Schiller?\n\nScience also has had its martyrs, who have fought their way to light\nthrough difficulty, persecution, and suffering. We need not refer again\nto the cases of Bruno, Galileo, and others, [216] persecuted because\nof the supposed heterodoxy of their views. But there have been other\nunfortunates amongst men of science, whose genius has been unable to\nsave them from the fury of their enemies. Thus Bailly, the celebrated\nFrench astronomer [21who had been mayor of Paris], and Lavoisier, the\ngreat chemist, were both guillotined in the first French Revolution.\nWhen the latter, after being sentenced to death by the Commune, asked\nfor a few days' respite, to enable him to ascertain the result of some\nexperiments he had made during his confinement, the tribunal refused\nhis appeal, and ordered him for immediate execution--one of the judges\nsaying, that \"the Republic had no need of philosophers.\" In England\nalso, about the same time, Dr. Priestley, the father of modern\nchemistry, had his house burnt over his head, and his library destroyed,\namidst shouts of \"No philosophers!\" and he fled from his native country\nto lay his bones in a foreign land.\n\nThe work of some of the greatest discoverers has been done in the midst\nof persecution, difficulty, and suffering. Columbus, who discovered\nthe New World and gave it as a heritage to the Old, was in his lifetime\npersecuted, maligned, and plundered by those whom he had enriched. Mungo\nPark's drowning agony in the African river he had discovered, but which\nhe was not to live to describe; Clapperton's perishing of fever on the\nbanks of the great lake, in the heart of the same continent, which\nwas afterwards to be rediscovered and described by other explorers;\nFranklin's perishing in the snow--it might be after he had solved\nthe long-sought problem of the North-west Passage--are among the most\nmelancholy events in the history of enterprise and genius.\n\nThe case of Flinders the navigator, who suffered a six years'\nimprisonment in the Isle of France, was one of peculiar hardship. In\n1801, he set sail from England in the INVESTIGATOR, on a voyage of\ndiscovery and survey, provided with a French pass, requiring all French\ngovernors [21notwithstanding that England and France were at war] to give\nhim protection and succour in the sacred name of science. In the course\nof his voyage he surveyed great part of Australia, Van Diemen's Land,\nand the neighbouring islands. The INVESTIGATOR, being found leaky and\nrotten, was condemned, and the navigator embarked as passenger in the\nPORPOISE for England, to lay the results of his three years' labours\nbefore the Admiralty. On the voyage home the PORPOISE was wrecked on a\nreef in the South Seas, and Flinders, with part of the crew, in an open\nboat, made for Port Jackson, which they safely reached, though distant\nfrom the scene of the wreck not less than 750 miles. There he procured a\nsmall schooner, the CUMBERLAND, no larger than a Gravesend sailing-boat,\nand returned for the remainder of the crew, who had been left on the\nreef. Having rescued them, he set sail for England, making for the Isle\nof France, which the CUMBERLAND reached in a sinking condition, being\na wretched little craft badly found. To his surprise, he was made a\nprisoner with all his crew, and thrown into prison, where he was treated\nwith brutal harshness, his French pass proving no protection to him.\nWhat aggravated the horrors of Flinders' confinement was, that he knew\nthat Baudin, the French navigator, whom he had encountered while making\nhis survey of the Australian coasts, would reach Europe first, and claim\nthe merit of all the discoveries he had made. It turned out as he had\nexpected; and while Flinders was still imprisoned in the Isle of France,\nthe French Atlas of the new discoveries was published, all the points\nnamed by Flinders and his precursors being named afresh. Flinders was at\nlength liberated, after six years' imprisonment, his health completely\nbroken; but he continued correcting his maps, and writing out his\ndescriptions to the last. He only lived long enough to correct his\nfinal sheet for the press, and died on the very day that his work was\npublished!\n\nCourageous men have often turned enforced solitude to account in\nexecuting works of great pith and moment. It is in solitude that the\npassion for spiritual perfection best nurses itself. The soul communes\nwith itself in loneliness until its energy often becomes intense. But\nwhether a man profits by solitude or not will mainly depend upon his\nown temperament, training, and character. While, in a large-natured man,\nsolitude will make the pure heart purer, in the small-natured man it\nwill only serve to make the hard heart still harder: for though solitude\nmay be the nurse of great spirits, it is the torment of small ones.\n\nIt was in prison that Boetius wrote his 'Consolations of Philosophy,'\nand Grotius his 'Commentary on St. Matthew,' regarded as his masterwork\nin Biblical Criticism. Buchanan composed his beautiful 'Paraphrases\non the Psalms' while imprisoned in the cell of a Portuguese monastery.\nCampanella, the Italian patriot monk, suspected of treason, was immured\nfor twenty-seven years in a Neapolitan dungeon, during which, deprived\nof the sun's light, he sought higher light, and there created his\n'Civitas Solis,' which has been so often reprinted and reproduced in\ntranslations in most European languages. During his thirteen years'\nimprisonment in the Tower, Raleigh wrote his 'History of the World,' a\nproject of vast extent, of which he was only able to finish the first\nfive books. Luther occupied his prison hours in the Castle of Wartburg\nin translating the Bible, and in writing the famous tracts and treatises\nwith which he inundated all Germany.\n\nIt was to the circumstance of John Bunyan having been cast into gaol\nthat we probably owe the 'Pilgrim's Progress.' He was thus driven in\nupon himself; having no opportunity for action, his active mind\nfound vent in earnest thinking and meditation; and indeed, after\nhis enlargement, his life as an author virtually ceased. His 'Grace\nAbounding' and the 'Holy War' were also written in prison. Bunyan lay\nin Bedford Gaol, with a few intervals of precarious liberty, during not\nless than twelve years; [217] and it was most probably to his prolonged\nimprisonment that we owe what Macaulay has characterised as the finest\nallegory in the world.\n\nAll the political parties of the times in which Bunyan lived, imprisoned\ntheir opponents when they had the opportunity and the power. Bunyan's\nprison experiences were principally in the time of Charles II. But in\nthe preceding reign of Charles I., as well as during the Commonwealth,\nillustrious prisoners were very numerous. The prisoners of the former\nincluded Sir John Eliot, Hampden, Selden, Prynne [218] [21a most voluminous\nprison-writer], and many more. It was while under strict confinement\nin the Tower, that Eliot composed his noble treatise, 'The Monarchy\nof Man.' George Wither, the poet, was another prisoner of Charles the\nFirst, and it was while confined in the Marshalsea that he wrote his\nfamous 'Satire to the King.' At the Restoration he was again imprisoned\nin Newgate, from which he was transferred to the Tower, and he is\nsupposed by some to have died there.\n\nThe Commonwealth also had its prisoners. Sir William Davenant, because\nof his loyalty, was for some time confined a prisoner in Cowes Castle,\nwhere he wrote the greater part of his poem of 'Gondibert': and it\nis said that his life was saved principally through the generous\nintercession of Milton. He lived to repay the debt, and to save Milton's\nlife when \"Charles enjoyed his own again.\" Lovelace, the poet and\ncavalier, was also imprisoned by the Roundheads, and was only liberated\nfrom the Gatehouse on giving an enormous bail. Though he suffered and\nlost all for the Stuarts, he was forgotten by them at the Restoration,\nand died in extreme poverty.\n\nBesides Wither and Bunyan, Charles II. imprisoned Baxter, Harrington\n[21the author of 'Oceana'], Penn, and many more. All these men solaced\ntheir prison hours with writing. Baxter wrote some of the most\nremarkable passages of his 'Life and Times' while lying in the King's\nBench Prison; and Penn wrote his 'No Cross no Crown' while imprisoned in\nthe Tower. In the reign of Queen Anne, Matthew Prior was in confinement\non a vamped-up charge of treason for two years, during which he wrote\nhis 'Alma, or Progress of the Soul.'\n\nSince then, political prisoners of eminence in England have been\ncomparatively few in number. Among the most illustrious were De Foe,\nwho, besides standing three times in the pillory, spent much of his\ntime in prison, writing 'Robinson Crusoe' there, and many of his best\npolitical pamphlets. There also he wrote his 'Hymn to the Pillory,' and\ncorrected for the press a collection of his voluminous writings. [219]\nSmollett wrote his 'Sir Lancelot Greaves' in prison, while undergoing\nconfinement for libel. Of recent prison-writers in England, the best\nknown are James Montgomery, who wrote his first volume of poems while a\nprisoner in York Castle; and Thomas Cooper, the Chartist, who wrote his\n'Purgatory of Suicide' in Stafford Gaol.\n\nSilvio Pellico was one of the latest and most illustrious of the prison\nwriters of Italy. He lay confined in Austrian gaols for ten years, eight\nof which he passed in the Castle of Spielberg in Moravia. It was there\nthat he composed his charming 'Memoirs,' the only materials for which\nwere furnished by his fresh living habit of observation; and out of even\nthe transient visits of his gaoler's daughter, and the colourless events\nof his monotonous daily life, he contrived to make for himself a little\nworld of thought and healthy human interest.\n\nKazinsky, the great reviver of Hungarian literature, spent seven years\nof his life in the dungeons of Buda, Brunne, Kufstein, and Munkacs,\nduring which he wrote a 'Diary of his Imprisonment,' and amongst\nother things translated Sterno's 'Sentimental Journey;' whilst Kossuth\nbeguiled his two years' imprisonment at Buda in studying English, so as\nto be able to read Shakspeare in the original.\n\nMen who, like these, suffer the penalty of law, and seem to fail, at\nleast for a time, do not really fail. Many, who have seemed to fail\nutterly, have often exercised a more potent and enduring influence upon\ntheir race, than those whose career has been a course of uninterupted\nsuccess. The character of a man does not depend on whether his efforts\nare immediately followed by failure or by success. The martyr is not\na failure if the truth for which he suffered acquires a fresh lustre\nthrough his sacrifice. [2110] The patriot who lays down his life for his\ncause, may thereby hasten its triumph; and those who seem to throw their\nlives away in the van of a great movement, often open a way for those\nwho follow them, and pass over their dead bodies to victory. The triumph\nof a just cause may come late; but when it does come, it is due as much\nto those who failed in their first efforts, as to those who succeeded in\ntheir last.\n\nThe example of a great death may be an inspiration to others, as well as\nthe example of a good life. A great act does not perish with the life of\nhim who performs it, but lives and grows up into like acts in those who\nsurvive the doer thereof and cherish his memory. Of some great men, it\nmight almost be said that they have not begun to live until they have\ndied.\n\nThe names of the men who have suffered in the cause of religion, of\nscience, and of truth, are the men of all others whose memories are\nheld in the greatest esteem and reverence by mankind. They perished,\nbut their truth survived. They seemed to fail, and yet they eventually\nsucceeded. [2111] Prisons may have held them, but their thoughts were not\nto be confined by prison-walls. They have burst through, and defied the\npower of their persecutors. It was Lovelace, a prisoner, who wrote:\n\n        \"Stone walls do not a prison make,\n            Nor iron bars a cage;\n          Minds innocent and quiet take\n            That for a hermitage.\"\n\nIt was a saying of Milton that, \"who best can suffer best can do.\" The\nwork of many of the greatest men, inspired by duty, has been done amidst\nsuffering and trial and difficulty. They have struggled against the\ntide, and reached the shore exhausted, only to grasp the sand and\nexpire. They have done their duty, and been content to die. But death\nhath no power over such men; their hallowed memories still survive,\nto soothe and purify and bless us. \"Life,\" said Goethe, \"to us all is\nsuffering. Who save God alone shall call us to our reckoning? Let not\nreproaches fall on the departed. Not what they have failed in, nor\nwhat they have suffered, but what they have done, ought to occupy the\nsurvivors.\"\n\nThus, it is not ease and facility that tries men, and brings out the\ngood that is in them, so much as trial and difficulty. Adversity is the\ntouchstone of character. As some herbs need to be crushed to give forth\ntheir sweetest odour, so some natures need to be tried by suffering to\nevoke the excellence that is in them. Hence trials often unmask\nvirtues, and bring to light hidden graces. Men apparently useless and\npurposeless, when placed in positions of difficulty and responsibility,\nhave exhibited powers of character before unsuspected; and where we\nbefore saw only pliancy and self-indulgence, we now see strength,\nvalour, and self-denial.