{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_56020/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_56020","id":"gutenberg_56020","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/56020","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Conduct of life"],"text":"The Power of Truth\n\n\n\n\n                                  THE\n                            POWER\u00b7OF\u00b7TRUTH\n\n                          INDIVIDUAL\u00b7PROBLEMS\n                           AND\u00b7POSSIBILITIES\n\n                                  BY\n                         WILLIAM\u00b7GEORGE\u00b7JORDAN\n\n                               NEW YORK\n                              BRENTANO'S\n\n\n\n\n                   _Copyright, 1902, by Brentano's_\n\n                       _Published August, 1902_\n\n                     _Second Edition, April, 1904_\n                    _Third Edition, February, 1908_\n                   _Fourth Edition, November, 1908_\n                     _Fifth Edition, August, 1911_\n                    _Sixth Edition, February, 1913_\n                   _Seventh Edition, February, 1916_\n\n           THE UNIVERSITY PRESS, CAMBRIDGE, MASS., U. S. A.\n\n\n\n\nContents\n\n\n  _The Power of Truth_                     1\n\n  _The Courage to Face Ingratitude_       23\n\n  _People who Live in Air Castles_        41\n\n  _Swords and Scabbards_                  59\n\n  _The Conquest of the Preventable_       75\n\n  _The Companionship of Tolerance_        95\n\n  _The Things that Come too Late_        115\n\n  _The Way of the Reformer_              133\n\n\n\n\n  The Power of Truth\n  WILLIAM GEORGE JORDAN\n\n\n\n\nThe Power of Truth\n\n\nTruth is the rock foundation of every great character. It is loyalty to\nthe right as we see it; it is courageous living of our lives in harmony\nwith our ideals; it is always\u2014power.\n\nTruth ever defies full definition. Like electricity it can only be\nexplained by noting its manifestation. It is the compass of the soul,\nthe guardian of conscience, the final touchstone of right. Truth is the\nrevelation of the ideal; but it is also an inspiration to realize that\nideal, a constant impulse to live it.\n\nLying is one of the oldest vices in the world\u2014it made its d\u00e9but in\nthe first recorded conversation in history, in a famous interview in\nthe garden of Eden. Lying is the sacrifice of honor to create a wrong\nimpression. It is masquerading in misfit virtues. Truth can stand\nalone, for it needs no chaperone or escort. Lies are cowardly, fearsome\nthings that must travel in battalions. They are like a lot of drunken\nmen, one vainly seeking to support another. Lying is the partner and\naccomplice of all the other vices. It is the cancer of moral degeneracy\nin an individual life.\n\nTruth is the oldest of all the virtues; it antedated man, it lived\nbefore there was man to perceive it or to accept it. It is the\nunchangeable, the constant. Law is the eternal truth of Nature\u2014the\nunity that always produces identical results under identical\nconditions. When a man discovers a great truth in Nature he has the key\nto the understanding of a million phenomena; when he grasps a great\ntruth in morals he has in it the key to his spiritual re-creation. For\nthe individual, there is no such thing as theoretic truth; a great\ntruth that is not absorbed by our whole mind and life, and has not\nbecome an inseparable part of our living, is not a real truth to us. If\nwe know the truth and do not live it, our life is\u2014a lie.\n\nIn speech, the man who makes Truth his watchword is careful in his\nwords, he seeks to be accurate, neither understating nor over-coloring.\nHe never states as a fact that of which he is not sure. What he says\nhas the ring of sincerity, the hallmark of pure gold. If he praises\nyou, you accept his statement as \"net,\" you do not have to work out\na problem in mental arithmetic on the side to see what discount you\nought to make before you accept his judgment. His promise counts for\nsomething, you accept it as being as good as his bond, you know that no\nmatter how much it may cost him to verify and fulfil his word by his\ndeed, he will do it. His honesty is not policy. The man who is honest\nmerely because it is \"the best policy,\" is not really honest, he is\nonly politic. Usually such a man would forsake his seeming loyalty to\ntruth and would work overtime for the devil\u2014if he could get better\nterms.\n\nTruth means \"that which one troweth or believes.\" It is living simply\nand squarely by our belief; it is the externalizing of a faith in a\nseries of actions. Truth is ever strong, courageous, virile, though\nkindly, gentle, calm, and restful. There is a vital difference between\nerror and untruthfulness. A man may be in error and yet live bravely by\nit; he who is untruthful in his life knows the truth but denies it. The\none is loyal to what he believes, the other is traitor to what he knows.\n\n\"What is Truth?\" Pilate's great question, asked of Christ nearly two\nthousand years ago, has echoed unanswered through the ages. We get\nconstant revelations of parts of it, glimpses of constantly new phases,\nbut never complete, final definition. If we but live up to the truth\nthat we know, and seek ever to know more, we have put ourselves into\nthe spiritual attitude of receptiveness to know Truth in the fullness\nof its power. Truth is the sun of morality, and like that lesser sun\nin the heavens, we can walk by its light, live in its warmth and life,\neven if we see but a small part of it and receive but a microscopic\nfraction of its rays.\n\nWhich of the great religions of the world is the real, the final, the\nabsolute truth? We must make our individual choice and live by it as\nbest we can. Every new sect, every new cult, has in it a grain of\ntruth, at least; it is this that attracts attention and wins adherents.\nThis mustard seed of truth is often overestimated, darkening the eyes\nof man to the untrue parts or phases of the varying religious faiths.\nBut, in exact proportion to the basic truth they contain do religions\nlast, become permanent and growing, and satisfy and inspire the hearts\nof men. Mushrooms of error have a quick growth, but they exhaust their\nvitality and die, while Truth still lives.\n\nThe man who makes the acquisition of wealth the goal and ultimatum of\nhis life, seeing it as an end rather than a means to an end, is not\ntrue. Why does the world usually make wealth the criterion of success,\nand riches the synonym of attainment? Real success in life means\nthe individual's conquest of himself; it means \"how he has bettered\nhimself\" not \"how he has bettered his fortune.\" The great question of\nlife is not \"What have I?\" but \"What am I?\"\n\nMan is usually loyal to what he most desires. The man who lies to save\na nickel, merely proclaims that he esteems a nickel more than he does\nhis honor. He who sacrifices his ideals, truth and character, for mere\nmoney or position, is weighing his conscience in one pan of a scale\nagainst a bag of gold in the other. He is loyal to what he finds the\nheavier, that which he desires the more\u2014the money. But this is not\ntruth. Truth is the heart's loyalty to abstract right, made manifest in\nconcrete instances.\n\nThe tradesman who lies, cheats, misleads and overcharges and then\nseeks to square himself with his an\u00e6mic conscience by saying, \"lying\nis absolutely necessary to business,\" is as untrue in his statement as\nhe is in his acts. He justifies himself with the petty defence as the\nthief who says it is necessary to steal in order to live. The permanent\nbusiness prosperity of an individual, a city or a nation rests finally\non commercial integrity alone, despite all that the cynics may say,\nor all the exceptions whose temporary success may mislead them. It is\ntruth alone that lasts.\n\nThe politician who is vacillating, temporizing, shifting, constantly\ntrimming his sails to catch every puff of wind of popularity, is a\ntrickster who succeeds only until he is found out. A lie may live for\na time, truth for all time. A lie never lives by its own vitality,\nit merely continues to exist because it simulates truth. When it is\nunmasked, it dies.\n\nWhen each of four newspapers in one city puts forth the claim that\nits circulation is larger than all the others combined, there must be\nan error somewhere. Where there is untruth there is always conflict,\ndiscrepancy, impossibility. If all the truths of life and experience\nfrom the first second of time, or for any section of eternity, were\nbrought together, there would be perfect harmony, perfect accord, union\nand unity, but if two lies come together, they quarrel and seek to\ndestroy each other.\n\nIt is in the trifles of daily life that truth should be our constant\nguide and inspiration. Truth is not a dress-suit, consecrated to\nspecial occasions, it is the strong, well-woven, durable homespun for\ndaily living.\n\nThe man who forgets his promises is untrue. We rarely lose sight\nof those promises made to us for our individual benefit; these we\nregard as checks we always seek to cash at the earliest moment. \"The\nmiser never forgets where he hides his treasure,\" says one of the old\nphilosophers. Let us cultivate that sterling honor that holds our word\nso supreme, so sacred, that to forget it would seem a crime, to deny it\nwould be impossible.\n\nThe man who says pleasant things and makes promises which to him\nare light as air, but to someone else seem the rock upon which a\nlife's hope is built is cruelly untrue. He who does not regard\nhis appointments, carelessly breaking them or ignoring them, is\nthe thoughtless thief of another's time. It reveals selfishness,\ncarelessness, and lax business morals. It is untrue to the simplest\njustice of life.\n\nMen who split hairs with their conscience, who mislead others by\ndeft, shrewd phrasing which may be true in letter yet lying in spirit\nand designedly uttered to produce a false impression, are untruthful\nin the most cowardly way. Such men would cheat even in solitaire.\nLike murderers they forgive themselves their crime in congratulating\nthemselves on the cleverness of their alibi.\n\nThe parent who preaches honor to his child and gives false statistics\nabout the child's age to the conductor, to save a nickel, is not true.\n\nThe man who keeps his religion in camphor all week and who takes it out\nonly on Sunday, is not true. He who seeks to get the highest wages for\nthe least possible amount of service, is not true. The man who has to\nsing lullabies to his conscience before he himself can sleep, is not\ntrue.\n\nTruth is the straight line in morals. It is the shortest distance\nbetween a fact and the expression of it. The foundations of truth\nshould ever be laid in childhood. It is then that parents should instil\ninto the young mind the instant, automatic turning to truth, making it\nthe constant atmosphere of the mind and life. Let the child know that\n\"Truth above all things\" should be the motto of its life. Parents make\na great mistake when they look upon a lie as a disease in morals; it\nis not always a disease in itself, it is but a symptom. Behind every\nuntruth is some reason, some cause, and it is this cause that should\nbe removed. The lie may be the result of fear, the attempt to cover a\nfault and to escape punishment; it may be merely the evidence of an\nover-active imagination; it may reveal maliciousness or obstinacy; it\nmay be the hunger for praise that leads the child to win attention and\nto startle others by wonderful stories; it may be merely carelessness\nin speech, the reckless use of words; it may be acquisitiveness that\nmakes lying the handmaid of theft. But if, in the life of the child or\nthe adult, the symptom be made to reveal the disease, and that be then\ntreated, truth reasserts itself and the moral health is restored.\n\nConstantly telling a child not to lie is giving life and intensity\nto \"the lie.\" The true method is to quicken the moral muscles from\nthe positive side, urge the child to be honest, to be faithful, to\nbe loyal, to be fearless to the truth. Tell him ever of the nobility\nof courage to speak the true, to live the right, to hold fast to\nprinciples of honor in every trifle\u2014then he need never fear to face\nany of life's crises.\n\nThe parent must live truth or the child will not live it. The child\nwill startle you with its quickness in puncturing the bubble of your\npretended knowledge; in instinctively piercing the heart of a sophistry\nwithout being conscious of process; in relentlessly enumerating your\nunfulfilled promises; in detecting with the justice of a court of\nequity a technicality of speech that is virtually a lie. He will\njustify his own lapses from truth by appeal to some white lie told to\na visitor, and unknown to be overheard by the little one, whose mental\npowers we ever underestimate in theory though we may overpraise in\nwords.\n\nTeach the child in a thousand ways, directly and indirectly, the\npower of truth, the beauty of truth, and the sweetness and rest of\ncompanionship with truth.\n\nAnd if it be the rock-foundation of the child character, as a fact,\nnot as a theory, the future of that child is as fully assured as it is\npossible for human prevision to guarantee.\n\nThe power of Truth, in its highest, purest, and most exalted phases,\nstands squarely on four basic lines of relation,\u2014the love of truth,\nthe search for truth, faith in truth, and work for truth.\n\nThe love of Truth is the cultivated hunger for it in itself and for\nitself, without any thought of what it may cost, what sacrifices it may\nentail, what theories or beliefs of a lifetime may be laid desolate.\nIn its supreme phase, this attitude of life is rare, but unless one\ncan _begin_ to put himself into harmony with this view, the individual\nwill only creep in truth, when he might walk bravely. With the love of\ntruth, the individual scorns to do a mean thing, no matter what be the\ngain, even if the whole world would approve. He would not sacrifice the\nsanction of his own high standard for any gain, he would not willingly\ndeflect the needle of his thought and act from the true North, as he\nknows it, by the slightest possible variation. He himself would know of\nthe deflection\u2014that would be enough. What matters it what the world\nthinks if he have his own disapproval?\n\nThe man who has a certain religious belief and fears to discuss it,\nlest it may be proved wrong, is not loyal to his belief, he has but a\ncoward's faithfulness to his prejudices. If he were a lover of truth,\nhe would be willing at any moment to surrender his belief for a higher,\nbetter, and truer faith.\n\nThe man who votes the same ticket in politics, year after year, without\ncaring for issues, men, or problems, merely voting in a certain way\nbecause he always has voted so, is sacrificing loyalty to truth to a\nweak, mistaken, stubborn attachment to a worn-out precedent. Such a\nman should stay in his cradle all his life\u2014because he spent his early\nyears there.