\n\nAs there are no blessings which may not be perverted into evils, so\nthere are no trials which may not be converted into blessings. All\ndepends on the manner in which we profit by them or otherwise. Perfect\nhappiness is not to be looked for in this world. If it could be secured,\nit would be found profitless. The hollowest of all gospels is the\ngospel of ease and comfort. Difficulty, and even failure, are far\nbetter teachers. Sir Humphry Davy said: \"Even in private life, too much\nprosperity either injures the moral man, and occasions conduct which\nends in suffering; or it is accompanied by the workings of envy,\ncalumny, and malevolence of others.\"\n\nFailure improves tempers and strengthens the nature. Even sorrow is in\nsome mysterious way linked with joy and associated with tenderness. John\nBunyan once said how, \"if it were lawful, he could even pray for greater\ntrouble, for the greater comfort's sake.\" When surprise was expressed at\nthe patience of a poor Arabian woman under heavy affliction, she said,\n\"When we look on God's face we do not feel His hand.\"\n\nSuffering is doubtless as divinely appointed as joy, while it is much\nmore influential as a discipline of character. It chastens and sweetens\nthe nature, teaches patience and resignation, and promotes the deepest\nas well as the most exalted thought. [2112]\n\n                      \"The best of men\n      That e'er wore earth about Him was a sufferer;\n      A soft, meek, patient, humble, tranquil spirit\n      The first true gentleman that ever breathed.\" [2113]\n\nSuffering may be the appointed means by which the highest nature of man\nis to be disciplined and developed. Assuming happiness to be the end of\nbeing, sorrow may be the indispensable condition through which it is to\nbe reached. Hence St. Paul's noble paradox descriptive of the Christian\nlife,--\"as chastened, and not killed; as sorrowful, yet always\nrejoicing; as poor, yet making many rich; as having nothing, and yet\npossessing all things.\"\n\nEven pain is not all painful. On one side it is related to suffering,\nand on the other to happiness. For pain is remedial as well as\nsorrowful. Suffering is a misfortune as viewed from the one side, and a\ndiscipline as viewed from the other. But for suffering, the best part of\nmany men's nature would sleep a deep sleep. Indeed, it might almost\nbe said that pain and sorrow were the indispensable conditions of some\nmen's success, and the necessary means to evoke the highest development\nof their genius. Shelley has said of poets:\n\n      \"Most wretched men are cradled into poetry by wrong,\n       They learn in suffering what they teach in song.\"\n\nDoes any one suppose that Burns would have sung as he did, had he\nbeen rich, respectable, and \"kept a gig;\" or Byron, if he had been a\nprosperous, happily-married Lord Privy Seal or Postmaster-General?\n\nSometimes a heartbreak rouses an impassive nature to life. \"What does\nhe know,\" said a sage, \"who has not suffered?\" When Dumas asked Reboul,\n\"What made you a poet?\" his answer was, \"Suffering!\" It was the death,\nfirst of his wife, and then of his child, that drove him into solitude\nfor the indulgence of his grief, and eventually led him to seek and find\nrelief in verse. [2114] It was also to a domestic affliction that we owe\nthe beautiful writings of Mrs. Gaskell. \"It was as a recreation, in the\nhighest sense of the word,\" says a recent writer, speaking from personal\nknowledge, \"as an escape from the great void of a life from which\na cherished presence had been taken, that she began that series of\nexquisite creations which has served to multiply the number of our\nacquaintances, and to enlarge even the circle of our friendships.\" [2115]\n\nMuch of the best and most useful work done by men and women has been\ndone amidst affliction--sometimes as a relief from it, sometimes from a\nsense of duty overpowering personal sorrow. \"If I had not been so great\nan invalid,\" said Dr. Darwin to a friend, \"I should not have done nearly\nso much work as I have been able to accomplish.\" So Dr. Donne, speaking\nof his illnesses, once said: \"This advantage you and my other friends\nhave by my frequent fevers is, that I am so much the oftener at the\ngates of Heaven; and by the solitude and close imprisonment they reduce\nme to, I am so much the oftener at my prayers, in which you and my other\ndear friends are not forgotten.\"\n\nSchiller produced his greatest tragedies in the midst of physical\nsuffering almost amounting to torture. Handel was never greater than\nwhen, warned by palsy of the approach of death, and struggling with\ndistress and suffering, he sat down to compose the great works which\nhave made his name immortal in music. Mozart composed his great operas,\nand last of all his 'Requiem,' when oppressed by debt, and struggling\nwith a fatal disease. Beethoven produced his greatest works amidst\ngloomy sorrow, when oppressed by almost total deafness. And poor\nSchubert, after his short but brilliant life, laid it down at the early\nage of thirty-two; his sole property at his death consisting of his\nmanuscripts, the clothes he wore, and sixty-three florins in money. Some\nof Lamb's finest writings were produced amidst deep sorrow, and Hood's\napparent gaiety often sprang from a suffering heart. As he himself\nwrote,\n\n      \"There's not a string attuned to mirth,\n       But has its chord in melancholy.\"\n\nAgain, in science, we have the noble instance of the suffering\nWollaston, even in the last stages of the mortal disease which afflicted\nhim, devoting his numbered hours to putting on record, by dictation, the\nvarious discoveries and improvements he had made, so that any knowledge\nhe had acquired, calculated to benefit his fellow-creatures, might not\nbe lost.\n\nAfflictions often prove but blessings in disguise. \"Fear not the\ndarkness,\" said the Persian sage; it \"conceals perhaps the springs of\nthe waters of life.\" Experience is often bitter, but wholesome; only\nby its teaching can we learn to suffer and be strong. Character, in\nits highest forms, is disciplined by trial, and \"made perfect through\nsuffering.\" Even from the deepest sorrow, the patient and thoughtful\nmind will gather richer wisdom than pleasure ever yielded.\n\n\"The soul's dark cottage, batter'd and decayed, Lets in new light\nthrough chinks that Time has made.\"\n\n\"Consider,\" said Jeremy Taylor, \"that sad accidents, and a state of\nafflictions, is a school of virtue. It reduces our spirits to soberness,\nand our counsels to moderation; it corrects levity, and interrupts\nthe confidence of sinning.... God, who in mercy and wisdom governs the\nworld, would never have suffered so many sadnesses, and have sent them,\nespecially, to the most virtuous and the wisest men, but that He intends\nthey should be the seminary of comfort, the nursery of virtue, the\nexercise of wisdom, the trial of patience, the venturing for a crown,\nand the gate of glory.\" [2116]\n\nAnd again:--\"No man is more miserable than he that hath no adversity.\nThat man is not tried, whether he be good or bad; and God never crowns\nthose virtues which are only FACULTIES and DISPOSITIONS; but every act\nof virtue is an ingredient unto reward.\" [2117]\n\nProsperity and success of themselves do not confer happiness; indeed,\nit not unfrequently happens that the least successful in life have the\ngreatest share of true joy in it. No man could have been more\nsuccessful than Goethe--possessed of splendid health, honour, power, and\nsufficiency of this world's goods--and yet he confessed that he had not,\nin the course of his life, enjoyed five weeks of genuine pleasure.\nSo the Caliph Abdalrahman, in surveying his successful reign of fifty\nyears, found that he had enjoyed only fourteen days of pure and genuine\nhappiness. [2118] After this, might it not be said that the pursuit of\nmere happiness is an illusion?\n\nLife, all sunshine without shade, all happiness without sorrow, all\npleasure without pain, were not life at all--at least not human life.\nTake the lot of the happiest--it is a tangled yarn. It is made up\nof sorrows and joys; and the joys are all the sweeter because of the\nsorrows; bereavements and blessings, one following another, making us\nsad and blessed by turns. Even death itself makes life more loving; it\nbinds us more closely together while here. Dr. Thomas Browne has argued\nthat death is one of the necessary conditions of human happiness; and\nhe supports his argument with great force and eloquence. But when death\ncomes into a household, we do not philosophise--we only feel. The eyes\nthat are full of tears do not see; though in course of time they come to\nsee more clearly and brightly than those that have never known sorrow.\n\nThe wise person gradually learns not to expect too much from life.\nWhile he strives for success by worthy methods, he will be prepared for\nfailures, he will keep his mind open to enjoyment, but submit patiently\nto suffering. Wailings and complainings of life are never of any use;\nonly cheerful and continuous working in right paths are of real avail.\n\nNor will the wise man expect too much from those about him. If he would\nlive at peace with others, he will bear and forbear. And even the best\nhave often foibles of character which have to be endured, sympathised\nwith, and perhaps pitied. Who is perfect? Who does not suffer from\nsome thorn in the flesh? Who does not stand in need of toleration, of\nforbearance, of forgiveness? What the poor imprisoned Queen Caroline\nMatilda of Denmark wrote on her chapel-window ought to be the prayer of\nall,--\"Oh! keep me innocent! make others great.\"\n\nThen, how much does the disposition of every human being depend upon\ntheir innate constitution and their early surroundings; the comfort\nor discomfort of the homes in which they have been brought up; their\ninherited characteristics; and the examples, good or bad, to which they\nhave been exposed through life! Regard for such considerations should\nteach charity and forbearance to all men.\n\nAt the same time, life will always be to a large extent what we\nourselves make it. Each mind makes its own little world. The cheerful\nmind makes it pleasant, and the discontented mind makes it miserable.\n\"My mind to me a kingdom is,\" applies alike to the peasant as to the\nmonarch. The one may be in his heart a king, as the other may be a\nslave. Life is for the most part but the mirror of our own individual\nselves. Our mind gives to all situations, to all fortunes, high or low,\ntheir real characters. To the good, the world is good; to the bad, it\nis bad. If our views of life be elevated--if we regard it as a sphere of\nuseful effort, of high living and high thinking, of working for others'\ngood as well as our own--it will be joyful, hopeful, and blessed. If,\non the contrary, we regard it merely as affording opportunities for\nself-seeking, pleasure, and aggrandisement, it will be full of toil,\nanxiety, and disappointment.\n\nThere is much in life that, while in this state, we can never\ncomprehend. There is, indeed, a great deal of mystery in life--much that\nwe see \"as in a glass darkly.\" But though we may not apprehend the full\nmeaning of the discipline of trial through which the best have to pass,\nwe must have faith in the completeness of the design of which our little\nindividual lives form a part.\n\nWe have each to do our duty in that sphere of life in which we have\nbeen placed. Duty alone is true; there is no true action but in its\naccomplishment. Duty is the end and aim of the highest life; the\ntruest pleasure of all is that derived from the consciousness of\nits fulfilment. Of all others, it is the one that is most thoroughly\nsatisfying, and the least accompanied by regret and disappointment. In\nthe words of George Herbert, the consciousness of duty performed \"gives\nus music at midnight.\"\n\nAnd when we have done our work on earth--of necessity, of labour, of\nlove, or of duty,--like the silkworm that spins its little cocoon and\ndies, we too depart. But, short though our stay in life may be, it is\nthe appointed sphere in which each has to work out the great aim and\nend of his being to the best of his power; and when that is done, the\naccidents of the flesh will affect but little the immortality we shall\nat last put on:\n\n        \"Therefore we can go die as sleep, and trust\n                            Half that we have\n                     Unto an honest faithful grave;\n        Making our pillows either down or dust!\"\n\n\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[Footnote 101: Sackville, Lord Buckhurst, Lord High Treasurer under Elizabeth and\nJames I.]\n\n[Footnote 102: 'Life of Perthes,' ii. 217.]\n\n[Footnote 103: Lockhart's 'Life of Scott.']\n\n[Footnote 104: Debate on the Petition of Right, A.D. 1628.]\n\n[Footnote 105: The Rev. F. W. Farrer's 'Seekers after God,' p. 241.]\n\n[Footnote 106: 'The Statesman,' p. 30.]\n\n[Footnote 107: 'Queen of the Air,' p. 127]\n\n[Footnote 108: \"Instead of saying that man is the creature of Circumstance, it would\nbe nearer the mark to say that man is the architect of Circumstance. It\nis Character which builds an existence out of Circumstance. Our strength\nis measured by our plastic power. From the same materials one man builds\npalaces, another hovels: one warehouses, another villas. Bricks\nand mortar are mortar and bricks, until the architect can make them\nsomething else. Thus it is that in the same family, in the same\ncircumstances, one man rears a stately edifice, while his brother,\nvacillating and incompetent, lives for ever amid ruins: the block of\ngranite, which was an obstacle on the pathway of the weak, becomes a\nstepping-stone on the pathway of the strong.\"--G. H. Lewes, LIFE OF\nGOETHE.]\n\n[Footnote 109: Introduction to 'The Principal Speeches and Addresses of H.R.H. the\nPrince Consort' [101862], pp. 39-40.]\n\n[Footnote 1010: Among the latest of these was Napoleon \"the Great,\" a man of\nabounding energy, but destitute of principle. He had the lowest opinion\nof his fellowmen. \"Men are hogs, who feed on gold,\" he once said: \"Well,\nI throw them gold, and lead them whithersoever I will.\" When the Abbe de\nPradt, Archbishop of Malines, was setting out on his embassy to Poland\nin 1812, Napoleon's parting instruction to him was, \"Tenez bonne table\net soignez les femmes,\"--of which Benjamin Constant said that such an\nobservation, addressed to a feeble priest of sixty, shows Buonaparte's\nprofound contempt for the human race, without distinction of nation or\nsex.]\n\n[Footnote 1011: Condensed from Sir Thomas Overbury's 'Characters' [101614].]\n\n[Footnote 1012: 'History of the Peninsular War,' v. 319.--Napier mentions another\nstriking illustration of the influence of personal qualities in young\nEdward Freer, of the same regiment [10the 43rd], who, when he fell at the\nage of nineteen, at the Battle of the Nivelle, had already seen more\ncombats and sieges than he could count years. \"So slight in person, and\nof such surpassing beauty, that the Spaniards often thought him a girl\ndisguised in man's clothing, he was yet so vigorous, so active, so\nbrave, that the most daring and experienced veterans watched his looks\non the field of battle, and, implicitly following where he led,\nwould, like children, obey his slightest sign in the most difficult\nsituations.\"]\n\n[Footnote 1013: When the dissolution of the Union at one time seemed imminent, and\nWashington wished to retire into private life, Jefferson wrote to him,\nurging his continuance in office. \"The confidence of the whole Union,\"\nhe said, \"centres in you. Your being at the helm will be more than an\nanswer to every argument which can be used to alarm and lead the people\nin any quarter into violence and secession.... There is sometimes an\neminence of character on which society has such peculiar claims as to\ncontrol the predilection of the individual for a particular walk of\nhappiness, and restrain him to that alone arising from the present and\nfuture benedictions of mankind. This seems to be your condition, and\nthe law imposed on you by Providence in forming your character and\nfashioning the events on which it was to operate; and it is to motives\nlike these, and not to personal anxieties of mine or others, who have\nno right to call on you for sacrifices, that I appeal from your former\ndetermination, and urge a revisal of it, on the ground of change in the\naspect of things.\"--Sparks' Life of Washington, i. 480.]\n\n[Footnote 1014: Napier's 'History of the Peninsular War,' v. 226.]\n\n[Footnote 1015: Sir W. Scott's 'History of Scotland,' vol. i. chap. xvi.]\n\n[Footnote 1016: Michelet's 'History of Rome,' p. 374.]\n\n[Footnote 1017: Erasmus so reverenced the character of Socrates that he said, when\nhe considered his life and doctrines, he was inclined to put him in the\ncalendar of saints, and to exclaim, \"SANCTE SOCRATES, ORA PRO NOBIS.\"\n(Holy Socrates, pray for us!)]\n\n[Footnote 1018: \"Honour to all the brave and true; everlasting honour to John Knox\none of the truest of the true! That, in the moment while he and his\ncause, amid civil broils, in convulsion and confusion, were still but\nstruggling for life, he sent the schoolmaster forth to all corners, and\nsaid, 'Let the people be taught:' this is but one, and, and indeed, an\ninevitable and comparatively inconsiderable item in his great message to\nmen. This message, in its true compass, was, 'Let men know that they are\nmen created by God, responsible to God who work in any meanest moment\nof time what will last through eternity...' This great message Knox did\ndeliver, with a man's voice and strength; and found a people to believe\nhim. Of such an achievement, were it to be made once only, the results\nare immense. Thought, in such a country, may change its form, but\ncannot go out; the country has attained MAJORITY thought, and a certain\nmanhood, ready for all work that man can do, endures there.... The\nScotch national character originated in many circumstances: first of\nall, in the Saxon stuff there was to work on; but next, and beyond all\nelse except that, is the Presbyterian Gospel of John Knox.\"--(Carlyle's\nMISCELLANIES, iv. 118.)]\n\n[Footnote 1019: Moore's 'Life of Byron,' 8vo. ed. p.484.--Dante was a religious\nas well as a political reformer. He was a reformer three hundred years\nbefore the Reformation, advocating the separation of the spiritual from\nthe civil power, and declaring the temporal government of the Pope to\nbe a usurpation. The following memorable words were written over five\nhundred and sixty years ago, while Dante was still a member of the Roman\nCatholic Church:--\"Every Divine law is found in one or other of the two\nTestaments; but in neither can I find that the care of temporal matters\nwas given to the priesthood. On the contrary, I find that the first\npriests were removed from them by law, and the later priests, by command\nof Christ, to His disciples.\"--DE MONARCHIA, lib. iii. cap. xi.\n\nDante also, still clinging to 'the Church he wished to reform,' thus\nanticipated the fundamental doctrine of the Reformation:-\"Before the\nChurch are the Old and New Testament; after the Church are traditions.\nIt follows, then, that the authority of the Church depends, not on\ntraditions, but traditions on the Church.\"]\n\n[Footnote 1020: 'Blackwood's Magazine,' June, 1863, art. 'Girolamo Savonarola.']\n\n[Footnote 1021: One of the last passages in the Diary of Dr. Arnold, written the\nyear before his death, was as follows:--\"It is the misfortune of France\nthat her 'past' cannot be loved or respected--her future and her present\ncannot be wedded to it; yet how can the present yield fruit, or the\nfuture have promise, except their roots be fixed in the past? The evil\nis infinite, but the blame rests with those who made the past a dead\nthing, out of which no healthful life could be produced.\"--LIFE, ii.\n387-8, Ed. 1858.]\n\n[Footnote 1022: A public orator lately spoke with contempt of the Battle of\nMarathon, because only 192 perished on the side of the Athenians,\nwhereas by improved mechanism and destructive chemicals, some 50,000\nmen or more may now be destroyed within a few hours. Yet the Battle of\nMarathon, and the heroism displayed in it, will probably continue to\nbe remembered when the gigantic butcheries of modern times have been\nforgotten.]\n\n[Footnote 111: Civic virtues, unless they have their origin and consecration in\nprivate and domestic virtues, are but the virtues of the theatre. He who\nhas not a loving heart for his child, cannot pretend to have any true\nlove for humanity.--Jules Simon's LE DEVOIR.]\n\n[Footnote 112: 'Levana; or, The Doctrine of Education.']\n\n[Footnote 113: Speaking of the force of habit, St. Augustine says in his\n'Confessions' \"My will the enemy held, and thence had made a chain for\nme, and bound me. For of a froward will was a lust made; and a lust\nserved became custom; and custom not resisted became necessity. By which\nlinks, as it were, joined together [11whence I called it a chain] a hard\nbondage held me enthralled.\"]\n\n[Footnote 114: Mr. Tufnell, in 'Reports of Inspectors of Parochial School Unions in\nEngland and Wales,' 1850.]\n\n[Footnote 115: See the letters [11January 13th, 16th, 18th, 20th, and 23rd, 1759],\nwritten by Johnson to his mother when she was ninety, and he himself was\nin his fiftieth year.--Crokers BOSWELL, 8vo. Ed. pp. 113, 114.]\n\n[Footnote 116: Jared Sparks' 'Life of Washington.']\n\n[Footnote 117: Forster's 'Eminent British Statesmen' [11Cabinet Cyclop.] vi. 8.]\n\n[Footnote 118: The Earl of Mornington, composer of 'Here in cool grot,' &c.]\n\n[Footnote 119: Robert Bell's 'Life of Canning,' p. 37.]\n\n[Footnote 1110: 'Life of Curran,' by his son, p. 4.]\n\n[Footnote 1111: The father of the Wesleys had even determined at one time to\nabandon his wife because her conscience forbade her to assent to his\nprayers for the then reigning monarch, and he was only saved from the\nconsequences of his rash resolve by the accidental death of William\nIII. He displayed the same overbearing disposition in dealing with his\nchildren; forcing his daughter Mehetabel to marry, against her will, a\nman whom she did not love, and who proved entirely unworthy of her.]\n\n[Footnote 1112: Goethe himself says--\"Vom Vater hab' ich die Statur, Des Lebens\nernstes Fuhren; Von Mutterchen die Frohnatur Und Lust zu fabuliren.\"]\n\n[Footnote 1113: Mrs. Grote's 'Life of Ary Scheffer,' p. 154.]\n\n[Footnote 1114: Michelet, 'On Priests, Women, and Families.']\n\n[Footnote 1115: Mrs. Byron is said to have died in a fit of passion, brought on by\nreading her upholsterer's bills.]\n\n[Footnote 1116: Sainte-Beuve, 'Causeries du Lundi,' i. 23.]\n\n[Footnote 1117: Ibid. i. 22.]\n\n[Footnote 1118: Ibid. 1. 23.]\n\n[Footnote 1119: That about one-third of all the children born in this country die\nunder five years of age, can only he attributable to ignorance of the\nnatural laws, ignorance of the human constitution, and ignorance of\nthe uses of pure air, pure water, and of the art of preparing and\nadministering wholesome food. There is no such mortality amongst the\nlower animals.]\n\n[Footnote 1120: Beaumarchais' 'Figaro,' which was received with such enthusiasm in\nFrance shortly before the outbreak of the Revolution, may be regarded as\na typical play; it represented the average morality of the upper as well\nas the lower classes with respect to the relations between the sexes.\n\"Label men how you please,\" says Herbert Spencer, \"with titles of\n'upper' and 'middle' and 'lower,' you cannot prevent them from being\nunits of the same society, acted upon by the same spirit of the age,\nmoulded after the same type of character. The mechanical law, that\naction and reaction are equal, has its moral analogue. The deed of one\nman to another tends ultimately to produce a like effect upon both, be\nthe deed good or bad. Do but put them in relationship, and no\ndivision into castes, no differences of wealth, can prevent men from\nassimilating.... The same influences which rapidly adapt the individual\nto his society, ensure, though by a slower process, the general\nuniformity of a national character.... And so long as the assimilating\ninfluences productive of it continue at work, it is folly to suppose\nany one grade of a community can be morally different from the rest. In\nwhichever rank you see corruption, be assured it equally pervades all\nranks--be assured it is the symptom of a bad social diathesis. Whilst\nthe virus of depravity exists in one part of the body-politic, no other\npart can remain healthy.\"--SOCIAL STATICS, chap. xx. 7.]\n\n[Footnote 1121: Some twenty-eight years since, the author wrote and published the\nfollowing passage, not without practical knowledge of the subject; and\nnotwithstanding the great amelioration in the lot of factory-workers,\neffected mainly through the noble efforts of Lord Shaftesbury, the\ndescription is still to a large extent true:--\"The factory system,\nhowever much it may have added to the wealth of the country, has had a\nmost deleterious effect on the domestic condition of the people. It has\ninvaded the sanctuary of home, and broken up family and social ties.\nIt has taken the wife from the husband, and the children from their\nparents. Especially has its tendency been to lower the character of\nwoman. The performance of domestic duties is her proper office,--the\nmanagement of her household, the rearing of her family, the economizing\nof the family means, the supplying of the family wants. But the factory\ntakes her from all these duties. Homes become no longer homes. Children\ngrow up uneducated and neglected. The finer affections become blunted.\nWoman is no more the gentle wife, companion, and friend of man, but his\nfellow-labourer and fellow-drudge. She is exposed to influences which\ntoo often efface that modesty of thought and conduct which is one of the\nbest safeguards of virtue. Without judgment or sound principles to guide\nthem, factory-girls early acquire the feeling of independence. Ready to\nthrow off the constraint imposed on them by their parents, they leave\ntheir homes, and speedily become initiated in the vices of their\nassociates. The atmosphere, physical as well as moral, in which they\nlive, stimulates their animal appetites; the influence of bad example\nbecomes contagious among them and mischief is propagated far and\nwide.\"--THE UNION, January, 1843.]\n\n[Footnote 1122: A French satirist, pointing to the repeated PLEBISCITES and\nperpetual voting of late years, and to the growing want of faith\nin anything but votes, said, in 1870, that we seemed to be rapidly\napproaching the period when the only prayer of man and woman would be,\n\"Give us this day our daily vote!\"]\n\n[Footnote 1123: \"Of primeval and necessary and absolute superiority, the relation\nof the mother to the child is far more complete, though less seldom\nquoted as an example, than that of father and son.... By Sir Robert\nFilmer, the supposed necessary as well as absolute power of the father\nover his children, was taken as the foundation and origin, and thence\njustifying cause, of the power of the monarch in every political state.\nWith more propriety he might have stated the absolute dominion of a\nwoman as the only legitimate form of government.\"--DEONTOLOGY, ii. 181.]\n\n[Footnote 121: 'Letters of Sir Charles Bell,' p. 10. [122: 'Autobiography of Mary\nAnne Schimmelpenninck,' p. 179.]\n\n[Footnote 123: Dean Stanley's 'Life of Dr. Arnold,' i. 151 [12Ed. 1858].]\n\n[Footnote 124: Lord Cockburn's 'Memorials,' pp. 25-6.]