\n\nThe search for Truth means that the individual must not merely follow\ntruth as he sees it, but he must, so far as he can, search to see that\nhe is right. When the Kearsarge was wrecked on the Roncador Reef, the\ncaptain was sailing correctly by his chart. But his map was an old one;\nthe sunken reef was not marked down. Loyalty to back-number standards\nmeans stagnation. In China they plow to-day, but they plow with the\ninstrument of four thousand years ago. The search for truth is the\nangel of progress\u2014in civilization and in morals. While it makes us\nbold and aggressive in our own life, it teaches us to be tender and\nsympathetic with others. Their life may represent a station we have\npassed in our progress, or one we must seek to reach. We can then\ncongratulate ourselves without condemning them. All the truths of the\nworld are not concentrated in our creed. All the sunshine of the world\nis not focused on our doorstep. We should ever speak the truth,\u2014but\nonly in love and kindness. Truth should ever extend the hand of love;\nnever the hand clenching a bludgeon.\n\nFaith in Truth is an essential to perfect companionship with truth.\nThe individual must have perfect confidence and assurance of the final\ntriumph of right, and order, and justice, and believe that all things\nare evolving toward that divine consummation, no matter how dark and\ndreary life may seem from day to day. No real success, no lasting\nhappiness can exist except it be founded on the rock of truth. The\nprosperity that is based on lying, deception, and intrigue, is only\ntemporary\u2014it cannot last any more than a mushroom can outlive an oak.\nLike the blind Samson, struggling in the temple, the individual whose\nlife is based on trickery always pulls down the supporting columns of\nhis own edifice, and perishes in the ruins. No matter what price a man\nmay pay for truth, he is getting it at a bargain. The lying of others\ncan never hurt us long, it always carries with it our exoneration\nin the end. During the siege of Sebastopol, the Russian shells that\nthreatened to destroy a fort opened a hidden spring of water in the\nhillside, and saved the thirsting people they sought to kill.\n\nWork for the interests and advancement of Truth is a necessary part\nof real companionship. If a man has a love of truth, if he searches\nto find it, and has faith in it, even when he cannot find it, will he\nnot work to spread it? The strongest way for man to strengthen the\npower of truth in the world is to live it himself in every detail of\nthought, word, and deed\u2014to make himself a sun of personal radiation of\ntruth, and to let his silent influence speak for it and his direct acts\nglorify it so far as he can in his sphere of life and action. Let him\nfirst seek to _be_, before he seeks to teach or to do, in any line of\nmoral growth.\n\nLet man realize that Truth is essentially an _intrinsic_ virtue, in his\nrelation to himself even if there were no other human being living;\nit becomes _extrinsic_ as he radiates it in his daily life. Truth is\nfirst, intellectual honesty\u2014the craving to know the right; second, it\nis moral honesty, the hunger to live the right.\n\nTruth is not a mere absence of the vices. This is only a moral vacuum.\nTruth is the living, pulsing breathing of the virtues of life. Mere\nrefraining from wrong-doing is but keeping the weeds out of the garden\nof one's life. But this must be followed by positive planting of the\nseeds of right to secure the flowers of true living. To the negatives\nof the Ten Commandments must be added the positives of the Beatitudes.\nThe one condemns, the other commends; the one forbids, the other\ninspires; the one emphasizes the act, the other the spirit behind the\nact. The whole truth rests not in either, but in both.\n\nA man cannot truly believe in God without believing in the final\ninevitable triumph of Truth. If you have Truth on your side you can\npass through the dark valley of slander, misrepresentation and abuse,\nundaunted, as though you wore a magic suit of mail that no bullet could\nenter, no arrow could pierce. You can hold your head high, toss it\nfearlessly and defiantly, look every man calmly and unflinchingly in\nthe eye, as though you rode, a victorious king, returning at the head\nof your legions with banners waving and lances glistening, and bugles\nfilling the air with music. You can feel the great expansive wave of\nmoral health surging through you as the quickened blood courses through\nthe body of him who is gladly, gloriously proud of physical health. You\nwill know that all will come right in the end, that it _must_ come,\nthat error must flee before the great white light of truth, as darkness\nslinks away into nothingness in the presence of the sunburst. Then,\nwith Truth as your guide, your companion, your ally, and inspiration,\nyou tingle with the consciousness of your kinship with the Infinite and\nall the petty trials, sorrows and sufferings of life fade away like\ntemporary, harmless visions seen in a dream.\n\n\n\n\nThe Courage to Face Ingratitude\n\n\n\n\nThe Courage to Face Ingratitude\n\n\nIngratitude, the most popular sin of humanity, is forgetfulness of the\nheart. It is the revelation of the emptiness of pretended loyalty. The\nindividual who possesses it finds it the shortest cut to all the other\nvices.\n\nIngratitude is a crime more despicable than revenge, which is only\nreturning evil for evil, while ingratitude returns evil for good.\nPeople who are ungrateful rarely forgive you if you do them a good\nturn. Their microscopic hearts resent the humiliation of having been\nhelped by a superior, and this rankling feeling filtering through their\npetty natures often ends in hate and treachery.\n\nGratitude is thankfulness expressed in action. It is the instinctive\nradiation of justice, giving new life and energy to the individual\nfrom whom it emanates. It is the heart's recognition of kindness that\nthe lips cannot repay. Gratitude never counts its payments. It realizes\nthat no debt of kindness can ever be outlawed, ever be cancelled,\never paid in full. Gratitude ever feels the insignificance of its\ninstalments; ingratitude the nothingness of the debt. Gratitude is the\nflowering of a seed of kindness; ingratitude is the dead inactivity of\na seed dropped on a stone.\n\nThe expectation of gratitude is human; the rising superior to\ningratitude is almost divine. To desire recognition of our acts of\nkindness and to hunger for appreciation and the simple justice of a\nreturn of good for good, is natural. But man never rises to the dignity\nof true living until he has the courage that dares to face ingratitude\ncalmly, and to pursue his course unchanged when his good works meet\nwith thanklessness or disdain.\n\nMan should have only one court of appeals as to his actions, not \"what\nwill be the result?\" \"how will it be received?\" but \"is it right?\" Then\nhe should live his life in harmony with this standard alone, serenely,\nbravely, loyally and unfalteringly, making \"right for right's sake\"\nboth his ideal and his inspiration.\n\nMan should not be an automatic gas-machine, cleverly contrived to\nrelease a given quantity of illumination under the stimulus of a\nnickel. He should be like the great sun itself which ever radiates\nlight, warmth, life and power, because it cannot help doing so,\nbecause these qualities fill the heart of the sun, and for it to have\nthem means that it must give them constantly. Let the sunlight of our\nsympathy, tenderness, love, appreciation, influence and kindness ever\ngo out from us as a glow to brighten and hearten others. But do not\nlet us ever spoil it all by going through life constantly collecting\nreceipts, as vouchers, to stick on the file of our self-approval.\n\nIt is hard to see those who have sat at our board in the days of our\nprosperity, flee as from a pestilence when misfortune darkens our\ndoorway; to see the loyalty upon which we would have staked our life,\nthat seemed firm as a rock, crack and splinter like thin glass at the\nfirst real test; to know that the fire of friendship at which we could\never warm our hands in our hour of need, has turned to cold, dead, gray\nashes, where warmth is but a haunting memory.\n\nTo realize that he who once lived in the sanctuary of our affection,\nin the frank confidence where conversation seemed but our soliloquy,\nand to whom our aims and aspirations have been thrown open with no\nBluebeard chamber of reserve, has been secretly poisoning the waters of\nour reputation and undermining us by his lies and treachery, is hard\nindeed. But no matter how the ingratitude stings us, we should just\nswallow the sob, stifle the tear, smile serenely and bravely, and\u2014seek\nto forget.\n\nIn justice to ourselves we should not permit the ingratitude of a\nfew to make us condemn the whole world. We pay too much tribute to a\nfew human insects when we let their wrong-doing paralyze our faith\nin humanity. It is a lie of the cynics that says \"_all_ men are\nungrateful,\" a companion lie to \"_all_ men have their price.\" We must\ntrust humanity if we would get good from humanity. He who thinks all\nmankind is vile is a pessimist who mistakes his introspection for\nobservation; he looks into his own heart and thinks he sees the world.\nHe is like a cross-eyed man, who never sees what he seems to be looking\nat.\n\nConfidence and credit are the cornerstones of business, as they are\nof society. Withdraw them from business and the activities and\nenterprises of the world would stop in an instant, topple and fall\ninto chaos. Withdraw confidence in humanity from the individual, and\nhe becomes but a breathing, selfish egotist, the one good man left,\nworking overtime in nursing his petty grudge against the world because\na few whom he has favored have been ungrateful.\n\nIf a man receives a counterfeit dollar he does not straightway lose his\nfaith in all money,\u2014at least there are no such instances on record in\nthis country. If he has a run of three or four days of dull weather he\ndoes not say \"the sun ceases to exist, there are surely no bright days\nto come in the whole calendar of time.\"\n\nIf a man's breakfast is rendered an unpleasant memory by some item of\nfood that has outlived its usefulness, he does not forswear eating. If\na man finds under a tree an apple with a suspicious looking hole on\none side, he does not condemn the whole orchard; he simply confines\nhis criticism to that apple. But he who has helped some one who,\nlater, did not pass a good examination on gratitude, says in a voice\nplaintive with the consciousness of injury, and with a nod of his head\nthat implies the wisdom of Solomon: \"I have had my experience, I have\nlearned my lesson. This is the last time I will have faith in any man.\nI did this for him, and that for him, and now, look at the result!\"\n\nThen he unrolls a long schedule of favors, carefully itemized and\nadded up, till it seems the pay-roll of a great city. He complains of\nthe injustice of one man, yet he is willing to be unjust to the whole\nworld, making it bear the punishment of the wrong of an individual.\nThere is too much vicarious suffering already in this earth of ours\nwithout this lilliputian attempt to extend it by syndicating one man's\ningratitude. If one man drinks to excess, it is not absolute justice\nto send the whole world to jail.\n\nThe farmer does not expect every seed that he sows in hope and faith\nto fall on good ground and bring forth its harvest; he is perfectly\ncertain that this will not be so, cannot be. He is counting on the\nfinal outcome of many seeds, on the harvest of all, rather than on the\nharvest of one. If you really want gratitude, and must have it, be\nwilling to make many men your debtors.\n\nThe more unselfish, charitable and exalted the life and mission of the\nindividual, the larger will be the number of instances of ingratitude\nthat must be met and vanquished. The thirty years of Christ's life was\na tragedy of ingratitudes. Ingratitude is manifest in three degrees of\nintensity in the world\u2014He knew them all in numberless bitter instances.\n\nThe first phase, the simplest and most common, is that of thoughtless\nthanklessness, as was shown in the case of the ten lepers healed in\none day\u2014nine departed without a word, only _one_ gave thanks.\n\nThe second phase of ingratitude is denial, a positive sin, not the\nmere negation of thanklessness. This was exemplified in Peter, whose\nselfish desire to stand well with two maids and some bystanders, in\nthe hour when he had the opportunity to be loyal to Christ, forgot his\nfriendship, lost all thought of his indebtedness to his Master, and\ndenied Him, not once or twice, but three times.\n\nThe third phase of ingratitude is treachery, where selfishness grows\nvindictive, as shown by Judas, the honored treasurer of the little band\nof thirteen, whose jealousy, ingratitude, and thirty pieces of silver,\nmade possible the tragedy of Calvary.\n\nThese three\u2014thanklessness, denial and treachery\u2014run the gamut of\ningratitude, and the first leads to the second, and the second prepares\nthe way for the third.\n\nWe must ever tower high above dependence on human gratitude or we\ncan do nothing really great, nothing truly noble. The expectation of\ngratitude is the alloy of an otherwise virtuous act. It ever dulls\nthe edge of even our best actions. Most persons look at gratitude as\na protective tariff on virtues. The man who is weakened in well-doing\nby the ingratitude of others, is serving God on a salary basis. He is\na hired soldier, not a volunteer. He should be honest enough to see\nthat he is working for a reward; like a child, he is being good for a\nbonus. He is really regarding his kindness and his other expressions of\ngoodness as moral stock he is willing to hold only so long as they pay\ndividends.\n\nThere is in such living always a touch of the pose; it is waiting for\nthe applause of the gallery. We must let the consciousness of doing\nright, of living up to our ideals, be our reward and stimulus, or life\nwill become to us but a series of failures, sorrows and disappointments.\n\nMuch of the seeming ingratitude in life comes from our magnifying\nof our own acts, our minifying of the acts of others. We may have\noverestimated the importance of something that we have done; it may\nhave been most trivial, purely incidental, yet the marvellous working\nof the loom of time brought out great and unexpected results to the\nrecipient of our favor. We often feel that wondrous gratitude is due\nus, though we were in no wise the inspiration of the success we survey\nwith such a feeling of pride. A chance introduction given by us on the\nstreet may, through an infinity of circumstances, make our friend a\nmillionaire. Thanks may be due us for the introduction, and perhaps not\neven that, for it might have been unavoidable, but surely we err when\nwe expect him to be meekly grateful to us for his subsequent millions.