\n\n[Footnote 125: From a letter of Canon Moseley, read at a Memorial Meeting held\nshortly after the death of the late Lord Herbert of Lea.]\n\n[Footnote 126: Izaak Walton's 'Life of George Herbert.']\n\n[Footnote 127: Stanley's 'Life and Letters of Dr. Arnold,' i. 33.]\n\n[Footnote 128: Philip de Comines gives a curious illustration of the subservient,\nthough enforced, imitation of Philip, Duke of Burgundy, by his\ncourtiers. When that prince fell ill, and had his head shaved, he\nordered that all his nobles, five hundred in number, should in like\nmanner shave their heads; and one of them, Pierre de Hagenbach, to prove\nhis devotion, no sooner caught sight of an unshaven nobleman, than\nhe forthwith had him seized and carried off to the barber!--Philip de\nComines [12Bohn's Ed.], p. 243.]\n\n[Footnote 129: 'Life,' i. 344.]\n\n[Footnote 1210: Introduction to 'The Principal Speeches and Addresses of H.R.H. the\nPrince Consort,' p. 33.]\n\n[Footnote 1211: Speech at Liverpool, 1812.]\n\n[Footnote 131:In the third chapter of his Natural History, Pliny relates in what\nhigh honour agriculture was held in the earlier days of Rome; how the\ndivisions of land were measured by the quantity which could be ploughed\nby a yoke of oxen in a certain time [13JUGERUM, in one day; ACTUS, at one\nspell]; how the greatest recompence to a general or valiant citizen\nwas a JUGERUM; how the earliest surnames were derived from agriculture\n(Pilumnus, from PILUM, the pestle for pounding corn; Piso, from PISO,\nto grind coin; Fabius, from FABA, a bean; Lentulus, from LENS, a lentil;\nCicero, from CICER, a chickpea; Babulcus, from BOS, &c.); how the\nhighest compliment was to call a man a good agriculturist, or a good\nhusbandman (LOCUPLES, rich, LOCI PLENUS, PECUNIA, from PECUS, &c.);\nhow the pasturing of cattle secretly by night upon unripe crops was a\ncapital offence, punishable by hanging; how the rural tribes held the\nforemost rank, while those of the city had discredit thrown upon them as\nbeing an indolent race; and how \"GLORIAM DENIQUE IPSAM, A FARRIS HONORE,\n'ADOREAM' APPELLABANT;\" ADOREA, or Glory, the reward of valour, being\nderived from Ador, or spelt, a kind of grain.]\n\n[Footnote 132: 'Essay on Government,' in 'Encyclopaedia Britannica.']\n\n[Footnote 133: Burton's 'Anatomy of Melancholy,' Part i., Mem. 2, Sub. 6.]\n\n[Footnote 134: Ibid. End of concluding chapter.]\n\n[Footnote 135: It is characteristic of the Hindoos to regard entire inaction as\nthe most perfect state, and to describe the Supreme Being as \"The\nUnmoveable.\"]\n\n[Footnote 136: Lessing was so impressed with the conviction that stagnant\nsatisfaction was fatal to man, that he went so far as to say: \"If the\nAll-powerful Being, holding in one hand Truth, and in the other\nthe search for Truth, said to me, 'Choose,' I would answer Him, 'O\nAll-powerful, keep for Thyself the Truth; but leave to me the search for\nit, which is the better for me.'\" On the other hand, Bossuet said: \"Si\nje concevais une nature purement intelligente, il me semble que je n'y\nmettrais qu'entendre et aimer la verite, et que cela seul la rendrait\nheureux.\"]\n\n[Footnote 137: The late Sir John Patteson, when in his seventieth year, attended an\nannual ploughing-match dinner at Feniton, Devon, at which he thought it\nworth his while to combat the notion, still too prevalent, that because\na man does not work merely with his bones and muscles, he is therefore\nnot entitled to the appellation of a workingman. \"In recollecting\nsimilar meetings to the present,\" he said, \"I remember my friend, John\nPyle, rather throwing it in my teeth that I had not worked for nothing;\nbut I told him, 'Mr. Pyle, you do not know what you are talking about.\nWe are all workers. The man who ploughs the field and who digs the hedge\nis a worker; but there are other workers in other stations of life as\nwell. For myself, I can say that I have been a worker ever since I have\nbeen a boy.'... Then I told him that the office of judge was by no means\na sinecure, for that a judge worked as hard as any man in the country.\nHe has to work at very difficult questions of law, which are brought\nbefore him continually, giving him great anxiety; and sometimes the\nlives of his fellow-creatures are placed in his hands, and are dependent\nvery much upon the manner in which he places the facts before the jury.\nThat is a matter of no little anxiety, I can assure you. Let any man\nthink as he will, there is no man who has been through the ordeal\nfor the length of time that I have, but must feel conscious of the\nimportance and gravity of the duty which is cast upon a judge.\"]\n\n[Footnote 138: Lord Stanley's Address to the Students of Glasgow University, on his\ninstallation as Lord Rector, 1869.]\n\n[Footnote 139: Writing to an abbot at Nuremberg, who had sent him a store of\nturning-tools, Luther said: \"I have made considerable progress in\nclockmaking, and I am very much delighted at it, for these drunken\nSaxons need to be constantly reminded of what the real time is; not that\nthey themselves care much about it, for as long as their glasses are\nkept filled, they trouble themselves very little as to whether clocks,\nor clockmakers, or the time itself, go right.\"--Michelet's LUTHER [13Bogue\nEd.], p. 200.]\n\n[Footnote 1310: \"Life of Perthes,\" ii. 20.]\n\n[Footnote 1311: Lockhart's 'Life of Scott' [138vo. Ed.], p. 442.]\n\n[Footnote 1312: Southey expresses the opinion in 'The Doctor', that the character\nof a person may be better known by the letters which other persons write\nto him than by what he himself writes.]\n\n[Footnote 1313: 'Dissertation on the Science of Method.']\n\n[Footnote 1314: The following passage, from a recent article in the PALL MALL\nGAZETTE, will commend itself to general aproval:--\"There can be no\nquestion nowadays, that application to work, absorption in affairs,\ncontact with men, and all the stress which business imposes on us,\ngives a noble training to the intellect, and splendid opportunity for\ndiscipline of character. It is an utterly low view of business which\nregards it as only a means of getting a living. A man's business is his\npart of the world's work, his share of the great activities which render\nsociety possible. He may like it or dislike it, but it is work, and as\nsuch requires application, self-denial, discipline. It is his drill, and\nhe cannot be thorough in his occupation without putting himself into it,\nchecking his fancies, restraining his impulses, and holding himself to\nthe perpetual round of small details--without, in fact, submitting to\nhis drill. But the perpetual call on a man's readiness, sell-control,\nand vigour which business makes, the constant appeal to the intellect,\nthe stress upon the will, the necessity for rapid and responsible\nexercise of judgment--all these things constitute a high culture, though\nnot the highest. It is a culture which strengthens and invigorates if it\ndoes not refine, which gives force if not polish--the FORTITER IN RE, if\nnot the SUAVITER IN MODO. It makes strong men and ready men, and men of\nvast capacity for affairs, though it does not necessarily make refined\nmen or gentlemen.\"]\n\n[Footnote 1315: On the first publication of his 'Despatches,' one of his friends\nsaid to him, on reading the records of his Indian campaigns: \"It seems\nto me, Duke, that your chief business in India was to procure rice and\nbullocks.\" \"And so it was,\" replied Wellington: \"for if I had rice and\nbullocks, I had men; and if I had men, I knew I could beat the enemy.\"]\n\n[Footnote 1316: Maria Edgeworth, 'Memoirs of R. L. Edgeworth,' ii. 94.]\n\n[Footnote 1317: A friend of Lord Palmerston has communicated to us the following\nanecdote. Asking him one day when he considered a man to be in the prime\nof life, his immediate reply was, \"Seventy-nine!\" \"But,\" he added, with\na twinkle in his eye, \"as I have just entered my eightieth year, perhaps\nI am myself a little past it.\"]\n\n[Footnote 1318: 'Reasons of Church Government,' Book II.]\n\n[Footnote 1319: Coleridge's advice to his young friends was much to the same\neffect. \"With the exception of one extraordinary man,\" he says, \"I have\nnever known an individual, least of all an individual of genius, healthy\nor happy without a profession: i.e., some regular employment which does\nnot depend on the will of the moment, and which can be carried on so\nfar mechanically, that an average quantum only of health, spirits, and\nintellectual exertion are requisite to its faithful discharge. Three\nhours of leisure, unalloyed by any alien anxiety, and looked forward\nto with delight as a change and recreation, will suffice to realise\nin literature a larger product of what is truly genial, than weeks\nof compulsion.... If facts are required to prove the possibility of\ncombining weighty performances in literature with full and independent\nemployment, the works of Cicero and Xenophon, among the ancients--of\nSir Thomas More, Bacon, Baxter, or [13to refer at once to later and\ncontemporary instances] Darwin and Roscoe, are at once decisive of the\nquestion.\"--BIOGRAPHIA LITERARIA, Chap. xi.]\n\n[Footnote 1320: Mr. Ricardo published his celebrated 'Theory of Rent,' at the\nurgent recommendation of James Mill [13like his son, a chief clerk in the\nIndia House], author of the 'History of British India.' When the 'Theory\nof Rent' was written, Ricardo was so dissatisfied with it that he wished\nto burn it; but Mr. Mill urged him to publish it, and the book was a\ngreat success.]\n\n[Footnote 1321: The late Sir John Lubbock, his father, was also eminent as a\nmathematician and astronomer.]\n\n[Footnote 1322: Thales, once inveighing in discourse against the pains and care men\nput themselves to, to become rich, was answered by one in the company\nthat he did like the fox, who found fault with what he could not obtain.\nThereupon Thales had a mind, for the jest's sake, to show them the\ncontrary; and having upon this occasion for once made a muster of all\nhis wits, wholly to employ them in the service of profit, he set a\ntraffic on foot, which in one year brought him in so great riches, that\nthe most experienced in that trade could hardly in their whole lives,\nwith all their industry, have raked so much together.\n--Montaignes ESSAYS, Book I., chap. 24.]\n\n[Footnote 1323: \"The understanding,\" says Mr. Bailey, \"that is accustomed to\npursue a regular and connected train of ideas, becomes in some measure\nincapacitated for those quick and versatile movements which are learnt\nin the commerce of the world, and are indispensable to those who act a\npart in it. Deep thinking and practical talents require indeed habits of\nmind so essentially dissimilar, that while a man is striving after the\none, he will be unavoidably in danger of losing the other.\" \"Thence,\"\nhe adds, \"do we so often find men, who are 'giants in the closet,' prove\nbut 'children in the world.'\"--'Essays on the Formation and Publication\nof Opinions,' pp.251-3.]\n\n[Footnote 1324: Mr. Gladstone is as great an enthusiast in literature as\nCanning was. It is related of him that, while he was waiting in his\ncommittee-room at Liverpool for the returns coming in on the day of the\nSouth Lancashire polling, he occupied himself in proceeding with the\ntranslation of a work which he was then preparing for the press.]\n\n[Footnote 141: James Russell Lowell.]\n\n[Footnote 142: Yet Bacon himself had written, \"I would rather believe all the\nfaiths in the Legend, and the Talmud, and the Alcoran, than that this\nuniversal frame is without a mind.\"]\n\n[Footnote 143: Aubrey, in his 'Natural History of Wiltshire,' alluding to Harvey,\nsays: \"He told me himself that upon publishing that book he fell in his\npractice extremely.\"]\n\n[Footnote 144: Sir Thomas More's first wife, Jane Colt, was originally a young\ncountry girl, whom he himself instructed in letters, and moulded to\nhis own tastes and manners. She died young, leaving a son and three\ndaughters, of whom the noble Margaret Roper most resembled More himself.\nHis second wife was Alice Middleton, a widow, some seven years older\nthan More, not beautiful--for he characterized her as \"NEC BELLA,\nNEC PUELLA\"--but a shrewd worldly woman, not by any means disposed to\nsacrifice comfort and good cheer for considerations such as those which\nso powerfully influenced the mind of her husband.]\n\n[Footnote 145: Before being beheaded, Eliot said, \"Death is but a little word;\nbut ''tis a great work to die.'\" In his 'Prison Thoughts' before his\nexecution, he wrote: \"He that fears not to die, fears nothing.... There\nis a time to live, and a time to die. A good death is far better and\nmore eligible than an ill life. A wise man lives but so long as his life\nis worth more than his death. The longer life is not always the better.\"]\n\n[Footnote 146: Mr. J. S. Mill, in his book 'On Liberty,' describes \"the masses,\" as\n\"collective mediocrity.\" \"The initiation of all wise or noble things,\"\nhe says, \"comes, and must come, from individuals--generally at first\nfrom some one individual. The honour and glory of the average man is\nthat he is capable of following that imitation; that he can respond\ninternally to wise and noble things, and be led to them with his eyes\nopen.... In this age, the mere example of nonconformity, the mere\nrefusal to bend the knee to custom, is itself a service. Precisely\nbecause the tyranny of opinion is such as to make eccentricity a\nreproach, it is desirable, in order to break through that tyranny, that\npeople should be eccentric. Eccentricity has always abounded when and\nwhere strength of character has abounded; and the amount of eccentricity\nin a society has generally been proportional to the amount of genius,\nmental vigour, and moral courage which it contained. That so few now\ndare to be eccentric, marks the chief danger of the time.