\n\nThe essence of truest kindness lies in the grace with which it is\nperformed. Some men seem to discount all gratitude, almost make it\nimpossible, by the way in which they grant favors. They make you feel\nso small, so mean, so inferior; your cheeks burn with indignation in\nthe acceptance of the boon you seek at their hands. You feel it is like\na bone thrown at a dog, instead of the quick, sympathetic graciousness\nthat forestalls your explanations and waives your thanks with a smile,\nthe pleasure of one friend who has been favored with the opportunity\nto be of service to another. The man who makes another feel like an\ninsect reclining on a red-hot stove while he is receiving a favor, has\nno right to expect future gratitude,\u2014he should feel satisfied if he\nreceives forgiveness.\n\nLet us forget the good deeds we have done by making them seem small in\ncomparison with the greater things we are doing, and the still greater\nacts we hope to do. This is true generosity, and will develop gratitude\nin the soul of him who has been helped, unless he is so petrified in\nselfishness as to make it impossible. But constantly reminding a man\nof the favors he has received from you almost cancels the debt. The\ncare of the statistics should be his privilege; you are usurping his\nprerogative when you recall them. Merely because it has been our good\nfortune to be able to serve some one, we should not act as if we held\na mortgage on his immortality, and expect him to swing the censor of\nadulation forever in our presence.\n\nThat which often seems to us to be ingratitude, may be merely our own\nignorance of the subtle phases of human nature. Sometimes a man's\nheart is so full of thankfulness that he cannot speak, and in the very\nintensity of his appreciation, mere words seem to him paltry, petty,\nand inadequate, and the depth of the eloquence of his silence is\nmisunderstood. Sometimes the consciousness of his inability to repay,\ndevelops a strange pride\u2014genuine gratitude it may be, though unwise\nin its lack of expression\u2014a determination to say nothing, until the\nopportunity for which he is waiting to enable him to make his gratitude\nan actuality. There are countless instances in which true gratitude has\nall the semblance of the basest ingratitude, as certain harmless plants\nare made by Nature to resemble poison-ivy.\n\nIngratitude is some one's protest that you are no longer necessary to\nhim; it is often the expression of rebellion at the discontinuance\nof favors. People are rarely ungrateful until they have exhausted\ntheir assessments. Profuse expressions of gratitude do not cancel an\nindebtedness any more than a promissory note settles an account. It is\na beginning, not a finality. Gratitude that is extravagant in words is\nusually economical in all other expression.\n\nNo good act performed in the world ever dies. Science tells us that no\natom of matter can ever be destroyed, that no force once started ever\nends; it merely passes through a multiplicity of ever-changing phases.\nEvery good deed done to others is a great force that starts an unending\npulsation through time and eternity. We may not know it, we may never\nhear a word of gratitude or of recognition, but it will all come back\nto us in some form as naturally, as perfectly, as inevitably, as echo\nanswers to sound. Perhaps not as we expect it, how we expect it, nor\nwhere, but sometime, somehow, somewhere, it comes back, as the dove\nthat Noah sent from the Ark returned with its green leaf of revelation.\n\nLet us conceive of gratitude in its largest, most beautiful sense, that\nif we receive any kindness we are debtor, not merely to one man, but\nto the whole world. As we are each day indebted to thousands for the\ncomforts, joys, consolations, and blessings of life, let us realize\nthat it is only by kindness to all that we can begin to repay the debt\nto one, begin to make gratitude the atmosphere of all our living and a\nconstant expression in outward acts, rather than in mere thoughts. Let\nus see the awful cowardice and the injustice of ingratitude, not to\ntake it too seriously in others, not to condemn it too severely, but\nmerely to banish it forever from our own lives, and to make every hour\nof our living the radiation of the sweetness of gratitude.\n\n\n\n\nPeople who Live in Air Castles\n\n\n\n\nPeople who Live in Air Castles\n\n\nLiving in an air-castle is about as profitable as owning a\nhalf-interest in a rainbow. It is no more nourishing than a dinner\nof twelve courses\u2014eaten in a dream. Air-castles are built of golden\nmoments of time, and their only value is in the raw material thus\nrendered valueless.\n\nThe atmosphere of air-castles is heavy and stupefying with the incense\nof vague hopes and phantom ideals. In them man lulls himself into\ndreaming inactivity with the songs of the mighty deeds he is going to\ndo, the great influence he some day will have, the vast wealth that\nwill be his, sometime, somehow, somewhere, in the rosy, sunlit days\nof the future. The architectural error about air-castles is that the\nowner builds them _downward_ from their gilded turrets in the clouds,\ninstead of _upward_ from a solid, firm foundation of purpose and\nenergy. This diet of mental lotus-leaves is a mental narcotic, not a\nstimulant.\n\nAmbition, when wedded to tireless energy is a great thing and a good\nthing, but in itself it amounts to little. Man cannot raise himself to\nhigher things by what he would like to accomplish, but only by what\nhe endeavors to accomplish. To be of value, ambition must ever be\nmade manifest in zeal, in determination, in energy consecrated to an\nideal. If it be thus reinforced, thus combined, the thin airy castle\nmelts into nothingness, and the individual stands on a new strong\nfoundation of solid rock, whereon, day by day and stone by stone, he\ncan rear a mighty material structure of life-work to last through time\nand eternity. The air-castle ever represents the work of an architect\nwithout a builder; it means plans never put into execution. They tell\nus that man is the architect of his own fortunes. But if he be merely\narchitect he will make only an air-castle of his life; he should be\narchitect and builder too.\n\nLiving in the future is living in an air-castle. To-morrow is the grave\nwhere the dreams of the dreamer, the toiler who toils not, are buried.\nThe man who says he will lead a newer and better life to-morrow, who\npromises great things for the future, and yet does nothing in the\npresent to make that future possible, is living in an air-castle. In\nhis arrogance he is attempting to perform a miracle; he is seeking to\nturn water into wine, to have harvest without seed-time, to have an end\nwithout a beginning.\n\nIf we would make our lives worthy of us, grand and noble, solid and\nimpregnable, we must forsake air-castles of dreaming for strongholds\nof doing. Every man with an ideal has a right to live in the glow and\ninspiration of it, and to picture the joy of attainment, as the tired\ntraveller fills his mind with the thought of the brightness of home,\nto quicken his steps and to make the weary miles seem shorter, but the\nworker should never really worry about the future, think little of it\nexcept for inspiration, to determine his course, as mariners study\nthe stars, to make his plans wisely and to prepare for that future by\nmaking each separate day the best and truest that he can.\n\nLet us live up to the fulness of our possibilities each day. Man has\nonly one day of life\u2014to-day. He _did_ live yesterday, he _may_ live\nto-morrow, but he _has_ only to-day.\n\nThe secret of true living\u2014mental, physical and moral, material and\nspiritual,\u2014may be expressed in five words: _Live up to your portion._\nThis is the magic formula that transforms air-castles into fortresses.\n\nMen sometimes grow mellow and generous in the thought of what they\nwould do if great wealth came to them. \"If I were a millionaire,\" they\nsay,\u2014and they let the phrase melt sweetly in their mouths as though it\nwere a caramel,\u2014\"I would subsidize genius; I would found a college; I\nwould build a great hospital; I would erect model tenements; I would\nshow the world what real charity is.\" Oh, it is all so easy, so easy,\nthis vicarious benevolence, this spending of other people's fortunes!\nFew of us, according to the latest statistics, have a million, but we\nall have something, some part of it. Are we living up to our portion?\nAre we generous with what we have?\n\nThe man who is selfish with one thousand dollars will not develop\nangelic wings of generosity when his million comes. If the generous\nspirit be a reality with the individual, instead of an empty boast, he\nwill, every hour, find opportunity to make it manifest. The radiation\nof kindness need not be expressed in money at all. It may be shown in\na smile of human interest, a glow of sympathy, a word of fellowship\nwith the sorrowing and the struggling, an instinctive outstretching of\na helping hand to one in need.\n\nNo man living is so poor that he cannot evidence his spirit of\nbenevolence toward his fellowman. It may assume that rare and\nwondrously beautiful phase of divine charity, in realizing how often\na motive is misrepresented in the act, how sin, sorrow and suffering\nhave warped and disguised latent good, in substituting a word of gentle\ntolerance for some cheap tinsel of shabby cynicism that pretends to\nbe wit. If we are not rich enough to give \"cold, hard\" cash, let us\nat least be too rich to give \"cold, hard\" words. Let us leave our\nair-castles of vague self-adulation for so wisely spending millions\nwe have never seen, and rise to the dignity of living up to the full\nproportion of our possessions, no matter how slight they may be.\nLet us fill the world around us with love, brightness, sweetness,\ngentleness, helpfulness, courage and sympathy, as if they were the only\nlegal tender and we were Monte Cristos with untold treasures of such\ngold ever at our call.\n\nLet us cease saying: \"If I were,\" and say ever: \"I am.\" Let us stop\nliving in the subjunctive mood, and begin to live in the indicative.\n\nThe one great defence of humanity against the charge of unfulfilled\nduties is \"lack of time.\" The constant clamoring for time would be\npathetic, were it not for the fact that most individuals throw away\nmore of it than they use. Time is the only really valuable possession\nof man, for without it every power within him would cease to exist. Yet\nhe recklessly squanders his great treasure as if it were valueless.\nThe wealth of the whole world could not buy one second of time. Yet\nSociety assassins dare to say in public that they have been \"killing\ntime.\" The time fallacy has put more people into air-castles than all\nother causes combined. Life is only time; eternity is only more time;\nimmortality is merely man's right to live through unending time.\n\n\"If I had a library I would read,\" is the weak plaint of some other\ntenant of an air-castle. If a man does not read the two or three\ngood books in his possession or accessible to him he would not read\nif he had the British Museum brought to his bedside, and the British\nArmy delegated to continual service in handing him books from the\nshelves. The time sacrificed to reading sensational newspapers might be\nconsecrated to good reading, if the individual were willing merely to\nlive up to his portion of opportunity.\n\nThe man who longs for some crisis in life, wherein he may show mighty\ncourage, while he is expending no portion of that courage in bearing\nbravely the petty trials, sorrows and disappointments of daily life, is\nliving in an air-castle. He is just a sparrow looking enviously at the\nmountain crags where the hardy eagle builds her nest, and dreaming of\nbeing a great bird like that, perhaps even daring in a patronizing way,\nto criticise her method of flight and to plume himself with the medals\nhe could win for flying if he only would. It is the day-by-day heroism\nthat vitalizes all of a man's power in an emergency, that gives him\nconfidence that when need comes he will and _must_ be ready.\n\nThe air-castle typifies any delusion or folly that makes man forsake\nreal living for an idle, vague existence. Living in air-castles means\nthat a man sees life in a wrong perspective. He permits his lower self\nto dominate his higher self; he who should tower as a mighty conqueror\nover the human weakness, sin and folly that threaten to destroy his\nbetter nature, binds upon his own wrists the manacles of habit that\nhold him a slave. He loses the crown of his kingship because he sells\nhis royal birthright for temporary ease and comfort and the showy\nthings of the world, sacrificing so much that is best in him for mere\nwealth, success, position, or the plaudits of the world. He forsakes\nthe throne of individuality for the air-castle of delusion.\n\nThe man who wraps himself in the Napoleonic cloak of his egotism,\nhypnotizing himself into believing that he is superior to all other\nmen, that the opera-glasses of the universe are focused upon him and\nthat he treads the stage alone, had better wake up. He is living in\nan air-castle. He who, like Narcissus, falls in love with his own\nreflection and thinks he has a monopoly of the great work of the world,\nwhose conceit rises from him like the smoke from the magic bottle of\nthe genii and spreads till it shuts out and conceals the universe is\nliving in an air-castle.\n\nThe man who believes that all humanity is united in conspiracy against\nhim, who feels that his life is the hardest in all the world, and lets\nthe cares, sorrows and trials that come to us all, eclipse the glorious\nsun of his happiness, darkening his eyes to his privileges and his\nblessings, is living in an air-castle.\n\nThe woman who thinks the most beautiful creature in the world is seen\nin her mirror, and who exchanges her queenly heritage of noble living\nfor the shams, jealousies, follies, frivolities and pretences of\nsociety, is living in an air-castle.\n\nThe man who makes wealth his god instead of his servant, who is\ndetermined to get rich, rich at any cost, and who is willing to\nsacrifice honesty, honor, loyalty, character, family\u2014everything he\nshould hold dear\u2014for the sake of a mere stack of money-bags, is,\ndespite his robes of ermine, only a rich pauper living in an air-castle.\n\nThe man of ultra-conservatism, the victim of false content, who has no\nplans, no ideals, no aspirations beyond the dull round of daily duties\nin which he moves like a gold-fish in a globe, is often vain enough to\nboast of his lack of progressiveness, in cheap shop-worn phrases from\nthose whom he permits to do his thinking for him. He does not realize\nthat faithfulness to duties, in its highest sense, means the constant\naiming at the performance of higher duties, living up, so far as can\nbe, to the maximum of one's possibilities, not resignedly plodding\nalong at the minimum. A piece of machinery will do this, but real men\never seek to rise to higher uses. Such a man is living in an air-castle.\n\nWith patronizing contempt he scorns the man of earnest, thoughtful\npurpose, who sees his goal far before him but is willing to pay any\nhonest price to attain it; content to work day by day unceasingly,\nthrough storm and stress, and sunshine and shadow, with sublime\nconfidence that nature is storing up every stroke of his effort, that,\nthough times often seem dark and progress but slight, results _must_\ncome if he have but courage to fight bravely to the end. This man does\nnot live in an air-castle; he is but battling with destiny for the\npossession of his heritage, and is strengthened in character by his\nstruggle, even though all that he desires may not be fully awarded him.