\"--Pp. 120-1.]\n\n[Footnote 147: Mr. Arthur Helps, in one of his thoughtful books, published in 1845,\nmade some observations on this point, which are not less applicable now.\nHe there said: \"it is a grievous thing to see literature made a vehicle\nfor encouraging the enmity of class to class. Yet this, unhappily, is\nnot unfrequent now. Some great man summed up the nature of French novels\nby calling them the Literature of Despair; the kind of writing that I\ndeprecate may be called the Literature of Envy.... Such writers like\nto throw their influence, as they might say, into the weaker scale. But\nthat is not the proper way of looking at the matter. I think, if they\nsaw the ungenerous nature of their proceedings, that alone would stop\nthem. They should recollect that literature may fawn upon the masses\nas well as the aristocracy; and in these days the temptation is in the\nformer direction. But what is most grievous in this kind of writing is\nthe mischief it may do to the working-people themselves. If you have\ntheir true welfare at heart, you will not only care for their being\nfed and clothed, but you will be anxious not to encourage unreasonable\nexpectations in them--not to make them ungrateful or greedy-minded.\nAbove all, you will be solicitous to preserve some self-reliance in\nthem. You will be careful not to let them think that their condition can\nbe wholly changed without exertion of their own. You would not desire to\nhave it so changed. Once elevate your ideal of what you wish to happen\namongst the labouring population, and you will not easily admit anything\nin your writings that may injure their moral or their mental character,\neven if you thought it might hasten some physical benefit for them. That\nis the way to make your genius most serviceable to mankind. Depend upon\nit, honest and bold things require to be said to the lower as well as\nthe higher classes; and the former are in these times much less likely\nto have, such things addressed to them.\"-Claims of Labour, pp. 253-4.]\n\n[Footnote 148: 'Memoirs of Colonel Hutchinson' [14Bohn's Ed.], p. 32.]\n\n[Footnote 149: At a public meeting held at Worcester, in 1867, in recognition of\nSir J. Pakington's services as Chairman of Quarter Sessions for a period\nof twenty-four years, the following remarks, made by Sir John on the\noccasion, are just and valuable as they are modest:-\"I am indebted for\nwhatever measure of success I have attained in my public life, to a\ncombination of moderate abilities, with honesty of intention, firmness\nof purpose, and steadiness of conduct. If I were to offer advice to any\nyoung man anxious to make himself useful in public life, I would sum up\nthe results of my experience in three short rules--rules so simple that\nany man may understand them, and so easy that any man may act upon them.\nMy first rule would be--leave it to others to judge of what duties you\nare capable, and for what position you are fitted; but never refuse to\ngive your services in whatever capacity it may be the opinion of others\nwho are competent to judge that you may benefit your neighbours or your\ncountry. My second rule is--when you agree to undertake public duties,\nconcentrate every energy and faculty in your possession with the\ndetermination to discharge those duties to the best of your ability.\nLastly, I would counsel you that, in deciding on the line which you will\ntake in public affairs, you should be guided in your decision by that\nwhich, after mature deliberation, you believe to be right, and not\nby that which, in the passing hour, may happen to be fashionable or\npopular.\"]\n\n[Footnote 1410: The following illustration of one of his minute acts of kindness is\ngiven in his biography:--\"He was one day taking a long country walk near\nFreshford, when he met a little girl, about five years old, sobbing over\na broken bowl; she had dropped and broken it in bringing it back from\nthe field to which she had taken her father's dinner in it, and she said\nshe would be beaten on her return home for having broken it; when, with\na sudden gleam of hope, she innocently looked up into his face, and\nsaid, 'But yee can mend it, can't ee?'\n\n\"My father explained that he could not mend the bowl, but the trouble he\ncould, by the gift of a sixpence to buy another. However, on opening his\npurse it was empty of silver, and he had to make amends by promising to\nmeet his little friend in the same spot at the same hour next day, and\nto bring the sixpence with him, bidding her, meanwhile, tell her mother\nshe had seen a gentleman who would bring her the money for the bowl next\nday. The child, entirely trusting him, went on her way comforted. On\nhis return home he found an invitation awaiting him to dine in Bath the\nfollowing evening, to meet some one whom he specially wished to see. He\nhesitated for some little time, trying to calculate the possibility of\ngiving the meeting to his little friend of the broken bowl and of still\nbeing in time for the dinner-party in Bath; but finding this could\nnot be, he wrote to decline accepting the invitation on the plea of 'a\npre-engagement,' saying to us, 'I cannot disappoint her, she trusted me\nso implicitly.'\"]\n\n[Footnote 1411: Miss Florence Nightingale has related the following incident as\nhaving occurred before Sebastopol:--\"I remember a sergeant who, on\npicket, the rest of the picket killed and himself battered about the\nhead, stumbled back to camp, and on his way picked up a wounded man\nand brought him in on his shoulders to the lines, where he fell down\ninsensible. When, after many hours, he recovered his senses, I believe\nafter trepanning, his first words were to ask after his comrade, 'Is he\nalive?' 'Comrade, indeed; yes, he's alive--it is the general.' At that\nmoment the general, though badly wounded, appeared at the bedside. 'Oh,\ngeneral, it's you, is it, I brought in? I'm so glad; I didn't know your\nhonour. But, ----, if I'd known it was you, I'd have saved you all the\nsame.' This is the true soldier's spirit.\"\n\nIn the same letter, Miss Nightingale says: \"England, from her grand\nmercantile and commercial successes, has been called sordid; God knows\nshe is not. The simple courage, the enduring patience, the good sense,\nthe strength to suffer in silence--what nation shows more of this in\nwar than is shown by her commonest soldier? I have seen men dying of\ndysentery, but scorning to report themselves sick lest they should\nthereby throw more labour on their comrades, go down to the trenches and\nmake the trenches their deathbed. There is nothing in history to compare\nwith it....\"]\n\n\"Say what men will, there is something more truly Christian in the man\nwho gives his time, his strength, his life, if need be, for something\nnot himself--whether he call it his Queen, his country, or his\ncolours--than in all the asceticism, the fasts, the humiliations, and\nconfessions which have ever been made: and this spirit of giving one's\nlife, without calling it a sacrifice, is found nowhere so truly as in\nEngland.\"]\n\n[Footnote 1412: Mrs. Grote's 'Life of Ary Scheffer,' pp. 154-5.]\n\n[Footnote 1413: The sufferings of this noble woman, together with those of her\nunfortunate husband, were touchingly described in a letter afterwards\naddressed by her to a female friend, which was published some years ago\nat Haarlem, entitled, 'Gertrude von der Wart; or, Fidelity unto Death.'\nMrs. Hemans wrote a poem of great pathos and beauty, commemorating the\nsad story in her 'Records of Woman.']\n\n[Footnote 151: 'Social Statics,' p. 185.]\n\n[Footnote 152: \"In all cases,\" says Jeremy Bentham, \"when the power of the will can\nbe exercised over the thoughts, let those thoughts be directed towards\nhappiness. Look out for the bright, for the brightest side of things,\nand keep your face constantly turned to it.... A large part of existence\nis necessarily passed in inaction. By day [15to take an instance from the\nthousand in constant recurrence], when in attendance on others, and time\nis lost by being kept waiting; by night when sleep is unwilling to\nclose the eyelids, the economy of happiness recommends the occupation of\npleasurable thought. In walking abroad, or in resting at home, the mind\ncannot be vacant; its thoughts may be useful, useless, or pernicious to\nhappiness. Direct them aright; the habit of happy thought will spring up\nlike any other habit.\" DEONTOLOGY, ii. 105-6.]\n\n[Footnote 153: The following extract from a letter of M. Boyd, Esq., is given by\nEarl Stanhope in his 'Miscellanies':--\"There was a circumstance told me\nby the late Mr. Christmas, who for many years held an important official\nsituation in the Bank of England. He was, I believe, in early life a\nclerk in the Treasury, or one of the government offices, and for some\ntime acted for Mr. Pitt as his confidential clerk, or temporary private\nsecretary. Christmas was one of the most obliging men I ever knew; and,\nfrom the, position he occupied, was constantly exposed to interruptions,\nyet I never saw his temper in the least ruffled. One day I found him\nmore than usually engaged, having a mass of accounts to prepare for one\nof the law-courts--still the same equanimity, and I could not resist the\nopportunity of asking the old gentleman the secret. 'Well, Mr. Boyd,\nyou shall know it. Mr. Pitt gave it to me:--NOT TO LOSE MY TEMPER,\nIF POSSIBLE, AT ANY TIME, AND NEVER DURING THE HOURS OF BUSINESS. My\nlabours here [15Bank of England] commence at nine and end at three; and,\nacting on the advice of the illustrious statesman, I NEVER LOSE MY\nTEMPER DURING THOSE HOURS.'\"]\n\n[Footnote 154: 'Strafford Papers,' i. 87.]\n\n[Footnote 155: Jared Sparks' 'Life of Washington,' pp. 7, 534.]\n\n[Footnote 156: Brialmont's 'Life of Wellington.']\n\n[Footnote 157: Professor Tyndall, on 'Faraday as a Discoverer,' p. 156.]\n\n[Footnote 158: 'Life of Perthes,' ii. 216.]\n\n[Footnote 159: Lady Elizabeth Carew.]\n\n[Footnote 1510: Francis Horner, in one of his letters, says: \"It is among the\nvery sincere and zealous friends of liberty that you will find the most\nperfect specimens of wrongheadedness; men of a dissenting, provincial\ncast of virtue--who [15according to one of Sharpe's favourite phrases]\nWILL drive a wedge the broad end foremost--utter strangers to all\nmoderation in political business.\"--Francis Horner's LIFE AND\nCORRESPONDENCE [151843], ii. 133.]\n\n[Footnote 1511: Professor Tyndall on 'Faraday as a Discoverer,' pp. 40-1.]\n\n[Footnote 1512: Yet Burke himself; though capable of giving Barry such excellent\nadvice, was by no means immaculate as regarded his own temper. When\nhe lay ill at Beaconsfield, Fox, from whom he had become separated by\npolitical differences arising out of the French Revolution, went down\nto see his old friend. But Burke would not grant him an interview;\nhe positively refused to see him. On his return to town, Fox told his\nfriend Coke the result of his journey; and when Coke lamented Burke's\nobstinacy, Fox only replied, goodnaturedly: \"Ah! never mind, Tom; I\nalways find every Irishman has got a piece of potato in his head.\"\nYet Fox, with his usual generosity, when he heard of Burke's impending\ndeath, wrote a most kind and cordial letter to Mrs. Burke, expressive of\nhis grief and sympathy; and when Burke was no more, Fox was the first\nto propose that he should be interred with public honours in Westminster\nAbbey--which only Burke's own express wish, that he should be buried at\nBeaconsfield, prevented being carried out.]\n\n[Footnote 1513: When Curran, the Irish barrister, visited Burns's cabin in 1810, he\nfound it converted into a public house, and the landlord who showed it\nwas drunk. \"There,\" said he, pointing to a corner on one side of the\nfire, with a most MALAPROPOS laugh-\"there is the very spot where Robert\nBurns was born.\" \"The genius and the fate of the man,\" says Curran,\n\"were already heavy on my heart; but the drunken laugh of the landlord\ngave me such a view of the rock on which he had foundered, that I could\nnot stand it, but burst into tears.\"]\n\n[Footnote 1514: The chaplain of Horsemongerlane Gaol, in his annual report to the\nSurrey justices, thus states the result of his careful study of the\ncauses of dishonesty: \"From my experience of predatory crime, founded\nupon careful study of the character of a great variety of prisoners,\nI conclude that habitual dishonesty is to be referred neither to\nignorance, nor to drunkenness, nor to poverty, nor to overcrowding in\ntowns, nor to temptation from surrounding wealth--nor, indeed, to any\none of the many indirect causes to which it is sometimes referred--but\nmainly TO A DISPOSITION TO ACQUIRE PROPERTY WITH A LESS DEGREE OF LABOUR\nTHAN ORDINARY INDUSTRY.\" The italics are the author's.]\n\n[Footnote 1515: S. C. Hall's 'Memories.']\n\n[Footnote 1516: Moore's 'Life of Byron,' 8vo. Ed., p. 182.]\n\n[Footnote 1517: Captain Basil Hall records the following conversation with\nScott:-\"It occurs to me,\" I observed, \"that people are apt to make too\nmuch fuss about the loss of fortune, which is one of the smallest of the\ngreat evils of life, and ought to be among the most tolerable.\"--\"Do you\ncall it a small misfortune to be ruined in money-matters?\" he asked.\n\"It is not so painful, at all events, as the loss of friends.\"--\"I grant\nthat,\" he said. \"As the loss of character?\"--\"True again.\" \"As the loss\nof health?\"--\"Ay, there you have me,\" he muttered to himself, in a\ntone so melancholy that I wished I had not spoken. \"What is the loss of\nfortune to the loss of peace of mind?