\n\nThe man who permits regret for past misdeeds, or sorrow for lost\nopportunities to keep him from recreating a proud future from the new\ndays committed to his care, is losing much of the glory of living.\nHe is repudiating the manna of new life given each new day, merely\nbecause he misused the manna of years ago. He is doubly unwise, because\nhe has the wisdom of his past experience and does not profit by it,\nmerely because of a technicality of useless, morbid regret. He is\nliving in an air-castle.\n\nThe man who spends his time lamenting the fortune he once had, or the\nfame that has taken its winged flight into oblivion, frittering away\nhis golden hours erecting new monuments in the cemetery of his past\nachievements and his former greatness, making what he _was_ ever plead\napology for what he _is_, lives in an air-castle. To the world and to\nthe individual a single egg of new hope and determination, with its\nwondrous potency of new life, is greater than a thousand nests full of\nthe eggs of dead dreams, or unrealized ambitions.\n\nWhatever keeps a man from living his best, truest and highest life now,\nin the indicative present, if it be something that he himself places\nas an obstacle in his own path of progress and development, is to him\nan air-castle.\n\nSome men live in the air-castle of indolence; others in the\nair-castle of dissipation, of pride, of avarice, of deception, of\nbigotry, of worry, of intemperance, of injustice, of intolerance, of\nprocrastination, of lying, of selfishness, or of some other mental\nor moral characteristic that withdraws them from the real duties and\nprivileges of living.\n\nLet us find out what is the air-castle in which we, individually, spend\nmost of our time and we can then begin a re-creation of ourselves. The\nbondage of the air-castle must be fought nobly and untiringly.\n\nAs man spends his hours and his days and his weeks in an air-castle, he\nfinds that the delicate gossamer-like strands and lines of the phantom\nstructure gradually become less and less airy; they begin to grow firm\nand firmer, strengthening with the years, until at last, solid walls\nhem him in. Then he is startled by the awful realization that habit\nand habitancy have transformed his air-castle into a prison from which\nescape is difficult.\n\nAnd then he learns that the most deceptive and dangerous of all things\nis,\u2014the air-castle.\n\n\n\n\nSwords and Scabbards\n\n\n\n\nSwords and Scabbards\n\n\nIt is the custom of grateful states and nations to present swords as\ntokens of highest honor to the victorious leaders of their armies\nand navies. The sword presented to Admiral Schley by the people\nof Philadelphia, at the close of America's war with Spain, cost\nover $3,500, the greater part of which was spent on the jewels and\ndecorations on the scabbard. A little more than half a century ago,\nwhen General Winfield Scott, for whom Admiral Schley was named,\nreceived a beautiful sword from the State of Louisiana, he was asked\nhow it pleased him.\n\n\"It is a very fine sword, indeed,\" he said, \"but there is one thing\nabout it I would have preferred different. The inscription should be on\nthe blade, not on the scabbard. The scabbard may be taken from us; the\nsword, never.\"\n\nThe world spends too much time, money and energy on the scabbard of\nlife; too little on the sword. The scabbard represents outside show,\nvanity and display; the sword, intrinsic worth. The scabbard is ever\nthe semblance; the sword the reality. The scabbard is the temporal; the\nsword is the eternal. The scabbard is the body; the sword is the soul.\nThe scabbard typifies the material side of life; the sword the true,\nthe spiritual, the ideal.\n\nThe man who does not dare follow his own convictions, but who lives in\nterror of what society will say, falling prostrate before the golden\ncalf of public opinion, is living an empty life of mere show. He is\nsacrificing his individuality, his divine right to live his life in\nharmony with his own high ideals, to a cowardly, toadying fear of\nthe world. He is not a voice, with the strong note of individual\npurpose; he is but the thin echo of the voice of thousands. He\nis not brightening, sharpening and using the sword of his life in\ntrue warfare; he is lazily ornamenting a useless scabbard with the\nhieroglyphics of his folly.\n\nThe man who lives beyond his means, who mortgages his future for\nhis present, who is generous before he is just, who is sacrificing\neverything to keep up with the procession of his superiors, is really\nlosing much of life. He, too, is decorating the scabbard, and letting\nthe sword rust in its sheath.\n\nLife is not a competition with others. In its truest sense it is\nrivalry with ourselves. We should each day seek to break the record\nof our yesterday. We should seek each day to live stronger, better,\ntruer lives; each day to master some weakness of yesterday; each day\nto repair past follies; each day to surpass ourselves. And this is but\nprogress. And individual, conscious progress, progress unending and\nunlimited, is the one great thing that differentiates man from all\nthe other animals. Then we will care naught for the pretty, useless\ndecorations of society's approval on the scabbard. For us it will be\nenough to know that the blade of our purpose is kept ever keen and\nsharp for the defense of right and truth, never to wrong the rights of\nothers, but ever to right the wrongs of ourselves and those around us.\n\nReputation is what the world thinks a man is; character is what he\nreally is. Anyone can play shuttlecock with a man's reputation; his\ncharacter is his alone. No one can injure his character but he himself.\nCharacter is the sword; reputation is the scabbard. Many men acquire\ninsomnia in standing guard over their reputation, while their character\ngives them no concern. Often they make new dents in their character in\ntheir attempt to cut a deep, deceptive filigree on the scabbard of\ntheir reputation. Reputation is the shell a man discards when he leaves\nlife for immortality. His character he takes with him.\n\nThe woman who spends thousands in charitable donations, and is hard\nand uncharitable in her judgments, sentimentally sympathetic with\nhuman sin and weakness in the abstract, while she arrogates to herself\nomniscience in her harsh condemnation of individual lapses, is\ncharitable only on the outside. She is letting her tongue undo the good\nwork of her hand. She is too enthusiastic in decorating the scabbard of\npublicity to think of the sword of real love of humanity.\n\nHe who carries avarice to the point of becoming a miser, hoarding\ngold that is made useless to him because it does not fulfill its\none function, circulation, and regarding the necessities of life as\nluxuries, is one of Nature's jests, that would be humorous were it\nnot so serious. He is the most difficult animal to classify in the\nwhole natural history of humanity\u2014he has so many of the virtues. He\nis a striking example of ambition, economy, frugality, persistence,\nwill-power, self-denial, loyalty to purpose and generosity to his\nheirs. These noble qualities he spoils in the application. His\nspecialty is the scabbard of life. He spends his days in making a solid\ngold scabbard for the tin sword of a wasted existence.\n\nThe shoddy airs and ostentations, extravagance, and prodigality of some\nwho have suddenly become rich, is goldplating the scabbard without\nimproving the blade. The superficial veneer of refinement really\naccentuates the native vulgarity. The more you polish woodwork, the\nmore you reveal the grain. Some of the sudden legatees of fortune\nhave the wisdom to acquire the reality of refinement through careful\ntraining. This is the true method of putting the sword itself in order\ninstead of begemming the scabbard.\n\nThe girl who marries merely for money or for a title, is a feminine\nEsau of the beginning of the century. She is selling her birthright of\nlove for the pottage of an empty name, forfeiting the possibility of a\nlife of love, all that true womanhood should hold most dear, for a mere\nbag of gold or a crown. She is decorating the scabbard with a crest and\nheraldic designs, and with ornaments of pure gold set with jewels. She\nfeels that this will be enough for life, and that she does not need\nlove,\u2014real love, that has made this world a paradise, despite all the\nother people present. She does not realize that there is but one real\nreason, but one justification for marriage, and that is,\u2014love; all\nthe other motives are not reasons, they are only excuses. The phrase,\n\"marrying a man for his money,\" as the world bluntly puts it, is\nincorrect\u2014the woman merely marries the money, and takes the man as an\nincumbrance or mortgage on the property.\n\nThe man who procrastinates, filling his ears with the lovely song\nof \"to-morrow,\" is following the easiest and most restful method of\nshortening the possibilities of life. Procrastination is stifling\naction by delay, it is killing decision by inactivity, it is drifting\non the river of time, instead of rowing bravely toward a desired\nharbor. It is watching the sands in the hour-glass run down before\nbeginning any new work, then reversing the glass and repeating the\nobservation. The folly of man in thus delaying is apparent, when any\nsecond his life may stop, and the sands of that single hour may run\ntheir course,\u2014and he will not be there to see.\n\nDelay is the narcotic that paralyzes energy. When Alexander was asked\nhow he conquered the world, he said: \"By not delaying.\" Let us not put\noff till to-morrow the duty of to-day; that which our mind tells us\nshould be done to-day, our mind and body should execute. To-day is the\nsword we should hold and use; to-morrow is but the scabbard from which\neach new to-day is withdrawn.\n\nThe man who wears an oppressive, pompous air of dignity, because he\nhas accomplished some little work of importance, because he is vested\nwith a brief mantle of authority, loses sight of the true perspective\nof life. He is destitute of humor; he takes himself seriously. It is a\nthousand-dollar scabbard on a two-dollar sword.\n\nThe man who is guilty of envy is the victim of the oldest vice in the\nhistory of the world, the meanest and most despicable of human traits.\nIt began in the Garden of Eden, when Satan envied Adam and Eve. It\ncaused the downfall of man and the first murder\u2014Cain's unbrotherly\nact to Abel. Envy is a paradoxic vice. It cannot suffer bravely the\nprosperity of another, it has mental dyspepsia because someone else\nis feasting, it makes its owner's clothes turn into rags at sight of\nanother's velvet. Envy is the malicious contemplation of the beauty,\nhonors, success, happiness, or triumph of another. It is the mud that\ninferiority throws at success. Envy is the gangrene of unsatisfied\nambition, it eats away purpose and kills energy. It is egotism gone\nto seed; it always finds the secret of its non-success in something\noutside itself.\n\nEnvy is the scabbard, but emulation is the sword. Emulation regards\nthe success of another as an object lesson; it seeks in the triumph of\nanother the why, the reason, the inspiration of method. It seeks to\nattain the same heights by the path it thus discovers, not to hurl down\nfrom his eminence him who points out the way of attainment. Let us keep\nthe sword of emulation ever brightened and sharpened in the battle of\nhonest effort, not idly dulling and rusting in the scabbard of envy.\n\nThe supreme folly of the world, the saddest depths to which the human\nmind can sink, is atheism. He surely is to be pitied who permits the\nillogical philosophy of petty infidels, or his misinterpretations of\nthe revelations of science, to cheat him of his God. He pins his faith\nto some ingenious sophistry in the reasoning of those whose books he\nhas read to sum up for him the whole problem, and in hopeless egotism\nshuts his eyes to the million proofs in nature and life, because the\nfull plans of Omnipotence are not made clear to him.\n\nOn the technicality of his failure to understand some one\npoint\u2014perhaps it is why sin, sorrow, suffering and injustice exist in\nthe world\u2014he declares he will not believe. He might as well disbelieve\nin the sky above him because he cannot see it all; discredit the air\nhe breathes because it is invisible; doubt the reality of the ocean\nbecause his feeble vision can take in but a few miles of the great\nsea; deny even life itself because he cannot see it, and no anatomist\nhas found the subtle essence to hold it up to view on the end of his\nscalpel.\n\nHe dares to disbelieve in God despite His countless manifestations,\nbecause he is not taken into the full confidence of the Creator and\npermitted to look over and check off the ground-plans of the universe.\nHe sheathes the sword of belief in the dingy scabbard of infidelity.\nHe does not see the proof of God in the daily miracle of the rising\nand setting of the sun, in the seasons, in the birds, in the flowers,\nin the countless stars, moving in their majestic regularity at the\ncommand of eternal law, in the presence of love, justice, truth in the\nhearts of men, in that supreme confidence that is inborn in humanity,\nmaking even the lowest savage worship the Infinite in some form. It is\nthe petty vanity of cheap reasoning that makes man permit the misfit\nscabbard of infidelity to hide from him the glory of the sword of\nbelief.\n\nThe philosophy of swords and scabbards is as true of nations as of\nindividuals. When France committed the great crime of the nineteenth\ncentury, by condemning Dreyfus to infamy and isolation, deafening her\nears to the cries of justice, and seeking to cover her shame with\ngreater shame, she sheathed the sword of a nation's honor in the\nscabbard of a nation's crime. The breaking of the sword of Dreyfus\nwhen he was cruelly degraded before the army, typified the degradation\nof the French nation in breaking the sword of justice and preserving\ncarefully the empty scabbard with its ironic inscription, \"Vive la\njustice.\"\n\nThe scabbard is ever useless in the hour of emergency; _then_ it is\nupon the sword itself that we must rely. Then the worthlessness of\nshow, sham, pretence, gilded weakness is revealed to us. Then the\ntrivialities of life are seen in their true form. The nothingness\nof everything but the real, the tried, the true, is made luminant\nin an instant. Then we know whether our living has been one of true\npreparation, of keeping the sword clean, pure, sharp and ready, or one\nof mere idle, meaningless, day-by-day markings of folly on the empty\nscabbard of a wasted life.