\" I continued. \"In short,\" said he,\nplayfully, \"you will make it out that there is no harm in a man's being\nplunged over-head-and-ears in a debt he cannot remove.\" \"Much depends,\nI think, on how it was incurred, and what efforts are made to redeem\nit--at least, if the sufferer be a rightminded man.\" \"I hope it does,\"\nhe said, cheerfully and firmly.--FRAGMENTS OF VOYAGES AND TRAVELS, 3rd\nseries, pp. 308-9.]\n\n[Footnote 1518: \"These battles,\" he wrote in his Diary, \"have been the death of\nmany a man, I think they will be mine.\"]\n\n[Footnote 1519: Scott's Diary, December 17th, 1827.]\n\n[Footnote 161: From Lovelace's lines to Lucusta [16Lucy Sacheverell], 'Going to the\nWars.']\n\n[Footnote 162: Amongst other great men of genius, Ariosto and Michael Angelo\ndevoted to her their service and their muse.]\n\n[Footnote 163: See the Rev. F. W. Farrar's admirable book, entitled 'Seekers after\nGod' [16Sunday Library]. The author there says: \"Epictetus was not a\nChristian. He has only once alluded to the Christians in his works, and\nthen it is under the opprobrious title of 'Galileans,' who practised a\nkind of insensibility in painful circumstances, and an indifference to\nworldly interests, which Epictetus unjustly sets down to 'mere habit.'\nUnhappily, it was not granted to these heathen philosophers in any true\nsense to know what Christianity was. They thought that it was an attempt\nto imitate the results of philosophy, without having passed through the\nnecessary discipline. They viewed it with suspicion, they treated it\nwith injustice. And yet in Christianity, and in Christianity alone,\nthey would have found an ideal which would have surpassed their loftiest\nanticipations.\"]\n\n[Footnote 164: Sparks' 'Life of Washington,' pp. 141-2.]\n\n[Footnote 165: Wellington, like Washington, had to pay the penalty of his adherence\nto the cause he thought right, in his loss of \"popularity.\" He was\nmobbed in the streets of London, and had his windows smashed by the mob,\nwhile his wife lay dead in the house. Sir Walter Scott also was hooted\nand pelted at Hawick by \"the people,\" amidst cries of \"Burke Sir\nWalter!\"]\n\n[Footnote 166: Robertson's 'Life and Letters,' ii. 157.]\n\n[Footnote 167: We select the following passages from this remarkable report of\nBaron Stoffel, as being of more than merely temporary interest:--Who\nthat has lived here [16Berlin] will deny that the Prussians are energetic,\npatriotic, and teeming with youthful vigour; that they are not corrupted\nby sensual pleasures, but are manly, have earnest convictions, do not\nthink it beneath them to reverence sincerely what is noble and lofty?\nWhat a melancholy contrast does France offer in all this? Having sneered\nat everything, she has lost the faculty of respecting anything.\nVirtue, family life, patriotism, honour, religion, are represented to a\nfrivolous generation as fitting subjects of ridicule. The theatres have\nbecome schools of shamelessness and obscenity. Drop by drop, poison is\ninstilled into the very core of an ignorant and enervated society, which\nhas neither the insight nor the energy left to amend its institutions,\nnor--which would be the most necessary step to take--become better\ninformed or more moral. One after the other the fine qualities of the\nnation are dying out. Where is the generosity, the loyalty, the charm of\nour ESPRIT, and our former elevation of soul? If this goes on, the\ntime will come when this noble race of France will be known only by its\nfaults. And France has no idea that while she is sinking, more earnest\nnations are stealing the march upon her, are distancing her on the\nroad to progress, and are preparing for her a secondary position in the\nworld.\n\n\"I am afraid that these opinions will not be relished in France. However\ncorrect, they differ too much from what is usually said and asserted at\nhome. I should wish some enlightened and unprejudiced Frenchmen to come\nto Prussia and make this country their study. They would soon discover\nthat they were living in the midst of a strong, earnest, and intelligent\nnation, entirely destitute, it is true, of noble and delicate feelings,\nof all fascinating charms, but endowed with every solid virtue, and\nalike distinguished for untiring industry, order, and economy, as well\nas for patriotism, a strong sense of duty, and that consciousness of\npersonal dignity which in their case is so happily blended with respect\nfor authority and obedience to the law. They would see a country with\nfirm, sound, and moral institutions, whose upper classes are worthy of\ntheir rank, and, by possessing the highest degree of culture,\ndevoting themselves to the service of the State, setting an example of\npatriotism, and knowing how to preserve the influence legitimately their\nown. They would find a State with an excellent administration where\neverything is in its right place, and where the most admirable order\nprevails in every branch of the social and political system. Prussia\nmay be well compared to a massive structure of lofty proportions and\nastounding solidity, which, though it has nothing to delight the eye\nor speak to the heart, cannot but impress us with its grand symmetry,\nequally observable in its broad foundations as in its strong and\nsheltering roof.\n\n\"And what is France? What is French society in these latter days? A\nhurly-burly of disorderly elements, all mixed and jumbled together; a\ncountry in which everybody claims the right to occupy the highest posts,\nyet few remember that a man to be employed in a responsible position\nought to have a well-balanced mind, ought to be strictly moral, to\nknow something of the world, and possess certain intellectual powers; a\ncountry in which the highest offices are frequently held by ignorant and\nuneducated persons, who either boast some special talent, or whose\nonly claim is social position and some versatility and address. What a\nbaneful and degrading state of things! And how natural that, while it\nlasts, France should be full of a people without a position, without a\ncalling, who do not know what to do with themselves, but are none the\nless eager to envy and malign every one who does....\n\n\"The French do not possess in any very marked degree the qualities\nrequired to render general conscription acceptable, or to turn it to\naccount. Conceited and egotistic as they are, the people would object\nto an innovation whose invigorating force they are unable to comprehend,\nand which cannot be carried out without virtues which they do not\npossess--self-abnegation, conscientious recognition of duty, and a\nwillingness to sacrifice personal interests to the loftier demands\nof the country. As the character of individuals is only improved by\nexperience, most nations require a chastisement before they set about\nreorganising their political institutions. So Prussia wanted a Jena to\nmake her the strong and healthy country she is.\"]\n\n[Footnote 168: Yet even in De Tocqueville's benevolent nature, there was a\npervading element of impatience. In the very letter in which the above\npassage occurs, he says: \"Some persons try to be of use to men while\nthey despise them, and others because they love them. In the services\nrendered by the first, there is always something incomplete, rough, and\ncontemptuous, that inspires neither confidence nor gratitude. I should\nlike to belong to the second class, but often I cannot. I love mankind\nin general, but I constantly meet with individuals whose baseness\nrevolts me. I struggle daily against a universal contempt for my fellow,\ncreatures.\"--MEMOIRS AND REMAINS OF DE TOCQUEVILLE, vol. i. p. 813.\n[Footnote 16Letter to Kergorlay, Nov. 13th, 1833].]\n\n[Footnote 169: Gleig's 'Life of Wellington,' pp. 314, 315.]\n\n[Footnote 1610: 'Life of Arnold,' i. 94.]\n\n[Footnote 1611: See the 'Memoir of George Wilson, M.D., F.R.S.E.' By his sister\n[Footnote 16Edinburgh, 1860].]\n\n[Footnote 1612: Such cases are not unusual. We personally knew a young lady, a\ncountrywoman of Professor Wilson, afflicted by cancer in the breast,\nwho concealed the disease from her parents lest it should occasion them\ndistress. An operation became necessary; and when the surgeons called\nfor the purpose of performing it, she herself answered the door,\nreceived them with a cheerful countenance, led them upstairs to her\nroom, and submitted to the knife; and her parents knew nothing of the\noperation until it was all over. But the disease had become too deeply\nseated for recovery, and the noble self-denying girl died, cheerful and\nuncomplaining to the end.\n\n[Footnote 1613: \"One night, about eleven o'clock, Keats returned home in a state\nof strange physical excitement--it might have appeared, to those who did\nnot know him, one of fierce intoxication. He told his friend he had\nbeen outside the stage-coach, had received a severe chill, was a little\nfevered, but added, 'I don't feel it now.' He was easily persuaded to go\nto bed, and as he leapt into the cold sheets, before his head was on\nthe pillow, he slightly coughed and said, 'That is blood from my mouth;\nbring me the candle; let me see this blood' He gazed steadfastly for\nsome moments at the ruddy stain, and then, looking in his friend's face\nwith an expression of sudden calmness never to be forgotten, said,\n'I know the colour of that blood--it is arterial blood. I cannot\nbe deceived in that colour; that drop is my death-warrant. I must\ndie!'\"--Houghton's LIFE OF KEATS, Ed. 1867, p. 289.\n\nIn the case of George Wilson, the bleeding was in the first instance\nfrom the stomach, though he afterwards suffered from lung haemorrhage\nlike Keats. Wilson afterwards, speaking of the Lives of Lamb and Keats,\nwhich had just appeared, said he had been reading them with great\nsadness. \"There is,\" said he, \"something in the noble brotherly love of\nCharles to brighten, and hallow, and relieve that sadness; but Keats's\ndeathbed is the blackness of midnight, unmitigated by one ray of light!\"]\n\n[Footnote 1614: On the doctors, who attended him in his first attack, mistaking the\nhaemorrhage from the stomach for haemorrhage from the lungs, he wrote:\n\"It would have been but poor consolation to have had as an epitaph:--\n\n      \"Here lies George Wilson,\n        Overtaken by Nemesis;\n      He died not of Haemoptysis,\n        But of Haematemesis.\"]\n\n[Footnote 1615: 'Memoir,' p. 427.]\n\n[Footnote 171: Jeremy Taylor's 'Holy Living.']\n\n[Footnote 172: 'Michelet's 'Life of Luther,' pp. 411-12.]\n\n[Footnote 173: Sir John Kaye's 'Lives of Indian Officers.']\n\n[Footnote 174: 'Deontology,' pp. 130-1, 144.]\n\n[Footnote 175: 'Letters and Essays,' p. 67.]\n\n[Footnote 176: 'Beauties of St. Francis de Sales.']\n\n[Footnote 177: Ibid.]\n\n[Footnote 178: 'Life of Perthes,' ii. 449.]\n\n[Footnote 179: Moore's 'Life of Byron,' 8vo. Ed., p. 483.]\n\n[Footnote 181: Locke thought it of greater importance that an educator of youth\nshould be well-bred and well-tempered, than that he should be either a\nthorough classicist or man of science. Writing to Lord Peterborough on\nhis son's education, Locke said: \"Your Lordship would have your son's\ntutor a thorough scholar, and I think it not much matter whether he be\nany scholar or no: if he but understand Latin well, and have a general\nscheme of the sciences, I think that enough. But I would have him\nWELL-BRED and WELL-TEMPERED.\"]\n\n[Footnote 182: Mrs. Hutchinson's 'Memoir of the Life of Lieut.-Colonel Hutchinson,'\np. 32.]\n\n[Footnote 183: 'Letters and Essays,' p. 59.]\n\n[Footnote 184: 'Lettres d'un Voyageur.']\n\n[Footnote 185: Sir Henry Taylor's 'Statesman,' p. 59.]\n\n[Footnote 186: Introduction to the 'Principal Speeches and Addresses of His Royal\nHighness the Prince Consort,' 1862.]\n\n[Footnote 187:\n\n    \"When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes,\n       I all alone beween my outcast state,\n    And troubled deaf heaven with my bootless cries,\n       And look upon myself and curse my fate;\n    WISHING ME LIKE TO ONE MORE RICH IN HOPE,\n       Featured like him, like him with friends possessed,\n    Desiring this man's art, and that man's scope,\n       With what I most enjoy, contented least;\n    Yet in these thoughts, MYSELF ALMOST DESPISING,\n       Haply I think on thee,\" &c.--SONNET XXIX.\n\n    \"So I, MADE LAME by sorrow's dearest spite,\" &c.--SONNET XXXVI]\n\n[Footnote 188: \"And strength, by LIMPING sway disabled,\" &c.--SONNET LXVI.\n\n    \"Speak of MY LAMENESS, and I straight will halt.\"--SONNET LXXXIX.]\n\n[Footnote 189:\n\n     \"Alas! 'tis true, I have gone here and there,\n       And MADE MYSELF A MOTLEY TO THE VIEW,\n     Gored mine own thoughts, sold cheap what is most dear,\n       Made old offences of affections new,\" &c.--SONNET CX.\n\n     \"Oh, for my sake do you with fortune chide!\n       The guilty goddess of my harmful deeds,\n     That did not better for my life provide,\n       THAN PUBLIC MEANS, WHICH PUBLIC MANNERS BREED;\n     Thence comes it that my name receives a brand,\n       And almost thence my nature is subdued,\n     To what it works in like the dyer's hand,\" &c.--SONNET CXI.]\n\n[Footnote 1810:\n\n     \"In our two loves there is but one respect,\n         Though in our loves a separable spite,\n     Which though it alter not loves sole effect;\n        Yet doth it steal sweet hours from love's delight,\n     I may not evermore acknowledge thee,\n        Lest MY BEWAILED GUILT SHOULD DO THEE SHAME.\"--SONNET XXXVI.]\n\n[Footnote 1811: It is related of Garrick, that when subpoenaed on Baretti's trial,\nand required to give his evidence before the court--though he had been\naccustomed for thirty years to act with the greatest self-possession in\nthe presence of thousands--he became so perplexed and confused, that he\nwas actually sent from the witness-box by the judge, as a man from whom\nno evidence could be obtained.]