\n\n\n\n\nThe Conquest of the Preventable\n\n\n\n\nThe Conquest of the Preventable\n\n\nThis world would be a delightful place to live in\u2014if it were not for\nthe people. They really cause all the trouble. Man's worst enemy is\nalways man. He began to throw the responsibility of his transgressions\non some one else in the Garden of Eden, and he has been doing so ever\nsince.\n\nThe greater part of the pain, sorrow and misery in life is purely a\nhuman invention, yet man, with cowardly irreverence, dares to throw the\nresponsibility on God. It comes through breaking laws, laws natural,\nphysical, civic, mental or moral. These are laws which man knows, but\nhe disregards; he takes chances; he thinks he can dodge results in some\nway. But Nature says, \"He who breaks, pays.\" There are no dead-letter\nlaws on the divine statute-books of life. When a man permits a\ntorchlight procession to parade through a powder magazine, it is not\ncourteous for him to refer to the subsequent explosion as \"one of the\nmysterious workings of Providence.\"\n\nNine tenths of the world's sorrow, misfortune and unhappiness is\npreventable. The daily newspapers are the great chroniclers of the\ndominance of the unnecessary. Paragraph after paragraph, column after\ncolumn, and page after page of the dark story\u2014accidents, disasters,\ncrime, scandal, human weakness and sin\u2014might be checked off with the\nword \"preventable.\" In each instance were our information full enough,\nour analysis keen enough, we could trace each back to its cause, to\nthe weakness or the wrong from which it emanated. Sometimes it is\ncarelessness, inattention, neglect of duty, avarice, anger, jealousy,\ndissipation, betrayal of trust, selfishness, hypocrisy, revenge,\ndishonesty,\u2014any of a hundred phases of the preventable.\n\nThat which _can_ be prevented, _should_ be prevented. It all rests\nwith the individual. The \"preventable\" exists in three degrees: First,\nthat which is due to the individual solely and directly; second, that\nwhich he suffers through the wrong-doing of those around him, other\nindividuals; third, those instances wherein he is the unnecessary\nvictim of the wrongs of society, the innocent legatee of the folly of\nhumanity\u2014and society is but the massing of thousands of individuals\nwith the heritage of manners, customs and laws they have received from\nthe past.\n\nWe sometimes feel heart-sick and weary in facing failure, when the\nfortune that seemed almost in our fingers slips away because of the\nenvy, malice or treachery of some one else. We bow under the weight\nof a sorrow that makes all life grow dark and the star of hope fade\nfrom our vision; or we meet some unnecessary misfortune with a\ndumb, helpless despair. \"It is all wrong,\" we say, \"it is cruel, it\nis unjust. Why is it permitted?\" And, in the very intensity of our\nfeeling, we half-unconsciously repeat the words over and over again,\nin monotonous iteration, as if in some way the very repetition might\nbring relief, might somehow soothe us. Yet, in most instances, it could\nbe prevented. No suffering is caused in the world by right. Whatever\nsorrow there is that is preventable, comes from inharmony or wrong of\nsome kind.\n\nIn the divine economy of the universe most of the evil, pain and\nsuffering are unnecessary, even when overruled for good, and perhaps,\nif our knowledge were perfect, it would be seen that none is necessary,\nthat all is preventable. The fault is mine, or yours, or the fault\nof the world. It is always individual. The world itself is but the\ncohesive united force of the thoughts, words and deeds of millions\nwho have lived or who are living, like you and me. By individuals has\nthe great wrong that causes our preventable sorrow been built up, by\nindividuals must it be weakened and transformed to right. And in this,\ntoo, it is to a great degree our fault; we care so little about rousing\npublic sentiment, of lashing it into activity unless it concerns us\nindividually.\n\nThe old Greek fable of Atlas, the African king, who supported the world\non his shoulders, has a modern application. The _individual_ is the\nAtlas upon whom the fate of the world rests to-day. Let each individual\ndo his best,\u2014and the result is foreordained; it is but a matter of\nthe unconquerable massing of the units. Let each individual bear his\npart as faithfully as though all the responsibility rested on him, yet\nas calmly, as gently and as unworried as though all the responsibility\nrested on others.\n\nMost accidents are preventable\u2014as at Balaclava, \"someone has\nblundered.\" One of the great disasters of the nineteenth century was\nthe Johnstown flood, where the bursting of a dam caused the loss of\nmore than six thousand lives. The flood was not a mere accident, it was\na crime. A leaking dam, for more than a year known to be unsafe, known\nto be unable to withstand any increased pressure, stood at the head of\nthe valley. Below it lay a chain of villages containing over forty-five\nthousand persons in the direct line of the flood. When the heavy rains\ncame the weakened dam gave way. Had there been _one_ individual, one\nmember of the South Fork Fishing Club brave enough to have done merely\nhis duty, _one_ member with the courage to so move his fellows and\nto stir up public action to make the barrier safe, over six thousand\nmurders could have been prevented.\n\nWhen a tired engineer, sleepy from overwork, can no longer cheat\nnature of her needed rest, and, drowsing for a moment in his cab,\nfails to see the red signal light of danger, or to heed the exploding\nof the warning torpedo, the wreck that follows is not chargeable to\nthe Almighty. It is but an awful memorial of a railroad corporation's\nstruggle to save two dollars. One ounce of prevention is worth six\npounds of coroner's inquest. It is a crime to balance the safety and\nsacredness of human life in the scales with the petty saving that comes\nfrom transforming a man into a mechanism and forgetting he has either\na soul or a body. True, just and wise labor laws are part of society's\nweapon for fighting the preventable.\n\nWhen a terrible fire makes a city desolate and a nation mourn, the\ninvestigation that follows usually shows that a little human foresight\ncould have prevented it, or at least, lessened the horror of it all.\nIf chemicals or dynamite are stored in any building in excess of\nwhat wise legislation declares is safe, some one has been cruelly\ncareless. Perhaps it is some inspector who has been disloyal to his\ntrust, by permitting bribes to chloroform his sense of duty. If the\nlack of fire-escapes adds its quota to the list of deaths, or if the\navarice of the owner has made his building a fire-trap, public feeling\nbecomes intense, the newspapers are justly loud in their protests,\nand in demands that the guilty ones be punished. \"If the laws already\non the statute books do not cover the situation,\" we hear from day\nto day, \"new laws will be framed to make a repetition of the tragedy\nimpossible\"; we are promised all kinds of reforms; the air seems filled\nwith a spirit of regeneration; the mercury of public indignation rises\nto the point where \"fever-heat\" seems a mild, inadequate term.\n\nThen, as the horror begins to fade in the perspective of the past,\nmen go quietly back to their own personal cares and duties, and the\nmighty wave of righteous protest that threatened so much, dies in\ngentle lapping on the shore. What has been all men's concern seems\nsoon to concern no one. The tremendous energy of the authorities seems\nlike the gesture of a drunken man, that starts from his shoulder with\na force that would almost fell an ox but when it reaches the hand it\nhas expended itself, and the hand drops listlessly in the air with\nhardly power enough to disturb the serenity of a butterfly. There is\nalways a little progress, a slight advance, and it is only the constant\naccumulation of these steps that is giving to the world greater\ndominion over the preventable.\n\nConstant vigilance is the price of the conquest of the preventable. We\nhave no right to admit any wrong or evil in the world as necessary,\nuntil we have exhausted every precaution that human wisdom can suggest\nto prevent it. When a man with a pistol in his right hand, clumsily\ncovered with a suspicious-looking handkerchief, moved along in a line\nof people, and presenting his left hand to President McKinley, pressed\nhis weapon to the breast of the Chief Executive of the American people,\nsome one of the secret service men, paid by the nation to guard their\nruler, should have watched so zealously that the tragedy would have\nbeen impossible. Two Presidents had already been sacrificed, but twenty\nyears of immunity had brought a dreamy sense of security that lessened\nthe vigilance. We should emulate the example of the insurance companies\nwho decline certain risks that are \"extra hazardous.\"\n\nPoverty has no necessary place in life. It is a disease that results\nfrom the weakness, sin, and selfishness of humanity. Nature is\nboundless in her generosity; the world produces sufficient to\ngive food, clothing, and comfort to every individual. Poverty is\npreventable. Poverty may result from the shiftlessness, idleness,\nintemperance, improvidence, lack of purpose or evil-doing of the\nindividual himself.\n\nIf the causes do not exist in the individual, they may be found in the\nsecond class, in the wrong-doing of those around him, in the oppression\nof labor by capital, in the grinding process by which corporations seek\nto crush the individual. The individual may be the victim of any of a\nthousand phases of the wrong of others. The poverty caused by the third\nclass, the weakness and injustice of human laws and human institutions,\nis also preventable, but to reach the cause requires time and united\nheroic effort of all individuals.\n\nIn the battle against poverty, those writers who seek to inflame the\npoor against the rich, to foment discontent between labor and capital,\ndo grievous wrong to both. What the world needs is to have the two\nbrought closer together in the bonds of human brotherhood. The poor\nshould learn more of the cares, responsibilities, unrecorded charities,\nand absorbing worries of the rich; the rich should learn more\nintimately the sorrows, privations, struggles, and despair of poverty.\n\nThe world is learning the great truth, that the best way to prevent\ncrime is to study the sociologic conditions in which it flourishes,\nto seek to give each man a better chance of living his real life by\nremoving, if possible, the elements that make wrong easy, and to him,\nalmost necessary, and by inspiring him to fight life's battle bravely\nwith all the help others can give him. Science is co\u00f6perating with\nreligion in striving to conquer the evil at the root instead of the\nevil manifest as crime in the fruit of the branches. It is so much\nwiser to prevent than to cure; to keep some one from being burned is so\nmuch better than inventing new poultices for unnecessary hurts.\n\nIt is ever the little things that make up the sum of human misery. All\nthe wild animals of the world combined do but trifling damage, when\ncompared with the ravages of insect pests. The crimes of humanity, the\nsins that make us start back affrighted, do not cause as much sorrow\nand unhappiness in life as the multitude of little sins, of omission\nand commission, that the individual, and millions like him, must\nmeet every day. They are not the evil deeds that the law can reach\nor punish, they are but the infinity of petty wrongs for which man\ncan never be tried until he stands with bowed head before the bar of\njustice of his own conscience.\n\nThe bitter words of anger and reproach that rise so easily to our\nlips and give us a moment's fleeting satisfaction in thus venting our\nfeelings, may change the current of the whole life of some one near to\nus. The thoughtless speech, revealing our lack of tact and sympathy,\ncannot be recalled and made nothing by the plea, \"I didn't think.\" To\nsensitive souls this is no justification; they feel that our hearts\nshould be so filled with the instinct of love that our lips would need\nno tutor or guardian.\n\nOur unfulfilled duty may bring unhappiness and misery to hundreds. The\ndressmaker's bill that a rich woman may toss lightly aside, as being an\naffair of no moment, to be settled at her serene pleasure, may bring\nsorrow, privation or even failure to her debtor, and through her to a\nlong chain of others. The result, if seen in all its stern reality,\nseems out of all proportion to the cause. There are places in the Alps,\nwhere great masses of snow are so lightly poised that even the report\nof a gun might start a vibration that would dislodge an avalanche, and\nsend it on its death-mission into the valley.\n\nThe individual who would live his life to the best that is within him\nmust make each moment one of influence for good. He must set before\nhim as one of his ideals, to be progressively realized in each day of\nhis living: \"If I cannot accomplish great deeds in the world, I will\ndo all the good I can by the faithful performance of the duties that\ncome to my hand and being ever ready for all opportunities. And I will\nconsecrate myself to the conquest of the preventable.\"\n\nLet the individual say each day, as he rises new-created to face a new\nlife: \"To-day no one in the world shall suffer because I live. I will\nbe kind, considerate, careful in thought and speech and act. I will\nseek to discover the element that weakens me as a power in the world,\nand that keeps me from living up to the fullness of my possibility.\nThat weakness I will master to-day. I will conquer it, at any cost.\"\n\nWhen any failure or sorrow comes to the individual, he should be glad\nif he can prove to himself that it was his fault,\u2014for then he has the\nremedy in his own hands. Lying, intrigue, jealousy are never remedies\nthat can _prevent_ an evil. They postpone it, merely to augment it.\nThey are merely deferring payment of a debt which has to be met\nlater,\u2014with compound interest. It is like trying to put out a fire by\npouring kerosene on the flames.\n\nJealousy in the beginning is but a thought,\u2014in the end it may mean the\ngallows. Selfishness often assumes seemingly harmless guises, yet it is\nthe foundation of the world's unhappiness. Disloyalty may seem to be\na rare quality, but society is saturated with it. Judas acquired his\nreputation because of his proficiency in it. Sympathy which should be\nthe atmosphere of every individual life is as rare as human charity.\nThe world is suffering from an over-supply of unnecessary evils,\ncreated by man. They should be made luxuries, then man could dispense\nwith them.\n\nThe world needs societies formed of members pledged to the individual\nconquest of preventable pain and sorrow. The individual has no right\nthat runs counter to the right of any one else. There are no solo parts\nin the eternal music of life. Each must pour out his life in duo with\nevery other. Every moment must be one of choice, of good or of evil.\nWhich will the individual choose? His life will be his answer. Let him\ndedicate his life to making the world around him brighter, sweeter and\nbetter, and by his conquest of preventable pain and sorrow he will\nday by day get fuller revelation of the glory of the possibilities of\nindividual living, and come nearer and nearer to the realization of his\nideals.\n\n\n\n\nThe Companionship of Tolerance\n\n\n\n\nThe Companionship of Tolerance\n\n\nIntolerance is part of the unnecessary friction of life. It is\nprejudice on the war-path. Intolerance acknowledges only one side of\nany question,\u2014its own. It is the assumption of a monopoly in thinking,\nthe attitude of the man who believes he has a corner on wisdom and\ntruth, in some phase of life.\n\nTolerance is a calm, generous respect for the opinions of others,\neven of one's enemies. It recognizes the right of every man to think\nhis own thoughts, to live his own life, to be himself in all things,\nso long as he does not run counter to the rights of others. It means\ngiving to others the same freedom that we ourselves crave. Tolerance is\nsilent justice, blended with sympathy. If he who is tolerant desires\nto show to others the truth as he sees it, he seeks with gentleness\nand deference to point out the way in which he has found peace, and\ncertainty, and rest; he tries to raise them to the recognition of\nhigher ideals, as he has found them inspiring; he endeavors in a spirit\nof love and comradeship with humanity to lead others rather than to\ndrive them, to persuade and convince rather than to overawe and eclipse.\n\nTolerance does not use the battering-ram of argument or the club of\nsarcasm, or the rapier of ridicule, in discussing the weakness or\nwrongs of individuals. It may lash or scourge the evil of an age, but\nit is kind and tender with the individual; it may flay the sin, but not\nthe sinner. Tolerance makes the individual regard truth as higher than\npersonal opinion; it teaches him to live with the windows of his life\nopen towards the east to catch the first rays of the sunlight of truth\nno matter from whom it comes, and to realize that the faith that he so\nharshly condemns may have the truth he desires if he would only look\ninto it and test it before he repudiates it so cavalierly.\n\nThis world of ours is growing better, more tolerant and liberal. The\ndays when difference in political opinions was solved and cured by the\naxe and the block; when a man's courage to stand by his religion meant\nfacing the horrors of the Inquisition or the cruelty of the stake, when\ndaring to think their own thoughts on questions of science brought\nnoble men to a pallet of straw and a dungeon cell,\u2014these days have,\nhappily, passed away. Intolerance and its twin brother, Ignorance,\nweaken and die when the pure white light of wisdom is thrown upon them.\nKnowledge is the death-knell of intolerance\u2014not mere book-learning,\nnor education in schools or colleges, nor accumulation of mere\nstatistics, nor shreds of information, but the large sympathetic study\nof the lives, manners, customs, aims, thoughts, struggles, progress,\nmotives and ideals of other ages, other nations, other individuals.\n\nTolerance unites men in the closer bonds of human brotherhood,\nbrings them together in unity and sympathy in essentials and gives\nthem greater liberality and freedom in non-essentials. Napoleon when\nFirst Consul said, \"Let there be no more Jacobins, nor Moderates, nor\nRoyalists: let all be Frenchmen.\" Sectionalism and sectarianism always\nmean concentration on the body of a part at the expense of the soul of\nthe whole. The religious world to-day needs more Christ and less sects\nin its gospel. When Christ lived on earth Christianity was a unit; when\nhe died sects began.\n\nThere are in America to-day, hundreds of small towns, scattered over\nthe face of the land, that are over-supplied with churches. In many of\nthese towns, just emerging from the short dresses of village-hood,\nthere are a dozen or more weak churches, struggling to keep their\norganization alive. Between these churches there is often only a slight\ndifference in creed, the tissue-paper wall of some technicality of\nbelief. Half-starved, dragging out a mere existence, trying to fight\na large mortgage with a small congregation and a small contribution\nbox, there is little spiritual fervor. By combination, by co\u00f6peration,\nby tolerance, by the mutual surrender of non-essentials and a strong,\nvital concentration and unity on the great fundamental realities\nof Christianity, their spiritual health and possibilities could be\nmarvellously increased. Three or four sturdy, live, growing churches\nwould then take the place of a dozen strugglers. Why have a dozen weak\nbridges across a stream, if greater good can come from three or four\nstronger ones, or even a single strongest bridge? The world needs a\ngreat religious trust which will unite the churches into a single body\nof faith, to precede and prepare the way for the greater religious\ntrust, predicted in Holy Writ,\u2014the millennium.\n\nWe can ever be loyal to our own belief, faithful to our own cause,\nwithout condemning those who give their fidelity in accord with\ntheir own conscience or desires. The great reformers of the world,\nmen who are honestly and earnestly seeking to solve the great social\nproblems and to provide means for meeting human sin and wrong,\nagreeing perfectly in their estimate of the gravity and awfulness of\nthe situation, often propose diametrically opposite methods. They are\nregarding the subject from different points of view, and it would be\nintolerance for us, who are looking on, to condemn the men on either\nside merely because we cannot accept their verdict as our own.\n\nOn the great national questions brought before statesmen for their\ndecision, men equally able, equally sincere, just and unselfish,\ndiffer in their remedies. One, as a surgeon, suggests cutting away\nthe offending matter, the use of the knife,\u2014this typifies the sword,\nor war. Another, as a doctor, urges medicine that will absorb and\ncure,\u2014this is the prescription of the diplomat. The third suggests\nwaiting for developments, leaving the case with time and nature,\u2014this\nis the conservative. But all three classes agree as to the evil and the\nneed of meeting it.\n\nThe conflict of authorities on every great question to be settled by\nhuman judgment should make us tolerant of the opinion of others, though\nwe may be as confident of the rightness of the judgment we have formed\nas if it were foreordained from the day of the creation. But if we\nreceive any new light that makes us see clearer, let us change at once\nwithout that foolish consistency of some natures that continue to use\nlast year's almanac as a guide to this year's eclipses. Tolerance is\never progressive.\n\nIntolerance believes it is born with the peculiar talent for managing\nthe affairs of others, without any knowledge of the details, better\nthan the men themselves, who are giving their life's thought to the\nvital questions. Intolerance is the voice of the Pharisee still crying\nthrough the ages and proclaiming his infallibility.\n\nLet us not seek to fit the whole world with shoes from our individual\nlast. If we think that all music ceased to be written when Wagner\nlaid down the pen, let us not condemn those who find enjoyment in\nlight opera. Perhaps they may sometime rise to our heights of artistic\nappreciation and learn the proper parts to applaud. If their lighter\nmusic satisfies their souls, is our Wagner doing more for us? It is\nnot fair to take from a child its rag doll in order to raise it to\nthe appreciation of the Venus de Milo. The rag doll is its Venus; it\nmay require a long series of increasingly better dolls to lead it to\nrealize the beauties of the marble woman of Melos.\n\nIntolerance makes its great mistakes in measuring the needs of others\nfrom its own standpoint. Intolerance ignores the personal equation in\nlife. What would be an excellent book for a man of forty might be worse\nthan useless for a boy of thirteen. The line of activity in life that\nwe would choose as our highest dream of bliss, as our Paradise, might,\nif forced on another, be to him worse than the after-death fate of the\nwicked, according to the old-fashioned theologians. What would be a\nvery acceptable breakfast for a sparrow would be a very poor meal for\nan elephant.\n\nWhen we sit in solemn judgment of the acts and characters of those\naround us and condemn them with the easy nonchalance of our ignorance,\nyet with the assumption of omniscience we reveal our intolerance.\nTolerance ever leads us to recognize and respect the differences in the\nnatures of those who are near to us, to make allowance for differences\nin training, in opportunities, in ideals, in motives, in tastes, in\nopinions, in temperaments and in feelings. Intolerance seeks to live\nother people's lives _for_ them; sympathy helps us to live their lives\n_with_ them. We must accept humanity with all its weakness, sin and\nfolly and seek to make the best of it, just as humanity must accept us.\nWe learn this lesson as we grow older, and, with the increase of our\nknowledge of the world, we see how much happier life would have been\nfor us and for others if we had been more tolerant, more charitable,\nmore generous.\n\nNo one in the world is absolutely perfect; if he were he would probably\nbe translated from earth to heaven, as was Elijah of old, without\nwaiting for the sprouting of wings or the passport of death. It is a\nhard lesson for youth to learn, but we must realize, as the old college\nprofessor said to his class of students, bowed with the consciousness\nof their wisdom: \"No one of us is infallible, no, not even the\nyoungest.\" Let us accept the little failings of those around us as\nwe accept facts in nature, and make the best of them, as we accept\nthe hard shells of nuts, the skin of fruits, the shadow that always\naccompanies light. These are not absolute faults, they are often but\nindividual peculiarities. Intolerance sees the mote in its neighbor's\neye as larger than the beam in its own.\n\nInstead of concentrating our thought on the one weak spot in a\ncharacter, let us seek to find some good quality that offsets it, just\nas a credit may more than cancel a debt on a ledger account. Let us\nnot constantly speak of roses having thorns, let us be thankful that\nthe thorns have roses. In Nature there are both thorns and prickles;\nthorns are organic, they have their root deep in the fibre and the\nbeing of the twig; prickles are superficial, they are lightly held in\nthe cuticle or covering of the twig. There are thorns in character that\nreveal an internal inharmony, that can be controlled only from within;\nthere are also prickles, which are merely peculiarities of temperament,\nthat the eye of tolerance may overlook and the finger of charity can\ngently remove.\n\nThe tenderness of tolerance will illuminate and glorify the world,\u2014as\nmoonlight makes all things beautiful,\u2014if we only permit it. Measuring\na man by his weakness alone is unjust. This little frailty may be but a\nsmall mortgage on a large estate, and it is narrow and petty to judge\nby the mortgage on a character. Let us consider the \"equity,\" the\nexcess of the real value over the claim against it.\n\nUnless we sympathetically seek to discover the motive behind the act,\nto see the circumstances that inspired a course of living, the target\nat which a man is aiming, our snap condemnations are but arrogant and\negotistic expressions of our intolerance. All things must be studied\nrelatively instead of absolutely. The hour hand on a clock does just as\nvaluable work as the minute hand, even though it is shorter and seems\nto do only one-twelfth as much.\n\nIntolerance in the home circle shows itself in overdiscipline, in\nan atmosphere of severity heavy with prohibitions. The home becomes\na place strewn with \"Please keep off the grass\" signs. It means the\nsuppression of individuality, the breaking of the wills of children,\ninstead of their development and direction. It is the foolish attempt\nto mould them from the outside, as a potter does clay; the higher\nconception is the wise training that helps the child to help himself\nin his own growth. Parents often forget their own youth; they do not\nsympathize with their children in their need of pleasure, of dress,\nof companionship. There should be a few absolutely firm rules on\nessentials, the basic principles of living, with the largest possible\nleeway for the varying manifestations of individuality in unimportant\nphases. Confidence, sympathy, love and trust would generate a spirit\nof tolerance and sweetness that would work marvels. Intolerance\nconverts live, natural children into prigs of counterfeit virtue and\nirritatingly good automatons of obedience.\n\nTolerance is a state of mutual concessions. In the family life there\nshould be this constant reciprocity of independence, this mutual\nforbearance. It is the instinctive recognition of the sacredness of\nindividuality, the right of each to live his own life as best he can.\nWhen we set ourselves up as dictators to tyrannize over the thoughts,\nwords and acts of others, we are sacrificing the kingly power of\ninfluence with which we may help others, for the petty triumph of\ntyranny which repels and loses them.\n\nPerhaps one reason why the sons of great and good men so often go\nastray is that the earnestness, strength and virtue of the father,\nexacting strict obedience to the letter of the law, kills the\nappreciation of the spirit of it, breeding an intolerance that\nforces submission under which the fire of protest and rebellion is\nsmouldering, ready to burst into flame at the first breath of freedom.\nBetween brother and sister, husband and wife, parent and child,\nmaster and servant, the spirit of tolerance, of \"making allowances,\"\ntransforms a house of gloom and harshness into a home of sweetness and\nlove.\n\nIn the sacred relation of parent to child there always comes a time\nwhen the boy becomes a man, when she whom the father still regards but\nas a little girl faces the great problems of life as an individual.\nThe coming of years of discretion brings a day when the parents must\nsurrender their powers of trusteeship, when the individual enters upon\nhis heritage of freedom and responsibility. Parents have still the\nright and privilege of counsel and of helpful, loving insight their\nchildren should respect. But in meeting a great question, when the son\nor daughter stands before a problem that means happiness or misery for\na lifetime, it must be for him or for her to decide. Coercion, bribery,\nundue influence, threats of disinheritance, and the other familiar\nweapons, are cruel, selfish, arrogant and unjust. A child is a human\nbeing, free to make his own life, not a slave. There is a clearly\nmarked dead-line that it is intolerance to cross.\n\nLet us realize that tolerance is ever broadening; it develops\nsympathy, weakens worry and inspires calmness. It is but charity\nand optimism, it is Christianity as a living eternal fact, not a\nmere theory. Let us be tolerant of the weakness of others, sternly\nintolerant of our own. Let us seek to forgive and forget the faults\nof others, losing sight, to a degree, of what they are in the thought\nof what they may become. Let us fill their souls with the inspiring\nrevelation of their possibilities in the majestic evolution march of\nhumanity. Let us see, for ourselves and for them, in the acorn of their\npresent the towering oak of their future.