\n\n[Footnote 1812: Mrs. Mathews' 'Life and Correspondence of Charles Mathews,' [18Ed.\n1860: p. 232.]\n\n[Footnote 1813: Archbishop Whately's 'Commonplace Book.']\n\n[Footnote 1814: Emerson is said to have had Nathaniel Hawthorne in his mind when\nwriting the following passage in his 'Society and Solitude:'--\"The most\nagreeable compliment you could pay him was, to imply that you had not\nobserved him in a house or a street where you had met him. Whilst\nhe suffered at being seen where he was, he consoled himself with the\ndelicious thought of the inconceivable number of places where he was\nnot. All he wished of his tailor was to provide that sober mean of\ncolour and cut which would never detain the eye for a moment.... He\nhad a remorse, running to despair, of his social GAUCHERIES, and walked\nmiles and miles to get the twitchings out of his face, and the starts\nand shrugs out of his arms and shoulders. 'God may forgive sins,' he\nsaid, 'but awkwardness has no forgiveness in heaven or earth.'\"]\n\n[Footnote 1815: In a series of clever articles in the REVUE DES DEUX MONDES,\nentitled, 'Six mille Lieues a toute Vapeur,' giving a description of his\ntravels in North America, Maurice Sand keenly observed the comparatively\nanti-social proclivities of the American compared with the Frenchman.\nThe one, he says, is inspired by the spirit of individuality, the other\nby the spirit of society. In America he sees the individual absorbing\nsociety; as in France he sees society absorbing the individual. \"Ce\npeuple Anglo-Saxon,\" he says, \"qui trouvait devant lui la terre,\nl'instrument de travail, sinon inepuisable, du mons inepuise, s'est mis\na l'exploiter sous l'inspiration de l'egoisme; et nous autres Francais,\nnous n'avons rien su en faire, parceque NOUS NE POUVONS RIEN DANS\nL'ISOLEMENT.... L'Americain supporte la solitude avec un stoicisme\nadmirable, mais effrayant; il ne l'aime pas, il ne songe qu'a la\ndetruire.... Le Francais est tout autre. Il aime son parent, son ami,\nson compagnon, et jusqu'a son voisin d'omnibus ou de theatre, si sa\nfigure lui est sympathetique. Pourquoi? Parce qu'il le regarde et\ncherche son ame, parce qu'il vit dans son semblable autant qu'en\nlui-meme. Quand il est longtemps seul, il deperit, et quand il est\ntoujours seul, it meurt.\"]\n\nAll this is perfectly true, and it explains why the comparatively\nunsociable Germans, English, and Americans, are spreading over the\nearth, while the intensely sociable Frenchmen, unable to enjoy life\nwithout each other's society, prefer to stay at home, and France fails\nto extend itself beyond France.]\n\n\n[Footnote 1816: The Irish have, in many respects, the same strong social instincts\nas the French. In the United States they cluster naturally in the towns,\nwhere they have their \"Irish Quarters,\" as in England. They are even\nmore Irish there than at home, and can no more forget that they are\nIrishmen than the French can that they are Frenchmen. \"I deliberately\nassert,\" says Mr. Maguire, in his recent work on 'The Irish in America,'\n\"that it is not within the power of language to describe adequately,\nmuch less to exaggerate, the evils consequent on the unhappy tendency\nof the Irish to congregate in the large towns of America.\" It is this\nintense socialism of the Irish that keeps them in a comparatively\nhand-to-mouth condition in all the States of the Union.]\n\n[Footnote 1817: 'The Statesman,' p. 35.]\n\n[Footnote 1818: Nathaniel Hawthorne, in his 'First Impressions of France and\nItaly,' says his opinion of the uncleanly character of the modern Romans\nis so unfavourable that he hardly knows how to express it \"But the\nfact is that through the Forum, and everywhere out of the commonest\nfoot-track and roadway, you must look well to your steps.... Perhaps\nthere is something in the minds of the people of these countries that\nenables them to dissever small ugliness from great sublimity and beauty.\nThey spit upon the glorious pavement of St. Peter's, and wherever else\nthey like; they place paltry-looking wooden confessionals beneath its\nsublime arches, and ornament them with cheap little coloured prints of\nthe Crucifixion; they hang tin hearts, and other tinsel and trumpery, at\nthe gorgeous shrines of the saints, in chapels that are encrusted with\ngems, or marbles almost as precious; they put pasteboard statues of\nsaints beneath the dome of the Pantheon;--in short, they let the\nsublime and the ridiculous come close together, and are not in the least\ntroubled by the proximity.\"]\n\n[Footnote 1819: Edwin Chadwick's 'Address to the Economic Science and Statistic\nSection,' British Association [18Meeting, 1862].]\n\n[Footnote 191: 'Kaye's 'Lives of Indian Officers.']\n\n[Footnote 192: Emerson, in his 'Society and Solitude,' says \"In contemporaries, it\nis not so easy to distinguish between notoriety and fame. Be sure, then,\nto read no mean books. Shun the spawn of the press or the gossip of the\nhour.... The three practical rules I have to offer are these:--1. Never\nread a book that is not a year old; 2. Never read any but famed books;\n3. Never read any but what you like.\" Lord Lytton's maxim is: \"In\nscience, read by preference the newest books; in literature, the\noldest.\"]\n\n[Footnote 193: A friend of Sir Walter Scott, who had the same habit, and prided\nhimself on his powers of conversation, one day tried to \"draw out\" a\nfellow-passenger who sat beside him on the outside of a coach, but\nwith indifferent success. At length the conversationalist descended to\nexpostulation. \"I have talked to you, my friend,\" said he, \"on all the\nordinary subjects--literature, farming, merchandise, gaming, game-laws,\nhorse-races, suits at law, politics, and swindling, and blasphemy, and\nphilosophy: is there any one subject that you will favour me by opening\nupon?\" The wight writhed his countenance into a grin: \"Sir,\" said he,\n\"can you say anything clever about BEND-LEATHER?\" As might be expected,\nthe conversationalist was completely nonplussed.]\n\n[Footnote 194: Coleridge, in his 'Lay Sermon,' points out, as a fact of history,\nhow large a part of our present knowledge and civilization is owing,\ndirectly or indirectly, to the Bible; that the Bible has been the main\nlever by which the moral and intellectual character of Europe has been\nraised to its present comparative height; and he specifies the marked\nand prominent difference of this book from the works which it is the\nfashion to quote as guides and authorities in morals, politics, and\nhistory. \"In the Bible,\" he says, \"every agent appears and acts as a\nself-substituting individual: each has a life of its own, and yet all\nare in life. The elements of necessity and freewill are reconciled in\nthe higher power of an omnipresent Providence, that predestinates the\nwhole in the moral freedom of the integral parts. Of this the Bible\nnever suffers us to lose sight. The root is never detached from\nthe ground, it is God everywhere; and all creatures conform to His\ndecrees--the righteous by performance of the law, the disobedient by the\nsufferance of the penalty.\"]\n\n[Footnote 195: Montaigne's Essay [19Book I. chap. xxv.]--'Of the Education of\nChildren.']\n\n[Footnote 196: \"Tant il est vrai,\" says Voltaire, \"que les hommes, qui sont\naudessus des autres par les talents, s'en RAPPROCHENT PRESQUE TOUJOURS\nPAR LES FAIBLESSES; car pourquoi les talents nous mettraient-ils\naudessous de l'humanite.\"--VIE DE MOLIERE.]\n\n[Footnote 197: 'Life,' 8vo Ed., p. 102.]\n\n[Footnote 198: 'Autobiography of Sir Egerton Brydges, Bart.,' vol. i. p. 91.]\n\n[Footnote 199: It was wanting in Plutarch, in Southey [19'Life of Nelson'], and in\nForster [19'Life of Goldsmith']; yet it must be acknowledged that personal\nknowledge gives the principal charm to Tacitus's 'Agricola,' Roper's\n'Life of More,' Johnson's 'Lives of Savage and Pope,' Boswell's\n'Johnson,' Lockhart's 'Scott,' Carlyle's 'Sterling,' and Moore's\n'Byron,']\n\n[Footnote 1910: The 'Dialogus Novitiorum de Contemptu Mundi.']\n\n[Footnote 1911: The Life of Sir Charles Bell, one of our greatest physiologists,\nwas left to be written by Amedee Pichot, a Frenchman; and though Sir\nCharles Bell's letters to his brother have since been published, his\nLife still remains to be written. It may also be added that the best\nLife of Goethe has been written by an Englishman, and the best Life of\nFrederick the Great by a Scotchman.]\n\n[Footnote 1912: It is not a little remarkable that the pious Schleiermacher should\nhave concurred in opinion with Goethe as to the merits of Spinoza,\nthough he was a man excommunicated by the Jews, to whom he belonged, and\ndenounced by the Christians as a man little better than an atheist. \"The\nGreat Spirit of the world,\" says Schleiermacher, in his REDE UBER DIE\nRELIGION, \"penetrated the holy but repudiated Spinoza; the Infinite was\nhis beginning and his end; the universe his only and eternal love. He\nwas filled with religion and religious feeling: and therefore is it\nthat he stands alone unapproachable, the master in his art, but\nelevated above the profane world, without adherents, and without even\ncitizenship.\"]\n\nCousin also says of Spinoza:--\"The author whom this pretended atheist\nmost resembles is the unknown author of 'The Imitation of Jesus\nChrist.'\"]\n\n[Footnote 1913: Preface to Southeys 'Life of Wesley' [191864].]\n\n[Footnote 1914: Napoleon also read Milton carefully, and it has been related of\nhim by Sir Colin Campbell, who resided with Napoleon at Elba, that\nwhen speaking of the Battle of Austerlitz, he said that a particular\ndisposition of his artillery, which, in its results, had a decisive\neffect in winning the battle, was suggested to his mind by the\nrecollection of four lines in Milton. The lines occur in the sixth book,\nand are descriptive of Satan's artifice during the war with Heaven.\n\n                \"In hollow cube\n       Training his devilish engin'ry, impal'd\n       On every side WITH SHADOWING SQUADRONS DEEP\n       TO HIDE THE FRAUD.\"\n\n\"The indubitable fact,\" says Mr. Edwards, in his book 'On Libraries,'\n\"that these lines have a certain appositeness to an important manoeuvre\nat Austerlitz, gives an independent interest to the story; but it is\nhighly imaginative to ascribe the victory to that manoeuvre. And for\nthe other preliminaries of the tale, it is unfortunate that Napoleon had\nlearned a good deal about war long before he had learned anything about\nMilton.\"]\n\n[Footnote 1915: 'Biographia Literaria,' chap. i.]\n\n[Footnote 1916: Sir John Bowring's 'Memoirs of Bentham,' p. 10.]\n\n[Footnote 1917: Notwithstanding recent censures of classical studies as a useless\nwaste of time, there can be no doubt that they give the highest\nfinish to intellectual culture. The ancient classics contain the most\nconsummate models of literary art; and the greatest writers have been\ntheir most diligent students. Classical culture was the instrument with\nwhich Erasmus and the Reformers purified Europe. It distinguished\nthe great patriots of the seventeenth century; and it has ever since\ncharacterised our greatest statesmen. \"I know not how it is,\" says an\nEnglish writer, \"but their commerce with the ancients appears to me to\nproduce, in those who constantly practise it, a steadying and composing\neffect upon their judgment, not of literary works only, but of men and\nevents in general. They are like persons who have had a weighty and\nimpressive experience; they are more truly than others under the empire\nof facts, and more independent of the language current among those with\nwhom they live.\"]\n\n[Footnote 1918: Hazlitt's TABLE TALK: 'On Thought and Action.']\n\n[Footnote 201: Mungo Park declared that he was more affected by this incident than\nby any other that befel him in the course of his travels. As he lay\ndown to sleep on the mat spread for him on the floor of the hut, his\nbenefactress called to the female part of the family to resume their\ntask of spinning cotton, in which they continued employed far into the\nnight. \"They lightened their labour with songs,\" says the traveller,\n\"one of which was composed extempore, for I was myself the subject of\nit; it was sung by one of the young women, the rest joining in a chorus.\nThe air was sweet and plaintive, and the words, literally translated,\nwere these: 'The winds roared, and the rains fell. The poor white man,\nfaint and weary, came and sat under our tree. He has no mother to bring\nhim milk, no wife to grind his corn.' Chorus--'Let us pity the white\nman, no mother has he!' Trifling as this recital may appear, to a person\nin my situation the circumstance was affecting in the highest degree. I\nwas so oppressed by such unexpected kindness, that sleep fled before my\neyes.\"]\n\n[Footnote 202: 'Transformation, or Monte Beni.']\n\n[Footnote 203: 'Portraits Contemporains,' iii. 519.]\n\n[Footnote 204: Mr. Arthur Helps, in one of his Essays, has wisely said: \"You\nobserve a man becoming day by day richer, or advancing in station,\nor increasing in professional reputation, and you set him down as a\nsuccessful man in life. But if his home is an ill-regulated one,\nwhere no links of affection extend throughout the family--whose former\ndomestics [20and he has had more of them than he can well remember] look\nback upon their sojourn with him as one unblessed by kind words or\ndeeds--I contend that that man has not been successful. Whatever good\nfortune he may have in the world, it is to be remembered that he has\nalways left one important fortress untaken behind him. That man's life\ndoes not surely read well whose benevolence has found no central home.