\n\nWe should realize the right of every human soul to work out its own\ndestiny, with our aid, our sympathy, our inspiration, if we are thus\nprivileged to help him to live his life; but it is intolerance to try\nto live it for him. He sits alone on the throne of his individuality;\nhe must reign alone, and at the close of his rule must give his own\naccount to the God of the ages of the deeds of his kingship. Life is\na dignified privilege, a glorious prerogative of every man, and it\nis arrogant intolerance that touches the sacred ark with the hand of\nunkind condemnation.\n\n\n\n\nThe Things that Come too Late\n\n\n\n\nThe Things that Come too Late\n\n\nTime seems a grim old humorist, with a fondness for afterthoughts. The\nthings that come too late are part of his sarcasm. Each generation is\nengaged in correcting the errors of its predecessors, and in supplying\nnew blunders for its own posterity to set right. Each generation\nbequeaths to its successor its wisdom and its folly, its wealth of\nknowledge and its debts of error and failure. The things that come too\nlate thus mean only the delayed payments on old debts. They mean that\nthe world is growing wiser, and better, truer, nobler, and more just.\nIt is emerging from the dark shadows of error into the sunshine of\ntruth and justice. They prove that Time is weaving a beauteous fabric\nfrom the warp and woof of humanity, made up of shreds and tangles of\nerror and truth.\n\nThe things that come too late are the fuller wisdom, the deferred\nhonors, the truer conception of the work of pioneers, the brave\nsturdy fighters who battled alone for truth and were misunderstood\nand unrecognized. It means the world's finer attitude toward life.\nIf looked at superficially, the things that come too late make us\nfeel helpless, hopeless, pessimistic; if seen with the eye of deeper\nwisdom, they reveal to us the grand evolution march of humanity toward\nhigher things. It is Nature's proclamation that, in the end, Right\n_must_ triumph, Truth _must_ conquer, and Justice _must_ reign. For\nus, as individuals, it is a warning and an inspiration,\u2014a warning\nagainst withholding love, charity, kindness, sympathy, justice, and\nhelpfulness, till it is too late; an inspiration for us to live ever at\nour best, ever up to the maximum of effort, not worrying about results,\nbut serenely confident that they _must_ come.\n\nIt takes over thirty years for the light of some of the stars to reach\nthe earth, some a hundred, some a thousand years. Those stars do not\nbecome visible till their light reaches and reacts on human vision.\nIt takes an almost equal time for the light of some of the world's\ngreat geniuses to meet real, seeing eyes. Then we see these men as\nthe brilliant stars in the world's gallery of immortal great ones.\nThis is why contemporary reputation rarely indicates lasting fame. We\nare constantly mistaking fireflies of cleverness for stars of genius.\nBut Time brings all things right. The fame, though, brings no joy,\nor encouragement, or inspiration to him who has passed beyond this\nworld's lights and shadows; it has the sadness of the honors that\ncome too late, a touch of the farcical mingled with its pathos. Tardy\nrecognition is better than none at all, it is better, though late, than\nnever; but it is so much truer and kinder and more valuable if never\nlate. We are so inclined to send our condemnation and our snapshot\ncriticisms by express, and our careful, honest commendation by slow\nfreight.\n\nIn October, 1635, Roger Williams, because of his inspiring pleas for\nindividual liberty, was ordered by the General Court of Massachusetts\nto leave the colony forever. He went to Rhode Island, where he lived\nfor nearly fifty years. But the official conscience grew a little\nrestless, and a few years ago, in April, 1899, Massachusetts actually\nmade atonement for its rash act. The original papers, yellow, faded,\nand crumbling, were taken from their pigeonhole tomb, and \"by an\nordinary motion, made, seconded, and adopted,\" the order of banishment\nwas solemnly \"annulled and repealed, and made of no effect whatever.\"\nThe ban, under which Roger Williams had lain for over 260 years,\nwas lifted. And there is no reason now, according to law, why Roger\nWilliams cannot enter the State of Massachusetts and reside therein.\nThe action was to the credit and honor of the State; it was right in\nits spirit, and Roger being in the spirit for more than two centuries,\nmay have smiled gently and understood. But the reparation was\nreally\u2014over-delayed.\n\nThe mistakes, the sin and folly of one age may be partially atoned for\nby a succeeding age, but the individual stands alone. For what we do\nand for what we leave undone, we alone are responsible. If we permit\nthe golden hours that might be consecrated to higher things to trickle\nlike sand through our fingers, no one can ever restore them to us.\n\nHuman affection is fed by signs and tokens of that affection. Merely\nhaving kindly feelings is not enough, they should be made manifest in\naction. The parched earth is not refreshed by the mere fact of water\nin the clouds, it is only when the blessing of rain actually descends\nthat it awakens to new life. We are so ready to say \"He knows how\nmuch I think of him,\" and to assume that as a fitting substitute for\nexpression. We may know that the sun is shining somewhere and still\nshiver for lack of its glow and warmth. Love should be constantly\nmade evident in little acts of thoughtfulness, words of sweetness and\nappreciation, smiles and handclasps of esteem. It should be shown to\nbe a loving reality instead of a memory by patience, forbearance,\ncourtesy, and kindness.\n\nThis theory of presumed confidence in the persistence of affection\nis one of the sad phases of married life. We should have roses of\nlove, ever-blooming, ever-breathing perfume, instead of dried roses\npressed in the family Bible, merely for reference, as a memorial of\nwhat was, instead of guarantee of what is. Matrimony too often shuts\nthe door of life and leaves sentiment, consideration and chivalry on\nthe outside. The feeling may possibly be still alive, but it does\nnot reveal itself rightly; the rhymed poetry of loving has changed to\nblank verse and later into dull prose. As the boy said of his father:\n\"He's a Christian, but he's not working much at it now.\" Love without\nmanifestation does not feed the heart any more than a locked bread-box\nfeeds the body; it does not illuminate and brighten the round of daily\nduties any more than an unlit lamp lightens a room. There is often such\na craving in the heart of a husband or a wife for expression in words\nof human love and tenderness that they are welcomed no matter from what\nsource they may come. If there were more courtships continued after\nmarriage, the work of the divorce courts would be greatly lessened.\nThis realization is often one of the things that come too late.\n\nThere are more people in this world hungering for kindness, sympathy,\ncomradeship and love, than are hungering for bread. We often refrain\nfrom giving a hearty word of encouragement, praise or congratulation\nto some one, even where we recognize that our feelings are known, for\nfear of making him conceited or overconfident. Let us tear down these\ndykes of reserve, these walls of petty repression, and let in the flood\nof our feelings. There have been few monuments reared to the memory\nof those who have failed in life because of overpraise. There is more\nchiseled flattery on tombstones than was ever heard in life by the\ndead those stones now guard. Man does not ask for flattery, he does\nnot long for fulsome praise, he wants the honest, ringing sound of\nrecognition of what he has done, fair appreciation of what he is doing,\nand sympathy with what he is striving to do.\n\nWhy is it that death makes us suddenly conscious of a hundred virtues\nin a man who seemed commonplace and faulty in life? Then we speak\nas though an angel had been living in our town for years and we had\nsuddenly discovered him. If he could only have heard these words while\nliving, if he could have discounted the eulogies at, say even sixty per\ncent, they would have been an inspiration to him when weary, worn and\nworried by the problems of living. But now the ears are stilled to all\nearthly music, and even if they could hear our praise, the words would\nbe but useless messengers of love that came too late.\n\nIt is right to speak well of the dead, to remember their strength and\nto forget their weakness, and to render to their memory the expressions\nof honor, justice, love and sorrow that fill our hearts. But it is\nthe living, ever the living that need it most. The dead have passed\nbeyond the helpfulness; our wildest cries of agony and regret bring no\nanswering echo from the silences of the unknown. Those who are facing\nthe battle of life, still seeking bravely to do and to be,\u2014they need\nour help, our companionship, our love, all that is best in us. Better\nis the smallest flower placed in our warm, living hands than mountains\nof roses banked round our casket.\n\nIf we have failed in our expressions to the dead, the deep sense of\nour sorrow and the instinctive rush of feeling proclaim the vacuum of\nduty we now seek too late to fill. But there is one atonement that is\nnot too late. It is in making all humanity legatees of the kindness\nand human love that we regret has been unexpended, it is in bringing\nbrightness, courage and cheer into the lives of those around us. Thus\nour regret will be shown to be genuine, not a mere temporary gush of\nemotionalism.\n\nIt is during the formative period, the time when a man is seeking to\nget a foothold, that help counts for most, when even the slightest aid\nis great. A few books lent to Andrew Carnegie when he was beginning\nhis career were to him an inspiration; he has nobly repaid the loan,\nmade posterity his debtor a million-fold by his beneficence in\nsprinkling libraries over the whole country. Help the saplings, the\nyoung growing trees of vigor,\u2014the mighty oaks have no need of your aid.\n\nThe heartening words should come when needed, not when they seem only\nhypocritic protestations, or dextrous preparations for future favors.\nColumbus, surrounded by his mutinous crew, threatening to kill him,\nalone amid the crowd, had no one to stand by him. But he neared land,\nand riches opened before them; then they fell at his feet, proclaimed\nhim almost a god and said he truly was inspired from Heaven. Success\ntransfigured him\u2014a long line of pebbly beach and a few trees made him\ndivine. A little patience along the way, a little closer companionship,\na little brotherly love in his hours of watching, waiting, and hoping\nwould have been great balm to his soul.\n\nIt is in childhood that pleasures count most, when the slightest\ninvestment of kindness brings largest returns. Let us give the children\nsunlight, love, companionship, sympathy with their little troubles and\nworries that seem to them so great, genuine interest in their growing\nhopes, their vague, unproportioned dreams and yearnings. Let us put\nourselves into their places, view the world through their eyes so that\nwe may gently correct the errors of their perspective by our greater\nwisdom. Such trifles will make them genuinely happy, happier by far\nthan things a thousand times greater that come too late.\n\nProcrastination is the father of a countless family of things that come\ntoo late. Procrastination means making an appointment with opportunity\nto \"call again to-morrow.\" It kills self-control, saps mental energy,\nmakes man a creature of circumstances instead of their creator. There\nis one brand of procrastination that is a virtue. It is never doing\nto-day a wrong that can be put off till to-morrow, never performing an\nact to-day that may make to-morrow ashamed.\n\nThere are little estrangements in life, little misunderstandings that\nare passed by in silence between friends, each too closely armored with\npride, and enamoured with self to break. There is a time when a few\nstraightforward words would set it all right, the clouds would break\nand the sunshine of love burst forth again. But each nurses a weak,\npetty sense of dignity, the rift grows wider, they drift apart, and\neach goes his lonely way, hungering for the other. They may waken to\nrealization too late to piece the broken strands of affection into a\nnew life.\n\nThe wisdom that comes too late in a thousand phases of life usually has\nan irritating, depressing effect on the individual. He should charge\na large part of it to the account of experience. If no wisdom came\ntoo late there would be no experience. It means, after all, only that\nwe are wiser to-day than we were yesterday, that we see all things in\ntruer relation, that our pathway of life has been illuminated.\n\nThe world is prone to judge by results. It is glad to be a stockholder\nin our success and prosperity, but it too often avoids the assessments\nof sympathy and understanding. The man who pulls against the stream may\nhave but a stanch two or three to help him. When the tide turns and his\ncraft swiftens its course and he is carried along without effort, he\nfinds boats hurrying to him from all directions as if he had suddenly\nwoke up and found himself in a regatta. The help then comes too late;\nhe does not need it. He himself must then guard against the temptation\nof cynicism and coldness and selfishness. Then he should realize and\ndetermine that what he terms \"the way of the world\" shall not be his\n\"way.\" That he will not be too late with his stimulus to others who\nhave struggled bravely as he has done, but who being less strong\nmay drop the oars in despair for the lack of the stimulus of even a\nfriendly word of heartening in a crisis.\n\nThe old song of dreary philosophy says: \"The mill will never grind\nagain with the water that is past.\" Why should the mill expect to use\nthe same water over and over? That water may now be merrily turning\nmill-wheels further down the valley, continuing without ceasing, its\ngood work. It is folly to think so much of the water that is past.\nThink more of the great stream that is ever flowing on. Use that as\nbest you can, and when it has passed you will be glad that it came, and\nbe satisfied with its service.\n\nTime is a mighty stream that comes each day with unending flow. To\nthink of this water of past time with such regret that it shuts our\neyes to the mighty river of the present is sheer folly. Let us make the\nbest we can of to-day in the best preparation for to-morrow; then even\nthe things that come too late will be new revelations of wisdom to use\nin the present now before us, and in the future we are forming.\n\n\n\n\nThe Way of the Reformer\n\n\n\n\nThe Way of the Reformer\n\n\nThe reformers of the world are its men of mighty purpose. They are men\nwith the courage of individual conviction, men who dare run counter\nto the criticism of inferiors, men who voluntarily bear crosses for\nwhat they accept as right, even without the guarantee of a crown. They\nare men who gladly go down into the depths of silence, darkness and\noblivion, but only to emerge finally like divers, with pearls in their\nhands.\n\nHe who labors untiringly toward the attainment of some noble aim, with\neyes fixed on the star of some mighty purpose, as the Magi followed the\nstar in the East, is a reformer. He who is loyal to the inspiration\nof some great religious thought, and with strong hand leads weak\ntrembling steps of faith into the glory of certainty, is a reformer.\nHe who follows the thin thread of some revelation of Nature in any\nof the sciences, follows it in the spirit of truth through a maze of\ndoubt, hope, experiment and questioning, till the tiny guiding thread\ngrows stronger and firmer to his touch, leading him to some wondrous\nillumination of Nature's law, is a reformer.\n\nHe who goes up alone into the mountains of truth and, glowing with the\nradiance of some mighty revelation, returns to force the hurrying world\nto listen to his story is a reformer. Whoever seeks to work out for\nhimself his destiny, the life-work that all his nature tells him should\nbe his, bravely, calmly and with due consideration of the rights of\nothers and his duties to them, is a reformer.\n\nThese men who renounce the commonplace and conventional for higher\nthings are reformers because they are striving to bring about new\nconditions; they are consecrating their lives to ideals. They are the\nbrave aggressive vanguard of progress. They are men who can stand a\nsiege, who can take long forced marches without a murmur, who set their\nteeth and bow their heads as they fight their way through the smoke,\nwho smile at the trials and privations that dare to daunt them. They\ncare naught for the hardships and perils of the fight, for they are\never inspired by the flag of triumph that seems already waving on the\ncitadel of their hopes.\n\nIf we are facing some great life ambition let us see if our heroic\nplans are good, high, noble and exalted enough for the price we must\npay for their attainment. Let us seriously and honestly look into our\nneeds, our abilities, our resources, our responsibilities, to assure\nourselves that it is no mere passing whim that is leading us. Let us\nhear and consider all counsel, all light that may be thrown on every\nside, let us hear it as a judge on the bench listens to the evidence\nand then makes his own decision. The choice of a life-work is too\nsacred a responsibility to the individual to be lightly decided for him\nby others less thoroughly informed than himself. When we have weighed\nin the balance the mighty question and have made our decision, let us\nact, let us concentrate our lives upon that which we feel is supreme,\nand, never forsaking a real duty, never be diverted from the attainment\nof the highest things, no matter what honest price we may have to pay\nfor their realization and conquest.\n\nWhen Nature decides on any man as a reformer she whispers to him his\ngreat message, she places in his hand the staff of courage, she wraps\naround him the robes of patience and self-reliance and starts him on\nhis way. Then, in order that he may have strength to live through it\nall, she mercifully calls him back for a moment and makes him\u2014an\noptimist.\n\nThe way of the reformer is hard, very hard. The world knows little of\nit, for it is rare that the reformer reveals the scars of conflict,\nthe pangs of hope deferred, the mighty waves of despair that wash\nover a great purpose. Sometimes men of sincere aim and unselfish high\nambition, weary and worn with the struggle, have permitted the world\nto hear an uncontrolled sob of hopelessness or a word of momentary\nbitterness at the seeming emptiness of all effort. But men of great\npurpose and noble ideals must know that the path of the reformer is\nloneliness. They must live from within rather than in dependence on\nsources of help from without. Their mission, their exalted aim, their\nsupreme object in living, which focuses all their energy, must be their\nsource of strength and inspiration. The reformer must ever light the\ntorch of his own inspiration. His own hand must ever guard the sacred\nflame as he moves steadily forward on his lonely way.\n\nThe reformer in morals, in education, in religion, in sociology, in\ninvention, in philosophy, in any line of aspiration, is ever a pioneer.\nHis privilege is to blaze the path for others, to mark at his peril\na road that others may follow in safety. He must not expect that the\nway will be graded and asphalted for him. He must realize that he must\nface injustice, ingratitude, opposition, misunderstanding, the cruel\ncriticism of contemporaries and often, hardest of all, the wondering\nreproach of those who love him best.\n\nHe must not expect the tortoise to sympathize with the flight of the\neagle. A great purpose is ever an isolation. Should a soldier leading\nthe forlorn hope complain that the army is not abreast of him? The\nglorious opportunity before him should so inspire him, so absorb him,\nthat he will care naught for the army except to know that if he lead\nas he should, and do that which the crisis demands, the army _must_\nfollow.\n\nThe reformer must realize without a trace of bitterness that the busy\nworld cares little for his struggles, it cares only to joy in his final\ntriumph; it will share his feasts but not his fasts. Christ was alone\nin Gethsemane, but\u2014at the sermon in the wilderness, where food was\nprovided, the attendance was four thousand.\n\nThe world is honest enough in its attitude. It takes time for the\nworld to realize, to accept, and to assimilate a large truth. Since\nthe dawn of history, the great conservative spirit of every age, that\nballast that keeps the world in poise, makes the slow acceptance of\ngreat truths an essential for its safety. It wisely requires proof,\nclear, absolute, undeniable attestation, before it fully accepts.\nSometimes the perfect enlightenment takes years, sometimes generations.\nIt is but the safeguard of truth. Time is the supreme test, the final\ncourt of appeals that winnows out the chaff of false claims, pretended\nrevelation, empty boast, and idle dreams. Time is the touchstone that\nfinally reveals all true gold. The process is slow, necessarily so,\nand the fate of the world's geniuses and reformers in the balance of\ntheir contemporary criticism, should have a sweetness of consolation\nrather than the bitterness of cynicism. If the greatest leaders of the\nworld have had to wait for recognition, should we, whose best work may\nbe but trifling in comparison with theirs, expect instant sympathy,\nappreciation, and co\u00f6peration, where we are merely growing toward our\nown attainment?\n\nThe world ever says to its leaders, by its attitude if not in words,\n\"If you would lead us to higher realms of thought, to purer ideals of\nlife, and flash before us, like the handwriting on the wall, all the\npossible glories of development, _you_ must pay the price for it, not\nwe.\" The world has a law as clearly defined as the laws of Kepler:\n\"Contemporary credit for reform works in any line will be in inverse\nproportion to the square root of their importance.\" Give us a new fad\nand we will prostrate ourselves in the dust; give us a new philosophy,\na marvelous revelation, a higher conception of life and morality, and\nwe may pass you by, but posterity will pay for it. Send your messages\nC.O.D. and posterity will settle for them. You ask for bread; posterity\nwill give you a stone, called a monument.\n\nThere is nothing in this to discourage the highest efforts of genius.\nGenius is great because it is decades in advance of its generation. To\nappreciate genius requires comprehension and the same characteristics.\nThe public can fully appreciate only what is a few steps in advance;\nit must grow to the appreciation of great thought. The genius or the\nreformer should accept this as a necessary condition. It is the price\nhe must pay for being in advance of his generation, just as front seats\nin the orchestra cost more than those in the back row of the third\ngallery.\n\nThe world is impartial in its methods. It says ever, \"you may suffer\nnow, but we will give you later fame.\" Posthumous fame means that\nthe individual may shiver with cold, but his grandchildren will get\nfur-lined ulsters; the individual plants acorns, his posterity sells\nthe oaks. Posthumous fame or recognition is a check made out to the\nindividual, but payable only to his heirs.\n\nThere is nothing the world cries out for so constantly as a new idea;\nthere is nothing the world fears so much. The milestones of progress in\nthe history of the ages tell the story. Galileo was cast into prison in\nhis seventieth year and his works were prohibited. He had committed no\ncrime, but he was in advance of his generation. Harvey's discovery of\nthe circulation of the blood was not accepted by the universities of\nthe world till twenty-five years after its publication. Fr\u0153bel, the\ngentle inspired lover of children, suffered the trials and struggles\nof the reformer, and his system of teaching was abolished in Prussia\nbecause it was \"calculated to bring up our young people in atheism.\" So\nit was with thousands of others.\n\nThe world says with a large airy sweep of the hand, \"the opposition to\nprogress is all in the past, the great reformer or the great genius is\nrecognized to-day.\" No, in the past they tried to kill a great truth by\nopposition; now we gently seek to smother it by making it a fad.\n\nSo it is written in the book of human nature: The saviours of the world\nmust ever be martyrs. The death of Christ on the cross for the people\nhe had come to save, typifies the temporary crucifixion of public\nopinion that comes to all who bring to the people the message of some\ngreat truth, some clearer revelation of the divine. Truth, right, and\njustice must triumph. Let us never close the books of a great work and\nsay \"it has failed.\"\n\nNo matter how slight seem results, how dark the outlook, the glorious\nconsummation of the past, the revelation of the future, _must_ come.\nAnd Christ lived thirty years and he had twelve disciples, one denied\nhim, one doubted him, one betrayed him, and the other nine were very\nhuman. And in the supreme crisis of His life \"they _all_ forsook him\nand fled,\" but to-day\u2014His followers are millions.\n\nSweet indeed is human sympathy, the warm hand-clasp of confidence and\nlove brings a rich inflow of new strength to him who is struggling, and\nthe knowledge that someone dear to us sees with love and comradeship\nour future through our eyes, is a wondrous draught of new life. If we\nhave this, perhaps the loyalty of two or three, what the world says or\nthinks about us should count for little. But if this be denied us,\nthen must we bravely walk our weary way alone, toward the sunrise that\nmust come.\n\nThe little world around us that does not understand us, does not\nappreciate our ambition or sympathize with our efforts, that seem to\nit futile, is not intentionally cruel, calloused, bitter, blind, or\nheartless. It is merely that busied with its own pursuits, problems and\npleasures, it does not fully realize, does not see as we do.\n\nThe world does not see our ideal as we see it, does not feel the glow\nof inspiration that makes our blood tingle, our eye brighten, and our\nsoul seem flooded with a wondrous light. It sees naught but the rough\nblock of marble before us and the great mass of chips and fragments of\nseemingly fruitless effort at our feet, but it does not see the angel\nof achievement slowly emerging from its stone prison, from nothingness\ninto being, under the tireless strokes of our chisel. It hears no\nfaint rustle of wings that seem already real to us nor the glory of\nthe music of triumph already ringing in our ears.\n\nThere come dark, dreary days in all great work, when effort seems\nuseless, when hope almost appears a delusion, and confidence the\nmirage of folly. Sometimes for days your sails flap idly against the\nmast, with not a breath of wind to move you on your way, and with a\nparalyzing sense of helplessness you just have to sit and wait and\nwait. Sometimes your craft of hope is carried back by a tide that seems\nto undo in moments your work of months. But it may not be really so,\nyou maybe put into a new channel that brings you nearer your haven than\nyou dared to hope. This is the hour that tests us, that determines\nwhether we are masters or slaves of conditions. As in battle of\nMarengo, it is the fight that is made when all seems lost that really\ncounts and wrests victory from the hand of seeming defeat.\n\nIf you are seeking to accomplish any great serious purpose that your\nmind and your heart tell you is right, you must have the spirit of\nthe reformer. You must have the courage to face trial, sorrow and\ndisappointment, to meet them squarely and to move forward unscathed and\nundaunted. In the sublimity of your perfect faith in the outcome, you\ncan make them as powerless to harm you, as a dewdrop falling on the\nPyramids.\n\nTruth, with time as its ally, always wins in the end. The knowledge of\nthe inappreciation, the coldness, and the indifference of the world,\nshould never make you pessimistic. They should inspire you with that\nlarge, broad optimism that sees that all the opposition of the world\ncan never keep back the triumph of truth, that your work is so great\nthat the petty jealousies, misrepresentations, and hardships caused by\nthose around you, dwindle into nothingness. What cares the messenger\nof the king for his trials and sufferings if he knows that he has\ndelivered his message? Large movements, great plans, always take time\nfor development. If you want great things, pay the price like a man.\n\nAny one can plant radishes; it takes courage to plant acorns and to\nwait for the oaks. Learn to look not merely _at_ the clouds, but\nthrough them to the sun shining behind them. When things look darkest,\ngrasp your weapon firmer and fight harder. There is always more\nprogress than you can perceive, and it is really only the outcome of\nthe battle that counts.\n\nAnd when it is all over and the victory is yours, and the smoke clears\naway and the smell of the powder is dissipated, and you bury the\nfriendships that died because they could not stand the strain, and you\nnurse back the wounded and flint-hearted who loyally stood by you,\neven when doubting, then the hard years of fighting will seem but a\ndream. You will stand brave, heartened, strengthened by the struggle,\nre-created to a new, better and stronger life by a noble battle, nobly\nwaged, in a noble cause. And the price will then seem to you\u2014nothing.\n\n\n\n\nTranscriber's Note\n\n  Obvious typographical errors have been silently corrected. Variations\n  in hyphenation have been standardised but all other spelling and\n  punctuation remains unchanged.","title":"The Power of Truth: Individual Problems and Possibilities","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":20983}