\nIt may have sent forth rays in various directions, but there should have\nbeen a warm focus of love--that home-nest which is formed round a good\nmans heart.\"--CLAIMS OF LABOUR.]\n\n[Footnote 205: \"The red heart sends all its instincts up to the white brain, to be\nanalysed, chilled, blanched, and so become pure reason--which is just\nexactly what we do NOT want of women as women. The current should run\nthe other way. The nice, calm, cold thought, which, in women, shapes\nitself so rapidly that they hardly know it as thought, should always\ntravel to the lips VIA the heart. It does so in those women whom\nall love and admire.... The brain-women never interest us like the\nheart-women; white roses please less than red.\"--THE PROFESSOR AT THE\nBREAKFAST TABLE, by Oliver Wendell Holmes.]\n\n[Footnote 206: 'The War and General Culture,' 1871.]\n\n[Footnote 207: \"Depend upon it, men set more value on the cultivated minds than on\nthe accomplishments of women, which they are rarely able to appreciate.\nIt is a common error, but it is an error, that literature unfits women\nfor the everyday business of life. It is not so with men. You see\nthose of the most cultivated minds constantly devoting their time and\nattention to the most homely objects. Literature gives women a real\nand proper weight in society, but then they must use it with\ndiscretion.\"--THE REV. SYDNEY SMITH.]\n\n[Footnote 208: 'The Statesman,' pp. 73-75.]\n\n[Footnote 209: Fuller, the Church historian, with his usual homely mother-wit,\nspeaking of the choice of a wife, said briefly, \"Take the daughter of a\ngood mother.\"]\n\n[Footnote 2010: She was an Englishwoman--a Miss Motley. It maybe mentioned that\namongst other distinguished Frenchmen who have married English wives,\nwere Sismondi, Alfred de Vigny, and Lamartine.]\n\n[Footnote 2011: \"Plus je roule dans ce monde, et plus je suis amene a penser qu'il\nn'y a que le bonheur domestique qui signifie quelque chose.\"--OEUVRES ET\nCORRESPONDENCE.]\n\n[Footnote 2012: De Tocqueville's 'Memoir and Remains,' vol. i. p. 408.]\n\n[Footnote 2013: De Tocqueville's 'Memoir and Remains,' vol. ii. p. 48.]\n\n[Footnote 2014: Colonel Hutchinson was an uncompromising republican, thoroughly\nbrave, highminded, and pious. At the Restoration, he was discharged from\nParliament, and from all offices of state for ever. He retired to his\nestate at Owthorp, near Nottingham, but was shortly after arrested and\nimprisoned in the Tower. From thence he was removed to Sandown Castle,\nnear Deal, where he lay for eleven months, and died on September\n11th, 1664. The wife petitioned for leave to share his prison, but was\nrefused. When he felt himself dying, knowing the deep sorrow which\nhis death would occasion to his wife, he left this message, which was\nconveyed to her: \"Let her, as she is above other women, show herself on\nthis occasion a good Christian, and above the pitch of ordinary women.\"\nHence the wife's allusion to her husband's \"command\" in the above\npassage.]\n\n[Footnote 2015: Mrs. Lucy Hutchinson to her children concerning their father:\n'Memoirs of the Life of Col. Hutchinson' [20Bohn's Ed.], pp. 29-30.]\n\n[Footnote 2016: On the Declaration of American Independence, the first John Adams,\nafterwards President of the United States, bought a copy of the 'Life\nand Letters of Lady Russell,' and presented it to his wife, \"with an\nexpress intent and desire\" [20as stated by himself], \"that she should\nconsider it a mirror in which to contemplate herself; for, at that time,\nI thought it extremely probable, from the daring and dangerous career\nI was determined to run, that she would one day find herself in the\nsituation of Lady Russell, her husband without a head:\" Speaking of his\nwife in connection with the fact, Mr. Adams added: \"Like Lady Russell,\nshe never, by word or look, discouraged me from running all hazards for\nthe salvation of my country's liberties. She was willing to share\nwith me, and that her children should share with us both, in all the\ndangerous consequences we had to hazard.\"]\n\n[Footnote 2017: 'Memoirs of the Life of Sir Samuel Romily,' vol. i. p. 41.]\n\n[Footnote 2018: It is a singular circumstance that in the parish church of St.\nBride, Fleet Street, there is a tablet on the wall with an inscription\nto the memory of Isaac Romilly, F.R.S., who died in 1759, of a broken\nheart, seven days after the decease of a beloved wife--CHAMBERS' BOOK OF\nDAYS, vol. ii. p. 539.]\n\n[Footnote 2019: Mr. Frank Buckland says \"During the long period that Dr. Buckland\nwas engaged in writing the book which I now have the honour of editing,\nmy mother sat up night after night, for weeks and months consecutively,\nwriting to my father's dictation; and this often till the sun's rays,\nshining through the shutters at early morn, warned the husband to cease\nfrom thinking, and the wife to rest her weary hand. Not only with her\npen did she render material assistance, but her natural talent in\nthe use of her pencil enabled her to give accurate illustrations and\nfinished drawings, many of which are perpetuated in Dr. Buckland's\nworks. She was also particularly clever and neat in mending broken\nfossils; and there are many specimens in the Oxford Museum, now\nexhibiting their natural forms and beauty, which were restored by\nher perseverance to shape from a mass of broken and almost comminuted\nfragments.\"]\n\n[Footnote 2020: Veitch's 'Memoirs of Sir William Hamilton.']\n\n[Footnote 2021: The following extract from Mr. Veitch's biography will give one an\nidea of the extraordinary labours of Lady Hamilton, to whose unfailing\ndevotion to the service of her husband the world of intellect has been\nso much indebted: \"The number of pages in her handwriting,\" says Mr.\nVeitch,--\"filled with abstruse metaphysical matter, original and quoted,\nbristling with proportional and syllogistic formulae--that are still\npreserved, is perfectly marvellous. Everything that was sent to the\npress, and all the courses of lectures, were written by her, either to\ndictation, or from a copy. This work she did in the truest spirit of\nlove and devotion. She had a power, moreover, of keeping her husband up\nto what he had to do. She contended wisely against a sort of energetic\nindolence which characterised him, and which, while he was always\nlabouring, made him apt to put aside the task actually before\nhim--sometimes diverted by subjects of inquiry suggested in the course\nof study on the matter in hand, sometimes discouraged by the difficulty\nof reducing to order the immense mass of materials he had accumulated\nin connection with it. Then her resolution and cheerful disposition\nsustained and refreshed him, and never more so than when, during the\nlast twelve years of his life, his bodily strength was broken, and his\nspirit, though languid, yet ceased not from mental toil. The truth is,\nthat Sir William's marriage, his comparatively limited circumstances,\nand the character of his wife, supplied to a nature that would have been\ncontented to spend its mighty energies in work that brought no reward\nbut in the doing of it, and that might never have been made publicly\nknown or available, the practical force and impulse which enabled him\nto accomplish what he actually did in literature and philosophy. It was\nthis influence, without doubt, which saved him from utter absorption\nin his world of rare, noble, and elevated, but ever-increasingly\nunattainable ideas. But for it, the serene sea of abstract thought might\nhave held him becalmed for life; and in the absence of all utterance of\ndefinite knowledge of his conclusions, the world might have been left to\nan ignorant and mysterious wonder about the unprofitable scholar.\"]\n\n[Footnote 211: 'Calcutta Review,' article on 'Romance and Reality of Indian Life.']\n\n[Footnote 212: Joseph Lancaster was only twenty years of age when [21in 1798: he\nopened his first school in a spare room in his father's house, which was\nsoon filled with the destitute children of the neighbourhood. The room\nwas shortly found too small for the numbers seeking admission, and one\nplace after another was hired, until at length Lancaster had a special\nbuilding erected, capable of accommodating a thousand pupils; outside of\nwhich was placed the following notice:--\"All that will, may send their\nchildren here, and have them educated freely; and those that do not\nwish to have education for nothing, may pay for it if they please.\" Thus\nJoseph Lancaster was the precursor of our present system of National\nEducation.]\n\n[Footnote 213: A great musician once said of a promising but passionless\ncantatrice--\"She sings well, but she wants something, and in that\nsomething everything. If I were single, I would court her; I would marry\nher; I would maltreat her; I would break her heart; and in six months\nshe would be the greatest singer in Europe!\"--BLACKWOOD'S MAGAZINE.]\n\n[Footnote 214: Prescot's 'Essays,' art. Cervantes.]\n\n[Footnote 215: A cavalier, named Ruy de Camera, having called upon Camoens to\nfurnish a poetical version of the seven penitential psalms, the poet,\nraising his head from his miserable pallet, and pointing to his faithful\nslave, exclaimed: \"Alas! when I was a poet, I was young, and happy, and\nblest with the love of ladies; but now, I am a forlorn deserted wretch!\nSee--there stands my poor Antonio, vainly supplicating FOURPENCE to\npurchase a little coals. I have not them to give him!\" The cavalier,\nSousa quaintly relates, in his 'Life of Camoens,' closed his heart\nand his purse, and quitted the room. Such were the grandees of\nPortugal!--Lord Strangford's REMARKS ON THE LIFE AND WRITINGS OF\nCAMOENS, 1824.]\n\n[Footnote 216: See chapter v. p. 125.]\n\n[Footnote 217: A Quaker called on Bunyan one day with \"a message from the Lord,\"\nsaying he had been to half the gaols of England, and was glad at last\nto have found him. To which Bunyan replied: \"If the Lord sent thee, you\nwould not have needed to take so much trouble to find me out, for He\nknew that I have been in Bedford Gaol these seven years past.\"]\n\n[Footnote 218: Prynne, besides standing in the pillory and having his ears cut off,\nwas imprisoned by turns in the Tower, Mont Orgueil [21Jersey], Dunster\nCastle, Taunton Castle, and Pendennis Castle. He after-wards pleaded\nzealously for the Restoration, and was made Keeper of the Records\nby Charles II. It has been computed that Prynne wrote, compiled, and\nprinted about eight quarto pages for every working-day of his life, from\nhis reaching man's estate to the day of his death. Though his books\nwere for the most part appropriated by the trunkmakers, they now command\nalmost fabulous prices, chiefly because of their rarity.]\n\n[Footnote 219: He also projected his 'Review' in prison--the first periodical of\nthe kind, which pointed the way to the host of 'Tatlers,' 'Guardians,'\nand 'Spectators,' which followed it. The 'Review' consisted of 102\nnumbers, forming nine quarto volumes, all of which were written by De\nFoe himself, while engaged in other and various labours.]\n\n[Footnote 2110: A passage in the Earl of Carlisles Lecture on Pope--'Heaven was\nmade for those who have failed in this world'--struck me very forcibly\nseveral years ago when I read it in a newspaper, and became a rich vein\nof thought, in which I often quarried, especially when the sentence\nwas interpreted by the Cross, which was failure apparently.\"--LIFE AND\nLETTERS OF ROBERTSON [21of Brighton], ii. 94.]\n\n[Footnote 2111:\n\n      \"Not all who seem to fail, have failed indeed;\n      Not all who fail have therefore worked in vain:\n      For all our acts to many issues lead;\n      And out of earnest purpose, pure and plain,\n      Enforced by honest toil of hand or brain,\n      The Lord will fashion, in His own good time,\n      [21Be this the labourer's proudly-humble creed,]\n      Such ends as, to His wisdom, fitliest chime\n      With His vast love's eternal harmonies.\n      There is no failure for the good and wise:\n      What though thy seed should fall by the wayside\n      And the birds snatch it;--yet the birds are fed;\n      Or they may bear it far across the tide,\n      To give rich harvests after thou art dead.\"\n                      POLITICS FOR THE PEOPLE, 1848.]\n\n[Footnote 2112: \"What is it,\" says Mr. Helps, \"that promotes the most and the\ndeepest thought in the human race? It is not learning; it is not the\nconduct of business; it is not even the impulse of the affections. It\nis suffering; and that, perhaps, is the reason why there is so much\nsuffering in the world. The angel who went down to trouble the waters\nand to make them healing, was not, perhaps, entrusted with so great\na boon as the angel who benevolently inflicted upon the sufferers the\ndisease from which they suffered.\"--BREVIA.]\n\n[Footnote 2113: These lines were written by Deckar, in a spirit of boldness equal\nto its piety. Hazlitt has or said of them, that they \"ought to\nembalm his memory to every one who has a sense either of religion, or\nphilosophy, or humanity, or true genius.\"]\n\n[Footnote 2114: Reboul, originally a baker of Nismes, was the author of many\nbeautiful poems--amongst others, of the exquisite piece known in this\ncountry by its English translation, entitled 'The Angel and the Child.']\n\n[Footnote 2115: 'Cornhill Magazine,' vol. xvi. p. 322.]\n\n[Footnote 2116: 'Holy Living and Dying,' ch. ii. sect. 6.]\n\n[Footnote 2117: Ibid., ch. iii. sect. 6.]\n\n[Footnote 2118: Gibbon's 'Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire,' vol. x. p. 40.]","title":"Character","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":118240}